#god not a fucking DAY goes by where i don’t think of that one interview and this quote

[lotus-pear]

whatever happens, please don’t break

[yournightmary]

Vi HCs

content warning:: i guess there’s some angst? but it’s arcane so it’s nothing new

AN:: just a mix of different headcannons to get me through season 2.

pitfighter!Vi

⇢ ˗ˏˋ I’m sorry but she smells so bad. I’m not talking about a little stink- she smells fucking rancid. It’s a mix of sweat, alcohol, blood, hair dye and sometimes even puke. I don’t think she even showers properly, she just runs a wet towel over her body and calls it a day.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She dyes her hair with the cheapest hair dye in front of her cracked mirror- that’s why it’s so shitty. Doesn’t buy enough and ends up not covering her ends every single time.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Barely has any clothes. Owns 3 pairs of jeans and 4 shirts, all of them ragged and stained. Doesn’t even wear the shirts most of the time, she just wraps her chest with bandages.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ At first she didn’t want to do the eyeliner thing but a few fellow fighters told her it’s something to be recognized and remember for. For the first few times she actually payed attention to how she’s applying it, but after that she said fuck it and just slapped it on. Also she doesn’t use proper eyeliner, maybe something like water-activated face paint.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Really craves touch. She’ll glue herself to random girls (bonus points if they have dark blue hair) at bars and blame it on being drunk. Nothing sexual, just plain affections.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Her every day looks the same. Wake up in the middle of the day, sulk on the shitty mattress that she calls her bed, work out, put on her make up, head to the pit, drink till the morning. There’s literally no difference in them.

young!Vi

⇢ ˗ˏˋ I don’t know where i’ve read it I think it was like an interview or something but she’s literally just a girl. She didn’t want to be the strong fighter that everyone knows not to mess with, but that’s who she has to be to survive in the Undercity.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Definitely gave music a try. Like be so fr, she has a saxophone on her bed. Maybe she found it on a job and thought it was too cool to sell. Always wanted to play guitar but it was out of her price range.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She knew she liked girls from very early on and so did everyone around her. She didn’t hide it from anyone, there was literally no reason to. In season 1 you can even see she has a poster of a half-naked woman next to her bed, like come on now.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ I’ve seen people saying that she doesn’t know how to make food but hear me out. I think she’s actually a pretty good cook due to her being the ‘caretaker’ when Vander couldn’t do it. Definitely cooked for Powder when she woke her up in the middle of the night because she was so hungry it was bordering on being painful.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She cuts her own hair. One time she fucked up so bad she had to shave her whole side and it just kind of stayed with her.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Never does anything for herself. Whenever she finds something- like clothes or food- she gives it to someone else. Always makes sure the others have enough before she takes something for herself.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She feels so guilty after stealing stuff from other people. She’s not stupid and she knows how hard life in the underground is, and that it justifies her actions but still- she’ll roll from side to side instead of sleeping, thinking about how much of a shitty person she is.

dating!Vi

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Literally the best girlfriend out there and I will die on this hill.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She’s so touch-starved it’s unbelievable. When she was a teen she didn’t really experience anything relationship-like and then she got locked up for a few years. She’ll always have her arm around you, her hand on your hip or waist.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Oh my god her hugs are so good ahhhh. It’s just like being wrapped up in a warm blanket. Really likes to give hugs from behind too.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Loves cuddling, especially if it involves her lying on top of you. She doesn’t need any pillows if she has you and your lap, stomach or chest.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She is such an acts of service girl. And it goes both ways! If you make her dinner or plan a whole date by yourself she’ll feel so loved.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She stares so much it’s borderline creepy. She’ll just look at you in silence for a few minutes before turning her head away with a smile, thinking about how lucky she is to have you.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ You’ll be cuddling with her before sleep, scratching her back or scalp for the whole time. Once you think she’s asleep you stop and she immediately looks up at you with furrowed brows, asking why you stopped.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ While she is proud of her physique and stuff she does feel self conscious about her hands. Mostly because of all the scars and bruises, maybe a little because of how manly they look.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She was a victim of being treated like a guy because she’s more masculine presenting than feminine. Pay for her food at a restaurant, do her makeup, tell her she looks pretty not handsome.

[paigebueckersmommy]

hotel - p.b

paige bueckers x uconn wbb player

requested by anon

warnings : fingering, p eating, teasing

you and paige had been going out for 4 months, after playing on the same team 4 years. you and paige had both decided to stay a 5th year, not knowing what it would lead to. you and paige share a dorm, so one night when you and paige had had too much to drink, things got steamy, and ever since then..

your former teammates nika and aalyiah were getting drafted at the WNBA draft, so you, paige and azzi went to support them. azzi was staying in a room with nika in the room a couple doors down from you ima gorgeous hotel. when paige told you that you two would be sharing a room, there was a grin across both of your faces.

azzi came into your room to get ready with you and paige, azzi was sitting on the couch in your room waiting for you to get done with P’s hair. “OHHHH MY GOD COULD YOU GUYS MOVE ANY SLOWER.” azzi groaned out of frustration. paige smirked then moved herself close to your ear to whisper, “little does she know how fast we go.” you giggled then playfully slap her arm. azzi could see in the bathroom door from the couch. with a grossed out look on her face, “i don’t wanna know.” she says as she pays her attention back to her phone.

you guys continued getting ready, and walked the orange carpet and got interviewed before the draft stated.

you guys sat down, you on the end of the row, paige in the middle and azzi on paige’s left. still waiting for the draft to start, and azzi conversing with someone else in our row, and paige lays her hand ok your inner thigh, dangerously close to your heat.

you gasp and make eye contact with her as she grins, “what you don’t like my hand there ma?” you giggle. azzi turns around from her conversation, making contact with paige’s hand on your thigh. “ew. can you two not wait till we get back? you act like you don’t have a king bed all to your self for the next two days” she says with a fake, over dramatic gag. paige quickly removes her hand, her hand flying to her head in a command way, “yes ma’am sorry ma’am.” azzi laughs and she puts her hand back on your thigh, azzi jot saying anything else about it.

you’d spend the night cheering, crying and hugging.

when you get back to your hotel, you plop yourself on your bed. paige goes to the bathroom and undresses herself all but the gold chain around her neck. she climbs over to the bed and hovers over you. “hey ma” she says. “hi P” you say with a giggle. “y’know all i could think about the entire night was your pussy. i’m soaked.” she whispers, even tho your alone. you don’t mind, it’s incredibly sexy.

you starts to rip all you clothes off, leaving you completely naked. paige hovers her mouth over you, licking a single stripe down your body. “mhm fuck paige please” you say, desperate. “please what sweetheart? where do you need me?” she says, acting clueless as if she doesn’t know your body inside out “p i need your mouth on my pussy”

she immediately follows your request, circling your clit with her tounge. you let out moans that satisfy paige. she enters her toung inside you, and your legs already start to shake. “fuck i’m close P,” you release on paige, her licking up and down your folds twice more before coming up and kissing you for the purpose of tasting yourself. “u taste so good baby” paige says in a raspy tone.

you were now on top of paige, kissing. you seperate your faces, shoving 2 fingers into paige’s mouth as she swirls them with her toung. when she’s done, she bites her lip, knowing what will happen. you rub her clit, earning gasps from paige. “fuck baby,” paige says breathing out moans. you shove your fingers into her sopping wet cunt. she moans out loudly, murmuring curse words.

after a minute or two, paige’s legs start to shake while she continues to moan your name and cursing. you saw her making the face she makes before she cums, the face you love. she relases under you when you bring your fingers to your mouth, savoring paige’s taste. after you lick her juices off, you bring them to paige’s mouth, still recovering from her orgasm. “taste yourself baby.” you say in a sub tone.

“holy fuck baby.” paige breathes out.

[bitchinbarzal]

thirteen | Mat Barzal

summary: the little green monster comes out when you’re wearing another jersey.

-

You and Mat had an argument about Mat’s newfound friendship with the new islanders presenter.

You’d seen them after one of his games, they were no longer filming their interview and instead were just talking.

Admittedly, you felt a pang of jealousy watching the scene unfold before you but then it all came to a head when you returned home and mentioned it to him.

He blew up, accusing you of thinking he was cheating, that you didn’t trust him. Essentially just blaming you for this whole argument.

You didn’t retaliate, opting to get your side out another way. Because when he goes low, you go lower.

So when the rangers found themselves at UBS arena, you were wearing blue.

“He’s gonna kill you” Sydney laughed as she found you at the bar, looking at your jersey before catching the name and number on the back.

“Oh my god! He’s gonna really kill you!”

You laugh and do a twirl for her “Like?”

“What did he do?”

You giggled and explained the situation to her “Oh my god, what a dick! Also she has totally been making the eyes at Matt this week too I get where you’re coming from”

“Right?!” You say, holding onto her arm as you both laugh about the situation.

In the suite, Alexis found you and looked at your jersey with wide eyes “Oh he fucked up!”

“Very!” Syd adds from her seat in the front and you smile at her playfully before turning to Alexis

“Me and Mat had a fight and I’m giving him a taste of his own medicine”

“Oh girl don’t explain! I’m on your side!”

The game is rough, as per usual when these two teams meet during the season.

Mat’s never one to get involved in the fighting, typically just sitting and looking pretty which you liked because it meant you were never worried about him.

That was until the period break, Mat was pulled for yet another interview by her. In which she showed him a fab picture of you in your rangers jersey

“So Mat, we hear your girlfriend is repping the Rangers tonight or better yet repping another number thirteen?!”

He looks confused until she shows him the image, his eyes immediately filling with anger.

There you were standing at the bar, in his arena wearing your ex boyfriends jersey. The name Lafrenière where Barzal usually sits.

“Uh… I didn’t know” he laughs it off but anyone who knows him can see his mind running a million miles a minute.

As soon as the interview is done he’s having to go back out, no time to text you and tell you to take it off.

Instead he goes out on the ice like a raging bull.

You watch from your spot in the box as the puck drops and Mat heads strait for Alexis on the ice, taking him straight to the floor.

You gasp as they hit the ground and begin fighting.

It doesn’t last long, Mat being sent to the box straight after. You see his face on the jumbotron, his nose is bent the wrong way and there’s blood rolling down his cheek.

You don’t say anything else, simply curling into yourself and thinking about what you’d caused. It was meant to be harmless, just a way to get back at mat for what he’d said but now his nose was broken, you felt horrible and you’re sure Alexis was out for the rest of the game.

Mat always had a jealous streak in him, from day one. You met at an event where you were Alexis’ date, Mathew introduced himself to you and immediately fell.

He waited months, scrolling through your socials for the day you’d be single and when he finally heard you had broken up he grasped the opportunity but that didn’t stop the comments and his own insecurities getting to him about your relationship.

By the end of the game you’re not celebrating like the rest of the girls, you silently made your way down to wait for Mat.

When he comes out of the locker room sporting a wrapped nose you wince. He looks at your jersey and growls

“Take it off for fuck sake”

“I don’t have anything on underneath” you mumble, the sleeves now crumbled up into your palms as you clutch them anxiously.

He doesn’t respond just walking to the car, you begin walking behind him. There was no congratulations kiss, no conversation as you sat in the car silently as he drove back to your apartment in Manhattan.

Traffic was bad which didn’t help Mat’s mood.

You tried to turn on the radio but he muted it immediately.

It wasn’t until you got to sunnyside when Mat said

“I would never hurt you like this”

You turn to him, his eyes still on the road

“Mat I’m sorry… I was annoyed about the whole-“

“I told you there was nothing happening between us! You were the one convinced I was doing something”

“I know that! And I just wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine!”you shouted, angry he wasn’t listening.

