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pendingnomdeplume · 2 months ago

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hold me hard and mellow pairing: hozier x female!reader rating: explicit (18+) tags: Miscommunications/Misunderstandings, Pining, Drunk Flirting, Drunk Sex words: 4.0k

[Read it on AO3]

title from Pillowtalk by Zayn divider by: sylusz

Though your 30th birthday was months ago, it’s difficult to ignore some of the changes that aging has brought on. You’ve noticed a few new gray hairs sprouting where there were none before, and your cheeks have lost some of the cherubic plumpness that made you look like a high schooler attempting to swindle shops for alcohol every time you wanted a beer. These changes don’t bother you. In fact, you’re excited to look a little bit older, more like your actual age.

What catches your attention is entirely different. Something embarrassing, really. Something that you’ve been mildly self-conscious of while living in a giant, moving tin can with several other people and absolutely no privacy.

It takes exactly one Google search to confirm what you already started to suspect.

Why am I so aroused all the time???

The question marks aren’t necessary, but they feel right given how perplexed you are by this development. What’s returned is page after page of different threads and message boards, all filled with women over the age of 30 confirming that, yes, their libido also increased with age. In fact, it seems fairly commonplace for women to experience their sexual peak a little bit later in life.

While you’re relieved that this phenomenon isn’t unusual, you’re still frustrated by the fact that you feel insatiable. There’s absolutely no time to take care of yourself as often as you’d like, no space with enough privacy to even try. Your bunk on the tour bus is your only sanctuary, but even then, the curtains are easily ripped from their velcro tabs, and someone is always awake when you’re at your most desperate.

Hotel rooms aren’t any better. You always end up sharing the space, which you can’t begrudge anyone for, really. It’s a matter of pragmatism made up for by all of the other perks of touring with Hozier—or, Andrew, as he prefers from colleagues.

Therein lies your other issue: Andrew is currently the bane of your entire fucking existence. Not for any malicious reason, it’s just…well, you have eyes, and he’s an attractive lad. A kind lad. Funny, sensitive, talented—the list goes on. But he’s Hozier, for Christ’s sake. If he’s not a household name by now, he’s very well on his way with the release of “Too Sweet,” perhaps to his chagrin.

Honestly, it’s just a silly crush that you would handle a lot better were it not for the fact that you live within 20 feet of the man constantly. You’re either singing on stage behind him, or sitting a stone’s throw away from him on the bus. The only reprieve you get is on hotel nights, but even then, you’ve been dragged out for dinner and drinks on several occasions, somehow always ending up either seated directly across from him or squished into a booth next to him.

Recently, you’ve been trying to maintain a reasonable distance. You’ve stepped out of rooms he’s entered, hidden around corners as he strides by, and recused yourself from group outings for your own peace. It’s not as though anything would ever come of your crush, and it’s better to maintain space than force yourself into proximity to him and suffer at the hands of your own libido.

Honestly, you never expected him to take notice. Sure, he’s kind to you, and he’ll strike up a conversation with you when he’s in the mood, but otherwise, you’ve always thought of yourself as inconsequential. Not like Alex or Rory who have been with him since the beginning. Not like Larissa who enmeshes themself into the fold with their radiating energy and charm, nor Kamilah who is the human embodiment of glee.

Tonight is another night of planned avoidance. The group is getting ready to go out for dinner and enjoy their evening off before the show the next night. You’ve already declined the invitation in the group chat, already fended off Joy and Mel who follow you with exaggerated pouts and pleas. In the end, they respect your decision to stay behind and promise to bring something back for you.

With the next few hours to yourself, you curl up in bed and crack open the same book you’ve been attempting to read for the past few days—some fantasy novel with a gratuitous amount of steamy, spicy scenes that are…a little silly, if you’re being honest. But it’s fun, nearly brainless entertainment. A dessert of a novel, or perhaps the after-dinner mint.

A quiet, polite knock at the door startles you out of your reading not even 20 minutes later. You wonder if it’s Mel, if she forgot her damn room key again, and hop out of bed in your pajama shorts and tank top without another thought.

When you open the door, you’re surprised to find that it’s Andrew on the other side, hands shoved into the pocket of his hoodie.

“Oh, hey!” You greet, befuddlement obvious in your voice. “What’re you doing here? I thought you went out with everyone else.”

Andrew shakes his head. “Nah, I wasn’t feeling up for it tonight.”

“Ah.” There’s a few beats of silence as you stare at each other, until you finally ask, “Did…did you need something, or…?” Because, really, why the fuck is he here?

He’s quiet as he studies you, head tilting to one side. You’ve never been on the receiving end of his scrutiny before—at least, not that you’re aware of, anyway. It’s slightly intimidating, mostly because of his stature, but also because his attention is solely directed on you in a way you haven’t experienced previously.

Finally, he lets out a little huff and asks, “Are you avoiding me?”

Your eyes go wide and your mouth drops open. You quickly snap it shut, a flush already making your ears go hot.

“No! Of course not! What gave you that impression?” Lies, lies, lies, but what are you supposed to say to a question like that?

Andrew looks rightfully unconvinced. “I just…haven’t seen you around lately.”

He noticed?

“Right, yeah, uh…” You flounder for a response, rubbing your clammy palms against your shorts. “I’ve just—I’ve been busy, y’know? With stuff. And things.”

“Stuff and things,” Andrew repeats back slowly with a half-smile.

You nod, smile tightly. “Mhm. Stuff and things. Matters, even! And, um…affairs. States of affairs.”

“Of course.” He nods sagely. “It just seems like one of those very important matters that you’re tending to might be avoiding me.”

“Oh,” you reply lamely. “It’s—I’m not—” You’re beginning to panic, trying to think of anything to get out of this conversation that doesn’t involve slamming the door in his face.

“Because you haven’t gone out with us in weeks,” he continues as you stammer. “And you’re fairly quick to leave any room that I enter. Or, is that just a coincidence?”

Annoyance buzzes beneath your skin.

“There have been stranger occurrences, I’m sure,” you reply evenly.

“Right. I’m sure.” He pulls a grimace of a smile, lips pressed together tightly as he knocks once on the doorframe before taking a step back. He almost looks dejected, though that’s probably just wishful thinking on your part.

You’re ready to close the door on him, ready to curl back up under the blankets and try to sleep off your embarrassment. Just as he begins to turn away, Andrew stops and turns back to you with a curious half-smile.

“Would you like to go down to the hotel bar with me, then?”

You blink. “What?”

He shrugs easily, assuredly. “Since you’re not avoiding me, come down and get a drink with me.”

Anxiety grips your heart as your stomach flutters. It’s a bad idea. A terrible one, even. Being alone with Andrew under the influence of alcohol? You can only imagine that being a one-way ticket to a massive disaster that ends with you getting kicked off the tour entirely. God knows what dumb shite will spill out of your mouth the moment you start to feel loose.

His smile turns coy as he tilts his head. “Or I could always bring something up for you. They’ve a lovely wine list here.”

You swallow, searching his face as he raises a questioning eyebrow at you.

Finally, you sigh and let your head rest against the doorframe. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

Andrew laughs, shakes his head. “No. Unless you tell me to fuck off, of course.”

You can’t help but smile and shake your own head. “I would never. Can you give me a few minutes, though? I can’t go down looking like this.”

He waits outside like a gentleman, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed. He smiles as you reappear in clothes more suitable for a public setting—merely a hoodie and a pair of jeans, but it’s good enough for a booth in the dimly lit, fairly empty hotel bar.

You order a glass of blush wine, smirking when Andrew requests the bottle for the table instead.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” It’s light, airy, asked as a joke and nothing more.

Andrew looks at you with a sly tilt of his head. “Trying to find reasons for you to stay a while.”

The answer stuns you, your face going pink as you avoid the waiter’s amused expression.

He orders a glass of Woodford Reserve, neat. When the waiter drops it off, he holds it out to you for a taste, and you hold out your wine glass in turn. The whiskey is bitter, spicy, and makes you cough into the crook of your elbow as the amber liquid burns all the way down to your stomach.

“Good lord,” you splutter as he grins at you. “That’ll put some hair on your chest.”

You study him as he sips from your wine glass, as he tilts his head in thought and nods to himself assuredly before commenting that it’s actually quite good despite blush wines not being his thing.

“So…” you start, hands folded on the table as you level his stare.

“So…” he echoes as he rests his head in his hand, elbow planted firmly on the table. “Why have you been avoiding me?”

The question startles a laugh out of you. “Straight to it then, yeah?”

He shrugs, takes another sip of his drink. “It’s not typically how I operate.”

