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bluerthanvelvet444 · 6 months ago

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‧₊˚♫ ⋅* ‧₊✮𝐓𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥✮‧₊˚ ⋅*♫ ˚₊⋅

Tate Langdon x fem!reader

tags: smut with a plot and some fluff.

warnings: obsessive behavior, kind of a switch!Tate, oral (f receiving), dry humping, p in v.

summary: Tate encounters a Tumblr girl. (Inspirated a lot by the song I linked under.)

character count: 12k.

full fic under the cut ↓

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2014.

Tate had never really cared about looking ‘stylish’ or ‘fitting in’ when he was alive. He had his own style, which wasn’t trendy nor one of a kind just…his. He didn’t need anyone else’s approval to believe he was cool, mostly because the girls that were attracted to him were just as fucked up as him and the popular ones tended to ignore him.

Ironical how that changed in his afterlife, once he saw you. After dying, Tate’s time was spent either with the other trapped souls or by himself. Hardly ever people moved in the Murder House, and whether they did, they were a low-budget couple in their 40s. So Tate’s knowledge of the modern outside world was poor and lacking, especially when it came to his ‘peers’. That’s why when you first moved in the house, Tate was stunned, if not flabbergasted even.

You were struggling with carrying your heavy luggage, muttering curses as the wind blew your colorful hair in your eyes. The first word that came in Tate’s mind as he watched you from the front window was “cool.”

He spent the first days of your sojourn watching you from afar, admiring the way you acted. Tate found out the way you styled your outfits in the fashionable way, how you talked to your friends in slangs and how you spent your evenings taking pictures on your polaroid and on a glowing little box, that for some strange reason you called phone, to post (that’s the term you used) on a little blue icon marked with a white t. He didn’t know what was considered popular now, but he was sure you belonged in that category, judging by the way you looked and the way your pictures had high numbers under them whenever you uploaded them. He needed wanted to approach you, and the perfect opportunity showed up when he saw you type on your glowing box:

“PARTY in the MURDER HOUSE tonite!! >_< :33!!”

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The house had never been so full of alive people having fun. The doors were open, colorful lights were shining and high volume music was blasting. Tate tried blending in, although the more he looked around the more he felt…lame. The drunk teens around him were all different from each other, and none of them matched his vibe. And he even wore his favorite sweater!

Still, he had nothing to lose, so he took a deep breath and searched for you in the crowd. Tate made his way past people as they pushed him to the left and to the right. It felt weird to be seen, to be touched. He found you circled by people asking questions about the house. Was it haunted? Were there ghosts? All of which you answered with a simple “No.”.

“Of course there aren’t any ghosts, I’m keeping them away from you.” Tate thought. Since he was too nervous to actually take a few steps and start a conversation with you, he figured he’d get some punch, just to loosen up a bit. He walked towards the punch bowl, and as soon as he reached to grab a cup, his hand met yours. You both grabbed the same solo cup.

“Sorry! You can have it.” You giggled as you let him take the cup. Tate blinked a few times, eyes locked to your bright smile, before grabbing the cup and filling it up. “Be cool, Tate. Don’t mess it up.” He thought.

“Uh. So…this is your party, right?” He gulped, eyes darting around the house as if he didn’t know every single inch of it by heart.

“Yes! Thought it would’ve been fun to host a party in a so-called Murder House. Plus, this house is giant, it gets lonely after some time…You live near here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you.” You smiled.

“Oh…yeah. My name’s Tate. I live nearby.” Tate’s eyes trailed upon your figure, he had never been able to see you from so close. You simply nodded, sipping from your cup. He cleared his throat.

“You know…I used to live in this house.” He added nonchalantly, trying so hard to sound interesting.

“Really?! No way!” Your giggles rang in his ears.

“Mhm. You probably noticed some of my things still laying around in my bedroom. No one has stepped in since I last did.” He nodded.

“Oh, do you wanna see? Maybe there’s something you left that you want back.” You replied, slightly raising your voice so that it could be heard over the music.

“I uh-There’s no need t-” He was interrupted by you grabbing his hand and leading him upstairs anyways. You opened the door of the bedroom and kicked out a couple that was making out on your bed.

“Ugh!! I should’ve locked the door!” You exclaimed, closing the door behind you two. Tate looked around, some of your things were laying around, but it was mostly all his.

“Dude you left everything here!” You giggled. Tate forced out a chuckle, everything was of course still there, since he ‘lived’ there normally and never moved.

“Yeah, uh…Guess I left in a hurry.” He muttered awkwardly and grabbed some of his Nirvana CDs.

“There they were…!” He pretended as if he didn’t just play them everyday before you came.

“CDs? Didn’t you use an IPod or something?” You gave him a confused look.

“Oh uh…no, I prefer CDs.” He nodded, as if he knew what an IPod was.

“You don’t use your phone?” You asked, raising up your glowing box.

“No, I…don’t have one.” He gulped.

“Damn, how do you handle that? I could never live without Tumblr or Instagram.” You chuckled.

“...Yea, um…just not my thing, y’know?” He cleared his throat, trying his best to change the subject.

“Oh, yea. I’ve met some people like that. I envy y’all, y’know? Tumblr’s literally addicting to me. Can’t help it though, love when people comment nice stuff and see you as inspiring, y’know?” You chuckled, sitting down on his your bed.

“Uh…can’t really relate. I’ve always been pretty invisible.” He shrugged.

“Oh…you don’t seem so bad. I like the whole grungy vibe.” You grinned, pointing to his outfit.

“Oh- uh…thank you.” He hoped it was a good thing to be ‘grungy’...or whatever you said.

“Yea, looks good on you. Doesn’t really fit me tho.” You giggled.

“You’d look gorgeous in anything.” Was what Tate wanted to say, but he didn’t wanna push his luck too far, so he just forced a shy chuckle.

.⋆.‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧.⋆.

You spent something like 30 minutes just laughing and getting to know each other while laying on the bed. During this whole time, he couldn’t help but think about how breathtaking you were: your smile, your eyes, your body, your personality, your whole being. You were perfect. Perfect for him. He found himself to be completely mesmerized by you, he needed you to be his, he needed you to make him feel loved, alive. He wondered how you did it, how ever since the first second you spent next to him, his heart started beating for the first time since he died. His body felt warm, his skin didn’t feel so cold anymore, he started breathing again. He was addicted to this feeling, so he did the only reasonable thing he would’ve done if he was actually alive, he gently grabbed your cheek and pressed his lips against yours. Everything felt just better after he kissed you, as if after that whole hell he had been through he finally reached paradise. He felt even more surprised when you kissed back, your lips moving in sync with his. He moved to lay on top of you, balancing his weight so he didn’t crush you, his lips never leaving yours as his fingertips danced across your body. His tongue slipped in your mouth, swirling around yours in a passionate dance. He let out some deep throaty groans, he felt his desire grow as it coursed through his veins. He needed to feel you, so he deepened his kisses. When you moved your lips down on his jaw and then his neck, he almost lost it. He felt embarrassed for moaning so much and basically becoming a mess under your touch, but he relaxed as soon as he felt your lips curling up in a smile against his skin. He moved on to devour your neck, grinning as he felt you moan now. His hands gripped every inch of your body.