“Giving me a taste of my own medicine? y/n he was your fiancé… do you think I don’t feel bad about that? That you were actually so in love with him you wanted to marry him at one point!”

You sunk into the seat of the Range Rover and mumbled “Yeah well now I see it was a stupid idea”

Arriving at your apartment, Mat waited for you to get out and you asked “Are you coming in?”

“I’m going back to Long Island. I think maybe we were a mistake”

Your heart dropped in your chest and you leaned back into the car “Mat I’m sorry ok! It was stupid and I’m so sorry-“

“I’ve told you how he makes me feel y/n and you threw it in my face, in public infront of everyone to see and you embarrassed me. I don’t think I want to go through life constantly worried about everything and feeling insecure”

Tears were rolling down your cheeks “Mat please… I’m so sorry baby it’s only you, I’ll take it off, I’ll stop with the games just please-“

“I love you, but I’ve got to protect myself first” he says, starting the car again and waiting for you to step away before he drives off back home.

Leaving you standing there watching the Range Rover leave, your heart going with it.

[the-doomed-witch]

Hey can you write a natasha romanoff or wanda maximoff with fem reader with taylor swift's gorgeous? I think that song is perfect for them and it's my fav. Taylor song. Thanks in advance

YOU’RE GORGEOUS

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’re the journalist, and she’s a celebrity. You’re drunk, and she’s gorgeous. You know how it goes. // based on Gorgeous by Taylor Swift

Word Count: ~1.2k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. MINORS + MEN DNI. a really thick tension, almost competing w e/o, jealousy?, everyone’s like reaaally getting drunk, publicly making out, nothing but pining, situationship but it actually works out 💀

SEND ME REQUESTS BASED ON TAYLOR SWIFT SONGS

Author’s Note: hi anon! i hope you enjoy this 🫶 if you noticed the “hey stephen” no you didn’t 😭 also sorry this became kind of long but overall i loved writing this

MASTERLIST // NAVIGATION

— ✦ —

Her flashing green eyes meet your glare as soon as she enters the room, hands tied with her stupid boyfriend. He’s not even just some guy, he’s a fucking microwave.

It was yet another Avengers party, and you were there as a member of the press, again. It was the third one this month, and you were tired of coming up with questions to interview them with. You showed up, asked them updates about their upcoming plans in hopes of a new cover story, ignored Wanda in every way that you could, got drunk, and left. It was a routine for you. But at least you got to drink expensive wine.

Your body tenses up at her sharp death stare, as if she was ready to burn you down. Wherever she went, you moved to the opposite direction, joining a circle of people or excusing them to click a picture of them. Of course, Stephen Strange was a fellow who’d love to get a picture taken, so you follow him.

Wanda sways her hips while walking up to you, her black dress gliding with the movement of her hips. “Hey Stephen, could you excuse us for a minute? Thanks.” Having no opportunity to answer, he nods with a formal smile and leaves you in Wanda’s privacy, all alone.

Placing her glass of whiskey aside, she hugs you. Albeit lightly, but you lose your breath for the second. “Y/N, what a delight to meet you. I feel like we need a lot of catching up to do.” she speaks with a smirk on her face, adorned by curls of her red hair falling down gracefully

You politely agree and grab yourself a drink; it was what you had to do in your professional capacity. Journalists cannot be rude to anyone.

She takes you to a quieter corner of the deafening party, that God knows how even exists. It was dark, but you had a couch to yourselves, just enough space to fit the two of you at a safe distance.

She speaks something, but you don’t hear it, you’re too busy staring at her cleavage. Wanda understands the direction of your pupils right away, and stretches her back, rotating her neck to release the tension.

“I’ve been really tired today. But since we are old friends, I think I should know a little bit about your life these days. How’s everything going on? Have you got a girlfriend?”

Old friends? That’s how you define a homoerotic ass situationship? Really, Wanda? You decide to join her game, and take off your coat, folding it and resting it on your lap.

“Mm, I’d love to say yes, but I’m afraid not. It’s kinda on and off you know.” You adjust your tie, it was harder to breathe with Wanda so close to you. “How are things with Vision?” you counter question her. It isn’t a competition, but you fear giving in against her.

She takes a deep breath, and replies, “I hope none of this goes out into the press.”

“You can trust me, Wans.” You add the nickname as a sign of confidentiality and a personal effect.

“Things haven’t been good with him. I don’t even know what he’s doing out there right now. I’m not even sure where he even is, if he has left the party to go to a club or something. Not that I care anymore…”

“I’m sorry for that, I wish he wasn’t a moron.”

She laughs and slightly hits your arm, “Hey! I’m still his plus one for the night.”

“I guess you should try to find him around here somewhere, then.” you give her the evil smirk. She reflects the same expression and says, “It hurts to know you don’t have a girlfriend yet. You deserve one, for the stunning woman you are.”

It suddenly turns into a game of who can hold back longer and who can roast better. You excuse yourself from the coversation after a little while, and proceed to ask people some questions.

With the glances you steal, you observe that Wanda doesn’t smile for the rest of the evening, not even the perilous grin of hers. The time passes for hours till you are inebriated again, spending your time with the even more drunk host of the evening; Tony Stark.

You stand in a group with him, Valkyrie and Thor around you, all high from unhealthy amounts of drinking. You still hold yet another glass of wine in your hands, sipping between quips and laughter.

“She called me her ‘old friend’… The fuck does that even mean? A friend who’s older than you?” The group laughs with every sentence you narrate to them.

“Girl, we’ve had our fair share of situationships… none of them have ever called me an ‘old friend’… it’s just the weirdest thing to say…”

Thor holds his guffaws back and asks you, “But Y/N, who is this lady that you’re talking of?”

“Well you wouldn’t believe.”

Tony joins in the conversation, “Oh come on Y/N, tell us!”

You notice Wanda entering the little crowd of four of you. She’s just as drunk, but seems to be in little control of herself, unlike you.

You throw your arm around her shoulders, and watch her change the subject of discussion. Maybe she heard what you said, maybe it was involuntary, but she is here to the rescue of you and herself.

In between drinks and limericks by Thor, Wanda’s hand extends to your waist, your arm still around her shoulders.

You both turn towards each other to laugh, but the smiles falter away with the vicinity of your bodies. You freeze for a moment, watching her eyes give you a soft look for the first time in months. Suddenly, she’s the only one in the enormous room, filled with thousands of people. She’s the only one emanating light, in the crowdful of darkness.

Her eyebrows stretch up, with her uncertain expression. For a response, you move your hand to her nape, scratching it softly as you tug her closer to you. She wraps your tie around her wrist, in an attempt to pull you more quickly than your pace.

Her lips feel warm, and delicate. With repeated scratches at the back of her neck, she sighs and pulls your tie even closer, consequently her tongue meeting yours. Your stomach tingles with butterflies till she gives you space to take a breath.

It’s infuriating to feel this way. Out of all the alcohol that made you drunk, only the feeling of her lips brushing against yours managed to intoxicate you.

The lustre of her black dress remains lingering in your eyes when you push Wanda against the bar counter, careful not to hurt her exposed and freckled back. “You’re so fucking gorgeous Wanda,” you speak before capturing her into another kiss, “I hate it so much. God, I hate it so much.”

“Hate me enough to take me home tonight?”

“Oh I could be alone all I want. Unless you wanna come along?”

[bobbin-buckley]

Jenna Ortega Headcanons

Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff and smut

~~~~~~~~~~

SFW

-You both freaking love to cuddle. While sleeping, watching a movie, reading a book etc. you both find comfort in being in each others arms. If you need to get up for bathroom or water good luck girly cause she ain’t letting you go

-She can’t help but admire everything you do, even if it’s just you reading a book she’s so head over heels for you

-Loves to be kissed on her cheek, cause that’s where her dimples are. She’ll smile wide when you kiss her there, she claims it tickles so you continue to do it

-If you do a sport or are in band she comes to every game/concert she possibly can (if she’s not busy). If you write books she gets to help you or gets sneak peak of what you’re writing annnnnd gets to be the first person to read it

-If you don’t know how to cook she’ll teach you, (this girl makes amazing meals). There was one time you helped her cook something but you almost burnt the house down so she banned you from the kitchen.

-^^If you can cook she’s always willing to help and eat whatever you make! And tells you how amazing it is

-When she’s gone for acting she’ll call/facetime you every night.

-Jasmine and Melissa tease her about how she’s so in love with you

-Horror Movie marathons every Friday night. (If you hate horror movies you can hide in her chest or the crook of her neck)

-Comes home with your favorite food whenever she’s out

-At this point you both share the same clothes cause you love stealing each others

-The both of you can’t live without music, so you’ll share earbuds when listening to music together

-Has really good music taste

-You watch all her movies (especially when you miss her on the days she’s acting)

-She always mentions you in an interview

-She loves you so so so so much

-You always happen catching her staring at you with those eyes (that lovey dovey look)

NSFW

-A switch but prefers to be top, loves to dominate you

-Likes vanilla sex but adds a little roughness to it (if you’d like)

-Has a pretty high praise kink, receiving or giving either works for her

“You’re such a good girl, taking my fingers so we’ll”

“I wanna see that pretty face when you cum..”

“Fuck darling, making a mess all over me”

“That’s it, let go..let go for me baby”

-It drives her crazy when you moan her name

-Praises your body every time you have sex and always asks for consent

“You have such a pretty body for a pretty girl, so beautiful darling…”

“I’m so obsessed with these thighs, so pretty..so kissable..”

“This okay?”

“Are you positive that you want this hunny?”

-Loves to experiment, if you’re up for it! Has a full box of toys she uses on you, to figure out what you like

-She has strap-on dildos to vibrators

-But boy does she love using the strap-on she owns, she has various sizes of dildos. She goes from smallest to biggest, longest to shortest and thickest to less thick

“Hmp…god..you feel so good baby and you look so cute taking my strap. Good girl..yes cum for me, cum all over this fucking cock”

-Loves to cover you in hickies, she wants everyone to know your hers.

-After sex is so gentle with her, she rubs your sore body before taking you to the bathroom to take a bath then get rest after.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

First headcanons! I think I’ll have people take a vote when I post it!

[urcatslitterbox]

I can’t stop thinking about Sebastian crushing over his friend who is also an actress.

Cw: masturbation

Sebastian had just finished shooting the last scenes for an upcoming show before heading home. Since shooting just wrapped, he had some down time before interviews start.

He plopped down on his couch after showering and trading his clothes from the day for a pair of grey sweats and a loose t-shirt. He wanted to start his little break off right and what better way to do it than catch up on his ‘to watch’ list.

Sebastian’s friend, Y/n’s new movie had come out a week ago, and though he couldn’t wait to see it, he had just been too busy with his own work.

So getting comfortable he grabbed the converter and began to type in the name of the movie. Up popped the films title cover featuring a very attractive Y/n and another actor he didn’t recognize. The film seemed to be a romance of sorts, which excited Sebastian.

You see, Sebastian has had a crush on his dear friend pretty much since they met. But it’s not his fault! Anyone, and trust people do, would have a crush on her. In the public eye Y/n is beautiful and talented, and while of course she certainly is both of those things, Sebastian is lucky enough to know the true Y/n. He knows how kind and caring she is. How bright her real smile is and the way she throws her head back when she laughs really hard.

He knows how drop dead gorgeous she is in person. He’s seen how flawless each spot on her face is, how deep her eyes are, how soft her lips look-

Stop. Control yourself, she’s your friend.