“Oh?” You tilt your head, an exaggeration of his own mannerisms. “And what makes me the lucky one to be graced with your focus and attention?”

Andrew chuckles. “I think you’re trying to dodge my question.”

“And I think you’re trying to dodge mine.” You smirk before taking a sip from your glass.

There’s a brief pause as he studies your face. “Honestly? I think my ego is a little bruised.” You raise an eyebrow at him, and he continues, “You can’t deny that you’re avoiding me, yeah? It’s been fairly obvious. And I…well, you've been on my mind, is all.”

Once again, you’re stunned into silence. He’d been thinking of you? Apparently so, and often enough that he’s not only noticed the distance you’ve maintained from him, he’s actually hurt by it. The thought of hurting him at all makes your chest feel tight.

“It’s not personal,” you say weakly.

“Feels personal,” he retorts. “Have I done something or said something to…I don’t know, make you not want to be around me?”

“No! No. Of course not.”

Andrew frowns. “I haven’t made you uncomfortable, have I? I try not to be too forward, but I suppose it’s the Pisces in me. Or something. Alex told me that once, I don’t know.”

You blink. “You haven’t made me uncomfortable.” Not in the way he would expect, anyway.

His cheeks turn rosy as he runs a hand through his curls. He seems almost frustrated, as though your answers perplex him further. Andrew takes another sip from his drink, and you decide to follow suit, gulping down the last of your wine. Before you can even reach for it, Andrew takes the bottle and begins to pour a generous refill into your glass.

You meet his eyes as he sets the bottle back down with a thud before bringing the glass up to your lips again. He watches you carefully, unable to maintain your stare as his eyes flit to your mouth, your throat, your fingers carefully curled around the stem.

“Good. Grand.” He sighs. “If I haven’t made you…I mean, is there something else, then?” Your puzzled expression makes him frown. “Or, someone else, rather?”

The gears slowly begin to turn in your mind.

“Someone…else?”

It must be your tone, the obvious confusion in your voice that clues him in, a look of understanding softening his features. Embarrassment quickly overtakes him as he covers his reddening face with a nervous laugh.

“You—you’ve no idea what I’m—? Oh, Jesus…” He avoids your eyes as he slams back the remainder of his drink in one go, then sets the glass down with a wince and a grimace. “I think we may have a misunderstanding here.”

Your own embarrassment has you speechless, mouth opening and closing as you process what he’s just said. Surely, he didn’t mean…? No, he couldn’t mean that, because things like that don’t just happen, at least not to you. Not when it’s Andrew of all people.

It’s the wine that grips your throat and controls your voice, and you laugh incredulously as you ask, “Oh my god, do you have a crush on me?”

He groans into his hands, then smooths them back over his hair before collapsing onto the table with a laugh. His face is tinged pink with drunken embarrassment, and he smiles at you before turning to hide his face in his arms.

“In no uncertain terms,” comes his muffled reply.

You laugh again and cover your own face, unsure of what to say. Your heart feels like it might beat out of your chest, your pulse thumping as a familiar heat begins to pool in your stomach.

After a moment, Andrew lifts his head again and pulls himself from the table until he’s upright once more. His eyes are tinged red now, bloodshot from booze. Your own head swims as you rest your head in your hand and smile at him warmly.

“D’you want to know why I was avoiding you?” You avert your gaze to the table, then sigh before the words tumble from your mouth. “Because you’re too fucking attractive. How am I supposed to get anything done when you walk around looking like this?”

He splutters a laugh as you gesture vaguely towards him. “Oh?”

The wine bottle is nearly empty now as you encourage him to pour some for himself in the empty glass on the table.

“It’s terribly inconsiderate of you,” you hum, and you catch his grin before he takes a drink.

Andrew grins. “My apologies for being such a distraction. I’d no idea I caused such distress.”

You chuckle and eye him coyly. “I wouldn’t necessarily call it distress.”

“What would you call it, then?”

“Hmm…” You scrunch your face as you pretend to think. “Intrigue, certainly...and the uncanny ability to make me—”

“Anything else for you?” The waiter’s voice startles you both, and you whip your head up to look at him wondering how much of that he heard. If he’s heard anything, he doesn’t let on. Instead, he mostly looks bored, and you can see the black booklet in his hand that surely contains the check.

Andrew is quick to take it and scribbles in his room number for the charge, nearly shoving the booklet back into the waiter’s hands with hasty thanks.

You’re both drunk enough to make bad decisions that you know you’ll regret come morning, but it’s difficult to care about that when he’s pressing you back against the wall in the elevator and kissing you like you’re his only source of air. When his hands are all over you like you’re the only thing anchoring him to reality.

“C’mon,” he murmurs as the doors open to let you onto his floor.

You stumble over yourself with a whispered, “Shit!” as he pulls you over the threshold of his room, and he laughs and apologizes before flipping a light on.

Andrew is a messy creature, and his room looks as though his overnight bag spontaneously exploded while he was out. It’s weirdly charming, another reminder that he is, in fact, just a regular fucking guy with standard quirks.

A thrill runs through you when he kisses you again, softer this time as he cradles your face in his hands.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” The question is sudden, his eyes wide as he searches for any hint of doubt.

You’re quiet for a moment as you turn the question over in your mind. Even in an inebriated state, he’s still so concerned about your comfort, your consent. It’s unsurprising given how anxious he seems in general, but it’s sweet all the same.

Finally, you rest a hand on his arm and look up at him with a smirk. “What I was saying earlier, about you and intrigue…well, you have a knack for making me weak in the knees, amongst other things. It’s typically based on your proximity, though.”

You see his mouth turn up in a half-smile just before he crowds closer to you, pulling you flush against him as you wrap your arms around his neck and laugh into another kiss.

“I don’t normally do this,” he breathes just before moving to kiss along your neck.

“I feel like I should be the one saying that.” You gasp when he bites down, not hard enough to cause any truly lasting damage, but enough to know that you’ll still be wearing his marks come morning. A thrilling thought, though you’re sure you’ll be mobbed by the ladies and Larissa for details later on.

Your hoodie is in the way, impeding his access, and he steps away to tug at the hem until you’re helping him peel it off. He stares at your chest, clearly surprised by your lack of bra and the way your nipples pebble beneath the thin fabric of your tank top.

“In my defense,” you say with a smirk, “I didn’t expect all of this to happen.”

He laughs quietly as he walks you back towards the bed. “You’ll hear no complaints from me.”

The sheets are rumpled and easily kicked away as you shuffle back on the mattress. Andrew drops kisses along chest, teeth grazing your skin and leaving little imprints. You squeak when he shoves your shirt up roughly, and he throws an apologetic look your way.

“Sorry, just a bit enthusiastic,” he muses.

You laugh, feeling breathless as his hands wander along your newly bared skin.

“You’ll hear no complaints from me.”

His responding laugh— a low, warm sound, sweet as honey—makes you blush. You gasp when he gently bites your nipple just before taking it into his mouth. It sends a shiver through you as he moves to the other, and you squirm beneath him, almost glad that you’re too drunk to really be embarrassed at the moment.

Once your jeans are off and tossed away, Andrew freezes, his eyes greedily taking in your nearly nude body before snapping back up to meet your stare. He dips a hand beneath the waistband of your panties—a simple black pair without any details or flair, because you didn’t expect to have Andrew’s hand shoved into them like this.

He seems surprised to find you an already slick mess, his fingers dipping easily into you before pulling them back to rub your clit in slow circles.

“I told you,” you huff a harsh laugh that breaks into a small moan. “Weak in the knees, amongst other things.”

Andrew’s grin is obscured by his hair that curtains his face. He continues to touch you slowly, methodically, while capturing you in a kiss and swallowing down every little sound that escapes you.

He breaks the kiss with a small gasp and asks, “What do you—how do you want to—?”

You’re far too impatient for anything that isn’t his cock inside of you right fucking now. You’re aching, feeling empty in a way that you have so many times over the past few weeks. Except this time, the object of your affections is stumbling over himself to rummage through his bag after you ask about protection.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” you muse as he approaches you again with something square in hand.

“So are you,” he shoots back, and he watches in awe as you slip your underwear off and cast them aside without batting an eye, emboldened.

He licks his lips before saying weakly, “Oh, you’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you?”

Andrew is far too impatient to remove everything, barely able to focus on even shoving his own jeans down and hastily rolling on a condom with shaky hands.

The feeling as he presses into you is heavenly, so full, warm, and satisfying. You bury your face into the crook of his shoulder as he sets an even pace. The slick sound of your arousal makes you blush, but it’s obvious how much it spurs him on, delighting in your body’s reaction to him, his touch, his everything.