“You’re so…beautiful…” He mumbled against your skin, grabbing your breasts through the fabric of your shirt. He looked up at you while tugging at your shirt, silently asking for consent to peel it off of you.

“You can take off whatever you want...” You winked, giving him a cute smile. He immediately peeled off both his and your clothes, groaning at the sight of your body. His lips worked hungrily on your collarbone, leaving marks that will most likely turn into hickeys the next day, then placed kisses on the valley between your breasts, a tiny whine leaving him when his fingers failed at desperately trying to undo the clasp of your bra.

You giggled and helped him, throwing your bra somewhere on the floor. He immediately took one of your nipples in his mouth, suckling gently while looking up at you with those brown puppy eyes of his. You smiled and twirled a strand of his blonde locks between your fingers, soft moans escaping your lips. He kept switching between sucking your left then right nipple, his hand groping the one he wasn’t attacking with his mouth. He felt himself getting harder as he felt the warmth radiating from your body, so while his mouth worked wonders, he desperately brushed his growing bulge from under his boxers on your leg. He let out some needy whines, and he couldn’t help but mutter sweet words against your skin as he lowered down to trail kisses on your tummy.

“So perfect f’me…” His words came out muffled as he trailed his kisses down, pressing his lips against your inner thigh and then on the fabric of your panties. You moaned when his fingers hooked under the waistband of your underwear, slowly pulling it down, as his lips immediately worked on your clit.

“Ah…just like that Tate…don’t stop…” You moaned when he started to suckle gently, soft whines leaving his mouth as well. As he got more needy himself, his mouth lowered on your entrance, his tongue gently brushing against your wet folds, finally entering you after teasing you a slight bit. What you felt was pure bliss, unholy sounds leaving your lips every time his tongue sped up. When you looked down, you found Tate looking up at you with those brown doe eyes from between your legs, as he worked his magic. The sight only drove you to the edge, your moans getting louder as you came on his face. He groaned and cleaned you up with his tongue, making sure not to miss any single droplet of your cum.

“So good…you taste so fucking good…” He moaned into your ear, pressing wet kisses on your neck and collarbone.

“Wanna be inside of you…please? please let me…” He whined while rubbing his hard dick against your flesh. You nodded and just like that he didn't waste any more time, he abruptly pulled his boxer down, groaning as the cold air hit his shaft, and lined up with your entrance. While you were still coming down from your high after the intense orgasm, Tate pushed his dick inside of you slowly, moaning uncontrollably once he felt your tight walls clenching around him. You were relieved that this encounter happened when you threw a party, or every single soul nearby would’ve heard the throaty groans and moans leaving his lips.

“Mh…tight…so tight…so pretty-can I move please? I’ll be- ah…I’ll be careful-please-” He whined against your neck, as his blonde strands caressed your face gently. You agreed, and just like that he was thrusting in and out of you, first slowly, then at a steady pace. The room was filled with filthy moans, yours and his, and the repetitive sound of skin against skin, as your sweaty bodies were sliding one against each other. He felt like he was going insane as his mind couldn't help but focus on you and you only. Every moment was more pleasurable and he felt like he was closer and closer, so he muttered in your ear, still thrusting into you.

“Close…so close…don’t think i’m gonna last-ah…longer…please please please…want you to cum too…” He babbled as his brain turned into mush.

“Ah-! Mhm…m’close too…” You breathed out, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten even more.

“Please-mh…cum on my dick? yeah? wanna feel you..please…” He whimpered, he felt like he couldn’t contain his upcoming orgasm. You couldn’t even respond as the repetitive brushing of his tip against your G-spot drove you to the edge. Letting out a loud moan, you came for the second time while he was still inside of you. That caused Tate’s eyes to roll back, his groans only filling the room as the feeling of your cum dripping on his length and your walls squeezing it, was too much to bear. He quickly pulled out and came all over your stomach, then he collapsed next to you.

He spent the next moments cuddling up against you, thinking about everything. His hands were playing with your hair, and when he looked down he found your eyes closed and your breath steady. He smiled at the sight, wanting every night of his afterlife to end like this and determined to make that happen. He kept placing sweet kisses on the top of your head, while he wondered how he was gonna explain to you that he died before Tumblr even existed.

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taglist: @cxndiedvi0lets @angeldollw @doll3tt33 @marchsfreakshow @fear-is-truth @dykejugheadjones @happy74827 @evpeters87 @dont-look-behind @brightanshiny

a/n: rahhhh tate's such a loser needy boy. BTW spent sm time on this fic, I'm pretty proud of how it turned out!! hope you like it! this is for my tumblr girlies🩷

#Spotify #tate langdon #american horror story #ahs murder house #evan peters #ahs fandom #kyle spencer #violet harmon #james patrick march #kai anderson #taissa farmiga #ahs hotel #ahs asylum #ahs coven #ahs freakshow #2014 tumblr #smut #evan peters x reader #tate langdon x reader

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cleo-fox · 8 months ago

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Conquer

Part 1 of 5

Series Masterlist

Summary: The king intends to take a bride.

You just never thought it would be you.

(Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Tag List: I don’t have a tag list for this fic, sorry! The best way to hear about updates is to follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to the fic on AO3.

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, enemies to lovers, dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex (fem receiving), teasing, p in v sex, vaginal fingering.

A/N: I’m kind of fascinated by the concept of a soulmate AU where Loki wins and this is just another take on that thought. If you've read my fic Surrender, this one is a different universe (an AU of an AU? Is that a thing?)

I am indebted to @infinitystoner, who was kind enough to talk me through some of my doubts about this fic. This one is for you, K. (Also, everyone should go read her work, it's fabulous).

The king intends to take a bride.

At first you think it’s just a stupid rumor, but with time, it becomes clear that it’s not merely a stupid rumor, but a true rumor about a stupid plan. He hasn’t found his soulmate; the speculation is that this is about producing an heir or something similar. Which is also stupid because he’s the one who took over your fucking planet. He can make new rules for succession if he wants to. He doesn’t have to make other people suffer.

You, like most people, still harbor a lot of anger and resentment toward Loki.

You don’t know who he’s going to rope into this plan, but you feel bad for her already. Imagine not only having to be married to that monster, but being in this weird second place to whoever is unfortunate enough to be his soulmate. Imagine having to fuck him, to try and have his kid, all the while knowing you’ll be discarded once he finds his soulmate. Imagine having to go along with all of this and never being able to say what you really think.

The only person you feel sorrier for is whoever turns out to be his soulmate.

Later, all of this will strike you as absurdly ironic.

But you don’t know any of that yet.

