#i rly rly wish i could have grown up there?

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

.

[arolesbianism]

Shakes the bars of my cage I need to draw soooo bad I need to draw I need to draw let me draw I have to draw I need to draw I must draw (<- has been too sick to be on electronics much and doesn't like doing traditional art)

[rucow]

watching a therapy session with one of my favourite artists has left me in shambles oh.. ohhh... ohhhg my godd......😭😭😭

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I have an odd request… perhaps a captain price fic where the reader is much younger and edgy- likeee covered in tats and stuff,, and price isn’t rly used to that but finds it hot as hell… idk maybe they work together ?? Smut ensues …

IDK I have tatts and wonder what he’d think of that 👹👹

Just an idea 💡❤️😫

Fire it Up (John Price x F!Reader)

Word count: 7.8 k

Tags/warnings: Smut 🔞 mutual pining, flirting, swearing, older man/younger woman dynamic, forbidden love, smoking & drinking, voice kink, a tiny brat taming kink squeezed itself in here too. Reader has tattoos and works as a coder at the base. Rough ~10yrs age gap described, reader is of age I hope to god it goes without saying (Price is canonically 37) Also: no use of 'daddy' in this fic

A/N: I'm so glad for this request anon and I hope you like what I made! Also people please be gentle, this is my first Price fic 🥹 God I wish I could attach the fat scent of cigar here to give you the full experience. 

You don't know what caught your attention first.

The cigar, perhaps. Or the beard? Might be his hips, the ass that tells you this man can fuck a woman for hours.

Or maybe it's the fact that he's too old for you.

No, not too old…

Just older than you. A decade, perhaps, if you were being gentle with him and lenient with yourself.

He certainly isn't old enough to be your father, but he wasn't the type of man your eyes usually drifted on either.

He looks like someone who's supposed to be fishing in Alaska, sucking that fat cigar while taking in the view of mountains while trying to catch wild fish in some wide, free stream. 

He's supposed to come home to a remote cabin: to his little wife who pours him a scotch after he has shown her what he caught today. Make sweet love to her while stars shoot and speckle the indigo night.

He looks like someone who makes love to women.

You, on the other hand, want to ride with him to the sunset on the back of a Harley, clutch his jacket as he drives you to some bizarre highway motel. You want to watch him drink that scotch from your navel. 

You'd do all kinds of crazy shit with him, keep his head between your legs with both hands, grind all over that mustache, and see how wet it gets. You want him to pound you with those narrow hips, take you from behind while you look back with parted, swollen lips and relish the sight of what must be a grown man's hardened body, covered with hair and scars and–

"The bug's still there."

You return to reality, look at the code on your screen, and then at your colleague, a 20-something bloke who looks at you with the lethargic stare that only belongs to techies. You've just been caught daydreaming your eyes off in the middle of a lazy afternoon. Coffee doesn't do shit after 2 PM…

"Yeah I know. I'm working on it," you say. But when the dude leaves, you decide it's time for a creative break. You tell yourself it's only because the code jumps on the screen, not because you hope to catch a certain someone smoking outside. 

The leather jacket is a little too much these days, but you throw it on out of pure habit. You realize the weight of your mistake when you go outside from the ventilated building and notice the sweltering heat. Spring has finally turned into summer.

Coffee doesn’t do shit, but it’s time for another kind of wakey-wakey. And butterflies are a funny term for something that mainly feels like it’s eating your insides out of pure excitement. 

Because he's here too.

Jonathan Price, although no one calls him Jonathan. Few call him John, either. 

Mostly, he goes by the title Captain.

He's stressed; you can tell. But his eyes soften immediately when they fall on you, a brief look to the side, just to know who else comes out to have a breath of fresh air or a smoke. He looks like he's been expecting you, but that might only be a silly girl's daydream. You two share a vice, and you've never been more grateful for your bad habit before this place and him.

And you wouldn't call it necessarily a bad habit. It's simply stress relief if you do it once or twice every few weeks. It's not like you smoke two packs a day. It's not like you even smoke one cig per day. 

Although ever since you started this odd little job in this odd little place, you've smoked one or two nearly every day… And it's not because of the stress.

It's because of Price. 

John. You’d like to see his reaction to you moaning that word in his ear…

"How long have you been here?"

His eyes are still on you, mouth covered by a hand as he makes love to his cigar. And that bedroom voice always gets you. It's better than the upcoming slow drag of nicotine. You're not here for tobacco at all.

"Two weeks." You reach for your excuse and try to prevent your hands from trembling as you light the cig. Usually, you're not this shy with people. Not with men, anyway. But with him, your wits and words disappear. 

You blow the smoke through the air with a quick, lively wisp where he lets it roll out his tongue in a heavy cloud. He's still watching you as if to weigh what kind of woman you are exactly.

"How about you?" You continue the small talk with nervous ease.

He chuckles; the little smile even shows a flash of teeth as he steals a look at the clouds, calculating years with those surprisingly lively eyebrows curled up toward the sky.

"Ages."

He's not that old. Perhaps well over his thirties, might be knocking his forties. The statement is merely an underline of his stress today. You can only wonder what kind of pressure the captain of Task Force 141 is under when you get sleepless nights from a stupid source code. There are a few wrinkles around his eyes, but they only tell you that this man smiles a lot. He might be the only one in this compound who smiles a lot.

"Have you ever tried a cigar?"

There's a glint in his eyes as he offers the thick roll of tobacco to you. It's suddenly difficult to breathe, difficult to even keep your thoughts together.

"No," you shake your head as if your answer wasn't enough to tell him he's the first person ever to offer you such a thing. Then you realize the word does not precisely deliver your eagerness to try that stout cigar.

"Would love to," you hurry to add with a soft smile. "Can I have a taste?"

He walks to you slowly, and your eyes drop to those hips, which sway like he's purposely trying to seduce you.

Fu–ck…

Then your eyes sink even lower, between his legs, to his fucking junk, and it's too fucking late–

Jesus–get your shit together…

You force your eyes back to his and see the little glimmer in them gain a surprised spark – you're totally caught red-handed on checking him out.

Fuck. How can you be so stu–

"Gently then, kid."

You swallow your heart and thoughts down and take the offered cigar; of course, your first thought is how thick and heavy it is. And somehow, you decide right then and there that you will no longer be the nervous, hot-cheeked woman on the corner.

It's time to make him flustered.

So you take a hollow-cheeked, slow suck on the fat cigar. A chaste, savory taste, more like, but there's nothing chaste in the way you raise your eyes to his, putting every ounce of soft seduction in that stare.

He draws breath slowly – his face is full of expression for an allegedly cold-hearted elite soldier. You don't know how often women flirt with this hunk of a man, but he sure looks taken aback by your sudden play. Probably thinks you're too young for him – and you curse the second time you put that jacket on. You want to see his reaction to your sleeves.

"Mm. It's thicker than I thought," you weigh the cigar between your fingertips and let the smoke roll out your mouth. The man switches his weight from one foot to another, speechless, and you suppress a big beam of a smile.

"The taste," you emphasize as if innocent, as if you didn't see that shocked little shift. "Round, and… god, it's almost sweet."

You smile as you give it back, and he chuffs an approving laugh through his nose – those eyes are bear-warm playful now, his mouth curves into an easy smile.

"Nice," you look him up and down as if you're talking about the man and not the cigar.

"Beats those little sticks." 

His voice drops down a few notes; it's almost a husky growl. You barely make out the words he's saying. The tension in the air could form little balls of lightning around you, the flirt is over the roof, and there's even no roof because you're outside – and you take your jacket off, slowly, to make it clear it's summer and not spring.

His eyes fall on the ink immediately, and he blinks a few times, draws some more breath – you tweet your thanks accompanied by another smile and go back inside.

You know he's checking your ass in those black jeans as you walk away.

….....

It doesn't end there.

You see him again and again and again, and at some point you realize he has to walk almost 100 meters from the other end of the base to get to the little corner where the two of you smoke. 

He's intrigued but decent. Holds a distance, never says anything that could be taken in the wrong way – or even in the right way. But he's fucking you with his eyes. 

No… making love to you.

And it drives you crazy.

You don't want that. You don't need that. To be that little wife in the cabin. Pouring him a drink, climbing in his lap, ghosting a finger down the stubble on his chin, see how wide and proud it makes him smile to hold you like you're his and his alone...

God. When did it come to this?

You suck on his fat cigar every now and then. Look him in the eyes while you do it. Once, it makes his tongue dart out, it wets his bottom lip, and then he does that thing with his mouth... the thing where he kind of purses his lips and it makes the mustache dip, and you realize, you learn it's a sign that he's restless, he's flustered.

You make the big, burly captain of Task Force 141 flustered.

And he doesn't smell like the people inside smell. Of stale coder sweat and Joy Division and soft drinks and mommy's home-cooked meals. He smells of rich forest and fine bourbon and half-burnt gasoline. Maybe Saxon on vinyl. Definitely beats those little sticks that are your nerdy co-workers at the hacker department, as you call it.

He may have a flask somewhere; perhaps he takes a sip or two every now and then, whether at work or not. And you don't blame him. Even with those laugh lines and that brown bear benevolence, you can tell he's seen things. 

You wonder what he's like out there in the field. Brutal? Or just efficient?

He never asks about your tattoos, but he eyes them often. There's a certain admiring esteem in his stare. He's checking you out, scratches his chin, and rips his eyes off when they start to drift down. He forces his eyes to stay above your neckline no matter the cost. You mourn that you got rid of the septum a few years ago: you're pretty sure he would've liked that, too. After all, it's a piercing that screams 'warrior' the most. Break after break, you return to your desk, aroused and giddy and surrounded by the rich, masculine aroma of his cigar.

One night, he drives by when you're walking home after what was supposed to be one or two pints.

The car is a big, black pick-up, and when it slows down and starts to inch by your side, your first reaction is a silent curse of why the fuck don't you carry some pepper spray in your pocket.

"Hey, you ok?"

Your head rises from the asphalt the second you recognize that smooth, pleasant voice of a man you had compared every guy to at the pub that evening. The whole man is brimming with burnt sienna, he's hard alcohol with no ice…

You stop and turn, a little wobbly from the pint turned to two or three. Or four.

"Yeah. Had a little girl's night out."

The car rumbles softly, not two meters away, and the sound reminds you of his voice. A soft purr that can turn into a growl, even a roar if he wants to. 