~~~~~~~~~~

Sebastian got about half way through the movie, and so far it’s pretty good, he’s enjoying it.

That is until y/n and her love interest kiss.

He feels a slight anger bubbling deep within him. He knows he has no right to feel angry. They aren’t together and the kiss isn’t even real. It doesn’t mean anything.

The scene is starting to get intense. The kiss becoming deeper and the two moving to the couch. Both Y/n and her co-star are panting and grasping each other.

Sebastian knows where this is going. He can feel himself getting slightly hard because of what’s happening on the screen. Normally he can handle sex scenes and they don’t affect him because he knows the ins and outs of what goes on behind the camera. However he’s having a hard time controlling himself this time because this one is with Y/n.

God he shouldn’t be feeling this way about her. She’s his friend for fuck sakes!

He actually prides himself on how well he’s holding back considering how enamoured with her he is. That is until she lets out a small whimper.

Oh fuck.

He knows it’s fake. He knows it’s just for the camera. He knows none of it is real.

But he’d be damned if he said she didn’t sound heavenly. Though he’s sure he could pull much prettier sounds from her.

Without realizing, his hand starts to move lower, palming himself through his sweats.

He really shouldn’t be doing this.

She lets out another whimper, louder this time.

He starts to rub himself harder within his pants. I mean this doesn’t hurt anyone. It’s not like she’s gonna know so what’s the harm really?

Y/n full out moans now.

Fuck it.

Sebastian pulls his cock out, red and already leaking precum. He starts spreading it with his thumb over his angry head. The moment he wrapped his hand around his length his head fell back as he let out a hiss.

God when was the last time he was this hard?

Gathering himself, Sebastian looks back up at the screen. Obviously it’s a movie, not a porno, so they can’t show everything. But what he can see, oh man. Y/n’s eyes are rolled back as she pants and moans.

His eyes travel lower, stroking himself slowly.

This is wrong. It’s so wrong but god does it feel right.

Her breast are in frame and fuck are they perfect. Nipples perky and looking so delicious. What he wouldn’t do just to suck on them. He groans at the thought, picking up his pace slightly. Again his eyes move lower, following the curves of her body down to her belly button, where it cuts off to keep it suitable for T.V.

The actor accompanying her leans in and kisses her harshly. She lets out a whine as her co-star moves to suck and kiss at her neck and jaw. Y/n’s nails rake down his back as he does so.

Sebastian outright moans at this. He wishes that were him so bad. He longs to mark her, to make her feel pleasure only he can provide.

He feels his balls tightening as he bucks up into his fist.

Fuck he’s not gonna last. Not with Y/n making her pretty sounds. Not with her looking so fucking delicious. So perfect.

His breaths quicken as he nears the edge.

“please..”, he begs into the open air.

God he’s so close, so goddamn close he just needs a little more. Then it happens. Y/n cries out as she ‘cums’.

There it is.

Sebastian cums with a loud groan of Y/n’s name. Chanting it as he comes down from his high, legs twitching with the force of his orgasm. His hand sticky with his own spend.

His head falls back once again as he attempts to catch his breath.

He closes his eyes and images of Y/n flash through his mind. He doesn’t know how much longer he can keep his feelings hidden. Especially after that.

[freddiemercurylegendabovelegends]

Today, on September 2nd, 1985

Freddie Mercury released ‘Living On My Own’ bw ‘Love Is Dangerous’ (4th solo single), taken from 'Mr. Bad Guy', first solo album 1985

🔸Freddie Mercury: Well, that is ‘Living on my own’. Yes, that’s like… Basically if you listen to ‘Living on my own’ that is very me, it’s living on my own but having fun. There’s a bit in the middle where I do my scat singing and I’m just going… When you think about somebody like me, I mean my life-style, I mean I have to sort of go around the world and live in hotels and that can be very lonely but then… I look upon it and I don’t want people to say ‘Oh…’ you know, I just say that’s my life, it can be a very lonely life, but I mean I chose it and so, that song, it’s not dealing with people who are living on their own in sort of basement flats, or things like that. It’s my living on my own, and they are going to say ‘Oh my God, how can he live on his own ?’ But I mean, you can have a whole… a shoal of people you know looking after you, but you can be still living on your own because in the end they all go away and you live, you know, you live in a hotel on your own. And so basically what I’ve got to say is that I’m living on my own but I’m not complaining. I’m just saying I’m living on my own and I’m having a bogey time. Does that make sense, honey ?

Interviewer : It does, yes it does.

Freddie: It’s a different kind of living on my own, but I’m just saying that people in my.. with my success can be lonely and can live on their own as well.

Interviewer : So how do you hold on to real friends ?

Freddie: I don’t, I discard them. I don’t have any real friends. I don’t think I do. People tell me though they’re my friends.

Interviewer : Don’t you believe them ?

Freddie: No, no. Yes and no, I mean, I think what happens is when… I’m not afraid of them, but it is frightening, that’s the difference. Sometimes when they get too close I think they seem to destroy me, I don’t know, may be it’s my nature or whatever. When they get too close they seem to tread all over me, and when I lay myself bare on the floor it just seems to be my downfall. Maybe that’s my role in life and so I don’t… Yea, I’m very skeptical in terms of that. I seem to be at this point in time I think, I seem to be… make fewer and fewer friends, but life goes on…

Interviewer : So do you live for today rather than for the future or…

Freddie: No, I live for tomorrow. Quite different too, fuck today, it’s tomorrow. Oh, that’s nice…

Interviewer : That must have been a controversial remark.

Freddie: Somebody didn’t like what I’ve just said ? !

Interviewer : Shall we carry on ? In view of that, Freddie, surely there comes a time when you want to share your life with someone one day ?

Freddie: Yes, but nobody wants to share their life with me. Yes, I do, of course I do. But I think it’s… not easy living with me and I think at maybe I’m trying too hard you know, something… Of course, I think about that and in one way I think the more mishaps I have the better the songs are going to be, you know. Once I find somebody, I can find a long lasting relationship, bong goes all the research for wonderful songs. At the end I’m sort of you know, I’m sort of living on past mishaps. Well, anyway having said that, I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know what’s in store for me.

Interviewer : So we can take it that your songs reflect the state of your life ?

Freddie: I think so, I think so, yes.

Interviewer : And that’s why on your songs there is always quite a diverse selection of moods, isn’t it ?

Freddie: Yes, it is because that’s my character too, you know. How boring to just be, you know, to have just one side of your character coming across in everything you do, you know, I just gather information… I’m a man of extremes, you know, I sort of change from day to day like a chameleon and each day is different to me and I look forward to that, you know. I don’t want to be the same person everyday and who knows ?, the way this Album has turned out it’s just a whole spectrum of what my life is, to be honest. But I was not ‘made in heaven’. A lightening bolt suddenly goes ‘crack.

Interviewer : You talk a lot about love on the Album.

Freddie: Yes, I know, I don’t know why.

Interviewer : It obviously means a lot to you.

Freddie: I’m possessed by love, isn’t everybody though ?

Interviewer : Yes, I suppose they are. Deep down there in spite of the tough fade you put on, are you a romantic at heart ?

Freddie: Well, I guess so, you know. Well i think, yes I just… I like writing songs about love, because I mean there’s so much scope and also they have so much to do with me and you can talk about your kind of lover. It’s something that maybe I’m striving for. I’m trying to say that I can be somebody’s lover, you know, a good lover, that’s another aspect of me too. I expect something different now, come on

- Freddie Mercury

Extract from interview 1985

👉 In 1993 Freddie Mercury received in memoriam Ivor Novello award for 'Living On My Own'

📸 Pic: September 1985, Henderson Nightclub, Munich, Germany - Peter Straker, Freddie Mercury and Jo Dare on the set of promotional video 'Living On My Own'

👉 Jo Dare (died in 2024) remembers meeting with Freddie Mercury

[niallsgoldhoop]

Chapter One

Niall

I’ve always loved the smell of fresh cut grass.

When I was a teenager it usually meant that someone was about to hand me some cash for taking care of their lawn.

Now?

Now it reminds me of how lucky I am to spend my days at my favorite place on earth and call it work.

To call it mine.

Standing with a steaming cup of coffee in my hand, I can’t help but smile as my eyes look out over the perfectly manicured rolling green hills.

“Ready for another day?”

Rory Barnes steps up next to me with his own cup of coffee. When we met years ago, neither one of us expected that one day we would get to work side by side. Hiring him as a general manager has remained one of the best business decisions that I’ve ever made.

“You know I’m always ready.” I laugh. “Anything interesting going on today?”

Rory blows out a breath, the steam from his coffee disappearing. “Not that I know of. I’ve got a few final interviews so that we can hire a new marketing executive since Rhonda retired.”

“Rhonda will be missed. How many people are you down to?” Turning to face him, I drain the rest of my coffee and cross my arms over my chest.

“There’s four.” Keeping his gaze over the vast expanse before us, he smiles. “I think I know who would be the best fit, but I wanted to give everyone the same amount of interviews to try and steal my attention like they have.”

“Whoever you think is best works for me.” My watch vibrates on my wrist with a reminder of a meeting in ten minutes. “I’ve got to get to my office, but just let me know how it goes, okay?”

Lifting his coffee cup in my direction, he smiles. “Have fun with that.”

Laughter mixes between the two of us as I walk away, headed through the oversized glass doors and through the open floor plan of the clubhouse. It’s been four years and every single day that I get to walk on this property it still blows my mind.

As soon as I step into my office, my eyes travel across the awards and trophies and all the way up to the framed green jacket hanging above from my desk.

My office is a highlight of the career that I once had— the one that felt like it was cut short after a few too many surgeries, but also the career that gave me everything that I have now.

Sitting down in the plush chair and reaching for the tortoise shell glasses that sit on my desk, they rest on the bridge of my nose as I pull up the reports and grab a notebook and a pen from the ‘best boss’ mug that one of my employees bought me.

Meetings always seem to be one of my least favorite places to be, but when you own and run a prestigious business it only comes with the territory. So I put on a smile as the screen on my computer fills with other faces, thankful that this is one meeting I don’t have to travel for.

Not that I don’t like to travel, but sometimes it’s nice to be where you are.

It’s nice to be home.

————

If there’s one thing I hate, it’s the grocery store.

At least after work.

Everyone rushes around trying to grab things without paying any attention to their surroundings.

It feels like an actual nightmare every single time.

Usually I make a point to come early on a Sunday morning or just have my groceries delivered, but sometimes there is something I need that just isn’t already in my pantry.

Like ice cream.

That’s the real reason that brought me here yet the basket hanging from my arm is full of other odds and ends.

Mostly things that I definitely don’t need.

Muscle memory takes me closer to the frozen foods, specifically the ice cream I’m desperate for, only when I turn to go down the aisle my body collides with another sending the basket in my arm and theirs crashing to the ground.

In a matter of seconds, the lighter tan color of my pants seems unrecognizable as dark soda explodes at my feet and covers the fabric along with the pickle juice from a broken glass jar.

So not only do I have soda dripping down into my shoes, I now smell like I’ve showered in pickle juice.

“Oh my fucking god, I am so sorry!” The dark haired woman drops to her knees to start trying to pick up the pieces of glass that she can. “I can pay you for new pants— Or to have those cleaned.”

Taking a deep breath through my nose, I crouch down and reach for her hand before pulling it away from the broken glass so that she doesn’t cut herself, an odd sensation zipping through me at the touch. “Don’t worry about it. Accidents happen.”