You took a job at the hotel because you needed a change of pace after Loki took over. It was just a front desk job—you checked people in and out, answered questions, and said “let me get my manager” whenever there was a serious problem with a guest. It wasn’t glamorous or fun, but it was straightforward and you never had to bring work home with you.

The one thing that you never really considered was whether you were inadvertently choosing a job that would bring you into closer proximity to the man you were trying so desperately hard to not think about at all.

You probably should have considered it—you knew when you took the job that he did a fair amount of travel. You never really understood why—he conquered the entire fucking planet, you think he’d be content to just chill in his palace or whatever. But no. He was constantly on the move, constantly showing up and demanding to be accommodated, and people put up with it because what else are they supposed to do? You can’t exactly persona non grata the guy that successfully took over your planet and made himself king. If that worked, he wouldn’t be here in the first place.

You kind of assumed that he wouldn’t show up to your hotel—it wasn’t conveniently located to anything useful and while it technically had a five star rating, you didn’t think it offered the same caliber of accommodations as the places he was known to stay.

As it turns out, you were wrong on all counts. Hilariously wrong. Because now his steward is here in your hotel lobby. Or his…emissary? You’re not sure what this guy’s official title is. You recognize him from the news—he can often be spotted in the entourage of guards and staff that accompany Loki everywhere, but you don’t know his name. He is rattling off a monologue of sorts—the king requires accommodations, only the finest rooms, and so on. You feel as though you are having an out of body experience as you click through the booking software and confirm that the penthouse is available. You breathe an inner sigh of relief—it would have been manageable to evict whichever rich person had booked it, but it would have fucked up the cleaning crew’s scheduling for at least the next week and you know that corporate is already up Marisol’s ass about your location’s overtime.

You don’t really expect him to show up during this transaction. If you had, you would have said “let me get my manager” and washed your hands of it—you don’t get paid nearly enough to deal with self-proclaimed kings. But as you are booking the room (who the fuck are you supposed to list as the guarantor on the invoice? This wasn’t covered in your training), Loki storms in, followed by a cadre of guards.

You’re not really prepared to see him in person—that’s partly why you freeze. He’s so tall and well…real. It sounds stupid, but it’s jarring seeing him in front of you instead of on a screen or in a picture. He’s not exactly more frightening, but looking at him makes your pulse quicken.

He’s scolding the steward (emissary?) about something—you’re so distracted that you miss exactly what it is that has him so annoyed.

And then you realize that the mark on your left wrist is burning.

You swallow hard. No. Not him.

Loki looks up and his eyes lock with yours.

Fucking hell.

The wedding is a spectacle, to say the least.

Your dress is fucking ridiculous. Instead of the traditional white, you are draped in yards of green fabric covered in thousands of emeralds and diamonds and painstakingly embroidered with thread made of real gold and silver. It is very much a statement about who you are and who you belong to. You don’t care for it, but you don’t really have a choice—the details of the ceremony have been largely left to other people to decide. Part of you thinks they must have been planning for this for years, based on the number of things that are already prepared. Or maybe having access to magic negates the need for planning ahead.

You are much too angry to actually ask Loki about any of this. Not that you see much of him before the ceremony anyway.

You go through the motions of the ceremony, trying to keep your cool. It’s only been a week since he found you at the hotel, so the fact that you haven’t consummated your soulbond is more akin to an annoying itch than anything more disruptive, but when he kisses you at the conclusion of the ceremony, it's…intense, to say the least. The mild ache that settled itself between your thighs last week seems to swell, sending a fresh wave of arousal to your core. When he slides his tongue past your lips, all you want to do is release a wanton moan directly into his mouth and rub yourself shamelessly against him. The fact that you’re standing on a platform while the entire world looks on is really the only thing that stops you.

The fact that this is your immediate reaction scares you a bit. You know it’s biology—soulbonds are meant to be consummated isn’t just a saying—but there’s part of you that feels like you should have a stronger handle on that impulse. You are mad at him, you remind yourself. He took over your entire planet, installed himself as king, and then had the audacity to be your soulmate. Focus. Be angry.

You wonder if your family and friends are watching. Your phone ran out of battery the night after he found you and you haven’t had the heart to charge it. You’re barely managing your own emotional reaction—you’re not ready to invite anyone else into it just yet.

The rest of your wedding day is a blur. You meet a bunch of important people and retain exactly none of their names or roles. There is an elaborate multi-course feast and you manage to eat without spilling food on your dress, which feels like a small miracle. You meet more important people and somehow retain even less information. You dance—a few dances with important people whose names you’ve forgotten, but mostly with Loki. The sun sets. They bring out an elaborate dessert course. You dance again. Loki’s hand on your waist fans the flames of desire that you’re trying so hard to ignore.

Finally, you’re whisked away to prepare for bed. It took three people to get you into your dress, and it takes just as many to get you out. They help you into a nightgown that you also didn’t get to pick out—and in fact, it’s the first time you’re seeing it at all. It’s almost too pretty to sleep in, though you suppose that’s the point—you’re supposed to fall asleep naked and sated in the arms of your new husband (god, it’s so weird that you have a husband). You’re not so sure that this is the specific fate that’s in your cards, but you anticipate the nightgown will be coming off at some point this evening. In the interim, you look stereotypically virginal in white lace and chiffon, a glittering emerald pendant resting in your cleavage.

You’ve been staying in a guest suite since he found you, but tonight, they bring you to his rooms. Your rooms, you suppose. Somehow, you doubt he’s the sort who believes that husbands and wives should sleep separately.

The lights are on, but it’s quiet. You wonder if he’s even here.

You approach the couch that sits in front of the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the city. You can see fireworks and twinkling lights of different celebrations and your stomach clenches like a fist. It’s supposed to be in honor of you. Earth’s new queen. A title that shouldn’t even exist, let alone belong to you.

You turn away from the window and sit down on the couch. You stare at the wall, hands twisting the delicate fabric of your nightgown in your lap.

You hear a sound in the other room—his study, you think—and your heart leaps to your throat, practically buzzing with an emotion that feels like the strange cousin of anxiety and anticipation.

You keep your eyes locked on the wall as you listen to his footsteps draw closer.

“It’s customary to announce yourself when you enter someone’s quarters, you know.”

You pause for a moment before letting your gaze trail to him. It’s a conscious, obnoxious power play on your part—you are trying to show him that you still have agency, that he has not yet won your respect or admiration.

You’re not even sure that it registers, which only serves to irritate you further.

He is still wearing most of his wedding clothes, though he’s taken off the fine surcoat from the ceremony, exposing the soft tunic he was wearing underneath. He is smirking—that seems to be his expression of choice, you’ve noticed.

“Aren’t these my rooms too?” you ask. “Is it customary to announce myself in my own space?”

You are trying to be rude, but it doesn’t seem to matter: he simply laughs.