He looks like he's going fishing, even without the boonie hat. The dark hair is cut short, so you won't have anything to tug if he ever ends up between your legs. But you don't really mourn that fact, because he looks so damn good.

He looks you up and down, and you notice the briefest blob of his Adam's apple before he gives you another offer.

"Want me to give you a ride?"

Would love a ride.

Would fucking love to ride you.

"Sure. That's kind of you." 

Your eyes must be sparkling like the fucking stars.

"No problem at all," he leans his elbow on the open window and waits while you round the car and get in. You try to tone down your drunken state, but your moves are a little too brash for a calm and collected coder lady this man has usually caught leaning against the wall of the workplace you two share.

"Did you have fun?"

He sounds like a dad picking up his girl from a school disco, and you purse your lips in slight distaste and amusement.

"Yeah. You know how it is when someone asks you for a pint."

He gives a short laugh and starts to drive. "That never ends well."

You smile and turn to look at him.

"Mm… This one kinda did."

You enjoy the brief look out the window, the sight of someone so formidable and robust and experienced trying to find his way out by feigning something caught his attention in the black, empty distance of a quiet city.

"Glad I could be of service," he brushes off your flirt like it's nothing more than a speckle of dust on his coat.

The rest of the ride is silent, too silent. He turns the music off in case it "bothers you," and it turns into an awkward, overly polite fight about whether to keep it on or not. 

It's a minor shock to notice he was listening to some classical. Not 80's rock, not country, not even BBC. He was just soothing his nerves.

You can't put your finger on what makes you feel so sheepish around this man – usually, you put men on a leash with a few dry jokes and a hearty laugh or two. Now, your flirting is shy and does nothing: there's a wall built up, and from behind that wall, only a few stolen looks…

The pick-up is humming, the engine is running at idle next to your place far too soon, and it's time you get off the car – but you have vehemently decided you will knock down that fucking wall even if you have to drag him to your bed. 

"You wanna come up and have a nightcap?"

Another look out the window as he raises his hand over his mouth, fiddles with his mustache, and avoids the rising heat between you two.

"Thanks, kid. But you need to sleep."

Your heart is pumping, and you feel like a harasser as you place your hand on his thigh.

He doesn't move, but you can hear the audible swallow this time. He doesn't move a single finger even when you slide your palm down that leg, then drag it over to the inner thigh, and start to drift back up slowly, slowly, to give him the time and space to stop you before you reach….

….the visible bulge between those legs, the absolutely gorgeous, ample bump pulling at those pants, something so delicious that you must fight tooth and nail not to race your hand up there and give it a fond grope.

His hand falls over yours just before you reach it.

"Kid. Let's leave it here and call it a night."

His voice is strained and tight, and he's still looking out the window. You don't move your hand away because he doesn't move it away. His warmth stays there, keeping you against him, and you feel like shit for thinking it's not a no… That it's a yes when he seems to hold your hand as a prisoner, wanting to feel your dainty little palm against him.

Your fingers curl slightly, a hopeful gesture to imagine how it would feel to curl and claw at his hips and that ass while he's fucking you.

"Listen. You're a nice girl. A very nice–"

You give a heavy, demonstrative sigh and finally draw your hand away.

"Come on Cap… You're seriously going to give me the "you're a nice girl" talk?"

Finally, he turns. His nostrils quiver as he tries to keep his breaths calm. Your lips part like it's a whole caress he just gave you – and his gaze drops to your mouth instantly. You start to see where the problem is.

You're too young. 

You're forbidden.

"I offered you a nightcap," you tilt your head slightly. "You can come up or you can go home."

You wet your lips, give the bottom lip a tiny little bite, and offer him the last, inviting, soft smile. It must hold an equal amount of sorrow because you can't drown the bitter feeling of rejection, no matter how many drinks you've had that night. No matter how much he seems to want you, it doesn't change the fact that he's apparently decided to stay strong and keep his hands off the cookie jar.

You turn and get out of the car, lean on the door for the final fucking time...

"Didn't know I'd only get to suck your cigar... You're all smoke and no fire, Price."

The door flies closed with a louder slam than you originally meant. 

Now that was a little bit passive-aggressive, you have to admit. But you're drunk, and he's being a pain in the ass, calling you a kid, looking at you like that, having a fucking hard-on and giving you nothing.

…But it does the trick. 

You smile like an idiot when you walk to your place and hear the purr of the engine stop. Another car door opens, then closes, wide footsteps follow you…

A nightcap it is, then.

He looks even bigger when inside a place with walls and a roof. He stands inside your apartment tall and wide as if he's waiting to call attention. Those large hands are over his crotch, concealing the swell of erection you already saw in the car. 

You know the tank top you wear reveals even more skin covered in tats as you throw your jacket away and go get him that drink. The glasses glide on your table, slide nearly to the floor, and the bottle of Jim Beam meets the counter with a devastating clank. You look at the excuse to get him into your place and sigh. 

"You know what… Fuck this."

Offering cheap bourbon to someone like him seems a bit ridiculous. So you offer him something he might actually like. Something he actually came here for. 

You walk to him and throw your hands around him – he stiffens from the middle but looks down at you with a heated glimmer in those eyes. You could've sworn they were charred brown, the same color as his cigar, but up close you see they're actually molten iron. Mercurial.

"You sure about this?" He asks softly.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He unclasps those hands from over his groin, and the warmest weight falls to rest on your waist, even steals a caress to your hip. You want to hurl yourself at him, press yourself against his crotch and grind until you bleed from just that tiny touch he finally gives you.

"You've had one too many, love."

Love…

Shit.

The warmth spreads from his eyes, from that hand, from the word that rolls out of his mouth like a beautiful puff of smoke. It unfurls inside your heart, swells inside your throat, plummets to your groin, and you switch the weight to your other leg to feel how that hand gains more weight as it gets pressed more firmly against you.

"Doesn't change the fact that I want you."

Your voice is nothing short of a purr. When have you ever purred like that to a man? You sound like a housecat, tame and adoring, waiting for a gourmet meal.

"You really want an old man?"

He still has that reserve in his eyes, decent and distant, but underneath, you sense a terrible heat, like the glow of a cigar lit in darkness, an adamant smolder that never dies out.

"You're not that old." 

Your purr turns into a deprived meow. You dangle from his neck, and the smoke, the fire that surrounds him, blends into the gentle scent of a man, the musk of a mature beast. You know he's hairy under those clothes; he fucking has to be. The vision of how his cock must look, surrounded by untame, coarse fur, has tormented you night after night.

And now he's finally here. In your apartment.

You skate your hands over his chest while slowly dropping into a squat, then languidly kneeling in front of his crotch.

He doesn't stop you, not even when you open his belt and the zipper and crawl your fingers down the waistband of his underwear. You have to stifle a delighted gasp upon seeing how his cock springs free and stands proud in front of you in all its glory. And fuck yes he's hairy – the hairiest man you've ever had. 

Cigars feel like tiny little sticks when you wrap one hand around him and lick the weeping slit like it's your favorite ice cream. The groan that follows is a husky eruption above you and gets stuck in his throat as you take him in your mouth.

"Fucking hell, kid…"

He's thick, broad, and the musk fills your nostrils, but what he just said makes you pull back and whisper on the bulbous tip–

"Don't call me a kid," you breathe on his cock, swirl your tongue around him, and his thighs bunch. "Old man."

You finally manage to push some buttons.

The back of his hand brushes your cheek, then slides over to your throat. He's gentle but firm as he forces a thumb under your chin, curls fingers around your neck as if you're a cat who's about to be force-fed some medicine that's only good for her.

"Is that how you wanna play it?"

His thumb brushes down the ridge of your throat. Tentative, promising.

"Perhaps," your lips quiver with anticipation as you smile; your voice is a pitched vibrato before it drops, just to give him a reason to put you in your place... "Old gum–"

The hand pulls up, the grip tightens just enough to guide you back to your feet and up to meet his face.

"Didn't know you asked me here to tame a brat."

Fuck…

You almost moan. 

The hand doesn't choke you; it makes love to you. Claims you as his. 

"Really…?" You sigh. Flash him a filthy, guiltless smile.

The fire surges forth and nearly buckles your knees. His eyes flash in rhythm with your grin, like a sudden flicker of a campfire in the middle of a dark, parched forest.

"This what you want? Hmm?"

The rumble reminds you of the engine of a Harley roaring to life. His throat is burned from the fire of his cigars, the hand on your throat is used to squeezing dead metal and pulling pins from frigid grenades. But even they can't stand a chance against his woodland fire and sycamore smoke. He could bring a cold, inanimate rock back to life with all that fire.

"Yes. I want it. John."

His name on your tongue is a cat's meow. It has the exact effect you hoped for.

"Let's get the brat tamed, then."

"Hah," you finally moan. "Promises, prom–"

The fingers around your throat pull you to his mouth with a python strength. His lips spread yours with soft devouring as he coats you in fire. The coarse beard smells of sweet tobacco – nothing like a pungent cigarette. It's like an old memory: safe and sturdy and strong. Male.

You moan in his mouth – god, what will it be like when he's inside you? – and he capes both arms around you and crushes you against him. Broad shoulders envelop you like a shroud of thick smoke, the cock gets trapped between you like a hot spear, and you mewl like a slut.

Your pussy clenches, just from his warm mouth, the rich velvet of his lips. He takes everything with that kiss, and you're weak in his arms as he bends and molds you against him just the way he wants, opens your mouth with his own and breathes you, samples you like those puffs of smoke he sucks from his cigar.

Your brain short-circuits, you barely notice how your top slides up as his hands go under it. It's dragged up, up, over your breasts and then over your head as he detaches just enough to rip that piece of clothing away. 

You look at him like he's Christmas, then reach for your bra while he opens his pants more to get them down. Your jeans are accursedly tight, and he's breathless, too: the whole room is dark and filled with heavy breathing and rustle of clothes as you claw your socks off, slide your strings down and away, watch him get out of his shirt and throw it on the floor too, all propriety gone.

And then…

Jesusfuck–

He picks you up, lifts you from the ground like you're nothing but a leaf, and strides with you in his lap until your back meets a wall.

The barrel-like chest presses the air out of your lungs while your back travels up – you don't know if his arms or chest do the lifting, but you're being positioned for his cock to enter. Your hands try to grasp something solid before it's too late – his back and neck – your legs wrap around him, feet hooking over his ass as the thick of his tip pokes your soaked folds, and after a few seconds of probing, slides in. 