“No, really.” Rich, chocolate brown hair falls down into her face only for her to push it back behind her ear. “I’m sorry. It was stupid of me to not pay attention to where I was going because I was in a hurry.”

She lists off the exact reason why I didn’t want to come to the grocery store tonight, yet for whatever reason, I can’t find it in me to be annoyed.

Quite the opposite actually.

“It’s not the end of the world, I promise.” Grabbing the things from my basket and placing them back inside, I stay crouched in front of her. “Are you alright? Hurt anywhere?”

“No, everything is fine.” With a small smile, she follows my actions by placing her things in her basket minus the broken pickle jar and the soda that has soaked into my pants. “I’m not hurt. Well, besides my pride at least.”

“You sure?” I ask as we both stand up. “I’d hate for you to be hurt.”

Looking from her left to her right, she takes a step back from me with a tight smile on her full pink lips. “Yeah, I’m sure. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” I smile. “Besides my pants.”

“Really, I can pay for—“

Waving my hand in front of my face, I give her another smile of my own. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Okay.” Her dark chocolate gaze drops down to her basket full of snacks and a couple pints of ice cream. “Have a good night.”

With that she turns on her heel and makes her way out of the aisle faster than I may have seen anyone move before, leaving me standing alone at the scene of the crime.

Alone and covered in soda.

And smelling like pickles.

————

THE FIRST CHAPTER!!!!

let me know what you think!!

-Alex 🍀

ps i know this is SO SHORT but i’m gonna update the other chapters too!!

[kalliyen]

Brewing Romance

Pairing: Diluc x GN!Reader

Featuring: Diluc, Kaeya, Jean

Genre: Fluffff, Barista AU, Modern AU, College AU

Summary: barista au….un lang lol also diluc falls in love at first sight….yeah

Reader’s Pronouns: they/them

Warning: diluc is so down bad, kinda ooc mb…(not really) HES SO FINE WOOF WOOF slight kaebedo implied lawlwlwlwlw

Disclaimer: ⚠️ ONLY A WORK OF FICTION!

i. a change of pace

Diluc Ragnvindr wishes for a change of pace. Something different from his boring dull life as a college student who works part time at a nearby café.

It’s not like he needs the money or anything, his family is quite wealthy, but he decided to work for the experience. Also because his friend, Jean, forced him.

Not really forced him no, more like begged him to help her around the shop because they were very understaffed, and Diluc being the kind stoic soul he is, took pity in his friend and decided to accept her offer.

Unluckily for him, he didn’t know that his brother, Kaeya, also works at the café, if he asked Kaeya why, all he’d respond is with “To scout cute chicks!” But he knows Kaeya was just really ogling the blonde kid with bags in his eyes that sits in the back of the café, he noticed that Kaeya would always volunteer to give the man his order…..

ii. new face ?

It’s like as if the Anemo Archon himself heard his pleas for a new face, because a few days later he’s greeted with someone new.

Not like he recognizes every single costumer that comes and goes, but you stood out to him because damn….you were breathtaking.

When you walked up to the cashier he internally panicked, immediately putting Kaeya in his spot and disturbing his brother from ogling that blonde kid again.

“Hey?!! Bro what the hell was that for?!?!” Kaeya exclaims “Spot me. You take their order and I’ll make it. Alright?” Diluc states

Not getting another word in, and not wanting to question Diluc about his red face for now, he begrudgingly takes your order, still kind of looking at the blonde kid at the back (these brothers are so down bad what the hell 🔥🔥)

Diluc makes your order, still as red as his hair, because you ordered his favorite drink, and Jean noticed that he was making it with a smile on his face. ‘I guess he’s finally gone crazy.’ She thinks to herself.

Diluc hands you your order, looking down a bit, because he swear if he sees your beautiful presence again he might actually just combust.

You notice a ‘help wanted’ poster near the door and decide to ask him about it.

“Hey are you guys still looking for help? Cause I’d love to work part time here, if that’s alright.” You state. And Diluc’s brain actually stumbles into himself, he responds to you with “O-of course! We’d be happy to accept your h-help..You can ask the manager for the application form and she can schedule an interview with you” He finishes, and points to where Jean was.

“Thank you so much! Uhm….Diluc?” You read on his name tag. Taken aback, Diluc replies “O-of course! No problem. Happy to help.”

Kaeya was watching the whole scene from the cashier with a stupid smile on his face, god damn his brother was in for it hard.

iii. ARE YOU UP FOR THE CHALLENGE????? *vine boom*

On the day of your interview with Jean, you decided to dress up nicely and give it all you’ve got, like this is some big corporate job or something.

But hey, to you this was a big interview because god fucking damn did you need some spare cash, you don’t think you can live on processed food for another week even if you had to.

Jean doesn’t beat around the bush and immediately tells you that your hired, saying that you could start tomorrow.

Diluc over hears your interview and smiles to himself, he can finally work with someone he wants too!

iv. cupid works in mysterious ways

Even if you did work together, Diluc unfortunately does not have the same shift as you do. He works the lunch hours from 11 am to 3 pm, while you work from 8 am to 12 noon, which only alots one hour with you everyday, but he tried to make the best of those 60 minutes with you.

Though he was very nervous to approach you at first, he was the one tasked to help you work the coffee machine, and how the workflow goes.

Admittedly, he gets distracted by you sometimes, he just can’t help himself. The way your hair is kept neatly so it doesn’t get it your face, the way the apron hugs you form, making you seem more beautiful than you already were.

It’s not like you were stupid or anything, you weren’t oblivious to the obvious ogling Diluc does whenever he works with you. It brings a wave of heat to your cheeks, because to have such attractive man have eyes for you? You’d almost believe that you were the mc of a fan fiction or something.

Jean obviously noticed the tension you two would emit whenever you worked together, and how Diluc hesitated to greet you goodbye when your shift was over. So she arranged a new schedule for him, to be on the same work shift as you.

They weren’t as understaffed as before, having a good handful of employees that recently applied. Mostly because they wanted to check out the two hot brothers that worked at front. But hey, whatever keeps the business going am I right?

Before Diluc leaves by the end of his shift, double checking if he’s cleaned the machine thoroughly, Jean calls him into her office, Diluc obliges, not thinking much of it.

“Is there a particular reason you called me here Jean?” Diluc asks, while closing the door of her office. “Don’t worry Diluc, it isn’t anything dire. Just a slight change in your work hours.” She says while fixing the papers on her desk.

At this, Diluc’s ears perk up, “My shift? Change? What for?” To be closer with you, he hopes.

“I’ve decided for you to have the same shift as y/n, I sense that you have no opposition to this? Seeing as you enjoy your time on the job whenever they are present.” Jean states like it was to be expected. “Of course, I don’t have any oppositions. You are the manager after all.”

v. latte (he)art

To say you were surprised to see Diluc at work that early the next day was an understatement. You were ecstatic. “Diluc? what are you doing at work so early?” You ask, a smile threatening to form on your lips, trying your hardest to hold yourself back at the sight of him.

“Jean decided to change my shift, so I could work the morning hours, since that’s our busiest time.” And to spend more time with you, Diluc wants to say, but decides against it.

“Really? That’s great!” You start with a smile on your face. “Oh and uhm, I actually really needed your help with something. You know the latte art? Yeah I’m learning to do that now but it’s really hard, Kaeya tried to teach me but he completely gave up, I swear he just works here to ogle that blonde kid at the back”

“Of course I’d help you y/n, it’d be my pleasure.” Diluc says with a smile on his face. He looked very pretty when he smiled, you thought.

You and Diluc spent a few hours and countless cups of coffee, trying to get you to create an actually presentable output. But you just couldn’t seem to get the hang of it.

Profusely apologizing over and over again, But Diluc didn’t seem to mind, having been patient with you this whole time. He decided it was best for you both to have a slight break from the latter art.

But then you felt something warm on your hands, a cup of coffee and Diluc’s warm fingers, seeming to engulf your own.

You looked down at the cup of coffee, and then up at him, noticing that the cup held a cute heart in it, which made your own heart soar with happiness.

“Let’s take a break yeah? We can learn once you’ve collected yourself. Just enjoy this cup I’ve made for you for now.” Diluc hands you the cup, while leaving a loving yet hesitant kiss to your forehead.

———————

gbye i didn’t know how to end this……anyways enjoy 🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪

[fullofgutsndopamine]

I’ve Got The Patience (My Form Is Reckless)

or: the coffee shop au where you both are baristas and the bathroom is your enemy. also this definitely isn’t based off the tik tok ✨ anon sent me ha ha why do you ask?

TW/cursing

“Hasan,” You hum, leaning against the counter, your fist in your cheek, “We have a question the crowd is just dying to know.”

He snorts, takes the rag off from his apron band and uses to it clean the coffee that sloshed over the edge of a cup.

“Does this question have anything to do with my coffee order?”

“It does!” you all but squeal, “Man, nothing gets past you.”

He huffs, “we’re in the middle of our biggest rush of the day and you think this is the time to interview me?”

“Yes.” you pause for a second, “Besides, since you’ve been kicked out of doing drive through it’s been so boring here. Anyways.”

You clear your throat and shape your hand to a microphone, holding the imaginary microphone up to his lips: “The fans have been dying to ask: as a barista, why is your order such dog water and shouldn’t you, as a barista-know better? What’re your thoughts on that.”

He throws the towel over his shoulder as he uses his knuckles to push his glasses up his nose: “Tall venti white flat for Abigail?”

He gives a weak smile as he slides the cup over to a woman speaking on speakerphone in a power suit who grabs the cup with an eye roll and stalks off.

He walks by and gives you a shove but it’s gentle, his other hand on the side of you to catch you and make sure you don’t hip catch the edge of the counter.

“You’re gonna be on mocha duty if you keep that up.”

He’s teasing, holds no weight here, but your hands go to your belly: “I have to go to the bathroom. Like, right now.”

He laughs. Throws his head back and claps, his eyes crinkle together:

“How fucking convienant,” he throws the dish towel at you as you duck out, a large smile plastered on his face, “Don’t get fuckin’ locked in there.”

it’s a joke, mostly. the bathroom itself is older than you are, a failing lock constantly-the amount of times customers have gotten stuck in there is nearing twenty, a tally list you keep behind the desk and hasan and you strike every time.

You’ll say you spoke it into existence.

Hasan will notice you are gone first. It’s his third matcha of the day and he goes to yell over this shoulder at you that this is somehow your fault-when the space where you usually would be is empty.

“Anyone seen my favorite co worker?”

It’s teasing, because it’s what you two have always said to one another, nudging each other while sticking your tongues out.

“Bathroom.”

Anthony calls i’ve this shoulder, looking stressed as he pulls shots for a venti order.

Hasan checks the watch on his wrist- he isn’t one to police your time but he’s not use to the space you left being so empty for-twenty minutes-when he takes his apron off, throws it on the counter and stalks towards the bathroom.

There’s a small line waiting, tapping their feet and huffing already annoyed by the time he apologizes and makes it to the front of the line.

“Hey—“

He knocks three times with his knuckles and your voice comes back, borders on frantic.

“Hasan?” You call and he knows without seeing you that your biting your fingernails down to stubs, the same way he’ll pass you at work and nudge your elbow, making your hand fall out of your mouth, “Oh my god. The fucking door-“

He shakes his head even though you can’t see him.