“You are spirited,” he says, looking you over appreciatively, stirring a wild and burning need in your hips, slickness collecting in the lacy white underwear that had been chosen for you.

“And you intend to break me, is that it?” you snap with more venom than is perhaps wise.

“Of course not.” His answer surprises you, though you are determined to not let that show in your face. “Your will is part of your appeal. I’d no sooner crush a rose beneath my boot.”

You are skeptical of this claim given the amount of damage he did to New York City, but your traitorous cunt throbs at his words nonetheless.

“I’m not happy about any of this, you know,” you say, hoping that your anger will act like roiling floodwaters on the firestorm of lust that’s continuing to build in your hips.

It doesn’t, of course. What’s worse: he laughs. Again.

“I’d gathered,” he says. “You are wonderfully unsubtle when you’re angry.”

“I mean, are you surprised?” you say irritably. “I didn’t even get to pick out my own wedding dress, for fuck’s sake.”

“This is the burden of the office, I’m afraid,” he says. “Your wants and desires are often secondary to the needs of the crown.”

You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from screaming at him. “I think you’re missing the point.”

“I think you’ll find I’m not.”

You let out one long breath. “Are you trying to irritate me?”

Another smirk. “I’m afraid I simply have a gift for it.”

You finally give in and scowl. “Great. This is going about as well as I had expected.”

His eyes drift down the column of your throat to the emerald pendant resting in your cleavage and then to the bodice of your nightgown. “Perhaps it’s time we concern ourselves with activities that require less talking.” He licks his lips and brings his gaze back up to yours.

“I’m not entirely convinced anything would stop you from talking,” you say.

“I suspect letting me bury my tongue in your cunt might do the trick.”

For the first time today, you are entirely speechless. The fire burning low in your hips roars into an inferno, like someone has poured accelerant along your nerves and Loki has struck a match. You take in one shaky breath, your heart thrumming in your throat.

“That’s what I thought,” he says with a dark sort of smugness. “To bed, wife.”

You steadfastly ignore the way your stomach jumps when he calls you ‘wife.’ Why is that hot? It shouldn’t be hot.

You’re tempted to argue with him some more—you don’t like giving him even the vaguest impression that you’re following his orders or anything like that—but one smoldering look from him has your heart pounding and another wave of fresh arousal flooding between your legs. You follow him to the bed, trying to keep your expression neutral and indifferent.

He pulls you firmly against him and you wonder if he can feel your heart pounding in your chest. There’s no space between you—you can feel his stomach muscles expand and contract with every slow intake of breath, the press of his slowly hardening cock against your stomach.

He tilts your face up to his and claims your mouth in a devouring kiss, and this time, the moan that you’d held back during the ceremony slips from your lips almost immediately. He makes a low growling noise in return, his hands sliding to the row of small pearl buttons that hold up the back of your nightgown.

You suspect that beyond aesthetic and functional value, the purpose of these buttons is to facilitate a slow, sexy reveal; Loki undoes exactly two and a half buttons before roughly pulling the edges of the fabric apart, the remaining buttons snapping from their threads and pinging against the floor.

You pull away from him, immediately annoyed. “Do you make a habit of ruining other people’s things? What if I wanted to wear that again?”

He laughs, tugging the fabric off your shoulders. “Perhaps you forget the extraordinary powers I have at my command,” he says, staring greedily at your breasts as he tugs the nightgown down your waist, pulling it off your hips so it falls to the floor. “I could tear this gown off you every night and remake it every morning with no more than a click of my fingers.”

Fucking magic powers undercutting your goddamn fucking point.

“Yeah, well, you’re still a jackass,” you say sourly, unwilling to concede the point any further.

His smile is sharp in a way that makes you shiver and he slips his hand into your underwear, his smile growing as he feels how slick you are. “It doesn’t seem to bother you all that much, does it?”

You try to keep your expression stern, but his fingers find your clit and you can’t help the moan that falls from your lips.

“Your sweet cunt is so ready to come.” He slides a finger into you and you whimper. “It’s obscene how wet you are for me.”

You bite back a plea and kiss him instead. His mouth is rough on yours, teeth nipping at your lower lip, tongue plundering your mouth. He slides a second finger into you and you keen.

“Yes,” he groans against your mouth. “Take it like a good girl.”

You clench around his fingers and your hands seek purchase in his hair. You tug on it lightly and he growls with pleasure before he pulls away, his hands moving to the waistband of your underwear and tugging it off your hips.

“Get on the bed.” His tone brooks no arguments. “Now.”

It’s tempting to talk back, tempting to resist. You are still angry about every aspect of this relationship and this stupid fucking wedding. But you know you need this—the dull ache in your hips is only growing more pronounced with every passing moment and the brief feeling of his fingers on your clit was nothing short of heaven. Soulbonds are meant to be consummated and your body seems to be doing everything it can to propel you toward that end.

You kick your underwear the rest of the way off before sitting down on the bed and lying back on the pillows.

He pauses for a moment to look you over, his gaze trailing lazily over your bare skin, his hand absently moving to palm his cock through his trousers. “Spread your legs,” he says. You do and you catch a breath of a groan from him as he stares at you. Your cunt throbs in response and you bite your lip to keep yourself from whimpering.

He allows himself one moment before he crawls on the bed to join you. He kneels between your legs, staring greedily at your exposed cunt, running a thumb along the edge of your folds. Your hips rock upward involuntarily, chasing his hand, seeking friction.

“Such a pretty cunt,” he murmurs. “So soaking wet, so desperately needy for my touch.” He pauses again, licking his lips. “I think I might need a taste.”

Your breath stutters in your chest and he kisses the inside of your thigh, slowly licking and sucking his way upward in a tantalizing preview of what’s to come. You’re already soaking and you can feel yourself growing wetter as his sinful mouth draws closer and closer to your aching need.

You’re not entirely sure whether it’s a moan or a whine that passes your lips when he finally licks that first long, lazy stripe from your entrance all the way up to your clit. He groans low and wanting against your cunt, his tongue rolling over your clit once more before he catches it between his lips and slowly begins to suck.

There is no getting around it: Loki is a pro at eating pussy.

It would be easier if he wasn’t, you find yourself thinking somewhere in the haze between orgasms. If he were mediocre, it would make it so much easier to be angry at him, to resent your current situation. This is not to say that you’ve abandoned your anger at all—you are still mad. But your anger feels so much less effective when he’s spent a solid ninety minutes with his head between your legs and you’ve lost track of the number of times he’s made you come.

He is—predictably—infuriatingly smug about all of this.

Your first orgasm arrives so quickly that it seems to take you both by surprise. And indeed, he lifts his head moments later, already smirking.

“That was awfully quick, wife,” he says. The glint in his eye tells you that he absolutely noticed how you reacted to that name earlier and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from scowling.

“Maybe you’re out of practice,” you say. Even as you say it, it doesn’t sound convincing (it doesn’t even make sense when you think about it later) and Loki laughs outright.