Weeks of wishing and wanting, and now you can’t hold back your moans as he fucks you the way you’ve imagined. You can feel the way he stretches you as he fills you, and he gasps when you clench around him.

“Fuck,” he whispers, eyes screwing shut as he takes a deep breath.

You reach up and brush a stray curl from his face. “Are you okay?”

When he opens his eyes, he gives you a little smile and a nod. “Yeah, yes, grand,” he huffs, then lets his head fall forward until his forehead rests against your shoulder. “You feel so fucking good.”

He grips your thigh and squeezes gently, a silent bid to get your legs around him.

At first, he’s slow, taking his time as he kisses you between breathy laughs and whispered swears. It isn’t until you murmur, “You don’t have to treat me so preciously,” in his ear that he hums and shifts to press your legs further, damn near folding you in half. But it’s good, so fucking good, and you can barely form a thought as your eyes roll back and flutter as he picks up his pace.

And, Jesus, how are you already so close to your peak? Another testament to your seemingly insatiable desire. You cry out when he rubs a thumb against your clit roughly, out of sync with his thrusts as you press back and grind against his palm.

The stimulation is enough to send you tumbling over the edge. Tears blur your vision as you let out small, sobbing moans against his neck. Each wave of pleasure has you clenching down around him. and then he’s snapping his hips one, two, three more times before groaning in your ear while his cock twitches with his release.

Andrew is quick to collect you into his arms after collapsing next to you in bed. He reaches blindly for a blanket to tug over both of you, seemingly more of a courtesy than anything. You allow yourself to relax into him, nuzzling his shoulder before settling with your head on his chest.

“Wow,” he says after his breathing has evened, and he laughs quietly as he squeezes you.

“Yeah,” you hum.

There’s another stretch of silence, and your eyes begin to feel heavy as you follow the pattern of his breathing, feel the rise and fall of his chest.

Another small laugh from him stirs you, and you look up at him questioningly.

“We’re going to feel fucking awful tomorrow, aren’t we?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Is a hungover breakfast a proper first date, d’you think?”

You grin at him and lean up to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Proper? No. But we haven’t done things by the book so far.”

#hozier fic #hozier x reader #sailor scout stories #hozier smut #it's 10:36 PM on December 25th so Merry Christmas ya filthy animals #and Happy Holidays to all who celebrate

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yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt · 16 days ago

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Top Six Arcane Characters ranked in reverse-order of how much silly fucking nonsense they have to put up with throughout the runtime of the show

6. Cassandra Kiramman (daughter became a cop [I'm so sorry girl], daughter randomly goes missing for several days and breaks into her own house shot in the leg with a fucking homeless lesbian, gets killed by Zaun literally four seconds after being convinced to grant them sovereignty, and if there is an afterlife she had to watch her daughter crash out spectacularly using her very own initiative to gas the poor. Embarrassing.)

5. Ekko (every single Topsider he meets is next-level stupid and he has to hold their hand like a baby even when they are a literal genius. Had to watch Cait say "The enforcers aren't oppressing you guys that's not true :( !!" with a straight face, had to watch Jayce say "Oh yeah we put the hexgate here so that if it blew up it would only release dangerous arcane-gamma rays upon YOUR people so nobody who actually matters would die" with a straight face, had to find out the founder of the city that oppressed him his entire life was literally just a stupid old man with a banjo, Jesus fucking Christ. He is low on this list because of the amount of silly nonsense he subjected other people to, especially in the AU. Also he threw a time-machine bomb at God which wasn't so much something that happened to him but felt worth mentioning)

4. Jayce Talis (literally on a constant mission to keep his very fragile partner from killing himself through sheer scientific negligence and is consistently thwarted by either Viktor's impulsivity, the narrative, or him-fucking-self. Had to go to the shadow realm while Heimer and Ekko partied in Utopia playing the banjo and dancing to silly little songs and the first person he has the absolute misfortune to see when he gets back is fucking Salo I would kill myself)

3. Mel Medarda (practically runs a counsel full of idiots twice her age at like 25, himbo situationship's twink almost dies every time they try to fuck, has to deal with her mother ravaging twinks with her eyes right in front of Mel's salad, got kidnapped by witches for literally no reason)

2. Silco (Girldad who somehow, despite being one of the least mentally hinged people in the undercity, has an even less hinged daughter who so regularly blows things up and kills people that he scolds her about it as though she'd just snuck out past curfew. Has to work with a gaggle of dumbasses to produce and distribute his sterocainoin I mean Shimmer who regularly plot to kill him but are legitimately too stupid and useless to pull it off, his factory got randomly busted up and a bunch of his employees killed by an angry twenty-something with pink hair and also The Guy From The Fucking Posters [imagine Niel DeGrasse Tyson and a twenty-two year old homeless lesbian blow up your job like tell me you wouldn't have a stroke] and had to deal with a TREMENDOUS amount of nonsense in the AU where Ekko out of nowhere reminds him of his Most Traumatic Memory Ever and also the founder of Piltover blows up and his teenage stepkid is the only one who saw it happen.)

1. Sevika (Literally cannot ever catch a break for one second. Just wanted to help Zaun be free from Piltover and gets absolutely bodied by one or the other of Felicia and Connol's cursed fucking daughters every other episode in season 1, loses a combined total of like four??? arms, is forced to clean up the typically VERY bloody messes of her boss's unhinged daughter because he's such a pookie-wookie that he refuses to discipline her in any way, becomes the unwilling parent of two (2) mentally ill orphans, is subjected to Jinx's constant jokes at the expense of her missing arm (which Jinx is responsible for, by the way) gets given a political position as some form of shitty reparation when she is NOT a politician she is the guy who backs up the revolutionaries like miss girl just wanted to gamble punch people and fuck whores can you let her live her life??? Is one of the few people to survive and probably hates every minute of it)

#to be clear I'm not saying these characters have “the most trauma”#no no I'm specifically ranking characters by how much “silly fucking nonsense” they are subjected to #also I personally think Shimmer should be called Sterocainoin (steroids + cocaine + heroin) because that's what it is lmao #arcane #sevika #sevika arcane #silco #silco arcane #mel medarda #jayce talis #ekko #ekko arcane #cassandra kiramman #jinx arcane #viktor arcane #meljay #jayvik

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drdemonprince · 5 months ago

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At one point he was down in between my legs, fingering me, and he made a throwaway comment about probably being Autistic.

I leaned back, trying to relish what pleasure I was getting. “Well, we can talk about that subject, if you like,” I said vaguely, not really wanting to bring my professional life into things.

He kept working away at my body, kissing between my lips and thighs. “Oh I know who you are,” he said suddenly. “Your book changed my life. In a way, I guess this is me thanking you.”

I made him exit my body and we went to the kitchen to hash it out. It turned out he was a big fan of many things I’d written.

“I’ve seen you around the neighborhood many times,” he confessed. “But you posted online that you don’t like when people come up to you, and so I always decided to leave you alone.”

He said, “Your book is the reason I got divorced, actually. My ex-husband was a therapist, and when I showed him your book and said I thought I might be Autistic, he didn’t believe me. We have been separated for a year.”

He asked, “Did I just make this weird, telling you when I did that I was a fan?” I told him that if he’d said it sooner, I would have never fucked him at all.

People never realize that when they approach me, what they are doing is dragging me into work. It doesn’t matter whether I was at breakfast, or an orgy. I was just some guy standing there, enjoying his beer, but now they have made me the known scholar and author. And sure, my job might be meaningful, but that doesn’t mean I like to work.

I tell my friend that I no longer want to be a public figure, and that I am planning how to make it all end. She tells me, “You’ve got to do what is the best for you, even if it’s something that the rest of us wants and can’t imagine giving up.”

I ask myself, did I want this? It would be more flattering to say I didn’t, and play the role of the hermetic author whose work developed its own life purely because it was so good. But that isn’t true.

From the moment I got a Myspace account in high school, I was publishing essays about my political views. I serialized multiple novels on Tumblr, guerilla marketing them with giveaways and custom-made images until they hit the Kindle sales charts. I have made memes, tried starting viral trends, coined phrases, and given hundreds of hours’ worth of media interviews. I write prescriptive nonfiction, for Christ’s sake. Of course people seek guidance from me. I offer it up!

I have been strategic about how I dress, and my video backdrops, and retaken clips of myself speaking over and over again until they sounded right. I’ve hosted debates with my most vicious critics while I’m in the shower, started public beef with creators who had larger accounts than I did, and rushed to my keyboard when upsetting news broke, because I alone was possessed of the most correct take on it.