"F–uck…" you gasp, sounding so needy that it could be a voiceline from a bad porno movie. His lips find the place between your ear and neck immediately.

"Be good for me now," he gruffs, dark and round like the sweetest bourbon, although you know he's the finest single malt in the world. "Be good…"

"Ah–John…"

I'll be good… 

Just for you, I'll be so, so good.

He pants heavy on your neck, grunts as he starts to fuck you against that wall. You knew he might be intense, but apparently, you had no idea. The man is needy as fuck, and has concealed it up until this point. 

You could cry, scream from joy from the thickness that spreads you, fills you with every fat glide of a thrust. The sex borders on rough but is so incredibly tender too, so needy it makes your heart collapse, compress into a taut knot in your chest. It's the softest rocking, the gentlest fucking as he retreats, then ruts into you again and again with sharp, rusty moans. You're in a slow but steady rodeo with this man, your breasts pressed against a solid chest covered with hair, and it tickles, even if his pecs threaten to crush your ribcage.

"You're one hell of a girl," he gruffs in your ear, beard grazing up and down your neck. "Taking me so– Fucking hell, look at you…"

His eyes are embers as they sweep over you: your abundant ink, the helpless, adoring look in your eyes, the little mouth that opens with a gasp, the trickle of sweat that forms between your breasts and meets the hair on his chest. 

He doesn't have to look down to see how greedy your cunt is for him. He can feel it.

"This is what you wanted the whole time? Huh?"

He's all smoke. All fire.

"Yes…"

"Wanted me to take you against a fucking wall? Eh?"

"Yes…just, just take me," you moan and purr some more, giving him everything he wants. "Fuh–fuck me good…"

"Ahh shit..."

You know you're a drug to certain decent men. But to him, you're a forbidden fruit in all its aspects. 

A calm, collected captain who enjoys wide respect, eyeing an edgy, younger woman from the tech department? That's not how this was supposed to go. Thirsting for someone who did what they wanted, looked just the way they wanted, walked this earth like a dark fairy – that's not his usual go, surely. He was supposed to settle down with a proper lady. If he were to settle down at all.

"I've dreamed of this," you whisper in his ear, lips moving just enough to deliver your secret to him.

"Yeah..? Me too," he gives your throat more love with a velvet growl. "Know I shouldn't, but–"

"Shh. Don't–don't…" You grip him tighter, taste the spruce and salt as you breathe his neck. "It's good. It's all good."

He rumbles in approval. Your skin is raw from his beard; even the coarse hair dusting his thighs feels too rough on your skin. And your skin is used to being needled, shot full of ink right inside the dermis. But this… This is branding.

You're silk in his rough embrace, and plundered with no remorse. You sigh and moan, hug him... And then he dares to stop, panting and throbbing inside you.

"Darlin'. Where's the bed?"

The soft question makes you panic. If you go to bed and let him push inside you while you're lying on your back, if you brave a look into those eyes while he takes you, you'll develop more than just a horrid lust for this man. If he collapses on top of you, spent and spoiled while you're at your most vulnerable, you'll tie a string from your heart to his, and you can't, you just can't allow that to happen.

Because he's untamed too. He's not a man who settles down, he's not up for domestication; he's a wandering fire.

"No–no bed," you pant on his muscles, the shoulder that keeps you safely pinned on the wall. "John…? Please."

He's breathing wild too, disguises his surprise well.

"Alright."

He sounds disappointed, and it's not because he doesn't have the strength to maul you against that wall. The rejection stings him too. It makes you want to offer a truce, a little something. When he rocks you again, you graze your fingers up the back of his neck, knowing he will feel ripples across his scalp from your caress.

"We can smoke a cigar after," you propose, not knowing why your voice still comes out as an airy whisper. "Together. I'll pour you that drink…"

His chest swells with a deep breath, he huffs fire on the hollow trench between your collarbones.

"Fuck, woman…" 

It's dense syrup that surrounds you much like those shoulders and arms, that coarse hair, that bold male want.

"And after that I want you to…" You catch your breath and sound like a mouse with your next shy question. "Would you go down on me, John?"

It's like you're under a bear attack, but he stills; his head tilts a little to the side and meets your temple. 

"You wouldn't tease a man like this," he says. A soft warning, brimstone coated in velour, but the core of it is despair. So much need, so much forbidden, distant want… 

"Right? No more teasing."

He's still thinking that you're teasing him… That it's some kind of a joke that you want him.

"I'm serious... I want your mouth on me. I need your–"

"I'll put my mouth on you as soon as we're done here, love."

You have to bite your lips, suck them between your teeth to prevent another deprived moan from escaping.

"Want you to fuck me all night," you continue to whisper on his neck. You should shut the fuck up because it doesn't take a bed to tie that string from your heart to his. After all, they're right there, beating against each other through bone and skin and chest.

"Yeah? That's what you want?"

"Want you to… F-fuck me slow and good from behind and–"

You sniff. Whimper.

You should be ashamed: mewling for more when he's already buried inside you. What kind of a brat are you, wrapping your thighs around that narrow waist like you never want him to pull out?

And you're not crying. 

It's just that the cock inside you is throbbing against your walls as if he's making a home there, his hands dig into your ass cheeks like you're his already, the breath upon your sweat and skin feels far too affectionate. When exactly did a raw wall-fuck turn into such an affectionate, gentle taste of love?

And it's not enough. You want to climb on top of him every morning, ride him slowly and watch him unravel as the sun climbs the sky and coats that fur in gold.

"Could you do that? Please… John, please," you whimper and whine, beg like you're tame already. 

"I'll fuck you all night if that's what you want. Fill this pretty, tight cunt up every way you like."

It's coarse smoke. It caresses you until your legs start to shake. He adjusts his grip, drags the pull-outs like he drags those pulls from his tobacco. Keeps you nicely in place for him to drive back in–

"I'll fuck you 'till you cry, love. Yeah?"

He punctuates that promise with another good, fat thrust. You moan all tame now – a rippling stream, laughing and crying in his molten hold.

His cock fills you while your thighs quiver and tremble in his hands. Your pussy throbs; it sucks him already, the orgasm is seconds away, and your fingertips search for support but only slip over sweaty, hard muscle.

John. John.

"Fuh-…"

He spreads you a little. Those arms are pure iron as they mold you for him to plow. You know he can feel the waves, the way your cunt grips him with longer, deeper pulls as you start to sound downright pathetic.

"Just like that, just like… hah…"

"M-hm. Yeah," he bends the vowels, daubs them with smoke. "That's it. You're doing good. Doing so well my love."

He huffs between the thrusts that have turned into slow, intense love-making. He's making love to you – god, why does he have to be like this…

"Cum for me. Nice and pretty, yeah? Come on."

He encourages you with words, but you can't hear them anymore.

Heat coils in the pit of your core just before you burst with a heady scream.

The spasm is so sudden you almost hit your head on the wall. He's at your throat the minute it's exposed, and your scream turns into a weak wail when his tongue grazes your skin. It's blazing, and dips into the hollow between your collarbones like it's a shot glass full of scotch. Next thing you feel is fire, even some teeth on your neck.

And you thought Price might, just might be intense…

Your head drops as the blunt of the orgasm leaves you. Your feet unclasp, and next up would be some soft waves, but the man continues to fuck your shattered cunt and marshmallow soul with a good, intense pace. The words that pour out of your mouth are those of a brainless person.

"Ah–hah, God–"

"Where's that cheek now, mm..? Pretty little thing."

"John–h…"

The thrusts rub you against that wall like he wants to staple you there.

"So nice and good for me now, ain't ya? Cummin' on command…" An amused chuff right on your poor, chafed skin… "Begging for my mouth and cock."

You travel up and down in a limp heap, trying to hold on to him with weak limbs as he drives into you with a tight series of half-thrusts. Your legs hang loosely on the side, but he has no trouble carrying the full weight of you.

"Slow–slowly, Cap…" 

"Ahh fuck–"

He swears on your ink, right on the trotting pulse on your neck. Through the vapor of man sweat and rich smoke and a whiff of cedar trees bending in the wind, you feel him tense and thicken.

"The fucking things you do to me…" he pants with a low growl, hushed but intense. Your pussy answers with a good, demanding pull. 

"Fuck… fuck–!"

You're a limp doll between him and the wall when he comes. Pressed between a rock and a hard place, literally. His chest being the rock, an entire boulder that whips the oxygen from your lungs as he drives deep, his balls giving a few taut pulls against your ass as he empties himself into you with a satisfied, dry moan. A dark, ripe blossom, shooting straight to your core while you're sealed tight around him.

The world goes still after that; the only thing that moves is your breath and his, a refreshing hot breeze coursing through the stale air. The darkness of the room isn't half as snug as the safety of his arms.

Your fingers find his neck, the short-cut hair and the skin pounding with a rush of blood. He lets you go reluctantly, bends a little to set your feet back to the solid ground. He doesn't pull out, keeps huffing all over you even when you're returned back to the earth. 

And you never want to come back. Your cunt still throbs around him and cries a tiny, thick stream down your thigh. His upper body still pins you against that wall, his breaths still mist your skin, caress the red burns of his beard.

He feels so good. Too good…

When he pulls out, he does so with intense care. He gives you some space to catch your breath, and you finally notice he has fucked your legs into splinters.

"I'm…" You break the hush of heavy breathing with a soft laugh. More viscous load pushes out of you with it. "I don't think I can stand."

"Yeah? Tried to take you to bed," he muses softly, sounding annoyingly content with his achievements.

"Gotta admit it was a good idea."

"As was the nightcap," he rasps, voice drenched in soft smoke.

"We'll get there eventually."

"I have no doubt about that."

You give him a soft, warm chuckle as you cast your eyes between the crest of his pecs. Rough, tight muscle meets your soft breasts with heaving breaths, and teases your nipples to taut little points. The wet hair on his chest looks good paired with your inked, smooth skin… You two look so goddamn fine together.

"I hope I didn't make you deaf with that scream."

He stands at his full height, but tilts his head down and slightly to the side as if you were a new, interesting species he's just found on his travels.

"Wouldn't complain, love," he says. More wet syrup, just for you. He weighs you with his stare, curious and appeased, and you feel shy. For fuck's sake, you still feel shy even though this man was inside you just a moment ago. 

"The bed. Now be a good girl and tell me where it is."

"Down the…hallway." 

A delicate little whisper, again.