“That’s fine,” he says quickly, “You’re okay. Look, uh-“

his eyes scan the door in front of him. he knows from before the only option is a locksmith, or fire department or some other dramatic thing and that’s at least an hour wait and you already sound close to panicking.

he’ll say later it’s because they couldn’t possibly be down another person during the busiest hour, how you needed the attention as he nudges your elbow with a smirk.

Instead-

“Okay,” He nods, licks his lips, “You’re okay. Step back from the door.”

“Hasan?”

He rolls his eyes, “Are you away from the door or not?”

Your voice comes back a little further away, a meek: “Yes” and he wastes no time looking at the doorframe before cursing and seeing the only option.

Look, it’s logical. he’ll insist. Saves the company so money, or some shit-

as his shoulder comes in contact with the doorframe all he can think is how bad this is going to hurt tomorrow morning.

He’s a second away from giving up, from lifting his foot up and trying to give way to the door handle when the door finally groans, gives in on itself and he’s able to open it.

Your further back by the sink, eyes wide as he comes in:

“Are you okay?”

He uses his finger to lift your chin up, turning your head around as if he’s looking for any evidence of any wrong doings and not just the lock giving away in your hand again.

“Hasan,” Your hand rests over his as it rests on the side of your face, feeling like you can finally breathe again. “I’m fine.”

And there’s more too it, this touching that you both have lingered on doing in passing, knocking hands as you two work or nudging elbows has always been calculated, thought out-lost sleep over.

“You scared me, you ass”.

You laugh finally, rips through the air as the line is rolling their eyes, ignoring how they’re clearing their throats to hurry you along.

“Couldn’t lose my favorite co worker during rush hour.”

He speaks softly, like he doesn’t fully want you to see this part of him that is softer around the edges.

“I’ll do anything to get out of work, right?”

he laughs, shakes his head as you put the broken lock in his hand, insist it’s a souvenir.

“You owe me at least four Frappuccino’s after this.”

but he seems relieved finally, dropping his hand from his hair as he moves it like he does when he’s nervous.

“Deal,” you follow him out, “and i’ll call the manager over the door you fucked up.”

He groans, not answering as he follows behind you.

“Kinda an overkill, don’t you think?”

you’re teasing as you walk backwards to the counter again, “like, a normal person would get a key? or-“

“I should’ve fucking left you in that bathroom.”

He’s teasing back as he holds the latch to the counter for you, takes the apron you threw off and waits for it to go around your neck, turns you around as his fingers work slowly but expertly at tying the tie in the back. Waits until you turn around to face him as you do the same for him.

“Oh please,” you’re finally laughing, “You’d miss me too much.”

He rolls his eyes: “Hardly. Do those frappes.”

“Yes, captain.” you salute him as you turn around, trying to act like you don’t see the way he looks at you out to the corner of his eye, carefully watching to make sure you’re okay.

[docholligay]

Transit

“Oh, I mean, last time,” I say with a chuckle of hubris, spitting in the eye of God, “we’d come up around the Strawberry Fest*, and the train was so packed in--you know, it was, everyone was leaving at the same time, so we had to stand--” 

“I think we lost each other.” Bel adds.

“Yeah, I was telling Jill, ‘fuck it, we’ll find them in Ely, it’s not very big.’” I have a broad smile, a fool, an idiot, and I shake my head at my mom, “But it’s not like that, the winter fair.” 

And you what? I was telling the truth. It was not the same as the Strawberry Fair, and the issues we encountered were not the same as the ones from Strawberry Fair, but my grand silliness was in assuming there would be no problem at all. 

Come with me, on a tale of not exactly woe, but perhaps a very exciting 20 minutes in some other nation’s history as we attempted to get back to Ely. 

Background information:

It is COLD. This is coming from me, Lord High Chancellor of “y’all don’t know from cold, I am so very manly tee hee” it was fucking cold, alright? In the realm of 30F/-1C, which, back home, is chilly I’ll say, but not such a huge deal as to attract notice. But. This country is wet**. This country is so fucking wet. This country is a kitchen sponge continually being misted with ice cold water. Stepping outside is the equivalent of being smacked in the face with a damp wool sweater. It takes my hair, my fine, short hair, an hour to dry. And so, we are walking through clouds on the verge of freezing. 

Taking into account the above, and also the fact that I am both proud and an idiot, my feet are completely numb. I’m not saying much, but I’m having trouble keeping my feet under me. Doc, what does this have to do with being proud and an idiot? I chose the cute shoes that day, friends, with naught but a wool sock and a thin leather sole between me and the ground. It was, how do you say, unwise. 

If we miss this train (Read: cluster of trains) we will be trapped in Cambridge for the better part of an hour or so. 

To be perfectly arrogant, in addition to being proud and an idiot, I can bear up under quite a bit, and simply set feeling anything to the side in pursuit of an experience. I forget that other people are not necessarily built that way, and my mother is very tired and a bit dead on her feet. 

In conclusion, we have to get this train back to Ely. 

Dani (cleverly (?--we report you decide)) spots a train going to Birmingham by way of Ely, which’ll take off sooner than the one we were originally planning on taking. Excellent! Brilliant, as they say, even. It also gave me an idea of what a Cross Country train, which I will later be taking to Birmingham, looks like. It seems fine, which is broadly how I would describe most of the trains in the UK that are not EMR, where hope goes to die. We sit, chatting. It’s lovely. We laugh about not wanting to go to Birmingham. What a delightful time. 

And then, that angel’s trumpet of coming destruction: The vioce of a calm British man on a trainline. “This train will be delayed as the driver is stuck in Cambridge traffic.” What can I do but start laughing? As I understand it, the Mill Road Winter Fair is one of two great calamities that befall Cambridge a year, and it dovetails with interview week***. Apparently, this is not largely known to people who presumably should know better, and so here we are, sitting on a train to Birmingham, discussing our options about switching to another, better, perhaps faster train. 

I look at Dani and Bel with the same sort of look, I imagine, that people give me when we’re in the woods and I ask if they want to go along the ridge or if they’d rather drop down into the valley. I understand the words they are saying, but I do not understand the implicatons of them. We’re going to stay on, declares Dani, with a sense of assuredness that comes when you have a train in the hand versus two in the bush, and we all agree that this seems as good an idea as any. 

For a few minutes, at least. 

And then, the voice of the announcing angel comes again, and tells us that anyone going to Ely should really consider getting off the train, as they aren’t sure when the driver will be there and the train the next platform over is terminating at Ely. Oh, by the by, that train leaves in three minutes. 

A wave of humanity rises as if in a Japanese woodcut, all moving in a herd toward the platform across the station. Now, for my American and Canadian readers, at the very least, let me explain how a smaller train station in the UK looks. They aren’t big, particularly, but because of how trains work, to get to another platform, you have to go over or under, generally over, with a set of stairs****. An entire crowd of people is running to the stairs, running up and over the platform in a desperate bid to not be stranded in Cambridge. As we run up the stairs, a voice assures and disappoints, that the train to Ely will be delayed, and, in my extreme foolishness and naive trust of the “National” Rail “””System”””, I think, “Lovely! They’re holding the train for us!” 

OH DOC DOC. 

We make it to the other platform, and the train, my friends, my companions, is not even there. Leaving in three minutes, my god. So now we watch. The train to Birmingham is helpfully being delayed minute by minute, as the second it turns 16:13, the train will be leaving at 16:13, until, of course, it is 16:14, and then the train will be leaving at that time. Our train to Ely, however, exists in that mysterious liminal space of merely ~delayed~, which keeps things fresh and exciting. 

Which will take off first? We eye the Birmingham train across the distance, nearly daring it to leave before thhe train to Ely even arrives, looking at each other on the platform, eyes dashing about like frightened animals. From where will relief come? Is there any escape from Cambridge? 

There are many opportunities to place bets here, as suddenly, a third horse enters the race! 

A train to Norwich, via Ely, pulls into the station next tot he train to Birmingham. Apparently Ely is a good place to go through, if not rest at. We turn to each other. I have not the knowledge to divine the future, and turn thus to my oracles of public transportation, they who dwell in the Fens and hear the whispers of the eels, who follow the rivers of iron on boats run by the capricious gods of Great Northern and CrossCountry. Unfortunately, they don’t seem to have any clue what to do either. The delight of the British train system is that it is happy to supplly you with the ability to make many wrong choices. We debate. We watch. 

We crawl BACK across the stairs and platform, and get on the train to Norwich. 

As we sit, the train to Birmingham pulls away. 

*This is the wrong name for it, but it’s also what I said, so, [sic]

**I keep saying this, and Dani keeps saying, “Is it? I think it’s been a bit dry.” and I am mere moments from popping her in the face, wherein water will gush from her like a sodden foam ball. 

***This is, apparently, the one week where they do every single interview for The Smart Youths to see if they’re getting into Cambridge. What a low stress environment. Fantastic idea. 

****I was absolutely unaware of this when I previously went to the UK, and sent an email to Dani trying to ask about how difficult it was to change trains, but my question about what the fuck a train station even looks like was so basic that it took two or three emails before she even understood what I was asking. So I am here for you, my fellow Americans.

[solarbird]

First: Kamala Harris is doing an interview on Fox News today. That’s important. Every Republican not deep, deep, deep into the cult has given other Republicans permission to vote for her. Watch for how it goes. Early votes are skewing real hard Democratic; we can only hope this starts an avalanche.

Now, back to the shitgibbon:

This wtfery happened a few days ago. Repeatedly. They’re all here. Watch his markov chain generator malfunction.

This 39-minute-long what-is-even-happening happened Monday. He stopped his town hall and decided just to hang out on stage and listen to music for half an hour. (More video.) Most of the time he just stood there, then occasionally he’d dance a little.

Even the Russian propagandists made fun of it. They normally puff him up as serious and important and this was too much even for them. It felt very much like a “look at this clown we’ve put into power. Look at him. Isn’t it hilarious?” victory lap.

He didn’t do much better yesterday, cancelling an interview with CNBC before keeping his appointment with Bloomberg News and the Economic Club of Chicago, where amidst his many lies he also said everyone in the world ever is and has been totally wrong about tariffs being bad for the economy (Smoot-Hartley turning the Panic of ’29 into the Great Depression be damned) and also that children could do the jobs of auto workers.

Get out on the assembly line, kids. Build some more gas cars. Maybe we’ll buy you an ice cream before the ocean floods the coastline some more.

Where, oh where, are the New York Times’s “too old” people now? Where is the drilldown? Where is the baited breath, watching for the stutterer to stutter a little again and declare him senile, broken down, and infirm? Ah, but they want him in office – so why would they do that?

People on TikTok were mostly “he is so high.” I think they might’ve messed up his dosage.

The argument that the real plan is to get him into office and then immediately trigger the 25th Amendment in favour of Couchfuker Vance still doesn’t quite hold up to me – they’ll Weekend-at-Bernie’s this motherfucker until he literally falls over dead, since he’s the God Emperor, and also since that gets Vance a de facto third term without changing or ignoring the Constitution. And he’s not continually breaking down, he’s okay enough a lot of the time. Not all of it, maybe. But enough.

But I have to admit, the Vance idea sounds less unreasonable every day.

The problem of course is that when he’s not having a McConnell-esque stall-out, he’s promising to us the armed forces against his political enemies and making it illegal to say things he doesn’t like, all while his fascist friend Mike Flynn keeps rhapsodising about executing anyone who opposes him.

That’s the hard, ugly reality. They don’t even need him to do that, or really, any of the work of Project 2025. He’s never given a single fuck about policy, just about power and hurting people, and they’ll deliver that for him in spades, all while they end secular government in the United States.