I wanted this. I didn’t know what this was, this internet fame I was chasing, but I did all I could to make it mine. I thought that by writing so much, I would one day be able to escape myself, maybe really feel connected to other people. Instead it has meant never being able to stop thinking about myself: how I am seen, what I am working on, how it all fits together, what comes next. It has also meant being spoken about, theorized about, and criticized, and developing a firm exoskeleton of disdain between myself and the world.

I believe now that that it is immoral for any person to be listened to by ninety thousand other people. Holding authority and status like that runs counter to my anarchic ideals. I am not more important or correct than anyone. I should not be trusted to tell people which commodities to buy, which companies not to support, what to read, what to think, what words to use, or how to conduct their lives.

All the other animals know there is no one way that a creature “should” live. There is only the way that it does. The world has no consciousness, no beliefs. It cannot pass judgment. We only feel so watched and evaluated because we have covered the planet with so many millions of our eyes. But we can stop performing dignified human goodness at any moment.

I think that celebrity is an evil, corrupting force that pits the human instinct for bonding against itself. Instead of appreciating the singing of our friends around the fire, we stream Chappell Roan until stalkers break into her house. Rather than playing card games together, we stan Twitch streamers, filling up their chats with highlighted messages until they acknowledge us. We long to be famous novelists because then we would have the social permission to write, and we don’t have the money or time to enjoy the activity on its own.

I wrote about Chappell Roan, stalker stans, and how turning art into content creation ruins the work, and the creator's life. It's free to read in full (or have narrated to you by the app!) on Substack.

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cinnamanz · 2 months ago

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# DARLING, I — chapter four!

when new york city’s widely-known spider-woman's life becomes unknowingly entwined with a member of the rising global girl group katseye, she learns that juggling superhero duties, university, and a sudden crush may or may not just be the downfall of her. but hey, at least she's helping people, right?

SWEET MOTHER OF CHRIST

it wasn't often that y/n went to parties, her plate was always crowded with an inordinate amount of responsibilities. if she wasn’t in the dark room or choosing photos for the yearbook and the twitter account to promote the school, she’d be out taking the subway and skateboarding down nyc to snap a photo.

then, if she wasn’t seen doing either of those things, she’d be cooped up in her room fiddling with the mixer and her ears drowning in headphones. and if she wasn’t seen doing any of those, you could most possibly-probably-definitely see her swinging around in a spandex and masking herself with her alter ego, spider-woman.

however, in the (somewhat) silence that blanketed nyc at christmas eve, she pulls herself out of bed and down the stairs. on a bright yellow sticky note stuck on the fridge door was aunt may’s handwriting. “went to feast. come drop by in the morning if you can.”

now as she pedalled along the dimly-lit streets of nyc to pick up yunjin, she couldn't help but admire how quiet the streets were, and how calmer it was at night compared to when the sun has risen and— oh, this must be it. the jolliest townhouse in the block. great.

the last time she'd gone to a part was... what, five years ago? when yunjin threw herself a graduation party which ended up with her face planting onto the floor after attempting to trust fall onto a crowd of illegally inebriated graduates.

normal yunjin party, normal yunjin shenanigans, so naturally y/n had ended up taking care of her rather than jumping the bandwagon on getting shitfaced wasted. not that she liked drinking anyway. uncle ben always shielded her from that. taught her not to turn to substances. either way, even then, she'd always been the one yunjin runs to whenever she needed looking after.

y/n locked her bike around the nearest pole, tugging at the plastic cable a few times and making sure it was fastened tightly before walking up the stairs of hyunjin's townhouse, fishing her phone out of her pocket.

as she opened the door, a strong gust of booze and weed washed over her face like a wave, nose scrunching on cue as the tight hallway of the townhouse squeezed swaying bodies together like sardines, bright flashing lights and puking people made the sight more unseemly.

"you've gotta be kidding me."

her feet found hyunjin sprawled on the couch like a starfish, eyes staring up at the ceiling absentmindedly. "hyunjin."

his eyes met y/n's for a split second, though slightly inebriated, he knew what she was here for. nodding at her before staring back at the ceiling, he responds. "upstairs. guest bathroom, i think."

as she made her way up the stairs (successfully dodging stained floorboards with puke and grinding bodies), she noticed a panicked looking brunette filing in and out of the guest bedroom.

like a moth to a flame, she couldn't help but be pulled in by the sight, a scene that stood out within the ocean of grinding skin, feet moving before she could realise, dragging her into the room and being given a full show of yunjin hunched over the toilet bowl with another woman bunching her hair up into a makeshift ponytail.

"yunjin." she'd mumbled before entering the room and moving past the brunette, leaning on the doorframe of the bathroom with a grimace. "christ."

the woman holding yunjin's hair looked up at y/n, eyes widening in unsure familiarity, and despite the loud retching and gagging by yunjin, a smile crosses her face. "hi, are you y/n?"

"uh, yeah. how long has she been throwing up?"

"like, five minutes ago? she's been mumbling your name right before she got sick."

"god. sorry, what's your name?"

"sophia. and uh, that over there is manon."

y/n whips her neck around at the mention of the brunette girl, and sweet mother of christ, she was gorgeous. a beauty carved by the greek gods themselves. yunjin's retching ricochets off the walls and y/n was forced to tear her eyes from the beauty standing behind her, kneeling down next to her childhood best friend.

"i appreciate it, sophia. thank you for looking after yunjin. i'll take over from here."

who thought getting shitfaced drunk on christmas eve was a good idea? yunjin, clearly.

ADVANCED MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!! (its already christmas for me) HAPPY HOLIDAYS GUYS

masterlist 🕸️🕷✮⋆˙ next

taglist : @d1spact @yeetaberry127 @urmom2314 @lararajjj @artrizzler19 @ninguitar @ohmyhaely @firstclassjaylee @meganskiendielsbtc TAGLIST OPEN!

#katseye #manon bannerman x female reader #manon x female reader #manon katseye #manon bannerman #meret manon #manon x reader #katseye x female reader #katseye smau #katseye x reader #wlw #spider woman #smau

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wlntrsldler · 11 months ago

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I keep imagining the first time Luke and Mr. D met after Luke's hickeys/scratches went viral

LMFAOOOOO ANON THIS IS SENDING ME

here is how i think that conversation played out (suggestive content ahead):

"shit, five star, your dad is calling me," luke mumbled, eyes wide as he looked down at his phone. "he never calls me."

connor snicked from his bunk in the tour bus, "well, given that the whole internet is talking about you right now after the show you gave them last night, i'm not surprised."

"ha!" travis exclaimed, sitting up on his bed. "put it on speaker. i wanna hear him yell at you."

you rolled your eyes, "he's not gonna yell at you."

luke turned to you with hopeful eyes, "you think so?"

"well, he's probably not gonna yell at you," you scrunched your face up, rethinking your words, "like 55% chance he won't yell at you."

"i don't like those odds, babe."

"answer the fucking phone, luke."

luke clicked the green button on his screen, chewing on the nail of his thumb. he rolled his eyes, pressing the speaker button as travis kept egging him on. chris and clarisse opened the privacy curtain of chris' bunk to listen in on the drama.

"hey, mr. d," luke cleared his throat, ignoring the quiet giggles from the boys when his voice cracked. "what's up?"

"is my daughter with you?"

"say no," you whispered. so you were wrong about the odds. your dad was 100% about to yell at luke and you selfishly didn't want to get your ass handed to you just yet. you were going to avoid your dad's calls for as long as possible.

"uhh... no?"

"oh jesus fucking christ," you sighed, smacking your palm against your forehead, "that was soooo convincing."

you heard your dad type on his laptop before shutting it. there was some background noise that subsided after you heard the shut of a door. it seemed like your dad went into his office to get some privacy.

"hey, kid," your dad said, no doubt addressing you now.

"hey, dad," you rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly, leaning down to speak into the mic of luke's phone. "how are you?"

"don't start with me," he said, "would it kill you both to not do whatever it is you do that results in those pictures? pictures that are all over the internet by the way!"

a snide remark was on the tip of luke's tongue, because yes, it would kill him to not do the things that resulted in the pink marks on his neck and the healing scratches on his back, but that didn't seem like the right response.

"dad, you never had an issue with them taking their shirts off during shows before. and luke has gone out on stage like that before."

luke cringed, remembering one too many instances where he'd gone out on stage with hickeys all over his neck. it felt like a lifetime ago now, as if ever since you walked into his life that past version of him was someone he didn't recognize anymore. he much preferred remembering the name of the girl who left him marked up, especially preferring that it was only you who did that to him.