It's laughable, how the veteran of Task Force 141 turns you into something so dainty and meek. Captain John Price takes you against a wall like you're nothing but a doll, makes you purr and beg, reassembles you into a weak-willed woman who gets carried to bed. 

This is not how it was supposed to go...

He lifts you back in his lap while you continue to hold onto him like he's your prince Charming. A laugh spills on your lips when he tries to lay you gently on the bed and you manage to pull him down with you. You end up tumbling there in a sweaty, messy heap. 

"Knew you were trouble," he's smiling too as he settles beside you. You curl and wrap yourself around him, your bodies mold and curve together like they're made for each other.

He's so solid, so warm, the kind of man you'd love to fall asleep on every night. No more cold sides of the pillow, no more tossing and turning and trying to get the code out of your head. Just… this chest, those ember eyes burning in the night. Some soft breathing, a roaring engine standing still, waiting for you, just for you…

"I hope this wasn't a one time only occasion," you test the waters.

"No." He shifts a little, disentangles from you slightly. "Unless you–"

"No."

You bend in his arms like a young willow, cut his doubts off with a kiss. It's passionate, and so sloppy it threatens to make the same sounds as your cunt and his cock a while ago.

The hand on your hip tows you closer, then steals its way down your leg. You hike your thigh up, perfectly willing. You're a sticky mess, but so is he: his rock-hard thigh meets your still soaked pussy like these two have always belonged together. And this man's full fire has escaped you until now. There are so many hidden, wild things in him too. 

He would look so good on a Harley… He would look good on a motel bed after riding for days and days with you attached to him like an eloped dark bride. The nights would be smeared with hot sex and cinder and smoke, a dash of scotch on top, he could drink it from your lips. You would serve it to him from your mouth, round the taste a bit so that it wouldn't burn so much…

"Have you ever been to Alaska?" 

The liquor is leaving you, but you don't feel any more sober. The lava in your veins has only been replaced by another kind of fire.

"No."

"Would you like to go?"

"What'ya mean," he murmurs on your tongue, and you know he's hard again just from the thick lust coating his voice. "What kind of question is that?"

"I was just thinking."

"What were you thinkin', kid..?"

"Don't… call me that," you laugh. In truth, you're growing quite fond of it. It reminds you of old movies. "Here's looking at you, kid" and all that.

His laugh is a charred roll in his chest. To him, you're a brat – an unruly kitten – no matter what you say. 

"Kid. Why Alaska?"

He's curious. Borderline hooked. You steal a peek into those vulcan eyes. 

"You'd look good in Alaska. Old man."

"Really," he rumbles a soft purr against your heart. 

Another soft kiss follows. Affectionate… He plays time, but he's also a probing, scanning. You bloom in his embrace, unfurl on his lips like he just wrenched you wide. He could haul you to the cabin right now and you would only cook him dinner.

It's too late, even if you try to shift after such a kiss. Escape to press your cheek against that place between his pecs, the spot where the hair is darkest and thickest. You want to lick that valley where his heart meets his musk. That scent must be born from a good, stout heart.

"Would you take me with you…? If you ever decide to go."

It's a fragile question. A baring of the heart. It holds so much more than an inquiry about whether he would whisk you away on a secret leave. It's strings, pulling from your heart to his, taking root.

"Sure. But you're quite a handful, love."

"Is that so…?" 

You crawl over him as gracefully as you can. He allows you to straddle him, and of course he does. You're no threat; you're only a one woman show. The only thing he's probably missing right now is a glass of scotch and a thick roll of tobacco. 

He takes in the view with hunger: not satiated by that pent-up fuck, just like you're not... 

But then his hands come to rest on your thighs to check if they're still shaking. The touch bleeds possessiveness: it's a thoroughly absent-minded, instinctual attempt to reach for you. It tells you you're exactly where you belong. 

"You seem like the kind of woman who's not for the faint of heart," he says like you didn't just mewl in his arms like the tamest fucking housecat.

And perhaps that's what intrigues him. Contrasts. And even more than that, the odd place where black fuses into white, the gray area where everything is possible. The split-second moment when the skin accepts the ink and traps it in. 

Everyone always says you get buried with your tattoos. That you should think twice before staining your skin with such permanent hookups.

But the thing is, you get addicted to it. It's like standing on the edge of a cliff before a bungee jump. You know you'll never be the same person after you jump, and you know you can't leave that cliff without jumping. It's a stalemate until you clear your mind of doubt and just plunge.

And you don't want to leave this earth without getting stained and sweaty, without dipping your soul into the full experience. You're supposed to get a little dirty. This is Earth, after all.

Your fingers disappear somewhere in his slick fur. Sunrise is hours away, but his eyes spark aflame. They're always, always smoldering like the butt of his cigar. He's a man who causes wildfires at the end of the world – he's a reckoning, a flicker in the dark forest, roaring into a bonfire as soon as the wind passes through the trees.

And you've always loved fire. Wild, and free. The only thing that competes with such freedom is a wide, wild stream. 

"But you can handle me. Right?" Your fingers curl softly around the hair surrounding his navel. "Tame me and everything?" 

It's an offering that causes even fire to tilt its head in curiosity. In the end, you're not sure who tamed who.

"Someone has to," he grabs your hips with rich promise. 

You'll pour him that drink. Light him a cigar after his mouth is full of your taste, see how well it pairs with fire and smoke. You'll toast to the Harley, the crazy motel… 

And Alaska. 

[55sturn]

✮ PETER LOSIN’ WENDY

pairings: chris sturniolo x fem!reader | chris sturniolo x named fem!oc

synopsis: in which chris doesn't realize that while pursuing another girl, he's losing the girl that would've been the one for him.

warnings: swearing, drunk!reader + drunk!chris, cheating, angst, angst, and even more angst, unresolved hurt.

THIRD PERSON POV

chris didn't realize he had made a mistake until it was far too late. he thought that amelia was the girl he wanted, but he soon realized that he couldn't have been more wrong.

he really, truly though that he would have enough will and time to choose between the two girls, however he didn't realize that as he chased them both, he was losing the girl that was the one for him.

VINTAGE TEE, BRAND NEW PHONE, HIGH HEELS ON COBBLESTONES

as y/n and chris made their way home from some random los angeles party, the couldn't help but giggle each time y/n's heels clicked against the cobblestone path they walked along. the two couldn't help their drunken giggles as they blindly made their way home.

"you should take those off before you hurt yourself." chris laughed, his hand intertwined with hers as he held his phone in the other.

"i'll be fine. you never told me where your shirt was from by the way."

"it's from some vintage thrift store back home in boston."

"i like it." she whispered, titling her head as she stared at him beneath the streetlight.

"let me take a picture of you, i don't have any on this phone yet." chris smiled, taking the picture as she blushed, watching as he set as his lockscreen.

BUT I KNEW YOU, DANCING IN YOUR LEVI'S, DRUNK UNDER A STREETLIGHT

the two continued their walk home, haphazardly walking into each other as they stumbled further down the path. their hands loosely intertwined with each other's, chris couldn't help pull her closer to him, his other hand falling to her waist as he softly rocked their bodies back and forth, humming a slow beat to a song playing quietly in his head.

"i like this side of you." she whispered, brushing his hair out of his eyes at he smiled down at her.

"not many get to know this side of me, but you do."

"i wanna know every side of you." she smiled back, watching as his eyes sparkled slightly.

y/n slowly walked ahead, unaware of chris' phone pinging in his pocket, another girl blowing up his messages wondering where he was as she missed him.

with a shameful sigh, he plucked his phone from the back pocket of his levi's, swiping away the notifications she sent his way.

HAND UNDER MY SWEATSHIRT, BABY KISS IT BETTER // SAID I WAS YOUR FAVOURITE

chris hand was beneath the back of y/n's sweater as she cried against his chest, her head hurting from the amount of stress she had dealt with during the day.

"baby, can you kiss it better?" she teased, trying to lighten her mood, making chris roll his eyes before pressing a gentle kiss to the girl's forehead, smiling against her skin as she keened into his touched.

walking backwards, he led her to her couch, falling back against the cushions, pulling her on top of him as he continued to rub her back, hoping to ease some of her stress.

"you're my favourite person, y'know that?" chris whispered as she laid her head on his chest, her fingers dancing along his bicep as they laid there.

"i am?"

"without a doubt."

CHASE TWO GIRLS, LOSE THE ONE

y/n hadn’t meant to pry and prod, but chris had grown distant lately, he was off around her and she was curious. so when his phone pinged while he was in the shower, she let her curiosity get the best of her. but she wished she hadn't as she read the notification that lit up his screen.

amelia

cmon chris, you know i'm the one you rly want

every time she re-read the girl's message, it chipped away at her heart. how could chris do this her? betrayed couldn't even begin to describe how she felt. as chris' screen faded to black, she heard the water shut and she couldn't be bothered to move. she didn't realize she was crying until chris was kneeling in front of her, gently wiping her tears.

"what's wrong y/n?"

"who's amelia?"

"wait what?" chris sputtered, her question sending shockwaves through this body as she stared at him, completely unsure of who was kneeling before her.

"who is she?"

"she's no one, baby i promise."

"tell me the truth, who is she, chris?"

"i met her the night we came home from that party and i've been seeing her occasionally since." he whispered, finding no use in lying to her as she sat there, her tears of sadness becoming tears of anger as she felt her hurt settle in her heart.

"get out."

"what?"

"get out. i'm done. we're done. i'm not going to sitting around while you chase some other girl."

BUT I KNEW YOU'D LINGER LIKE A TATTOO KISS // I KNEW YOU'D HAUNT ALL MY WHAT-IFS

for months following her breakup with chris, y/n had been a shell of who she used to be. she hadn't experienced the heartbreak he caused before in her life. it had left behind a different kind of hollow in her chest. a void that no one would fill.

no one except chris.

and for months, he lingered in her life. in the back of her mind as she walked down the streets they used to walk together. the ghost of his lips pressing against her temple every time she had a migraine. the feeling of his hand beneath her sweater, fingertips mindlessly drawing shapes the small of her back as she laid in bed. the smell of his cologne stubbornly sticking to her pillow cases on his side of the bed.

he was everywhere and she couldn't forget him. he was a ghost unable to move on as she felt swallowed and suffocated by her pain. she didn't know what to do and she couldn't take the after-shocks that his infidelity put her though.

he invaded every thought she had.

what if i'm not good enough?

what if was i enough for chris?

what if they cheat on me like chris did?

what if i can't move on?

what if chris is hurting too?

he was everywhere in her mind. he haunted every possible chance she had at moving past the pain she felt.