“I think not,” he says, carefully sliding one long index finger inside of you. “I think your poor cunt has been sorely neglected, either by you or some subpar lover you took to ease the ache of missing me.” He adds a second finger and you bite your lip to keep in a moan. “I think you’ll be begging for me before the night is out.” His fingertips press teasingly against that spot inside you and you take in a sharp breath.

He starts lazily moving his fingers in and out of you and while it feels good, you know it’s not going to be enough to get you there. You suspect, from the way that he’s smirking, that he knows this, too.

“Do you want my mouth again? I don’t think you’re done.”

“You’re trying to be a jerk and I don’t like it,” you say.

He laughs and draws his thumb briefly over your clit. “Darling, I only want you to tell me what you want.”

Your eyes narrow. “Why?”

“I think you can understand the appeal of hearing a beautiful woman beg for your touch.”

His compliment immediately clashes with the suggestion that you begging for him is a possibility.

He smiles, catlike, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“You need my mouth again,” he says, fingers curling inside you. “You need more. I can feel how wet you are, sweet thing.” His thumb presses against your clit and retreats as soon as your breath hitches.

“I could keep you like this for hours. Days, even,” he says, lazily stroking his fingers inside you. “I could keep you right on the edge, begging for your release. But I don’t think you want that. Even I don’t want that. I think you want to come again right now and I think you want my mouth.”

“I’m not begging you for it,” you say.

“I’ve only asked you to tell me what you want,” he says. “I’ve merely expressed that I find the idea of you begging very appealing.”

You want to smack him. With your luck, though, that would turn out to be one of his kinks and then you’ll really be in for it. Your fingers flex against the sheets.

“Do you want to come, darling? Do you want my mouth again?” he asks with a feigned innocence that suggests it’s not a loaded question, even as the glint in his eyes tells you it is.

You’re silent for a beat and then his thumb returns to your clit, pressing and stroking as his fingers curl inside of you. Your hips rock with his hand and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning aloud when he stops a few seconds later, his eyebrows raised like he’s expecting your answer.

This exchange repeats four more times. On the fifth, you finally break.

“Please,” you whimper. You sound more desperate than you would prefer, but your overwhelming need to come has quickly superseded whatever shreds of decency you have left.

“Please what?” he asks, radiating smugness.

You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl, which he only laughs at.

“I’m waiting…” he says, his fingers curling in a teasing way.

You know there’s no getting around this. “I need to come.”

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, like he’s expecting more.

You resist the urge to sigh. “I need your mouth. Please.”

He barely spares a second for a wicked grin and a growl of praise that only elevates your need before he’s lowering his mouth again to your clit.

Your second orgasm is somehow even quicker than the first, only this time, you’re already whimpering for the next one as soon as you catch your breath.

Mercifully, he doesn’t lift his mouth from your cunt this time, though he does give you a wicked look that more or less says the same thing.

His fingers are wonderful, but you know they’re no substitute for his cock. And while he has made you come so many times already, the need to have him inside of you continues to grow, settling into a dull ache in your hips.

“I need you to fuck me,” you finally breathe as the aftershocks of your latest orgasm fade back to that ache.

He lifts his head for a minute. “I intend to, but I don’t think you’re done yet.”

Your eyes widen as he seals his lips back around your clit.

“I mean, I’ve just—fuck—I’ve just had more…c-consecutive orgasms than I’ve ever had before in my life, you’re—oh my god, yes—you’re not exactly leaving me wanting—oh fuck.”

He stays silent, but it’s because his tongue is working over your clit. You, on the other hand, are in the process of undercutting your own point. A few more strokes of his tongue and you are coming again, your hips jerking hard against his mouth.

He doesn’t stop after that, either—he draws more orgasms from you, groaning into your cunt when you pull on his hair.

Your pleas for him to fuck you become increasingly desperate with every orgasm, until he finally lifts his head.

“What was it that you wanted?” he asks with a smirk that tells you he needs absolutely no clarification whatsoever.

“Fuck me, please. I need to be fucked, I need your cock,” you say. You feel restless and desperate, the ache inside you growing with every passing second.

“Oh, darling, all you needed to do was ask,” he says, his tone overly cloying.

You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl. “I have been asking. Repeatedly.”

He laughs and begins to undress. You suspect he’s doing this to torture you—you know he could remove his clothes in one go if he wanted to.

He peels his shirt off first and your lips part involuntarily as you take in the firm expanse of muscle of his chest and abdomen, your fingertips itching with the need to touch him. You grip the sheets instead in the vain hope that it might make a difference (it doesn’t).

But even the enticing expanse of his chest is no match for what’s to come.

He removes his trousers with achingly precise slowness. You expect him to be hard; what you’re not expecting is the primal response that it invokes in you. His cock is long, thick, and hard, the head already slick with pre-come. It’s not just for you—it’s because of you.

You swallow hard as he turns to face you fully. You’re so distracted by his cock that you almost miss the smug smirk, which he makes no attempt to hide. He knows he’s hot, he knows he has a beautiful cock, and he knows that you are absolutely aching for him. It is profoundly irritating.

He wraps his hand around his cock, wetting his lips as he casually strokes himself once. “Do you want me?” he asks with the sort of tone and expression that tells you he absolutely knows the answer.

You could yell at him. The prospect is certainly tempting. But you’re not sure that it’s worth it, not with the way your cunt is throbbing with the need to be filled with his beautiful, thick cock.

“Loki, please.” It comes out as more of a whine than you’d like, but you decide that you can live with it.

You are treated to a particularly wolfish grin before he starts stalking towards you.

There’s a large part of you that expects him to flip you over and take you from behind, rough and fast and impersonal. But instead, he climbs on top of you and draws you into a kiss. It’s deep and slow and heightened by the heavy weight of his bare cock pressing against your belly, drops of pre-come smearing against your skin.

Your back arches and your right leg snakes around his waist, trying to pull him closer, urging him to finally ease the ache inside of you. But he takes his time, kissing you slowly, running his hands over your breasts and hips, rocking his cock against you, but not inside of you.

You don’t like begging—it feels too much like offering up a vulnerability—but it becomes increasingly difficult not to give into the urge the longer he stays on top of you like this.

“Loki,” you finally say when he starts peppering sharp, sucking kisses against your throat.

“What is it, my love?” he asks with a faux confusion that you can see through right away.

“You know what I want,” you say as evenly as you can manage.

“Mmm, let me hear you say it just once more,” he says.

“Please fuck me.”

You’re expecting another negotiation, another battle of wits, but instead, he gives you a rather sharp grin and adjusts his hips so he can rub the tip of his cock up and down the length of your cunt. And then, to your surprise, he lines his cock up at your entrance and slowly begins to ease inside of you.