"that was before he started dating my daughter!" he replied, "i don't want to know anything about your relationship, but i'm in an unfortunate situation where i happen to manage the career of your boyfriend's band so i have to deal with it sometimes. so for the love of god, please please, stop."

"i'm so sorry mr. d," luke mumbled, "i completely forgot about them and by the time i realized, it was too late."

you could practically see your dad pulling at his hair, a habit he had when he was in stressful or awkward situations. he didn't speak for a good thirty seconds and then he sighed, "just keep your goddamn shirt on."

luke gulped, "got it."

when your dad ended the call, the entire bus erupted in laughter, including you. luke's face was as red as a tomato as he groaned and buried his head in his pillow. your shoulders shook as you giggled, laying on top of him. he instantly turned his body to wrap his arms around you.

"that wasn't so bad," you cooed, running your fingers through his curls, "and that was a shit apology, baby. you were smug as hell on stage when people pointed out the scratches."

"i wasn't thinking of the consequences of my actions," he said, "i was caught up watching people connect the dots that my girlfriend is not only hot but a fucking animal in be--"

"okay, that's our cue," travis cut off, closing his curtain. connor followed his head, popping in his airpods. clarisse sent you a wink before she disappeared behind the curtain with chris.

"i'll stop leaving hickeys on you," you kissed his face, enjoying how flustered he got. "but i can't promise too much on the scratches."

"i'm gonna stop taking my shirt off at shows, i think," he mused, toying with the hem of the shirt you wore. "i don't think i can take another surprise call from your dad. i think it took years off my life."

"your fans will be highly disappointed," you teased, leaning over to his ear, "but if you're gonna keep your shirt on, does that mean hickeys on your abs is fair game?"

luke licked his lips, tugging on his own curtain to give you two some privacy, "absolutely."

#frances replies #poisoned mercury chats #luke castellan x reader

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thestalkerbunny · 6 months ago

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So truly as his song proclaimed, on one sunny day (A heat index of literally 97 degrees and climbing) I once again met with our old friend Bill Cipher by purchasing The Book of Bill.

And I gotta say.

It was like a WAVE of nostalgia.

I had forgotten how GOOD and WITTY Gravity falls had been. Not to mention the book in itself is SMART. We as a community were ENTHRALLED with the evil tortilla chip-an absurd thing to vote Tumblr's most sexy man 2013-and the book knew that and was like 'here is more of the chip man.' Like obviously there's codes and treats and what have youse for the smarter folks. But just the energy of the whole book, the fake ADS, the amazing design work, the missing pages, GATSBY, the LORE Bill gives that fills in so many blanks for us while callously poking more holes with a pencil at the same time. You read it perpetually bouncing back and forth questioning how reliable a narrator Bill is and more importantly, how much of it do you REALLY want to believe in?

It's a narrative that explores Bill as a person-at least how Bill Perceives it and with missing journal pages from Ford, how FORD perceived Bill.

The whole book in itself is a BREAK UP story, between a Man and the Monster who he unknowingly let into his life. A monster that pushes him to the brink, that makes the possession trope EXCITING AND NEW to me as he is horribly aware and actively communicating with the monster who is actively threatening his very LIFE if not given obedience and compliance. And it's not one sided yelling into the void convos-they can actually communicate and it makes the disregard so much more terrifying. It both makes you empathize with our favorite villain while not cheapening it so much to redeem him.

Reading this book validates the mania we see Ford with when we get the flash back episode of the Portal Incident. The sick sort of Paranoia that he's developed because every waking moment of his life has been ruined by someone he let in, trusted and opened up to.

The Book of Bill doesn't pull punches. There are parts in this book that go from 'comical horror' that jacks it up to 'Jesus fucking christ'

The Book of Bill does what the original show was not allowed to do-which is go further with how DAMAGING a relationship Ford had with Bill. How it was an addiction, feeding off each other. Ford in finally having someone who could in essence-REFLECT his own intellect back at him and Bill, a creature that demanded an audience to be witnessed by constantly.

Regardless, this was a FASINATING read. 110/10 totally work the trip in the 97 degree heat I made to 3 towns over JUST to get the Barnes and Noble EXCLUSIVE Copy that will now sit very proudly on my shelf. Go Buy it, Go Read it, It is WORTH it.

#TSB talks #Gravity Falls #The Book of Bill #Bill Cipher #Stanford Pines #Ford Pines #Grunkle Ford

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cranberryjuice-posts · 11 months ago

Text

-be still my foolish heart-

Pairings - Abby Anderson x fem! Teacher! Reader

Synopsis - rejoining the firefly’s has given Abby a chance to finally find love. Once she has she has no idea what to do with it.

An - HOZIER HOW I LOVE UR MUSIC

Cw - fluff to smut

Starting over wasnt easy. Anyone could testify to that.

Abby let out a deep sigh running a hand down her face. For the past year Abby had been readjusting to life, a former life she had long forgotten. Lev was helpful Sure but she didn’t know what to do with herself.

After becoming a firefly she had finally built up enough courage to admit that she herself was really only interested in Women.

But what made matters worse was you. Ever since that day in the infirmary where you helped Abby and lev recover You’ve just plagued the poor girls mind.

Washing her face Abby headed down stairs. Turning around the corner she almost fell, standing in the kitchen was you. Laughing with lev, coffee mug in and hand wearing Abby’s shirt— ONLY Abby’s shirt.

Looking over your shoulder you smiled at the blonde “morning, I made tea? Want some”

“Sure..” she mumbled walking towards the other side of the counter, where lev stood. You happily turned walking to the stove to pour Abby a glass.

With your back turned, abby grabbed levs hand dragging him into another room. “Why the hell is she here?!” She whispered yelled.

“She came by last night drunk, threw up on herself so I offered her one of your shirts I didn’t think it’d be a problem” he just shrugged his shoulders not really caring.

Abby however did. “Lev im going to beat your ass”

“It’s not That big of a Deal” lev continued on his stance, just as Abby was going to respond you called for her.

“Abby!” Turning around you saw Abby back at the kitchen counter, waiting like a puppy for your next command. “Here, Two spoons of sugar and a little cream. Just like how you like it” you smiled passing the mug over.

Abby just took the cup to her mouth not saying a word, secretly she preferred her tea without any additives that but she would never tell you. “I have a favor to ask” you tilted your head some to the side.

Abby perked up looking at you once more. “Yeah?”

“So, I know you use to be apart of some group before you came here and the teenagers that I teach are starting to want to get more responsibilities and with that they need to learn to fight. I was wondering if tomorrow you would come by and help me teach my lesson on the outside and how to fight the infected”

Abby kept quiet for a few moment. Mostly in awe that you wanted to ask her out of everyone else to help teach a class. Before she could respond lev did it for her. “She’ll be there” he spoke in his usual monotone voice while taking an apple off the table, leaving the room in the process.

Your shook your head finding lev to just be entertaining. “I got confrimation from your little assistant but I need a yes from you to”

“Yeah, I’ll do it sorry I just got lost in thoight” she tried to play her embarrassment off.

“Thankyou, your doing me a huge favor” you squeezed her arms gently. “I owe you one” you continued to Hold eye contact with her. Jesus fucking Christ Abby was down bad for you. She simply nodded watching as you to left most likely to get a change of clothes.

Now standing alone in the kitchen Abby looked down at her light tea and mentally debated on how to make a good impression tomorrow.

————

Nervously Abby stood in-front of the school house. Letting out a deep sigh she walked in, seeing your back facing her she took in your appearance.

Your natural hair pulled back with a bow, paired with a pair of bellbottoms that showed off your ass and a button down. Turning around finally you waved at Abby.

Making your way over to her you hugged her sweetly. “Thank you again, really I couldn’t do this without you”

“Don’t worry about it” she gave you a half smile back, admiring your body one final time she let you drag her towards the center of the class room.

Soon the class started to fill up, more and more kids coming in until all 15 of them were seated. “Good morning everyone” You smiled causing them to say it back.

“Today we have a Special guess Ms. Anderson, now I know you all want to go out and fight Infected and help keep us all safe so I had her come in today to help teach you all how to properly take care of not only your community but also the infected outside”

The way you held yourself and instructed your class honestly made Abby’s heart soar. Just how confident yet humble you were honestly made you more attractive in her eyes. Once you finished your speech you turned to Abby, allowing her to have the floor.

She awkwardly shifted in her spot not sure how to start. “Um.. hey, so like Ms.LN said uh I’m here to help I guess teach you all about infected.”

Once her sentence ended the entire class erupted into chaos questions with a new one shouted after the other. Stepping in and calming them down a kid named Liam raised his hand. “Is it true you almost killed a pregnant woman?”