I KNEW YOU'D MISS ME ONCE THE THRILL EXPIRED, AND YOU'D BE STANDING IN MY FRONT PORCH LIGHT, I KNEW YOU'D COME BACK TO ME

y/n knew chris would come miss her once the thrill of being with amelia had faded. she wasn't someone chris could be with long time, from what she had been told by people knew her. she knew he'd come back, he made a promise that he'd find his way back to her as he walked out of her house that night.

but as she pulled into her driveway, she found him standing under her porch light, his hair sticking to his forehead as the rain fell against it. sighing, she got out of her car, the door slamming shut behind her as she stood there.

"chris."

"i miss you."

"no. you don't get to do this chris."

"listen please." he pleaded, watching as she looked up toward the sky for a moment, her eyes closed as her shoulders fell before looked back at him, nodding and crossing her arms.

"i know i fucked up. i made the wrong choice and put someone before you and i shouldn't have. i should've never gone for her. i had a good thing going and i completely fucked it up."

"chris you need to leave, please. i can't go through that kind of pain again."

"please give me one more chance. i'll do better."

"if i let myself forgive you, i won't be able to forgive myself. i will be subjecting myself to constantly worrying that i'll never be enough for you. i'll be walking on eggshells around you, scared to push you into the arms of another girl. i cannot put myself through that again. when i found out you cheated on me, it stripped me of everything i knew. i lost my sense of stability and sense of who i was. i became someone i didn't know, i was fucking destroyed chris. so no, i cannot let you back into my life because i would be betraying the promise i made myself."

"i'm so sorry y/n, i wish i could fix my mistakes but just know, that if i can ever be forgiven by you, i'll be waiting. i'll always wait for you and i'll always love you."

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© 55STURN 2024 ! REBLOGS NOT EXPECTED BUT GREATLY APPRECIATED ! [ you do not have permission to copy or save or share my work to other platforms and devices! ]

[janovavalen]

im gonna be like the little devil on your shoulder politely asking for grover fics (im the person who requested the hurt/comfort one :D) I WANNA SAY A) THE FICS FANTASTIC LOVED IT SM B) DO YOU ONLY WRITE FOR FEM READER?? ASKIN OUT OF CURIOSITY BECAUSE IM NON BINARY IF NOT TOTALLY FINE OBVI

now askin for another one because im silly like that grover x gn(if you do gn if not then fem obvi) reader angst. i want to feel pain AND TYSM FOR READING THIS AND SOING THIS IF YOU DO ILYSM FOR DOING GROVER /P 🫶🫶(ps sorry for making this rly long i have lots to say)

a/n: omg HIII i was hoping you liked it anon!! i literally was like ‘bro what if they hate this sm imma be mad embarrassed’ bc i was rubbing on coffee and water when i wrote that😭 BUT YES ILL TRY TO WRITE WHAT U ASKED FORR, i’m a little scared bc i never wrote gn reader before and i don’t wanna like fuck it up for anyone but i’ll try<3

✧I WISH YOU SAW YOURSELF HOW I SEE YOU || grover underwood x gn!reader

summary: when grover comes back from his quest with percy and annabeth, he can’t help but notice that y/n has grown closer and closer to luke, causing him a bit of worry for the two of them.

word count: 1237 (this was rushed bc i was trying to get something out to you guys in so sorryyy)

warnings: misunderstanding, HORRID CLUTCHING jealousy, reader not knowing, grover giving the cold shoulder, slight hurt but comfort and hugs in the end<3

grover had just gotten back to one of his quests with annabeth and percy. and he was esthetic to get back to camp.

they meant everything to him. when they first met, they had been very quiet, reserved but polite and never ever put one in their place if needed. they didn’t take up bullying and they wouldn’t stop now.

when grover had met them however, they had been in the lake taking a small swim on the hot day, he had been there to just sit under the sun. which they allowed, the two of them didn’t talk until they had decided since they were both there and in the same camp, the two of them might as well know each other.

and from then on, they had been nonstop talking to each other, hanging out, laughing and chatting at all the meal times and sooner or later, grover felt his crush on them developing faster and faster. they had been eighteen, the prime age for an adult so he didn’t feel weirded out—even though they told him not to feel that way.

when he looked around for them, he found that they were nowhere to be found which concerned him a little. usually y/n is always waiting for him at the front of the cabin but this time, they weren’t ?

a little concerned he began to ask around for y/n, everyone saying they didn’t really know or they saw them just a second ago.

‘where could they be…’ he asked himself while turning around to look over his shoulder.

just as he walked near the bows and arrows and there they were. standing there with a wide warm smile on their face, only..they weren’t alone? once somebody moved away from where this mysterious person was there stood luke castellan. a wide smile on his own face while he shook his head at y/n who must have told a joke.

grover wouldn’t particularly care or mind in this situation but…he felt something was a bit different about the way y/n had been laughing. it was over excessive and a bit different then the way they laughed at him?

when y/n laughed at him—with him, they usually would look away or clear their throat, but with luke? they stayed their eyes locked and or they’d bend down to laugh while covering their mouth.

y/n usually didn’t cover their mouth with him. could this be a sign that he was in the friend zone the whole time.

clutching his hand into a fist next to his side he walked away, unknowingly to him, y/n had called out his name with a smile but it immediately dropped when he didn’t turn their way making y/n extremely confused a the tiniest bit of embarrassed at how they was ignored so openly.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

later that day at dinner time, y/n had happily made their way over to grover and percy who had been speaking but when she sat down he got quiet. started to pick at his horns very subtly but noticing to y/n.

‘uhm…so how did the quest go?’ y/n asked while looking over at percy who shrugged and to grover who didn’t look up.

‘i hope good?’ they said once more to get grover’s attention only for him to not even stop picking at his food. with a sigh of sadness, they grabbed their food and got up to another table with their siblings.

percy looked and was dumbfounded—‘grover? what was that?’

‘nothing?’ grover shook his head while frowning his eyebrows.

‘nothing? dude, you flat out ignored y/n and on top of that hurt their feelings? i thought you were all…on the side of doing nothing but making them happy?’ percy asked once more while setting his blueberries down.

‘okay…well, they seemed to have enough happiness with luke when they were talking…they can find happiness with him better than me apparently.’ he sighed while trying his hardest not to look over at y/n who’s mood had completely died at that table he sat at.

percy scoffed and rolled his eyes—‘are you kidding me? dude y/n is literally in love with you? and for you to think they like luke castellan more than you when they specifically stated they saw him as a brother and nothing more…is insane.’ percy finished shaking his head at grover who had sat up more and groaned.

placing his hands on his face while mentally beating himself up at the fact he treated y/n that way with no hesitation.

‘your kidding me…oh my’ grover mumbled while slowly looking over to y/n who wasn’t there. getting up in a hurry, grover went to ask luke, annabeth and the others sitting at the table with y/n where they went.

‘oh…they went to take a walk in the forest, said their head was hurting…you wouldn’t be the reason right…’ annabeth eyed him dangerously and warningly, making him hurry and shake his head but annabeth could see through him.

‘what did you do’ she groaned. grover sighed and explained leaving luke a bit speechless and annabeth to roll her eyes with a sigh.

‘well stop standing here any longer and go find her you pea brain’ annabeth pointed over to the forest leaving grover to hurry and run to it.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

‘y/n!’ he shouted while cupping his mouth to make it a bit louder. when no answers came through he shouted their name over and over until.

‘what?’ along with a sniffle and a shaky voice. feeling his heart burst and his strings pull, he say y/n sitting with their legs close to their chest and their face pressed on their knees. seeing them this way because of him made him almost cry.

‘y/n…listen i’m so, so sorry. i—i thought you’d move on from me when i was on my quest to luke so i was so upset and so jealous because luke is a great guy and who wouldn’t want to be with him—‘

‘me grover…i don’t. i want you, i made that so very known and i don’t get why you can’t see that—‘

‘i know! i know, im so sorry, okay? i’m sorry’ he whispered while making his way over to y/n who’d shed a tear but wiped it immediately with their hand. when grover placed himself next to y/n, he was quick to hold them in his comfortable arms.

as y/n buried their head into his neck they mumbled—‘i wish you saw yourself how i see you’ they mumbled making him almost cry with a huge smile.

not being able to stop himself he ambushed y/n with hundreds of apology kisses while y/n laughed and fell back into the grass with their arms trying to push him away.

he did pull away, but only to close his eyes and make his way down and over their lips. y/n kissed back immediately with their hands cupping his cheeks.

‘i think i really love you y/n l/n’ he confessed. y/n let out a small giggle and licked her lip.

‘and i think i really love you too grover underwood’ pulling his face in for another kiss which he took.

[devourable]

⚡︎ the gym bunny

sfw | tws : mild yandere behavior, some violence

i’m doing this b4 i do mykolas bc i’m rly stumped doing his intro 😭 for now, heres valentina! this one goes out to my girl likers 🫶

valentina could see it as if it was written all over you the moment you entered the gym — you were a first timer.

the way your eyes darted around the building, clearly having no set plan on what you wanted to do, to how you paused and seemed unsure when you were trying to use a machine you had obviously never touched before, she knew you'd probably never been to a gym before that day.

it was a common enough occurrence, though, so she paid no mind to you at first. what reason did she have not to? but she couldn’t help the curiosity piquing in her mind as you lingered on her thoughts…

so she was quite surprised to have her workout interrupted by you, wandering up to her and shyly asking how to operate the bench she was using.

and she even surprised herself when, rather than counter you disrupting her routine with an annoyed look or rude comment like she’d do to anyone else, she completely ceased her workout to respond to you.

“oh, this? no way, this is way too much for someone just starting. let me show you somethin' better.”

and just like that, the two of you became acquainted by her whisking you off to work out together.

it was simple enough of a day — you stretched together, chatted, she offered you her special enhanced water to ensure you stayed hydrated (and pretended her heart didn’t skip a beat when you accepted), and finally, she deemed you ready to actually begin to exercise.

it didn’t take long for valentina to fall for you after that. you were so attentive, so curious for her! the way you tilted your head as she explained the various buttons and modes for her favorite workout machines, the little “oh!” you exclaimed when you understood something, those cute noises you made when you did your stretches…

the lady was usually so dedicated to her body. the fact that she had grown so keen on helping you with yours was definitely a first for her.