That is Vance’s agenda, after all. And that of his backers. All they need from Trump is the occasional scribbled signature.

He’s signed a lot of autographs. It’s all muscle memory at this point. He’ll do that just fine.

And that’s absolutely all they need.

So. I’ve already given you all the arguments I have to reach anyone who might be reachable. People on the fringes of the cult, people who “don’t like politics” and “think politics is boring” so refuse to pay attention. Trump here himself is destroying the idea that he’s the “vote for my wallet,” given what tariffs will do to prices and the economy, but here’s a bit from Rachael Maddow with more thoughts on that whole nonsense. Maybe you’ll find some good arguments in there.

We’re very much in the home stretch, team. Don’t hold anything back, because as I keep saying, this one is for all of the marbles. Bring everything you’ve got and leave it all out there on the field…

…’cause we’re gonna need it.

20 days remain.

[loverontheleft]

What Next? (Revised)

Original request: random idea but what about a one shot where B comes home early from tour to surprise the reader and he finds some smut fanfics reader has been reading. he pushes her about it till she tells him everything and he then does everything she told him about in one of the fics that got her off??

Brendon x reader

Warnings/keywords: language, dirty talk, toys, thigh-riding, public sex, condomless sex.

Word count: 4.6k➡️5.8k

-||-

“Honey, I’m hooo- oh my god, baby.” Brendon’s voice drops from a sing-songy pitch to low and throaty desire; you shriek and jerk your fingers away from your clit, rolling over with such intensity that your phone goes flying from your other hand. “Well, don’t stop on my account,” he murmurs, dropping his suitcase unceremoniously on the floor and crossing the room in long strides to crawl onto the bed and kiss you fiercely.

You return the kiss, tangling both hands in his hair and wrapping your legs around his waist. It only occurs to you after that your fingers are wet, and with your legs around his waist, you’re definitely staining his sweatpants. You know Brendon doesn’t mind though; he’s always said he loves having your wet pussy all over him. “You’re home,” you whisper against his lips. “You’re home early.” You cling to him, and you’re sure he can hear the giddiness in your voice. “How are you home early?”

“Believe it or not,” Brendon teases, “they value my opinions and desires. Something about it being my band and my tour? Anyway, I missed you. I wanted to be with you. So I—”

“Please tell me you didn’t skip a show.” You know you look horrified, and he shakes his head, chuckling.

“No, love. I don’t think I could’ve gotten away with that. No, I just switched some in-studio interviews for phone interviews, did two promo shoots in one day instead of two, and hopped on a flight three days early. Wanted to surprise you. And,” he nuzzles your ear, his fingers curving over your breasts and pausing to circle your nipples with his thumbs, “it would seem I did surprise you.”

You nod and laugh, blushing a little. “I’m so embarrassed,” you admit, and he grins, hand slipping lower.

“Don’t be embarrassed. The number of times I got myself off to photos of you just this past month…damn.” His eyes darken a little. “Wait. They were photos of me, weren't they—whatever you were looking at?” His voice has taken on a playfully jealous tone and you nod unconvincingly.

“Don’t lie, sweet baby,” Brendon warns with a grin, off of the bed now and searching for your phone on the floor. “Ah, here we are.” He finds it, types in your passcode, and braces himself for whatever he’s about to see.

“Bren—” you start, but he holds up a hand, eyes scanning back and forth.

“Love…why are you on tumblr? And what the hell is Brendon Urie smu— wait, is this—are you reading—porn about me?”

He stares at you, wide-eyed. “I have so many questions. First, what does…’y slash n’ mean?”

You blush furiously. “Your name.” He looks confused, and you clarify. “It stands for ‘your name.’ It’s so the reader can imagine you’re…you know…saying their name. While you do shit. It’s a whole thing. Imagines. Also, it’s not porn. It’s erotica.”

His eyes move over the screen, thumb scrolling as he reads aloud. “‘and he groans as you arch and move under him. “You like being held down and fucked hard, honey?” You gasp your answer and he nods. “Thought so. Your pussy, Jesus Christ, so fucking hot and wet and god, I just—I might come from—fuck, fuck fuck fuck,” Brendon gasps when you come with a shrill moan, tightening around him. “Babygirl, making me come,” he mumbles into your shoulder before biting your neck as his hips snap forward repeatedly and you feel him coming, hard and fast.’”

“Well,” Brendon says, finishing reading and crawling back into bed, “they certainly got the dialogue right. You been leaking our sex tapes, honey?” He grins at you and kisses you hard. After a moment, he pulls back. “Do my hips really ‘snap forward’ when I come? Because that sounds painful.”

“I mean, it certainly paints a visual, doesn’t it?”

“That it does. You like reading this?” He looks at you curiously. “No judgment; just intrigued.”

“It’s, well…yeah,” you admit, blushing again. “I like to see what other people think about doing to you. With you. Gets me so hot, knowing I’m the only one who will actually get the chance.”

“Does anyone write stuff about you?”

You can’t read the look on his face, and you shrug. “There’s a bit out there. Most of it is the reader having a threesome with you and me. There are a few where the reader and I fuck around without you and you catch us, but you let us finish and then fuck us both.”

“Well now,” Brendon purrs, rolling on top of you with a playful grin. “That’s interesting. Show me those.”

“Oh, shut up,” you say with a laugh, arching up to kiss him. “I don’t share.”

-||-

It’s two weeks later, late in the afternoon, and you’re curled up in bed together to indulge in your new hobby: reading various works of smut aloud and teasing each other with your hands. You’ve got your hand curled around his dick, stroking often enough to keep him hard, and he’s got two fingers rubbing your pussy, slipping in only once in a while.

You’ve been scrolling for a bit, searching through different pieces for one you saved last week. When you find it, you pass your phone to him. He reads the prompt to himself; you can see his eyes widen.

“They want us to do what now?” Brendon looks at the phone screen and back at you. “I’m sorry. What?”

“Not us,” you correct. “You and the reader.” He rolls his eyes and you shrug. “It matters. Anyway, the request is: But what if the reader was teasing B in public and he keeps trying to get her to stop and she ends up making him cum in his pants and he gets pissed and punishes her or something?”

“Baby,” Brendon looks at you warily. When you look back at him expectantly, he sighs your name. “This feels like a bad idea.”

“Did you or did you not say that you’d let me play with you based on these smut requests?”

“I did—but—”

“No take-backs, Urie.” You roll off of the bed and start rummaging through your closet, looking for something to wear. “Get up and get dressed; we’re going out.”

“Honey, is this really the one you want? Is it the best—”

“Read the response,” you call out from deep in your closet. “You might be persuaded. Read it out loud.”

You hear his sharp intake of breath. “What if after B comes in his pants, he gives the reader vibrating underwear to wear and he teases her like crazy so the reader comes multiple times, and then B and the reader end up having rough sex afterwards? Oh my god,” Brendon groans. “But…we don’t have vibrating panties.”

“Yes, we do,” you counter. He’s silent, and you grin. “I saw this post last week and bought them just for this. They came this morning; I’ve been waiting for them to arrive before showing you the post.”

-||-

Brendon groans quietly, murmuring your name when you kiss his neck surreptitiously as you sit next to him in the booth. “Love, we’re in pub—oh, right.”

“Yeah,” you mumble, grinning against his skin. “That’s the point. At least I was kind and asked for a table in the back.” You slip your hand down under the table and between his legs. “You getting hard for me, B?”

“Honey, you know I am.” His voice is low and his fingers dig into your thigh. “The only thing keeping me here is the idea of you with those fucking panties on, trying to hold it together. But that in itself is maddening.”

“Mmmm,” you murmur, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Well, the food will be here soon, and you can focus on that.” He rests his head on top of yours, trying to control his breathing. “Think about the food,” you tell him, rolling your palm over him, loving how hard he is.

“I’m thinking about something else I’d much rather eat,” Brendon mumbles, fingers slipping higher on your thigh. “But now I’m teasing you, and I don’t get to do that yet, right?” You nod and he sighs. “And you’re not gonna get me off here, are you? You’re gonna make this last, aren’t you? You little tease.”

“Of course I am,” you say with a grin. The waitress comes over with your food and you smile at her radiantly. “Thanks so much!” You chirp, and you palm Brendon faster, grinning when he lets out a strangled moan. The waitress looks at him, a little unsure, and you smile. “He’s just excited about the food.”

She nods and walks away, and Brendon looks at you with a longsuffering expression in his eyes. “That wasn’t nice.” You shrug and pop a fry in your mouth, winking at him. “You are in for it, you know. Once I’ve come, it’s your turn. And I am going to torment you,” he comments with a small smile.

A thrill runs through you, and you dip a fry in ketchup. He groans when you bring it to your mouth and lick it clean before sliding it in your mouth. “You’re killing me, honey.” His voice is a tight whisper and he’s bucking into your hand slightly, keeping his upper body still by leaning over the table. “All I want to do is fuck you.”

You ignore him, and nod your head toward the hostess, who is approaching with menus in hand. She’s leading a group of six to the booth one away from yours and you grin. Brendon exhales sharply, flexing his fingers on your thigh.

You giggle, reach for your drink, and wrap your lips around the straw, hollowing your cheeks out and sliding it deeper into your mouth as you suck. His eyes are locked on yours, and he’s biting his lower lip; you love him like this. You squeeze the bulge in his jeans before stroking again and pull back off of the straw with a satisfied “ahh.” His dick twitches under your hand, and you bite your lip now, wishing he were deep in you, fisting your hair and telling you he’s about to come.

You lean in close to tell him this, lashes fluttering, and he twitches under your touch again. “Or in my mouth,” you add offhandedly. “Throbbing in my mouth as you come, spilling down my throat, praising me as I swallow.” His breathing catches and you smile. “You’d like that, baby? Coming in my mouth, watching me take your cock in between my lips and swallow all of your cum?”

“Shit, you know I would.” He breaks the rules and slips his hand back between your thighs. “And I think you would too, you dirty little thing. You love sucking me off, love how I fuck your mouth, don’t you?” You nod, trying to keep calm, rubbing him frantically. “You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?” His lips are near your ear, and you shiver. “Because I’m thinking about how easy it would be for you to slip under this table and take my cock in your pretty mouth and finish me off with that soft, wet tongue of yours.”

“We’re not alone anymore,” you point out, and he shrugs.

“You wanted to make me come in public. The public has people. I knew that going into this whole plan.” He grins and moves his hand from your pussy and presses your palm onto him more firmly. “I know your little request said I was supposed to try to get you to stop, but I really couldn’t care less right now. So fucking close, so hard for you. Finish me off, honey.”

“I’ll remind you,” you say in a breathless voice, “the request also said you had to come in your pants.” He nods, and you glance at him, rubbing and stroking him with the firm pressure he’s made. “You still want me to?” He nods again, letting his head fall back against the booth edge. “Say it.” You press closer, so your mouth is against his ear and your hot breath sends shivers through him.

“I want you to make me come,” he whispers, chest rising and falling sharply. “Right here. Right now.” You squeeze him sharply and he moans, low in the back of his throat. “In my pants. Finish me off, make me come in my pants.” He looks at you desperately, hips rocking under the table.