“I uh” Abby stumbled on her words. “I highly doubt that has to do with killing infected”

“Liam, this is your last warning one more time and I’m having a talk with your mother” your threat only made the boy cower and Abby become flustered.

Calming her nerves she sighed, the important thing right now was to at least impress you. “I’ve killed people. I’ve killed infected and I’ve hurt alot of people.. a lot of them—

— and I think that’s it, unless you all have questions” Abby finally asked after her lecture. A few kids raised their hands asking important questions. The spotlight ended though once the bell rang.

“All-right everyone thats it, get out Go to lunch” You playfully yelled, saying goodbye to your students giving each their own smile. As the last one left you sat down on your desk, leaning on to Abby who still stood beside it. “They all like You”

“You think” she asked trying to ignore the growing blush on her cheeks.

“Yeah.. I know it” You mumbled taking her hand into yours. Kissing the back of her hand softly you rubbed her knuckles. “You’re coming to the party tonight right?”

Abby looked down at you embarrassed. “I mean I can, I know lev wants to go because he has this crush on a girl but I really wasn’t planing on going”

You kept quiet for a moment still holding her hand. “Well then if you’re not going, could I come by tonight and keep you company?” You sweetly asked.

If her face could of gotten redder it would of. “Yes!” She spoke a little to quickly causing you to laugh. “I’ll see you tonight Abby” you smiled looking up at her with a sense of admiration.

She nodded, awkwardly leaving the school house making you giggle.

————

You sat outside rocking gently on the swinging bench on Abby’s porch. The light from the party happening at the tavern light up the neighborhood.

“You like marshmallows right” Abby asked as she joined you on the bench, passing the cup of hot coco. You smiled taking the cup, taking a sip you let the sweet drink pass through your body.

Letting out a sigh of satisfaction you faced the blonde again. You took the quilt off your body passing it over Abby’s as well, wanting to share the body heat.

“So” you started, turning to face Abby. “You’ve been here for a year now, your hair has grown out into a cute bob and you’ve put half the men here to shame with your muscles.. so I have to ask Ms. Anderson, do You like someone?”

Abby sub consciously reached to her hair that rested just bellow her chin, she normally kept it in a bun though tonight a few strands weren’t wanting to cooperate. She cleared her throat not sure how to respond. “I guess so” she managed out. “I mean I do like this girl but I doubt she’d like be back”

“And Why’s That” You asked leaning into her. “And it’s a girl? Is this you coming out to me Abby” you softly teased.

“Shut up” she chuckled. “Yes it’s a woman and yes I guess technically this is me telling you I like women, more then men at least”

“And Why do You think she doesn’t like you?” You set your cup on the table in front of you before laying your head on your arms on the back of the bench.

Abby just sighed. “Well for starters shes Just beautiful, I mean really she’s just… wow— you know” she smiled sweetly at her mug.

“Yeah?” You playfully flirted.

“Oh yeah, I mean she’s just astonishing, and the nicest woman I’ve ever met. She holds herself with such confidence and grace that honestly she was probably royalty in another life” Abby continued with a foolish smile that was eventually replaced with a more remorseful look. “But I did some not so ok stuff in my past, and if she found out I don’t think she could ever look at me the same”

“Like What?” You asked not thinking that it could be any worse than anyone else. “We’ve all killed people abs, whatever you did it couldn’t of been that bad”

Abby hesitated, to tell you meant telling you all the bad shit she’s done. Closing her eyes she let out a deep breath before speaking.

“I beat a man to death with a golf club because he killed my dad and took away the only man who could of made a cure for the infection then his brother and some girl came after me, killed all my friends. I slept with my friends boyfriend, I shot the brother of the man I killed and beat the girl almost to death, I almost killed her pregnant girlfriend and shot this guy who was with them then I left the group I was with at the time and ran away with lev”

The silence was over whelming. She squeezed her cup in shame regretting even opening her mouth. The silence was replaced however with laughter. Finally looking up Abby looked over seeing how you laughed like nothing happened.

You continued to silently giggle before leaning your head back, looking over at Abby you gave her a dumb smile. “Really? That’s it?”

She just looked at you confused. How could you be so laid back after she told you something so traumatic. “Abby why would I ever care about you killing someone? So what you killed a man that killed your dad, sounds fair. You also got vengeance for your friends, again sounds fair; though the sleeping with your friends boyfriend I’m not sure about that”

Abby felt her face turn red. Looking back down embarrassing she fumbled her words trying to explain. “Look it wasn’t like that, we dated when we were kids and it ended messily. We got into an argument and were just mad at each-other and the only way to express our feelings was through actions, I regretted it and it was honestly shit I hated it the entire time”

“Well as Long as you regret it then I guess there isn’t a problem” you chuckled, leaning over you tucked a stray strand of Abby’s hair behind her ear.

Subconsciously Abby felt herself leaning into you, she held her breath- not wanting the moment to end. You followed her lead tilting your head into hers.

After a short second you smiled “just kiss me already” the was the last thing spoken before Abby crashed herself into you.

Her hands instantly finding themselves on your hips and in your hair, wanting to ground herself in anyway she could. A years worth of sexual and romantic tension building up being poured out all into one kiss.

In response you picked your body up, leaning into Abby you pressed yourself against her, slowly making your way into her lap. With your knee between Abby’s legs and the once heavy quilt now falling off you both you pulled away. Breathing heavily with your lips still close you muttered against her skin “wanna take this inside?”

She quickly agreed following your lead inside, leaving everything else behind the only thing that mattered was having you both against each other. With the door shut you locked your hands into Abby’s hair, kissing her once again.

While the messy kiss continued the stronger woman helped lift you off the ground causing you to wrap your legs around her waist. With her hands on your Ass abby carried you upstairs and to her room.

Once there she gently tossed you on the bed. With how much she’s had to hear about your hookup story’s and how you wish they’d man handle you more often she had a fake sense of confidence going through her body.

You threw your shirt aside, quickly making due with the bra. The confidence broke once Abby realized this was her first time with a woman. Her first time really ever since Owen. Wanting to curl up in embarrassment Abby looked away from your breast.

You laughed noticing her shyness and the distant look of doom. “Don’t worry.. it’s not as difficult as you think” pulling her down by her shirt you gave Abby a gentle, reassuring kiss. “We’ll take it slow”

Abby just nodded, shaking the feeling away she slowly stripped off her shirt, trying to hold the intimate eye contact.

Both taking turns, each stripping out of their clothes until you both were naked all while holding eye contact. You ran a hand up Abby’s chest, giving her sensitive breast a gentle squeeze she moaned, deep and raspy.

“You make me feel good baby and I’ll make you feel like nothing else exist” you mumbled while kissing Abbys neck. She moaned in response, laying on the bed she started to kiss and grab down your body. Every piece of skin that she could touch she loved. From your collarbones, nipples and to your stomach she sweetly kissed.

You took a hand, lacing it into Abby’s now messed up hair. Once she reached between your thighs she was already on her knees admiring what laid between.

“God” she groaned tucking her face into your plush thigh. Kissing it softly she slowly made her way towards your soaking cunt. Your stomach tensed, the teasing feeling of her lips dragging across your skin only riling you up more.

Moving her head towards your core by her hair you let out a small whine. “Please”

You opened your eyes to look down at her, she hadn’t even touched you yet but she was already so pussy drunk. You loosened your grip on her hair as she finally brought herself to you.

She gave a kitten lick on your swollen clit, slightly insecure of her skills before actually placing herself onto your sensitive skin.

Slowly sucking on the bud Abby kept the eyecontact with you, feeling herself getting off with the faces and noises you made. Without realizing it she slid two fingers into you.

“Oh fuck, Just like That Abby” Your stomach tensing up as your chest followed your rapid breaths. You clamped your thighs around Abby’s head not sure how much more you could take. Moaning her name you started to grind your hips on her face. The smell of sex quickly over taking your senses.

With your eyes shutting and your back arcing pushing your cunt onto Abby’s tongue, chasing your high; your legs started to shake as your orgasm crashed over your body.

Relaxing and allowing Abby to pull away from you, you looked down at her with a slight chuckle. Her face red and her pupil’s dilated. “You look beautiful” You smiled tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You’re one to talk” she grinned in response, kissing you, the taste of yourself in her tongue taking over. You sat up moving back towards the bed frame before laying down again.

“Here” you gestured to your lips. Both still breathless, Abby looked at you confused until it hit her what you were signaling.

It was cute how nervous she was. Straddling your body she bent down giving you a kiss. You let out a muttered moan wrapping your arms around her. While you gently rubbed Abby’s body you helped move her up towards your lips.