“look at you! you’re getting the hang of it so fast!” she’d praise when you successfully did a rep on your own.

“awh, your form’s way off. let me help you…” she’d say with teasing pretend disappointment when your posture wasn’t right.

the way you thanked her every time you got something done with her help was enough to drive her wild! you were just so cute! so fucking cute! you were exactly her type!

and she was just so helpful, you thought. every time someone dared to interrupt your time together, they were met with valentina snapping at them, demanding they'd buzz off and leave the two of you be. any fears you might've had of being harassed by crude gym goers was completely quelled with her by your side.

you could've almost believed that the weight she dropped on the foot of the guy who started to bother you when she had stepped away probably didn't slip from her hands on accident... but what proof did you have? the guy was leaving anyway...

by the time the day had ended and you were ready to go home, you had gotten far more done than you ever expected to. and sure, you were sore and ready to collapse, but your new friend was nice enough to order you an uber home! something she wish she'd done when she first started, she claimed. having your address was a nice bonus, too... but she definitely didn't think about that.

the two of you came to sort of an agreement when the day had ended and you were ready to go. you exchanged numbers, deeming each other as training buddies of sorts, and said your goodbyes. it made her heart swell knowing you liked her enough to come to her every time you came to the gym!

valentina had never felt this way towards anyone she had met before that point, but she grew to like the rapid pounding in her heart when the two of you interacted. the rush was even better than working out.

so when you parted, she made sure to mark her calendar to the day you'd return. she was gonna be ready. she'd push you even harder, she decided.

she was gonna make your heart race the same way you'd made hers.

[gomacave]

I have some questions for you about advent children which are

1-What do you think of Loz, Yazoo and Kadaj?

and

2- How gay is it, what do you think about sfkr in that film?

YESSS OKKKK this is gonna get sooo fucking long buckle up

I FUCKING LOVEEEEE THEMMMMMMMM THEYRE SOOO 🫶🫶🫶im like omg the sillies...! one second and then the next second im like.

LITERALLY. KADAJ MAKES ME SO FUCKING. SAD. doomed from the beginning. pulls all my hair out and vomits. seph was propped up as a false messiah and kadaj was propped up as seph its like. both of them are denied legacies and identities because of how trapped they are by the circumstances of their birth. like their births determine the trajectory of their lives AND ITS ESP TRAGIC CUZ THE TRIO R LITERALLY LIKE THREE DAYS OLDDDD.... seph was a grown ass adult and could have chosen to resist at any time but kadaj is a three year old teenager. kills msyelf. what do you fucking do hes the smudged charcoal on the other side of a drawing thats already an imitation of something from life. NOT TO FUCKING MENTION BRO NOT TO MENTION. THE WAY HE DIED. CLOUD HOLDING HIM UP PIETA STYLE WHAT IF I KILLED MYSELFFF GRRAHHH. offered mercy by ur executioner after being used as a vessel for a battle much larger than you that swallowed you up. the biblical allegory goes crazy bc the same way jesus was born to die i believe kadaj was born to die. the narrative requires him to die for cloud to have his rematch and to become a vessel for cloud's metaphorical demons (sephiroth)

i also rly like the idea that kadaj is more human/childlike than seph and post ac au when seph returns she returns with memories of having been kadaj. with all the insecurity and teenagedness and rawness of being removed from a godly existence. (in a similar way to where some ppl believe jesus/god in christian belief incarnated as a human to know what it was like) And also with the memory of being held by cloud in that way 🤠����

Also @dykesferatu has a big brain beautiful interpretation where kadaj contains elements of cloud (the insecurity, desire for (motherly) validation, desire to prove himself etc) and is proof that seph contains elements of cloud the same way cloud contains elements of seph (s cells and stuff) I LOVE IT A LOT... THEYRE MIXED UP..... They're forever leaving scars and parts of themselves inside each other... Guh....

Loz and yazoo r so cute and cunty also.... I wish we had more of them :oT id ego and superego if they slayed....

2) ok time to go crazymode. ITS GAY!!!! ITS GAY!!!! ITS GAY!!!!!! ITS GAY AS FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My godddd. The geostigma thing is so fuckinh gay acting like its a hickeyyy 😭😭😭😭😭 "you got rid of it 😈?" GIRL. ITS A DISEASE NOT A HICKEYYYY THEYRE SO WEIRDDDDD sephs obsession w leaving her mark on cloud is insane (she is the mark) also casually confessing that she wanted to sail the universe with a barren earth w cloud specifically is so 🤮🤮🤮 GAY SEX WOULD BE LESS GAY. God. The way she sounds turned on by cloud getting stronger 😨😨😨 like howd u get so strong <333 and clouds like stfu none of ur biz LIKE HELLO??????

God also ac idea that seph can only come back through cloud is so. 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 Guhhhhhhh... GUGHGGGHHH... LIKE WHEN SHE STARTED GOING OFF AB THE GEOSTIGMA I WAS LIKE BITCH STFUUUU WE ALL KNOW WHY UR GAY ASS IS BACK. Thematically ac works well for me too. Not in a way where i think it directly is connected to the og game but its a good addition. I believe that seph will always come back (in some form) because shes a metaphorical wound on cloud. And wounds may heal but they still generally scar and ache and never really go away fully. So cloud has to learn to live with her. So im a sephiroth always comes back truther. Until they reach a truce or equilibrium of some sort. (Preferably this equilibrium involves them kissing) I love divorced vibes they give off too where this godlike angel of death comes back bringing destruction and this guy's like "🙄🙄🙄 ughhh fucking you again. GO AWAY" DIVORCEDDDDDD!!!!!

[sammygender]

of genderswapped sam and dean. who has the short haircut.

THE REAL QUESTION. i could see a case for either. short hair is probably more convenient for hunting after all....

i think dean wears her hair long as a kid because it reminds john of mary. you could make the case that he'd cut her hair because it reminds him of mary too much, but i can't see it really, i think he'd want to preserve the innocence he sees in girlhood that he doesnt seem to in boyhood (a la that whole journal entry about wishing he had girls and how sons have to be soliders). continuing that, i cant actually really see her cutting her hair short at all because it ties her to her mother in her eyes. i think girl dean is like so obsessed with mary. can you imagine like. her whole life is about avenging mary and she's her daughter and the only girl in the family now. she has no adult female role models except her dead mother. she plays into being john (still loves cars and classic rock and wears flannel and leather jackets and is generally 'masculine') but she still sees herself as mary. john sees her as mary too even though he expects her to act exactly like him also. so i think she keeps her hair long. she probably has childhood memories of mary brushing it and wants to hold onto them. i think she likes it long, and i think john likes it long, and i think it reminds them both of mary, and i think they both like that.

sam? well sam is a lot less invested in playing the Role that's expected of him, so. girl sam is victim to levels of misogyny previously unthought of especially in the way where both john and dean see her as soooo weak and little and in need of protection. and they probably rely on the girl thing a lot to infantilise her. so i can totally see her cutting her hair off in a Fuck You to john at some point. tbh i reckon girl sam would have hair like canon sam's later season hair. though rly i can see anything with sam. also i feel like she'd have grown up with a shortish bob because it's easier maintenance (for dean john winchester is NOT bothered with looking after sams hair <3)

also both of those answers are in an au where one of them's raised a girl and the other isn't. but if we're talking total femchesters? john having two daughters? need to think on this more but im still leaning towards sam. i think girl dean commits to being a Girl the same way canon dean commits to being a Guy, even though both of them are shrouded in the same machismo. but sam fights any role hes given

tldr: sam

[lilpotatjj]

Imagine the reader has an acting job on a film and finds out that they are going to be working with Bella ramsey (who they have had a crush on for ages) and then meets Bella snd finds out that they basically both like each other. Then, after shooting they both go to Bella’s house and have s*x but it’s the readers first time with a girl!

A/N: writing readers first time with a girl is rly cute. I also don't have any experience in making out with a girl. I just wish I could tell my Co Worker, which funfact looks a lot like Bella,that I really like her...welp Idk🤣 sooooo...hope you like it and thank u for ur request sweety <33

Warning: Scissoring, pet names, fingering, Bella being waaay to cute, fluff, kissing. so if u don't wanna read that filthy smut feel free to ignore😇

Wordcount: 1,3k

Proofread: nope (only had 30min to write that lol)

Masterlist

♡Crazy feelings♡ (18+)

Lying in bed with someone you never thought you would ever talk to. Naked.....to each other and completely caught off guard.

Yup...

You...

You and...bella?

You and bella!

Yes. It wasn't planned to end like this. But when is anything ever planned?

You are dead tired because it is the middle of the night. A new co-worker is about to arrive, with whom you have a few scenes together. You sip your 5th coffee and spit it right back out when you see who's coming on set.

The Lady of Bear Island, but she is all grown up.

Bella Ramsey is your partner for the rest of the shooting? That's a joke....but you don't feel like laughing because she's what's called an addict. For years now you've been following her projects and trying to stay on top of them.

"Morning" she says, cuddling everyone she already knows. To those she sees for the first time she shakes hands a bit shyly.

"Haah...?" The only thing that comes out of your mouth as Bella shakes your hand. Really?

Get a grip Y/N

"Oh agh..sorry I'm Y/N, nice to finally meet you in person! I mean here on set!" You're totally flummoxed and look down in embarrassment. Bella has to laugh lightly...another one of her super cute giggles.

Shit...now you have to stay calm while working too. This will be pretty hard.

"You're cute" she says dryly without batting an eye. Wait what? Eeeeh.....ok. shit starts getting real.

Days go by and you two get along great. You try not to let anything show, but you have to look at her all the time. Bella doesn't miss that and often stares back cheekily.

"What...? Are you my hardcore fan?"

"And if so?" Yup you just said that out loud.

Fuck

Bella stares at you and actually got red cheeks this time. Now she's the speechless one.

"Maybe I would like that" her eyes are only on you now.

"Because of you, I can never think clearly on the set."

"Maybe that was my goal from the beginning..." she comes menacingly close, making your breath catch. She kisses you carefully to test if you want it as much as she does.

You can't believe what's happening here and despite a brief hesitation you go in for her kiss. Damn, she's driving you crazy and your break is about to end.

"You are so damn cute. I've felt that since the first time we met."

"Wow...I wouldn't-..I...Me? I've never thought that" you look at her in amazement and Bella finds it hard to pull herself together.