There’s a part of you—a large part of you—that’s surprised by how careful he is. He’s gentle, slowly pressing into you, giving you time to adjust, his movements careful. He does this all in such a way that you might not notice if you didn’t think to look—he wants you to think that he’s not doing any of what he’s doing. He wants you to think he’s not thinking of you when he is, that the care and precision of his movements are merely a pleasant coincidence. You’re not sure how you know this, but you feel certain.

He waits to kiss you until he’s pressed fully inside you, and you realize this is another illusion, another cover so you don’t realize that he’s giving you another moment to adjust to him.

It’s oddly considerate—irritatingly so. The coals of your anger still burn bright in your heart, but they flicker for just a moment.

But then he begins to move and coherent thoughts flee your mind entirely.

He feels so good. You’re not sure if it’s the soulbond itself, the dopamine and serotonin, or if he just knows the perfect way to move, but the first thrust has your toes curling and that warm heat stirring in your belly. You’ve already come so many times tonight that it feels impossible that your body should be capable of more, but you know immediately that he’s going to bring you right back over the edge if he keeps moving the way he is.

And he’s showing no signs of stopping, either.

“Norns,” he breathes, pressing a kiss against your neck, “you feel perfect. So warm and tight.”

You shiver, your cunt clenching reflexively around his slowly stroking cock. He grins and presses his lips up against your ear.

“Do you like hearing how your snug little cunt fits me like a glove?”

You would prefer to be able to lie in this particular moment—instead, your body immediately betrays you and your legs tighten around his waist as your cunt shudders around him.

You can practically feel his sharp, hungry smile as he nips at your earlobe. “I can feel how much you do,” he murmurs. A devastating swivel of his hips has you uttering a gasping whine that you are not at all proud of.

“That’s it.” He’s swiveling his hips on every other thrust now and you know the moment he switches to that exclusively, it’s all over. “You’re so close,” he purrs with confidence that annoys you just a little, even in your pre-orgasmic stupor.

But then he swivels his hips again and you shudder before you can hide it and he notices…and does it again.

And again.

Fuck.

Your orgasm starts barreling toward you at an impossibly fast pace and his eyes glitter because he knows.

“You’re going to come for me.” It’s not even a command—it’s just a statement as he rolls his hips in those devastating thrusts.

You whimper, your back arching.

“Give into it. Let me feel you.”

One more push of his cock against that sweet spot inside you and you can’t fight it any more. Your muscles tense one last time and you cry out as you come hard on his cock.

“Oh, beautiful,” he groans, his eyes closing as he fucks you through it.

It seems to last a long time, drawn out every time the head of his cock drags against that sensitive spot that sent you over the edge in the first place. He pauses briefly to bring your legs up over his shoulders, which makes his cock hit a spot even deeper inside you that feels so good it pulls a strangled sob from your throat.

Loki groans, his pace increasing, one hand falling between your legs to rub at your clit. It’s so much, but it feels better than anything. You feel another orgasm rising in your hips and you whimper.

“Good girl, fucking take it,” he slurs. You can tell that he’s getting close from the way his thrusting is becoming more frantic, how he tips his head back and grips your hips even harder.

“Come for me,” he growls. “I’m going to fill your lovely cunt with my seed. Come for me.”

Your vision whites out and your back arches as you come. If you were capable of rational thought, you would be angry that your body simply obeyed this simple directive; as it is, it’s hard for you to process anything other than how good he feels inside of you.

You can tell he’s approaching his end and he’s utterly captivating to watch. His eyes are screwed shut, brow furrowed and lips parted as he lets out a low groan that makes your toes curl.

His eyes open in the final throes and he surges forward to kiss you. He moans softly into your mouth as he comes, his whole body shuddering.

You feel dreamy and sated as he slows to a halt, lowering his head to the crook of your neck. The restless ache inside you is finally quiet—at least for now.

You expect him to roll off you and fall asleep—the portrait of a cliche. Instead, he stays with you, the warm heat of his breath ghosting over your shoulder. You can feel his cock still throbbing inside of you.

You should push him away, reclaim the distance between you. You’re angry at him, after all.

But also…it feels nice.

It’s just the endorphins, you tell yourself. It’s hormones. It doesn’t mean anything.

You can feel the lie prickling at the edges of the thought, sharp and needling, like ground glass pressing against bare skin. It means a lot of things; you just wish it didn’t.

Be angry.

His lips brush against your shoulder. More of your muscles relax. It’s nice.

Be angry.

You’re tired though. It’s been a really long day and the bed is soft and the weight of Loki on top of you is oddly reassuring.

Maybe just for tonight. Maybe just this once you’ll allow yourself to fall asleep in his bed.

“I’m still mad at you,” you say. It feels too sharp, too strident. The lady doth protest too much, methinks. He doesn’t know you, though, not really, and so you can only hope that he misses the subtle catch in your voice, that little note of uncertainty.

“I’d expect nothing less.” His voice is slightly muffled against your shoulder.

Goddammit, why does this have to be so comfortable?

He shifts slightly, easing out of you. You feel the resulting mess vanish before it even hits your thigh. At least he’s considerate.

You scowl at the thought.

“Sleep,” he says after a moment. “You’ll need your strength to rage at me in the morning.”

“I can rage at you in my sleep,” you say as your eyes slide shut.

“I’m sure you can,” he says. “Sleep.”

And despite all your complicated feelings—your anger, the inherent feeling of ease you get from his embrace, your unease with your new title, your homesickness—you find that the pull of sleep is too tempting to resist and the world slowly fades away.

Next chapter

#loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki x female reader smut #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson smut

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celestie0 · 24 days ago

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hi friends, i won’t be posting or updating any of my works for an indefinite period n will be on hiatus from this blog as well.

i’ve unlisted kickoff & ihm on ao3 (haven’t deleted, they’ve just been made private) and i’ve unpinned my masterlist here on tumblr (again nothing’s been deleted so you could probably find the chapters if you searched my tags)

but the reason i did that is because i don’t want any new readers finding my works during my hiatus because i don’t want to potentially upset more people in the event that, during this hiatus, i decide that i would no longer like to write my fics

that would be an insanely sad decision to make. i put so much thought into my stories not because i am trying to make them entertaining, but it’s because they genuinely mean so much to me and are cathartic in ways i can’t describe. i have spent a great majority of my life self negating for the sake of others, and so writing was just a form of expression where i could talk about all the things i’ve suppressed over the years - anxiety, career stress, financial stress, avoidance, depression, loss, coming of age, navigating love, etc

but lately, and i do think it’s been a build up of just some careless words from a handful of people over the months, i find myself steering towards a practice of writing that is no longer asking the question “how can i put as much of myself in this piece as possible?” but rather “how can i make sure people won’t criticize this…i feel awful that it doesn’t have what they want it to have…other creators are doing xyz, should i be doing that too?…i’m just scared to share this”