“Well, I did say I was going to make it last and not get you off here, but since you asked so nicely,” you murmur, shifting slightly so you’re pressed against him more fully, your head nestled into his shoulder. “Come for me.” Your hand is flying, curved over the bulge in his jeans, fingers curled around him so you’re squeezing and stroking and palming him all at once. “You’re so hard; you’ll feel so much better once you come for me, B.” He bites his lip and lets out the tiniest groan, his rhythm faltering. “Yes, baby,” you encourage, tongue flicking his earlobe before whispering to him, “that’s it. Come. Think about me down on my knees, begging for you. I want your cum, Bren. Your pants are so tight, but just pretend you’ve got your cock buried in my tight pussy instead; that’s it, thrust a little and think about fucking me, think about me taking every inch of your cock before I get every drop of your cum. Fuck my cunt, give it to me—”

“Oh god,” Brendon whispers, reaching down and grabbing your wrist to hold your hand in place as he rubs himself roughly against your palm through his jeans. “Oh god, tell me,” and his eyes are wild.

“Come for me, Brendon.” His eyes slide shut, his body goes rigid, and you can feel his length pulsing under your touch. “That’s it, come for me,” you murmur in his ear before sinking your teeth into his earlobe and tugging. He gasps, unable to stifle it, and you press your free hand over his mouth. “No noise; people will notice,” you remind him, and he nods, eyes blazing above your hand.

“Fuck,” he whispers when his hips finally go still. You move your hand and lean in to kiss him softly. “Fuck, honey, that was…” he shakes his head a little. “So glad I’m wearing black jeans.” You move your hand off of his dick and grin, walking your fingers up his length and rubbing your index finger where you know the head of his cock is pressed. You let out a soft sigh when you find the wet spot on the denim and press slightly. “Fuck,” he hisses, trapping your hand. “Don’t start again.” You pout and rub the spot teasingly. Brendon arches into your touch, murmuring, “Love, you know it’s my turn.”

“Mmmm,” you agree, wriggling in your seat. “Should I go put my panties on, B?”

He eyes you suspiciously. “Don’t you mean change your panties? To the vibrating ones?”

You grin and shake your head. Brendon inhales sharply and presses his fingers back between your thighs. “You mean—fuck, I can feel you. Yeah, go put those panties on and let me tease you.” You slip from the booth and wiggle a little, looking over your shoulder and winking. “Go,” he mouths, grinning. “And hurry back.”

-||-

“Ooh,” you whimper as you sit back down. He looks at you curiously, and you shift to get comfortable. “I may have spoiled myself,” you admit, and Brendon raises an eyebrow. You pull up a picture on your phone and pass it to him. “This is what I got us.” He groans low in the back of his throat and stares at you.

“You mean to tell me…”

You nod, grinning and passing him the tiny remote. “You dirty little thing,” he murmurs, shaking his head, but his eyes are dark, and he’s toying with the remote in a way that already has your heart racing. Although, admittedly, that could be the three inches of curved silicone currently pressing into you. He presses a button, and you whimper when it starts vibrating, your nails digging into his thigh. “I’m gonna make you come so many times, baby.” His voice is low, and his eyes are fixed on yours. You know he’s going to keep that promise.

“Can you hear it?” You hiss the question, biting your lip. He shakes his head, eyes heavy with lust. “Okay, good.” You shift in your seat again, pushing the vibrator deeper—you rock forward so it’s pressing where you need it.

“Move to the other side of the table, sweet girl.” His voice is husky with desire, and he’s rubbing your thigh. “I wanna watch my dirty girl get off, wanna see the moment you come in your panties for me.” You nod and scramble up, and as soon as you’re standing, he hits the button again so the vibrations amp up; you gasp, your legs shaking. He looks concerned, and so does a woman at the other table.

“I’m okay,” you wave her off. “Leg fell asleep. Hate that, don’t you?” The other woman nods and smiles sympathetically as you slide into the booth.

“Jesus,” you whisper, reaching across the table for his hand. “It’s right where I need it; holy fuck Brendon, it feels so good.” You grab your plate with your free hand and pull it over, raising your burger to your mouth. He looks at you, amused, and you close your eyes. “Trying to focus on food,” you tell him and he chuckles, turning the vibrations down. “Thank you.” You sink your teeth into the burger while Brendon watches.

“How can you possibly be thinking about food? All I can think about is your pussy, clenching around that vibrator, your cunt fluttering so nicely the way it does when you’re about to come on me…goddamn, I wanna make you come.” He takes a bite of his own burger now, chewing.

“You’re gonna,” you tell him, spreading your legs slightly under the table. “So fucking hard.”

-||-

You’re breathing erratically, fingers clenched around the edge of the table, and Brendon turns up the vibrations even higher. “Hold it together, honey; I’m getting the check. Act normal when she comes over here.”

You whimper, letting your head rest on the back of the booth. There’s no accommodating the toy; legs spread wide or pressed together, it doesn’t matter: it’s deep inside you, buzzing insistently and pushing you closer and closer to climax. Brendon hands the waitress his card, and she glances down at it, her eyes wide.

“You are —oh god, I thought you were —I told myself it wasn’t—oh my god I’m so embarrassed but—I’m a fan,” and the poor girl is babbling, and you’re digging your nails into your thighs. You do not want to be rude to this girl; you cannot be rude to this girl. Holy fuck though, you need her to leave, so you can come. Brendon glances at you, and you know he can practically read your mind.

He turns back to the waitress and smiles. “That’s so kind. Thank you! I love meeting fans.” He strikes up a deeper conversation with her while he presses the remote again under the table.

You cannot react; you want to scream and writhe and buck wildly against your hand, his hand, anything, but you can’t. You focus on taking deep breaths. He’s talking with her, and she’s smiling so widely. You’re happy for him; he does love meeting fans, and you’re happy for her too: he and his music clearly mean a lot to her.

Brendon drops the remote on the booth bench and slides out to take a photo with her. You need the distraction, so you offer to take it and reach for her phone. “Thanks, love,” Brendon murmurs with a wink at you. Now she’s turning to you, talking about how much she admires you, and all you can think about is how she’s so sweet and so nice, but you need her to go away so you can come.

“But I’m babbling,” she realizes and blushes deeply. “I’m so sorry. I’ll just go get—thank you so much—I mean—okay, I’ll be back.”

“She’s sweet,” you say to Brendon, and he nods with a small smile. “We gotta go once she’s back though; I’m right there.” He looks at you sympathetically and turns the vibration off. “Hey!” You protest, hips twitching slightly. “I didn’t say stop.”

“No, you didn’t,” he agrees. “But I’m saying it. I think you need me to stop.” The waitress brings his card back with the two slips and she thanks him again before going to check on the other table. He leaves a large tip, signs with a flourish, and writes her a quick note on the back of the customer copy, signing again. “Let’s go.” He stands and offers you a hand, which you gratefully accept, seeing as your legs are still shaking.

-||-

“Pull over,” you order, gripping his thigh. Brendon guides the car off to the side of the road, letting it disappear into the cluster of trees as the sun sets. “Hold still.” You unbuckle and climb over the center console, settling in his lap with a sharp whimper. “God, it feels so good.” Brendon is grinding up into you while he kisses you hungrily. Every thrust sends the toy momentarily deeper, and the curve means it’s vibrating right against your G-spot. “B, I’m gonna come,” you murmur against his lips, moving urgently against him.

“Do it,” he groans, tugging at your hair. “Want you shaking and squealing, coming hard on that toy. Pretend it’s my cock; soak it, baby.”

You bear down right as he thrusts up, and your entire body tenses. With one hand in his hair and the other clawing at the window, you’re shrieking as your orgasm rocks through you. It’s like you’ve forgotten how to breathe; your head is spinning and your vision is speckled; you’re trembling on top of him, gasping for breath, and you kiss him urgently. “Fuck,” you manage, resting your forehead against his and laughing a little. “That was intense.”

“Intense to watch too,” Brendon tells you, stroking your hip with his thumb. “So damn good to watch.” You’re still squirming in his lap from the vibrations, and he reaches for the remote. “Should I give you a break?”

“Probably,” you admit. “I’d like to say no and keep going, but I probably need a break.”

-||-

You’re at the traffic light before you’d turn toward your house when Brendon turns the vibrations back up. You instantly grip his thigh, back arched and heart racing. Instead of turning left toward your neighborhood, he turns right. “Where are we—”

“Just wait.”

You close your eyes, taking shallow breaths, and you wonder if he has any idea how worked up you are. He must know what he’s doing; you’ve been married long enough to know the effect you have on each other, and Brendon particularly knows how needy you get when he teases you.

“Love hearing you breathe like that,” he comments. When you crack one eye to look at him curiously, he pats your thigh affectionately. “Those quick little breaths. They tell me you’re so on edge, so close to coming for me. My dirty baby, tense and achingly wet, ready to thrash and scream and totally let go as soon as I give her permission.” His thumb moves in slow circles on your inner thigh now, and you whine.

“Don’t worry,” Brendon murmurs. “I’m going to let you come.” With that, he parks, and you open your eyes.

You’re not in your driveway. You sort of anticipated that, considering he took the opposite turn, but you’d hoped he was just taking the scenic route. Instead, you’re outside of his favorite bar. You groan. “Brendon, I thought we were going home. I can’t. I can’t take it much longer. I need to go home.” He opens his mouth, and you cut him off, knowing what his argument is going to be. “It didn’t say mine had to be in public.”

He smirks, patting your hand. “Still, it was implied. But okay, fine; I will let you come at home if we get a quick drink. One drink, then I’ll take you home—okay, my love?”

It sounds manageable; you agree and let him guide you into the bar. His hand is warm on the small of your back—all you can think about is the warmth of his hands all over your body when he’s got you naked. Even when you’re both rushing, his touch is always purposeful and intimate. He manages to make every touch feel like he’s in utter awe of your body; he never takes for granted the opportunity to touch you and caress you.

“This way,” he murmurs, stroking your hip with his thumb. The owner maintains a small, private section in the back for his more famous clientele, and while you and Brendon don’t always use it, you’re glad he wants to get you somewhere private.

“Let me get the drinks,” you offer. “It’ll give me something to focus on.” He shrugs and nods, passing you his card. You keep it tucked in your hand as you cross back to the main area; you approach the bar and the owner behind the bar catches your eye, nodding.

“Oh motherfucker,” you hiss, clenching your thighs. Brendon’s obviously hit the button three times and you’re barely able to stay standing, let alone speak. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself against the bar, as the owner approaches. You order quickly, squeezing your thighs together tightly and praying internally. You’re shaking when you return to the booth in the back where Brendon has settled, his whiskey visibly moving in the trembling glass you’re holding.

“Baby,” he says soothingly, reaching for your hand. “You’re shaking.” You nod, biting your lip and taking a large swallow of your vodka and cranberry. “We’ll go home soon, I promise.”

The bar is filling up with more people, and you groan under your breath, closing your eyes briefly. “Or,” you murmur, “ we could stay.”

He looks at you, one eyebrow raised, and you continue. “If we leave, we have a car ride separating us from bed.” You squeeze his hand. “But if we stay…” You nod your head towards the bathrooms with a wicked grin.

“I love you far too much to fuck you in a bar bathroom,” he comments, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “But I also love that you want it that badly. Let me take you home.” He knocks the rest of his drink back and gestures for you to do the same. “Come on.” He pulls you to your feet and clicks the button again, making your knees buckle. Brendon quickly wraps an arm around your waist, practically holding you upright.

“Almost there, baby. I’ll get you home safe and sound.” You’re audibly whimpering and clinging to him, and the minute you’re outside, you start begging him to let you come. “You’ve been so good,” Brendon mumbles into your hair, kissing the top of your head. “My best girl; I don’t think I can make you wait til we’re home.”

When you’re both in the car, Brendon reaches down between his feet and shoves his seat back. “Come here,” he tells you, and you crawl into his lap, reaching above you to manually turn off the interior lights. It’s dark out now and no one should be able to see you.