Letting her grab the headboard you forced her hips down. Abby was sweet, sweeter than you expected. Her small whines and grunts made you feel like you were going insane. She was just perfect.

You ran your tongue in rhymathic circles, squeezing Abby’s thighs wanting to bring her closer if it was even possible. Her moans. Her taste. Her skin. Everything about her was perfect.

You could tell she was close, from how she gripped the board to her scrunched up face. Her moans becoming louder up until the point she held her head back.

Abby was inexperienced it was obvious from her body language, her finishing faster than you would of thought was kind of expected.

Trying to help brace her body while she came down from her orgasm you helped Move her beside you, you both just looked at one another not wanting the moment to end.

Giving her a subtle kiss on the cheek you sat up, letting out a deep breath you smiled down at Abby who was softly rubbing your arm. You could of gone for a few more rounds but Abby really just wanted to lay down. Maybe another time

After making a shower for you both and getting a drink you laid on Abby’s chest, enjoying how her stronger arms made you feel secure. Softly kissing her neck you smiled against her skin. “I love you Anderson”

Though you weren’t looking at her you could tell her face was red. “Yeah— I uh i love you to” she managed back, her arm growing tighter around you.

#lesbian #wlw #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson smut #abby anderson tlou2 #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x reader #abby anderson x reader #tlou fluff #tlou smut #tlou2 #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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garden-of-thoughts-fruit-of-lips · 2 months ago

Text

Matthew 10:7

As you go, preach, saying: ‘The Kingdom of the heavens has drawn near.

Note the time the Devil showed Jesus all the kingdoms of the world (Luke 4:5) "in an instant of time" saying that the world has been given over to him and he could give it to whomever he chose, and the Devil chose Christ. The Devil said to Christ, "I will give you all this authority and their glory" (Luke 4:5-8).

Who is the ruler of this world (2 Corinthians 4:4), is it not the Devil (Revelation 12:9)? And what are the inhabitants of the earth saying? Are they not saying that Jesus is God, giving Jesus all his authority and their glory? The Devil wanted Jesus to do an act of worship before him by means of the Devil's image of the heavens (Isaiah 14: 12-14) and earth by giving breath of life to it by means of the fruit of his lips (Hebrews 13:15). But note how Jesus replied when being tempted by the Tempter (Matthew 4:1), "Then Jesus said to him: 'Go away, Satan! For it is written: 'It is Jehovah your God you must worship, and it is to him alone you must render sacred service' (Matthew 4:10)." Because it was God at the beginning who created the heavens and earth and said let there be light through His Spirit (Genesis 1: 1-3).

Read one Bible verse or read them all! 📖📚

1 John 2:16

because everything in the world—the desire of the flesh and the desire of the eyes and the showy display of one’s means of life—does not originate with the Father, but originates with the world

Isaiah 29:13

Jehovah says: “This people approach me with their mouth And they honor me with their lips, But their heart is far removed from me; And their fear of me is based on commands of men that they have been taught.

1 Thessalonians 3:5

is why, when I could bear it no longer, I sent to learn of your faithfulness, in case somehow the Tempter might have tempted you, and our labor might have turned out to be in vain.

2 Corinthians 11:14

And no wonder, for Satan himself keeps disguising himself as an angel of light.

Revelation 12:12

On this account be glad, you heavens and you who reside in them! Woe for the earth and for the sea, because the Devil has come down to you, having great anger, knowing that he has a short period of time.”

2 Corinthians 11:3

But I am afraid that somehow, as the serpent seduced Eve by its cunning, your minds might be corrupted away from the sincerity and the chastity that are due the Christ.

Revelation 13:13

And it performs great signs, even making fire come down out of heaven to the earth in the sight of mankind.

Luke 10:18

At that he said to them: “I see Satan already fallen like lightning from heaven.

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artandthebible · 4 months ago

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Naomi and Ruth

Artist: Evelyn De Morgan (English, 1855–1919)

Date: 1887

Medium: Oil on Canvas

Naomi and Ruth

The story of Naomi appears in the Bible in the book of Ruth. Naomi lived during the time of the judges. She was the wife of a man named Elimelech, and they lived in Bethlehem with their two sons, Mahlon and Kilion. Naomi’s life illustrates the power of God to bring something good out of bitter circumstances.

When a famine hits Judea, Elimelech and Naomi and their two boys relocate to Moab (Ruth 1:1). There, Mahlon and Kilion marry two Moabite women, Orpah and Ruth. After about ten years, tragedy strikes. Elimelech dies, and both of Naomi’s sons also die, leaving Naomi, Ruth, and Orpah widows (Ruth 1:3–5). Naomi, hearing that the famine in Judea was over, decides to return home (Ruth 1:6). Orpah stays in Moab, but Ruth chooses to move to the land of Israel with Naomi. The book of Ruth is the story of Naomi and Ruth returning to Bethlehem and how Ruth married a man named Boaz and bore a son, Obed, who became the grandfather of David and the ancestor of Jesus Christ.

The name Naomi means “sweet, pleasant,” which gives us an idea of Naomi’s basic character. We see her giving her blessing to Ruth and Orpah when she tells them to return to their mothers’ homes so that they might find new husbands: she kisses them and asks that the Lord deal kindly with them (Ruth 1:8–14). But her heartache in Moab was more than Naomi could bear. When she and Ruth arrive in Bethlehem, the women of the town greet Naomi by name, but she cries, “Don’t call me Naomi... Call me Mara, because the Almighty has made my life very bitter. I went away full, but the Lord has brought me back empty. Why call me Naomi? The Lord has afflicted me; the Almighty has brought misfortune upon me” (Ruth 1:20–21). The name Mara means “bitter.” The cup of affliction is a bitter cup, but Naomi understood that the affliction came from the God who is sovereign in all things. Little did she know that from this bitter sorrow great blessings would come to her, her descendants, and the world through Jesus Christ.

Ruth meets a local landowner, Boaz, who is very kind to her. Naomi again recognizes the providence of God in providing a kinsman-redeemer for Ruth. Naomi declares that the Lord “has not stopped showing his kindness to the living and the dead" (Ruth 2:20) Seeing God’s hand in these events, Naomi encourages Ruth to go to Boaz as he slept in the threshing floor in order to request that he redeem her and her property. Naomi’s concern was for Ruth’s future, that Ruth would gain a husband and provider.

Naomi’s bitterness is turned to joy. In the end, she gains a son-in-law who would provide for both her and Ruth. She also becomes a grandmother to Ruth’s son, Obed. Then the women of Bethlehem say to Naomi, “Praise be to the Lord, who this day has not left you without a guardian-redeemer. May he become famous throughout Israel! He will renew your life and sustain you in your old age. For your daughter-in-law, who loves you and who is better to you than seven sons, has given him birth” (Ruth 4:14–15). Naomi was no longer Mara. Her life again became sweet and pleasant, blessed by God.

#naomi #ruth #landscape #women #book of ruth #old testament #christian art #christianity #bible story #emily de morgan #english painter #european #19th century painting

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lookingfts · 5 months ago

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Thanks to @crookedchildpanda for the prompt including JB's glasses! I am a huge sucker for that look (and so is Kate).

She’s done just fine resisting Anthony Bridgerton so far.

Well, maybe not just fine. Maybe that’s an overstatement when she still loses her breath at that dark flash in his eyes that comes out when she’s competing with him over something stupid. When she spends hours thinking up new insults, new criticisms, new weaknesses to needle at to piss him off the way he regularly pisses her off. When she lays in bed and thinks about his eyes, his jaw, his mouth, the annoyingly perfect cut of his face and his body as she touches herself.

But she’ll never actually fuck him, she swears. Kate will not be a notch on the bedpost of London’s most notorious trust fund slut. She absolutely refuses, no matter how many times he looks at her a little too long or brushes a hand over the small of her back or murmurs in her ear and she’s instantly horny in a way that feels like a medical condition.

In the end, it’s a complete surprise. The thing that does her in.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Kate asks extremely impolitely over the table at brunch. Anthony hasn’t even sat down yet, and all of their friends – well, her friends, his family – whip around to look at her. Whoops. Her ribbing is typically a little more…discreet than that.

He makes a show of looking down at his chest. “A jumper?”

The jumper is sexier than it should be, stretched tight over his absurd muscles, but that’s not what she means. “No, your…” He raises an eyebrow, and Kate feels heat rush to her cheeks. “Never mind, you look stupid, is all.”

It’s lame and uncreative, as far as insults go, and Kate buries her face in the menu even though she gets the same thing every time they come here. Anthony slides in across from her, and- fuck.