"Are you ok...?" You look at her worriedly.

"Yes...you are just too cute...I just want to go to my place and spend time with you"

"Ok....I'll handle it" you clarify with the film director that you can get a break for today, as if Bella wouldn't feel well and together you go to Bella.

"It's really nice here" you look around relaxed.

"Yes, thank you. I'm lucky that the location is not far away from set" Bella throws herself on the couch and takes a deep breath. "Do you want to join me?" She looks at you with hopeful eyes.

"Ok...I'd love to" you are a little unsure. You've never done all this with a girl before. There were the last two guys...but they were never serious. Bella seems very sweet so far.

"I don't know how long I've liked you..but you're even better in person. Really sweet and so open. I really really like you" you sit next to her.

Bella smiles her cutest smile as she looks at you happily. This time you come closer to her and try to get your heartbeat under control. You hesitate but Bella carefully closes the gap between you and her soft lips touch yours.

A kiss, as if both of you are afraid to go too far, to let it get out of hand, but there is this desire. It bubbles deep inside you. The curiosity how it is to go further with a girl.

A slight sigh bursts out of you, unintentionally. Bella sets down briefly and kisses you again only to take your face in her hands. More demanding and greedy, Bella's breathing accelerates. She also has difficulty holding back.

"W...wait..." you look at her. "I've never done this with a girl before...I have no idea how it works".

"Ah don't worry there's no manual for that" she giggles and kisses your neck softly and nibbles it here and there. You bite your lower lip and hesitate to let go.

"It's ok...I'll guide you. I'll show you how it's done. And if you want to stop then just say"

Bella means it lovingly serious. You nod and kiss again, this time more lustfully and your adrenaline means it too good for you. You are totally excited.

After all, she's not just any girl, it's Bella. She rubs her hips against your sensitive spot, which makes you moan softly.

"I'm getting undressed ok?" She stands up and undresses one by one, your blood pressure rising rapidly. Damn your breathing is so fast, you'd think you're having a panic attack.

She just kisses you again to calm you down, which also works quite well because the desire for more grows in you.

This time you're the one pushing your hips against Bella.

"let me undress you" she speaks between kisses and you let her do it.

The kiss gets wilder, the feelings completely overwhelming. When you are also undressed, Bella slowly lies down on you, rubs her pussy against yours and you can feel how wet she is already.

Wet sounds can be heard which only drives you even more crazy. Bella which soft moans let you join in and you can't hold back any longer.

"feels...so good..that's crazy..." you're already tingling, realizing far too quickly how you're approaching your climax.

"just let it come to you...it's ok" she kisses you on the neck and shoulder which is enough to make you overshoot the mark too fast. You hide your face while moaning into her shoulder.

"nah you sound so pretty darling"

Almost annoyed that you cum too quickly, you are completely out of breath.

"I'm not done with you yet" you look at her in surprise and startle when she suddenly starts kissing your folds, licking up all your juice. You claw into her hair and tilt your head back, moaning to yourself.

"someone's still electrified" your cunt is still throbbing and every touch of Bella doesn't make it any better.

"I'm going to stick a finger in" She looks up at you and scrutinizes you as she sticks her finger inside you. You moan, completely lost, but you put your hand over your mouth in shock.

"ah come on baby, I want to hear your beautiful voice" she holds still and you press against her finger to absorb even more of the incredible feeling. She moves it slowly and can't help but smile cheekily. "That's a good girl, keep moaning...all just for me"

A second finger penetrates you, which makes the tingling even stronger. She clearly feels how your pussy around your finger clenching.

"I'm so close pleeease...don't stop" you moan almost in desperation.

"Come on baby, come all for me!" her other hand wanders to your chest, caressing it and she accelerating her movements which makes you a moaning mess.

Your cunt pulsates around her fingers as you cum for the second time. when you calm down a little she pulls out her fingers and licks them off.

"thats way better...as with boys" you say out of breath, still shaky.

"sounds good" she smiles playfully cheeky and kisses you tenderly.

"Next time...I wanna make you happy"

"Sure"

"Your to cute I can't believe it"

"Stop it" she looks cheekily.

"Nope, never"

[sillycowboys]

Bad batch finale spoilers

My thoughts

HUNTER DIDNT DIE 😭😭😭I CRIED SO MUCH THO

But that motherfucking awful bitch Hemlock dying made my year

OMEGA ALL GROWN UP??? Shut the fuck up. AND TECHS GOGGLES ON HER SHIP? BE QUIET IM DYING.

Hunter with that salt n pepper look just made me want him more #zaddy

“clone force 99 died with Tech” — okay so basically you want me to kill myself? wow

Was lowkey still delusional till the very last second that clone x was Tech but you know what it’s actually better this way bc tech didn’t have to get tortured. I still miss him more than anything in the world

I fully thought wrecker was gonna die bro I was mentally preparing myself

“You’re our kid. Always will be.” Yes she will. But And so what happens if Omega dies fighting in the rebellion or what if old ass Hunter crosshair and wrecker have to go and help her, what then? WHAT THEN, DAVE???!

I still can’t believe tech is dead I’ve been telling myself he’s alive the entire season but now I just have to grieve. I don’t want to. Thank god none of the others died otherwise I’d have to grieve multiple at once bc I’m still not over tech

but like REALLY? TECHS DEAD ARE YOU SURE?????😭😭😭😭 ARE YOU ABSOLUTELY SURE???

Echo had so many mommy moments it made me very happy. Emerie asking him how he knew it was echo who let the zillo beast loose…”It’s what I would’ve done” HE IS HER MOMMY.

I’m ngl I’m surprised they all made it out

When they cut off crosshairs hand I was both devastated and also relieved for him bc he doesn’t have to deal with the shaking anymore, but also I think screamed

I think we rly need to push the concept that mom and dad don’t need to be in love, like yes Hunter is dad and Echo is mom, yes they are brothers, no it does not mean they aren’t mommy and daddy because THEY ARE

Crosshair is the really cool uncle who also lives with them

Wrecker is the fun older brother

Tech is, well, dust

JK. Tech is honestly the annoying younger sibling that you say is annoying but you actually love more than anything oh and also he’s always right

And Omega is just Baby

Hemlock is like, the creepy uncle who married into the family but isn’t allowed to any family events…plus he’s also dust now too

I wish Phee was in the finale lowkey. Missed her

I could talk more but I need to process first.

Anyways bye love you gonna cry some more now

[angelllcakes]

wooo!!! requests are open! how about shy crushes with chan? i could only imagine how the members would push him to make a move 😭

also, your rules post isn’t showing up for some reason! i’m not sure if it’s just me :((

hope you’re doing well!

arghhh those darn rules >:(

i have a feeling its because i altered my username, but i fixed the link and hopefully it's back up! thank you for being so considerate and acknowledging them though! i rly appreciate you bb 💗

as for this request, you couldn't have sent a better ask for me to jump back in with! but i realized i might have read the prompt wrong about half way in hehe... i hope this still meets your expectations!

just around the corner

with dino x femreader

warnings/announcements: insecure, quiet reader, mild language, ridiculously immature children in good looking, grown men’s bodies. SEUNGKWAN IS BLOND 😏😩 this is also based in a school setting, however ages or grades are not mentioned.

WORD COUNT: 1k

As someone who considers themselves not quite as "outgoing" as they'd like to be, public spaces have always haunted you by the idea of being extremely uncomfortable. It isn't the company of others that you particularly dislike, nor is it the fact that you feel the need to be alone. Sometimes, the silence that lingers in the air between small talk or with close friends is all you need to process your thoughts, and perhaps you need a bit more of that silence when the boy you find just ahead passes you by once again. He crosses through your path at exactly 7:43am each morning, sending you the most contagious smile before disappearing into his classroom. It's the same, small notion he does that makes you lose all grasp of your feelings, yet you always react so flusteredly, as if it's the first time you laid eyes on him all over again.

You wonder how he manages to find you each day, considering your schedules overlap and cycle in completely different agendas. You know for certain it's because of your class' small size, making each student familiar with one another at the very least, yet you like the idea of it being caused by fate, in the hopes that his charm is followed by a more meaningful reason rather than just out of the kindness of his heart. Chan in fact does look for you between the crowds of rushing students, desperately trying to speak with you through his bashful gazes and quick grins, but he doesn't necessarily hate the way your cheeks grown warm for him either. You give him a fraction more of the confidence he wishes for.

Yet as soon as he enters his homeroom, all hopes of his confidence disappear when he comes face to face with three of his closest friends, whom he currently wants to bury alive as they reenact the previous scene between the two of you. Their chuckles are filled with nothing but support and brotherly love for him, and as Chan's book makes contact with the blonde's face, his two followers emit an even louder laugh.

"Yah, quit messing up my look Chan!'

"Your face is already unfixable, give me a damn break."

Seungkwan scoffs lightheartedly before finding his seat as the bell echoes through the building, peeking over Chan's desk for another genuine, but mostly annoying attempt to pry at his love life.

"Are you going to actually go for her today? Or wallow in your own shyness again? If you don't do anything besides look at her the poor girls gonna file a restraining order."

Wonwoo opens an ear to the conversation from his desk, curious of Chan’s response.

In all honesty, the constant pestering by his friends encouraging him to make a move is endearing. Yet they don't understand you the way Chan does, and it makes him slightly agitated over how poorly they capture you as they play jokes with him. They haven't seen the way your shoulders lose their tension as you exit busy elevators, or how your smile which, he didn't think was capable of shining brighter than it already does, stretches a little farther after you leave loud groups or chaotic scenes.

It’s the small, more calmer things you find joy in, and you've made Chan see the brighter, more positive side of life too.

So ultimately he gathers his courage, finding you seated on a bench once the final bell signals it's students home for the day. He figured choosing to find you in peace and away from the busy crowds of your environment would calm your nerves, and save him from public humiliation if all things backfired. Opting to begin through small talk, and getting to know you little by little was his original plan, but how well will that work for him? He prepared a fail-proof scenario for a fail proof guy... And Chan, well he isn't as fail proof as he dreamed of.

If almost tripping onto your lap wasn't too close of a call to failure, almost spilling his drink over your outfit and choking on his own spit mid stutter were definitely warnings that he should apologize, backtrack his entire plan, and go scream into his bedroom pillow. However another thing about Chan is that he wasn't a quitter, and was determined to knock down this wall between you two.