You straddle his thigh and rock tentatively, moaning when the vibrator presses deeper into you. “That’s it, honey; ride my thigh, fuck yourself,” he encourages, hands sliding up your back. “Let me hear how good you feel. Let me watch you come.” You whimper, shifting on his thigh so the silicone piece is angled perfectly and you start moving again, kissing him. “So sexy,” he moans into your mouth. “So fucking sexy.” You nod, so close that you’ll agree to anything. “Gonna come? Gonna come in those pretty panties? Gonna let me take you home and fuck your hot, wet cunt?”

“God, yeah,” you moan, pressing down against his thigh and grinding against it hard. “Fuck me, Brendon, fuck me, please— oh shit yes!”

“Only if you center yourself on my cock, pretty girl.”

You straddle him fully and rub yourself along his hard length. He’s gripping your hips and thrusting up against you desperately, and you tug at his hair. “Turn it up higher, fuck me hard, I can take it, Bren—please!” He does, and you scream, biting at his neck, writhing and thrashing as you come. “Oh my god, oh my god,” you chant, licking over the bite marks, hands moving over him. “Feels so good in my pussy; fuck, Brendon, give me more, more—I can take more,” you beg, and he obliges, kissing you fiercely when you cry out again.

Finally, you slump against him and bury your face in his chest. “I need you to take me home and fuck me for real, just give me your cock,” you whimper, clawing at his shirt, and he lifts you off of his lap, murmuring how he’s going to get you home and take care of you.

You settle back into your seat, shaking and trembling, staring at him longingly. “Don’t turn it off,” you groan when you see Brendon reaching for the remote. “Don’t you dare.”

-||-

“Bed,” he orders, placing you back on your feet. He’d carried you upstairs, both arms wrapped tight around you while you moved against his stomach, making yourself come again with a loud squeal.

You scramble for the bed; he shoves his jeans down and pulls his shirt off over his head. “Now,” he purrs and straddles you. You go limp and let him strip you, both of you moaning when he tugs your jeans and the panties down. “These are fucking soaked,” he groans, and you kick them off of you and onto the floor. “My dirty girl, coming in her panties for me.”

You nod, hips bucking, desperate for more contact. You need him. “Hands and knees,” Brendon tells you, and you turn onto your stomach with a happy sigh, gasping when he grabs your hips and pulls them back sharply, so your chest is pressed to the mattress. “Head down on the pillow and hold on, baby.” You love when he takes you like this; he’s able to get so deep and go as hard as you both want.

Brendon slaps your ass lightly, making you squeal, and then pushes into you. You both moan again—teasing each other all day was fun, but you’ll never get tired of having him inside you.

“So fucking wet,” he groans, reaching around to rub gently at your clit. You sigh happily, grinding back against the base of his cock.

“So fucking big,” you say, and he bites your neck, laughing a little. “Fuck, no really. You’re much bigger than what I’ve had in me all night. Longer, and—oh god,” you groan, “thicker, and—fuck me, Brendon, you feel so good—just hotter. Goddamn I love your cock. Love you, B.”

“I love you and your pussy too, honey. Shit,” he grunts, fingers digging into your hips. “So fucking much. Gonna come again, for you.”

“Come in me, please,” you beg. “It’s been so long; come in me, fill me, claim me, take me.” He groans above you and rocks against you harder. “God, you’re so—I’m gonna come all over your cock.”

“Do it,” he encourages breathlessly. “Do it. Be a good girl and come on my cock.” You let out a shrill moan and shove yourself back against him, bracing yourself with both hands flat on the mattress. “That’s my good girl, fuck.” Brendon is breathing hard now, and his hand slips down your thigh to rub at your clit more forcefully the way you love. “Be my good girl and come for me. Set me off by clenching your pussy around me and make me come.”

“Oh—fuck!” You don’t mean to shriek, but his fingers on your clit and his words and his cock—it’s all too much, and you feel yourself clamping down hard around him. He swears too and has to double his force to thrust against you.

“Now, now, now,” you chant, reaching behind you to tug your own hair. “Fuck me, I’m coming, coming for you, oh god Brendon, fuck my cunt, yes!”

“Fuck,” he grunts, groaning your name and thrusting once more before you feel him, a warm feeling that spreads and fills you. “God,” he moans, rocking against you sporadically, rhythm long gone. “I fucking love coming in you.”

“Baby,” you whimper, rolling your hips back to try to take him deeper, let him fill you more. “Brendon, I want it all.”

“My good girl wants all my cum, huh?” His voice is tight and he rocks forward once more, gasping as the last of his climax rolls through him. “Fucking love you,” Brendon moans, stilling inside of you. “Oh god, I love you so much, my perfect girl.” He pulls out of you slowly, and you whimper, letting your hips hit the bed. He drops onto his stomach next to you and pushes your hair out of your face. “Holy fuck,” he whispers and you nod, body still trembling. “You’re incredible.”

“The same to you, Bren,” you say with a soft smile.

Despite your mutually sweat-and-slick-covered bodies, he pulls you against him, both of you breathing hard. You’re both quiet for a moment, and he kisses the top of your head. “So,” he says, fatigue creeping into his voice. “My dirtiest, best girl. What’s next?”

“What do you mean? Next we sleep,” you tell him, a bit incredulously. “Or shower. Or both. Both would be good, actually.”

He chuckles and stands, crossing the room to your purse and grabbing your phone. He unlocks it again and goes back to tumblr, dropping the phone next to you. You look up at him, and he grins down at you with sparkling eyes. “No, honey, I know that. I mean…when we wake up and have recovered. What next?”

[sunburnacoustic]

Just rambling here so ignore this completely…

Especially within the last few years, quite a few people have been talking about Muse not being political enough, especially given their (and Matt’s) fondness for revolution and bold themes. It’s not a new complaint, I remember an interview where the interviewer mentioned it to Matt, saying people were criticising Muse for not being political enough… this was in 2000. But it has come from everywhere, like from fans, from people in the press, from people that urm, know Matt’s past. From Justin Hawkins lmao (frontman of the Darkness, remember them? They released a proper weird album last year so they aren’t gone… anyway, that’s besides the point. He’s become a sort of music industry journalist? He’s got a YouTube channel, and he reviewed Won’t Stand Down when it came out and said something along the lines of, if Muse were specific in their political messaging, no one could touch them. It’d be so powerful they’d blow everyone else out of the water. I think, no doubt they already do… it’s something to think about, I’m neither agreeing nor disagreeing with him. He’s right that if Matt properly let loose I don’t think anyone could touch him, and we got a taste of that on We Are Fucking Fucked. An uncensored Matt would burn so bright we couldn’t look. But also, the tempered and considered broadness of their music does make Muse Muse. I won’t say). People pushed Matt in interviews on his political leanings in the 2009 days, they did it post-Brexit (someone started shit about him being a leaver for a bit and then he had to clarify that he was pro-reform, not pro-Brexit), and now with the whole thing about Matt’s past, and Compliance, and Ghosts even and everything. And his answer has always remained the same, it hasn’t changed in years.

But I wonder, is it in some ways America-centric, the way people keep needing him to clarify further when he’s said what he’s said multiple times? He often says he’s roughly ‘left-of-centre’, and it’s occurring to me that it’s possible a lot of us read that as left of the American centre. When he, as a Brit, is far more likely to have been talking about being left-leaning from the POV of… most other places in the world.

The NME interview from last June comes to mind.

“We want a new type of revolution,” Matt argues […]. “I think everyone knows we want a revolution, but we definitely don’t want a bunch of authoritarian lunatics from the right. That’s the last thing we want.

“And also we don’t want a total communist situation on the hard left either. I think what we want is something completely new. I don’t think it exists out there at the moment, but I think there’s a new type of politics that could emerge. I would call it Meta-Centrism. It’s an oscillation between liberal, libertarian values for individuals – your social life, the ability to be whatever gender you are, all that kind of stuff – but then more socialist on things like land ownership, nature and energy distribution. It’s oscillation between the two poles.”

It’s not what you’d associate with the American center, god no. But that’s closer to the centre of the political spectrum in most other places, in fact, as far as economic centricity goes, that’s pushing left.

And I mean, language can be tricky sometimes. In the very next sentence, Matt also says, “I think there’s a way of doing that but there’s no language that enables people to think that way. You’re either hard left or you’re hard right… I’m not with any of these; I feel like there’s a third way. There’s no existing side that describes what I’m looking for yet…I’m fundamentally anti-authoritarian – that’s just my nature.” I don’t think the wrong language should preclude the right intentions, and also you can see he’s talking about polarisation and the eradication of nuance (which is like, hmmm, who could it possibly benefit if people can’t meet in the middle, agree to concede even a little, or see their opposers as basically human. Who, I wonder).

It also strikes me that the ‘left’ Matt is talking about is most certainly not the American left either. It’s proper, radical anarchy. It’s a complete overhaul of democratic systems, and certainly far from even a pipe dream in mainstream American politics.

So maybe it’s just a very American reading of political beliefs of people not from America? And in the wave of everything that’s been happening, all of the rest of us have also forgotten how to read global politics. Somehow, all of us but Matt apparently. Makes me want to zoom out a bit; idk, I’ve just thought about this before and wanted to write it down somewhere. This seemed the blog to do it.

Anyway, if you haven’t, I do recommend reading that NME interview, it allows Matt to elaborate a lot more than an Instagram caption or a Twitter post would, and elaborate he did.

[saintlaurentproblems]

Please recap/liveblog this ep of the idol so people can know what’s happening with that train wreck without having to watch

I not kidding this was absolute garbage. I just finished it.

Lily is naked doing a photoshoot at her house. She wasn’t suppose to show her tits in the photoshoot but she wanted to.

Her team gets notified that a photo got leaked of her with “c*m on her face.” They don’t tell her. For like 10 minutes of the episode they just avoid telling her what’s going on while she’s doing the photoshoot.

If Lily isn’t talking then she’s smoking a cigarette.

Lily changes her “outfit” for her rehearsal in her backyard. It’s a black bikini that barely covers her nipples and a mini skirt that literally doesn’t cover her ass so you can see her thong.

A journalist is there is interview her after rehearsal

She’s rehearsing her dance. Her team compares her to Britney. Lily is tired and her choreographer tells her to watch one of her dancers. Jennie is one of her dancers.

Lily then does the dance again and she nails the dance.

Jennie mentions and club to go to so Lily asks her what club.

Then it pans to Lily and Jennie at the nightclub where Lily meets Abel. Abel is a nightclub owner. Abel and Lily dance. Abel chokes her a little while she dances. They make out. They talk about Prince. Lily’s assitant is looking for her. Lily is hiding in the staircase with Abel.

Lily goes home chokes herself and pleasures herself on the couch.

The next day Lily does the interview. The journalist said she needs her to answer questions about the photo that leaked. Lily says that she answers to God and smirks.

Lily invites Abel back to her house. Makes him wait in her living room. He sniffs the pillow on the couch. Makes himself a drink. And does cocaine in the bathroom while he waits. Then they go to her studio to listen to her new single which she thinks is superficial. He rubs his cold drink on her boob. And then takes an ice cube and rubs it down her leg and to her Queen Victoria. He says she needs to sing like she knows how to get fucked. He stands her up and then take her red silk robe and toes it around her face so she can’t see or breathe. She’s gasping then he takes a knife a cuts a whole for her to breathe. Then the show ends.

And that’s what you missed on this garbage show.