not exactly sure when that shift in headspace began, but as of right now, it’s as strong as ever. and i understand that those questions may seem irrational, and i just have to try to not focus on the feeling, n i wish i was someone that could compartmentalize those thoughts better, but here’s the thing — the whole reason i started expressing myself through writing in the first place was because i’ve spent my whole life compartmentalizing. it would feel so ironic & untrue to the lessons i’ve learned in this journey if i just chose to “suck this up” and continue pushing forward until i reach a point of burnout simply because i don’t want to upset anyone

i’m really sorry i couldn’t focus on the positive. especially with all the insane n incredible amount of love n support i’ve received for my works. i’ve said this time n time again but when i started posting kickoff to ao3 back in january of this year, i had NO idea it would be this loved by so many people…i was like ok can’t wait to interact w these four readers for the rest of the year…and then BAM, i find myself fully sobbing after each chapter update because i was so touched by all the sweet n kind words. i don’t want this decision to come off in a way that makes it seems like i don’t love u guys sm or that i’m ungrateful — i’ve always taken pride in respecting my audience. even for a simple hobby, i try to put effort into my works. i proofread, i plan out, i edit in length, all because i am, well, for one, i’m a bit of a perfectionist LOL but also i think there’s a great deal of honor in respecting an audience that gives you their time n attention

but i already am struggling in my life to focus on the positive. medicine has been such an incredibly daunting career to pursue, i’m honestly only doing slightly better now because i’m just filled with relief that i got into med school to begin with lol it’s still surreal to me, so the stress has been kinda manageable so far on that sense of optimism, but dear god the shit i went through to get here…and the shit i know i still face ahead of me. i spend all of my serotonin on trying to stay positive in the face of my responsibilities. so all of this time i’ve spent trying to stay positive for the sake of my stories too has just left me with so much exhaustion — i just don’t see why posting my works should be anything less than fun and endlessly exciting when it’s a hobby that’s supposed to help me thru the actual brunt of life.

anyways, i’m getting a little carried away here. all this to say, i just need to take time away from posting my works so i can see writing as something for myself n not for others again. i don’t want the thoughts swimming in my head to be thoughts of anxiety over people potentially criticizing me n my creative decisions. i want the thoughts in my head to once again be positive, excited, and nurturing towards my stories. i don’t see how i can accomplish that at this point unless i start writing for myself once more, and not for others

i still have a great deal of passion to write, which is why i haven’t formally taken down my works. i anticipate that i may be able to come back in the future to share my writing again. but as of right now, i just want to heal the relationship that i have with this hobby, and i feel like that’s gotta happen in private (lmfao it sounds like im tryna freak my writing)

i’m sorry that i turned off my asks n my replies, i know so many of u care about me n want to support me n i just am beyond thankful. i don’t anticipate this is a forever goodbye, but i do just need some time rn away from all of this.

hope u all have a happy time!! and take care of yourselves :) much love

- ellie

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spurious · 6 months ago

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what was the moment where you said yes to McShep?

OKAY SO.

Obviously you, audioletter my beloved wife know all this but. I’m not sure I’ve talked about how I got into SGA/mcshep on my tumblr so.

After finishing the x-files in 2022, my wife’s Zaddy Husband Mitch Pileggi beckoned us to watch Stargate Atlantis (because we couldn’t stomach Walker Texas Ranger). We’ve both been in fandom for a Long Time and thus remembered the years that McShep reigned supreme, and starting the show we said to each other “haha wouldn’t it be funny if we became ride-or-die mcshep shippers?”

……..yeah.

From the very start of the show, basically every single time John and Rodney were on screen together we’d go “haha mcshep lol”

So now I’m like. trying to excavate my memories to figure out when it Became Real for me.

I do tend to love buddy slash pairings and ships where one person is shrill while the other is chill so it’s not, like, surprising to me in hindsight that I did end up shipping mcshep? And then the SGA fandom being so friendly and active just…allowed my fixation the space to flourish.

But anyway, let’s see what the first McShep thing I saved to my camera roll was!

*drumroll*

It’s this art by the amazing @luluxa:

So at this point I think I was still at the “no no, I’m saving this fanart to my phone ironically” stage.

Now, this was October 30th. By November 3rd, I have photos of a trip to mandarake where I was really hoping to find SGA doujinshi cause I SWEAR I’d seen it before (I’ve not managed to find it yet. Japanese fans why. You guys love generic white guys mcshep should be massive here)

The first fic I have bookmarked is from November 2nd with the note “oh no I have feelings about McShep now” and it is Counting Down by @alienfuckeronmain, which is a post-trinity fic.

HOWEVER. I also have a Grace Under Pressure coda bookmarked from a day or so later, and this tracks with my impressions: this is the episode that most intensely sticks out in my mind as being emotionally memorable and something I needed to be reading fic about. Soooooo I guess it was Rodney that got me, and the need to process my emotions about episodes by reading other people’s processing, and, uh, now here I am almost two years later!

SO. To get to the actual question, several paragraphs and approximately a day later, I don’t know that there really was a single moment that put me there, as opposed to a series of moments enacted onto an already-primed pump? Because truly I should know by now that the danger of doing something ironically is that you end up doing it ronically, but. I remember devouring the fic I could find that was non-spoilery as we were watching (lots of episode tags) and it definitely shaped my perspective on John and Rodney’s interactions.

But essentially, this is a ship archetype I tend to like, and Rodney McKay is absolutely the type of horrible little gremlin man I tend to like, and the fic was good, and. Here we are lmao

#mcshep #wife content™️

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nikethestatue · 3 months ago

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I feel like sjm has really lost a lot of the fandom at this point. Not that it matters, she’s popular enough without the fandom. But most all my friends don’t care anymore. I think there have always been dry periods since acosf but people came back for hosab for the crossover and for hofas. But now so long has passed without a hint of acotar news and I really think BB has let it be pushed too far. Maybe it is the printing change that’s caused no news, but I am not so sure. I’m just like, where is the damn book announcement already???

A lot of people expect huge outcry when the next book is announced but I honestly think people aren’t as invested as before. You’ll have a small segment that will be upset and a segment that will cheer but I don’t think it’s going to have the insanity that was expected.

If she really was still drafting in April, I think the book could still be done and printed before 2026 but I wonder if BB would decide to push it to early 2026 anyway.

Yeah, I was talking to a mutual just last night, and we felt the same--yes, she will sell, but I wonder if in some ways, the train's left the station for her?

We started to talk about Azriel specifically, and how she really was the OG creator of the 'mysterious winged shadow man' in Azriel. And how, after ACOSF, and the bonus chapter, the interest in him was RABID. Like people were utterly insane for him.

And instead of capitalizing on this wild adulation for him, she and BB completely dropped the ball.

It's really bizarre and I think they'll look back at this time in 10-15 years and say, fuuuuuuckkkk, did we fuck this one up.

Because now, every mediocre writer and their cousin have a shadow daddy in their lame romantasy books. And there is nothing original about the concept anymore. In fact, there are too many now.