Does she have a glasses thing? It feels like maybe she has a glasses thing. Or maybe it’s just an Anthony-in-glasses thing, because she’s never noticed it before, and suddenly she is more attracted to him than she’s ever been to anyone in her life and fuck that, honestly, it’s so unfair.

The following ninety minutes are pure torture, as Anthony keeps looking at her and Kate steadfastly pretends not to notice, and his foot bumps against hers in a way that’s probably accidental, given their positions, but sends a sharp jolt through her nonetheless.

“I like the glasses,” Daphne says, tapping the corner of her brother’s frames as he tries to duck away. “They make you look smart.”

“They make me look old,” he protests, and Kate thinks a little hysterically about how not true that is. “But my contacts were on back order, so it’s this or be blind and walk into traffic.”

“There’s an option,” Kate says chipperly, attempting to regain some of her balance after her slip-up earlier. And Christ, that's a mistake. His eyes flash behind the glasses, and Kate thinks she has just discovered her own personal kryptonite.

She needs some air. In a performance that is probably unconvincing, but everyone else is too lost in conversation to notice, Kate pretends to feel her phone buzz and tugs it out of her pocket.

“It’s Edwina,” she says pointlessly. “I have to call her. I’ll be back.”

Her waffle lies half-eaten on the table as she strolls out of the restaurant and slumps against the wall, inhaling deeply. She will not blame herself for being an adult woman with a healthy sex drive, but she will blame herself for directing that sex drive toward fucking Anthony Bridgerton, of all people.

He’s kind awful. He’s smart arrogant and gentle condescending and he loves his family hooks up with too many women and almost certainly has some type of infection and he looks at her like he wants to take care of her conquer her.

Not for the first time, Kate wonders if she secretly wants to be conquered by him. Wonders if she could forgive herself for letting it happen.

“You’re off your game today.”

Kate jumps off the wall, her eyes snapping open. Anthony looks unbearably smug, his arms crossed over his chest as he smirks at her. “Yes, well, occasionally I do have better things to do than tear you apart, Anthony.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he hums, taking the smallest step toward her. She has a dozen ways to escape, knows Anthony would never actually pin her down, but she feels trapped anyway. Trapped by his gaze and the heat from his body and the shiver of arousal that travels slowly down her spine. “If I’d known the glasses would do something for you, I would have worn them ages ago.”

It should be taunting, but his voice is unexpectedly soft. Like he’s not teasing her. Like he means it. “Who says I care about your glasses?”

That would have worked better if she didn’t sound so shaky. Anthony leans toward her a little more, his confidence growing in small bursts, and this is humiliating. It’s eleven in the morning and she’s creaming her knickers over this man she wants hates so much.

Anthony swallows, his eyes trailing over her face, and all she feels is desire. In her blood, in his gaze. There’s nothing but a burning heat and a cautious, tentative hope. “I absolutely hate these glasses, Kate,” he says. “But I would wear them every day for the rest of my life if it made you tremble the way you’re trembling right now.”

And that’s the worst part of it all, isn’t it? He’s standing here, telling her that he would do it for her. That he would do anything to please her, to stoke her lust, to win her affection.

The worst, worst part is that he doesn’t need to do much of anything. Kate devotes ninety percent of her energy to keeping him at arm’s length, and it’s been a losing battle from the start.

Fuck it. She’ll forgive herself later. Or not.

Her lips are on his and however she expects him to respond, it is not to yank her against him on this public street and tangle his hand in her curls and lick into her open mouth until she moans. It’s not for his glasses to bump against her nose and for that to be some weird turn-on in itself. It’s not for him to literally fucking growl in his throat as he kisses her with mind-numbing intensity.

Kate is disoriented when he pulls away, her lungs burning from the lack of air, his large hands still taking up an insane amount of real estate on her waist. His glasses are slightly askew and really – that’s it. She’s filing an insanity plea. There is no other excuse for why she feels so dizzy, why the thought of going back to her waffle and forgetting all of this feels like madness.

“Tell me what you want,” he says, his thumb stroking the soft skin peeking out from her top, his eyes blown out. “Tell me to go back inside or tell me to take you home. Just tell me.”

And it’s suddenly crystal clear that there’s only one option. She’s going to fuck this stupid man and make him keep his glasses on and it’s going to be the best shag of her life, regardless of what happens after. And she’ll regret it, or she won’t, because maybe he does actually want her this badly.

“Go back inside,” Kate breathes, and his shoulders slump, but he simply nods. “And pay for our meals. And tell everyone I have a family thing and you’re going to drive me home.”

Anthony grins, his eyes lighting up behind the glasses, and Kate thinks she might have been wrong before. That is her ultimate weakness. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back in two minutes.”

#drabble #bridgerton #kanthony #kate x anthony #anthony x kate #bridgerton fic

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bellestrinkets · 19 days ago

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I don’t think molly loved dutch.

you see, they had the strangest relationship to my understanding. not an ounce of love was ever really shown so that I could say, “yes these people do love each other, they’re just going through a rough patch”. i love molly’s character, i believe her to be misunderstood by many who play the game, yet the lack of love she felt for this man does not go unnoticed by me. if they were going though a rough time, they had been for a long time.

every time i look at her i think about the perks of being a wallflower’s quote; “we accept the love we think we deserve” because, i believe her to be the embodiment of those very same words. grasping at straws to simply get an ounce of whatever it is that she thought love was back; and still she got nothing if not crumbs.

personally, i believe molly was obsessed more than in love. really important distinction in my opinion. because, obsession doesn’t necessarily come with such feeling (love), but it does with a degree of care, and she did care for him, for his opinion of him on her.

it is implied through her poem that, to her very core, she feels this anger towards dutch because, “i was a girl until you call. I’ve-nothing left. I gave you all” and still, in that very same piece she does not blame him for the isolation she was feeling but the others in camp; “your parasites and lackeys crawl. mocking a love they dare not see…” it’s as if she had this constant paranoia that the rest mocks them, mocks her. to a degree, she’s right, we clearly see that she is not the most cherished person at the van der linde’s campsite. however, you can perhaps blame that to the fact she does not do any manual work around there, christ, she’s wearing white boots! (which i think is hilarious and says a whole lot more about her character).

she deflects from the truth because that hurts less. if she really left all that life behind for a man that was not showing her any fulfilling interest, then what was the point of it? why was she there? she’s also really young when compared to dutch, there’s a clear imbalance between the two. so, did this man take advantage of her? i don’t doubt it.

she was obsessed with dutch, wanting, begging for a proof of true affection from the man. she was obsessed with love, the idea of being in love and being loved. we see her take any opportunity to flaunt her love for him, when she talks to the other girls, to reinstate over and over how “i really love him, you know?”

hey, not to discredit that at any given moment she didn’t loved him, she probably did. nonetheless, the despair and dismay of being reciprocated deteriorated it all. to further the case, hosea got more proof of affection from dutch than molly ever did.

it’s was just such a blatant thing, this obsession for dutch’s approval that arthur throws a little jab at both on chapter two. I don’t remember the exact wording but it was something along the lines of, “she’d proof that this x thing was real if it meant pleasing you”. again, I don’t recall the exact wording, but come on, even to the characters saw such disparity in affection. “she did not such thing, she was in love—!” screams karen to misses grimshaw, and I had to hold my pearls.

on her final moments it is showcased the frustration she feels, the rage finally is let loose. for the first time, she’s honest with others, with herself and yet, she dies —in a cruel way may i add—; it’s one of the last spits to her face the whole story has for her. I believe the very last to be the thoughtless and nasty burial she gets, she doesn’t really get one, she’s allegedly burnt.

dutch didn’t love her, he could not even abide to her last wish, “come one, shoot me!” he doesn’t. she dies in a very similar outfit she started out in the game (on chapter 2), there is a sense of closure for that same reason. the cycle of this loveless relationship comes to an end, a bad and horribly tragic one at that.

she is the idiot with the painted face, in the corner, taking up space.

she knows (i know – fiona apple) that.

she deserved better, she didn’t get. she deserved better from those enjoying such piece of media, she didn’t get it. she died a snitch and even though in the same game it is cleared out she wasn’t, people still hold it against her.

molly was not the snitch, she lied, perhaps because she wanted such ending. she begged the man she thought loved her to finish it all and did not even get that from him.

molly did not love dutch, not because she didn’t have love to give, but because the man made her feel insecure, obsessed. she took one big step to be there, alongside him —running away from whatever life she had—, and did not even get a shuffle of feet from her lover back.

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption community #molly o'shea #dutch van der linde #ramblings #rdr2 #red dead redemption playthrough #arthur morgan #rdr #such a heartbreaking and tragic character #character analysis

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