That was always what you admired about him most, his desire to succeed. He helped you believe in yourself, and for all his ‘mistakes’ you’d continue to feel overwhelmed with love. You lean closer, just a few inches from his darkening crimson cheeks.

“Was their something you wanted to talk to me about Chan?”

and from the second his name rolls off your lips, his grin instantly grows wider.

angelllcakes© do not copy, modify, or repost my work without consent and permission.

[pettydreamz]

i just rly miss my sister... it's so hard needing to be strong for everyone. i feel like i dont have time anymore to appreciate, reminisce or even miss my sister lately.

i dont wanna be a grown up. i just want my sister still here taking care of me, so i dont have to deal with so many things.

i really wish my friends n bf got to know her. bc she is the most amazing person you'll ever meet.

damn now im finally crying.

i feel like i havent had the time even lately for a good cry. i just cry about silly things like missing my bf.

i cant even understand or even comprehend how you did it. how you were the strong one in the family so now that role is being pushed on me to step up to the plate and be the big sis.

i was not prepared for any of this. i thought maybe youd still be with me every step of the way like there for my wedding day, there when i actually have kids (if i do).

you were everything to me. and im so sorry i didnt do enough for you. im so sorry you went about it all alone for such a long time and taking advantage of you. yk i was just the spoilt lil sis. sometimes i still have dreams of you, i just hope those are moments of us in another universe so i could have even spend a little more moments with you.

i miss you

[kaleidosouls]

im too lazy to put the vpn on to tweet so im gonna tumblr post; talk watch abt the amazing digital circus ep 3 (spoilers ofc) [Edit: i had more thoughts i guess il put it in the replies bc tumblr has those now? maybe itll be more accessible for my twitter generated yapping disorder)

finally some appreciation for my man and favourite character kingler like he goddamn DESERVES. i actually have not enjoyed tadc very much theres so much i rly dislike abt it but its like super well produced and indie so like you watch to be on the loop (i wish it was actually rendered closer to the quality of cd games from the 2000s that it seemed to be referencing but like, it looks how it looks and thats how it is), i rly disliked the script for the mpst part in the first 2 eps but ive loved kingler from day 1 so having an ep with mostly just him and pomni (i have mixed feelings on her too but w/e) was great great great and we had some lore n stuff but rly like i could smell a fellow traumatized man whos a bit wacky to cope from miles away and im glad to be proven Right

sorry im older man fucker so he rly hits all the boxes bc hes actually so sweet and helpful hes just mentally unstable (love him for that) and a lot of his endearing like caring nature comes thru in the physical aspect of the character and with less dialogue, rly the less dialogue the show has the better, idk who does the scripts and i dont wanna diss them but like oof i fucking hate it shkdh like its not like its never funny but its just, off, ive still not been able to properly explain to my wife the way that its off to me, and it bothers me to not be able to cohere those emotions! anyway

kingler so cute so very handsome and uwu so gentle and kind 💖💖💖 i love how gentle he is and good to pomni (ofc ppl are gonna call it fatherly or god forbid grandfatherly when hes like 40, and now if you ship them ppl will say its incesty when theyre two grown adults but w/e) like idk i just love a kind mentally unwell man!!! im simple!!! him just overexposing at the near end in dialogue was rly awkward in the writing like man they just, the dialogue is so not good. but in theory his character is so good and the thing abt the darkness and such was sweet. like hes just always been so endearing and the ep just gives a lot of free real estate kingler screentime to drink with my eyeballs, it doesnt change my opinion on the character at all bc ive always loved him this much

the rest was ok just the typical fare for the most part, like tadc rly often makes me so dissatisfied bc it has so So much potential but the ways it kinda just ends up like a dumbed down typical cartoon is really meh. i do love caine though and more proof that hes a non malicious (although maybe harmfully ignorant) ai. his gags almost land for me if they werent really Really lampshaded, i love how much he cares but is incapable (yet) of improving, i thought it was sweet zooble was so earnest with him. like, the whole tadc def improves the less mean spirited it is, for me. which is hard bc the most favoured character is rancid mean disney purple guy.

gghh why is this show so agdidhsifirh (gestures of anger) like its like, much worse ENA or smth but i know theres more that bothers me abt it than that, and i cant grasp it. im stil in hell irl so i cant cohere a lot in general so w/e, i need to chill and let go. i did like the horror trophy head designs of everyone that i could see (i wanted to get a better look at kinglers but i couldnt find a good frame from watching on my phone) like they were super over the top and fun. i wish the settings they travelled to still felt like, even remotely circusy? they truly feel like just we’re in a different cartoon. but its ok i only hate 749374947493 things abt the shows style choices

i want a framed photo of kingler so i could kiss it. or maybe i could trt to makena plush of him. he is my beloved to hurt/comfort. hes wacky and nice and traumatized and has memory issues and i wuv him

[broodwolf221]

i have been thinking about the evanuris so much since that trailer dropped. this is gonna be rambly, long, and kinda heavy

bioware critical

i dont find criticizing the things i like to usually be very useful or good for my overall mental health, but seriously, im still very, deeply upset with the way dai handled the evanuris. i wish they had gone almost any other direction. making the extremely oppressed dalish's gods into a) not gods and b) actually awful slavers! is like. well. points for finding the most fucked up path forward and dedicating yourselves to it, i guess

bc of that, i can't help but hold out a sliver of hope for a bit of a retcon with da4. i'm not talking issues of likelihood or implication here, just desire and the fact that retcons of standing game canon are obviously possible. it's happened a number of time - solas dropping the big Actually The Evanuris Are Monsters thing on us was one of the bigger retcons of everything we'd ever learned about the creators, in fact

and if they don't change the slavery aspect entirely, i want them to at least... idk how to say this. diversify opinion on it within the evanuris? make it more complicated? the evanuris are presumably at war with the forgotten ones and the titans. could they also be at war with themselves?

how old is their history of slavery? how did it begin? why wait for fen'harel's rebellion to address it? who's telling the story of the evanuris? the dread wolf? obviously i love solas but i'd honestly rather see him as a liar and a bad guy who twisted the whole thing and the evanuris as the creators. or maybe he's just someone who doesn't remember things as clearly as he thinks he does, someone for whom his "millennia of dark, dreaming sleep" distorted his recollection of arlathan

flemythal is obviously fucked up. there's theories about her being a spirit, or part-spirit, theories i've also entertained, in which case i could see her being justice -> vengeance. maybe becoming vengeance is what made her 'bad' - like being abusive to morrigan, possibly sorta grooming kieran, etc. but during arlathan, was she the only 'good' evanuris? are they all irredeemably evil? i hate irredeemably evil arcs. i don't want every villain to be redeemed, either, that's not my point at all, but i hate the You're Evil-Bad And Obviously Can Never Change arcs. i hate black and white dynamics like that.

it's messy af to make slavers sympathetic. they managed decently with dorian - he grapples with the reality of the situation he was born into and never had cause to question, and comes out the other side with a changed opinion.

idk what i want. i want to give the dalish people their gods back. i don't want their hard-won and harder-maintained faith to be usurped by such an ugly reality. i want to redo the ending of trespasser to make it that the Maker is real and just a massive piece of shit. that'd be fine.

and if they can't retcon it, i want some of the evanuris - idc who, rly - to be opposed, to have grown, to return in humility to the dalish who have spent all this time honoring them. not as gods, but as people. if they can't have their gods, let them have the reality of those 'gods' working towards something better than their grim history. let dalish wear their vallaslin with pride instead of calling it a naive attempt to clutch at the branding of slavery. ugh. it's just so ugly and complicated i hate it.

[medievalblunt]

TYYY @gratefulnez FOR TAGGING ME AND ASKING ME 2 DO THISS <<333333 (originally created by @prettyboyprettyeyes)

Soft Asks

1. What song makes you feel better? Rio by Michael Nesmith

2. What is your comfort show? The Monkees.

3. Reading or writing? Reading.

4. What’s your favorite feeling? Adrenaline from roller coasters, unfortunately I quit amusement parks since long lines really ruin the whole experience.

5. How do you like to take care of yourself? Just doing anything to keep me occupied but still amused.

6. What’s your favorite candle scent? Pie 🥧

7. Who do you feel most like yourself around? Myself.

8. What’s a fabric/texture that’s nostalgic for you? fuzzy blankets.

9. Best childhood moment? When I got a pixie cut in senior kindergarten and it actually looked good on me, I wish I wasn’t so embarrassed about it and maybe took more pictures cause looking back on it now it looked so cool.

10. When was the last time you laughed so hard you cried (or just felt really good afterwords)? Last month when i discovered the “what I eat in a day as a john lennon impersonator” video

11. Do you have a comfort item? My computer 😪

12. What calms you down? Stimulation or being alone

13. Bath or shower to relax? Eughh neither I hate em both

14. What’s something upcoming that you’re excited for? My birthday because of all the laws that I’ll no longer have to conform to due to me being older

15. Comfort food? Oatmeal

16. What’s something you want to create soon? Currently working on some doodles and I rly wanna finish those up

17. How do you feel best loved? I never really experienced “love” from anyone to THAT extent, but I think maybe when hugging my stuffed animals (as stupid as that sounds)

18. What age in life do you think you’ll feel most yourself at? Sixty something cause everyone will listen to me and I’ll be some bijou monarch or subjugated tyrant

19. Have you ever written or received a love letter? Nopee

20. Tell us about a memory you hold close to your heart. Fuckk I don’t have a specific one, but that’s not to say I don’t have any good ones

21. Tea, coffee, or hot cocoa? Coffee

22. Name of your favorite playlist? “Cuntry”

23. Have you ever received flowers? From my parents yah

24. Who is your best friend? I don’t have one, it’s more of a “I love all my friends equally” situation

25. If your soul was a color, what would it be? Does white count even though it’s a shade

26. If you could live anywhere with anyone you want, where would it be and who would you bring? Japan town in Paris and I’d bring only my cat

27. Do you like to garden? Have you ever grown something? Nopee

28. What are you proudest of? I was wanted by the police twice and I got away with it both times

29. Are you a kind person? I hope, really depends how people perceive me. But that’s not to say I don’t try my hardest to be nice.

30. What do your hobbies look like? Drawing n gaming n that’s it. But I used to do ballet for seven years and martial arts for five years. I’m a black belt in taekwondo, but I’ve taken such a long break that I’ve forgotten everything and now it feels like I’ve never done either of those things in the first place.