And SJM, who decided to play the stupid shipwar game, instead of striking the iron when it was hot, absolutely pissed in her own pocket. Like yeah, people will read the book, sure, but the novelty, the anticipation, the mental agitation is all gone now. And for what? Gwynriel vs Elriel?

Dont know who is making decisions or doing the marketing, but it's like when Yahoo didn't want to buy YouTube, but instead bought Tumblr, and Google swept in and bought YouTube.

It's kinda like that.

Well, I don't know. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

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mst3kproject · 2 years ago

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Goncharov

Why the hell is an MST3K blog rising from the dead to review a forgotten Martin Scorcese film? I'd never heard of this movie until it suddenly became a meme, but I had a day off work and I figured I might as well see what all the fuss was about. Now I want to talk about what I saw, and this is the only movie blog I have, so I'm doing it here.

Ivan Goncharov is the biggest, baddest motherfucker east of the iron curtain, richer than a tsar and colder than a Siberian winter. He's got a beef with Neapolitan mafioso Mario Giglioli, so he heads to sunny Italy to confront him in person. His closest confidante, Andrey, thinks it's suicide to do this on Giglioli's home turf but accompanies Goncharov anyway out of loyalty. What follows is a two-hour dick-measuring contest as Goncharov and Giglioli try to out-intimidate each other, culminating in an orgy of gunfire where only one will be left standing... and this is the kind of movie where you can't take it for granted that it'll be the guy whose name is the title.

That's the ostensible plot, anyway. What makes Goncharov a far more interesting film than such an outline might imply is that the argument between the mobsters is just a backdrop. Having set up Goncharov's hard as steel, cold as ice reputation in the first act, the movie then sets about deconstructing it. Goncharov goes from a terrifying figure devoid of all morality to a tragic antihero, a man who has come to believe his own hype so completely that he can no longer let himself be human.

This is demonstrated mainly by watching the breakdown of his relationships over the course of the tense three days in Naples. The most important person in Goncharov's life is Andrey, the only one he comes near being vulnerable with. Their relationship is depicted as very touchy-feely in a literal sort of way, with Andrey helping Goncharov with his coat and shoes, lighting cigarettes for him, and touching his shoulder or arm as Goncharov confides in him. The framing emphasizes these touches in a very homoerotic way, and I don't think I've got my tumblr goggles on here. These guys have fucked.

As Goncharov becomes more and more obsessed with being tougher and more ruthless than Giglioli, whom he sees as an effeminate softie, Andrey tries to persuade him that the other man is not worth this sort of obsession. Whatever Giglioli did to insult Goncharov (we never find out), Andrey is of the opinion that they should just leave a dead horse in the asshole's bed and move on. Goncharov's pride will not allow him to do that, and the less subtle Andrey is in his attempts to dissuade him, the more Goncharov pushes him away, finally abandoning him entirely. The tragedy of the ending comes from the fact that Andrey refuses to abandon Goncharov in turn.

We also see Goncharov with his wife Katya. He is frequently cruel to her, and she tolerates it because he gives her expensive gifts and because she is seeking a vicarious mending of her relationship with her abusive father - she was never able to earn his love, but perhaps she can earn Goncharov's. This is doomed to failure, as much because of Goncharov as because Katya doesn't actually want it to succeed. Nursing a black eye, Katya pours her heart out to a bartender, Sofia, who tries to help her escape... but this cannot work out, either. As Katya herself says, she doesn't know who she is without her issues.

I am pleased to note, by the way, that every single major character in the movie is named and I can remember them all, which is a bit of a treat for me (I need to watch good movies more often). The only exception is Goncharov himself. The end credits list him as Ivan, but nobody ever calls him that, not even Andrey or Katya. In a flashback scene with his parents, neither calls him by name. This flashback, fascinatingly, is filmed in the first person, looking through Goncharov's own eyes. We are not allowed to see him as a younger, softer man. He refuses to show that side of himself even in the privacy of his memories.

These quieter moments contrast with scenes of ever-escalating brutality, as the Russians and Italians try to force each other to back down by the murder of underlings. The fact that it is literally a contest, and that Goncharov is aware of this and describes it as such, makes the worsening violence ever more meaningless. The death of Giglioli's confessor is particularly awful, and the way Goncharov's goons treat the chapel has to be ten times worse if you're Catholic (fun fact: this scene is apparently removed from the Italian version on Netflix, which must make what Andrey says while waiting for the train into a hell of a non sequitur).

At the climax, the two really can't do anything but kill each other, because it's the only place left to go. Giglioli's priest and mistress are dead. Goncharov's men are almost all dead or out of action, and Goncharov believes Andrey to be dead. The initial insult, whatever it was, is no longer relevant. They have pushed each other to a place where reconciliation is unthinkable. Whoever blinks first loses, but both have already lost so much that victory means nothing. Worse, each recognizes that the other is in the same position, and neither can acknowledge it.

This means Goncharov can also moonlight as an examination of violence in media. Why do movies showcase violence, and why do we watch it? The initial posturing serves a purpose - Goncharov wants Giglioli to know he's here to personally demand an apology, and Giglioli wants Goncharov to know he's outnumbered and should quit while he still can. But once it becomes an exercise in one-up-manship, the 'messages’ vanish and the men are now killing for the sake of killing. Violence in movies can often be gore for gore's sake, pulling out more and more stops in the effort to shock an audience that has been desensitized by years and years of this. That is what Goncharov and Giglioli are doing to each other. Truly distressing moments like the fate of the priest, or what Giuseppe "Icepick Joe" Cozzolino (dressed as a maid!) does to Sofia when he assumes she's Katya because she was in Katya's hotel room, make us wonder why we're watching this - and the mobsters wonder why they're doing it.

In the end, it's all just a blood-soaked version of the sunk cost fallacy. Goncharov had come too far in his vendetta to stop now. Andrey has followed him too far to turn back. Katya has been married to him too long to leave. Of course, any of them could quit at any time and escape from this terrible spiral, but they are unwilling to entertain the possibility. Like Goncharov himself, Andrey and Katya are prisoners of the identities they have built for themselves, and because their identities are so tied to him, they have to go down with him.

One thing I haven't seen a lot of discussion of on tumblr is the way the film uses the contrast in climate. Goncharov in Moscow is in his element. When you see his breath in the wintry air it's as if he's breathing smoke like a dragon. While other people huddle in the cold he stands up straight and tall. In Naples, on the other hand, he is out of place. He wears lighter clothing, but continues to choose long coats and upturned collars, while Giglioli goes around with his shirt unbuttoned. This should serve to emphasize Giglioli's home field advantage and yet, as we see through Goncharov's eyes, they just make Giglioli look soft. His apparent weakness makes Goncharov want to appear even stronger.

On a related note, it is interesting to me how sunlight is treated as something very unfriendly. In Russia, it glitters on ice crystals in the air and lights up condensation, harsh and white and giving no warmth whatsoever. In Italy it bakes and shimmers on stone and asphalt, casting harsh, black-edged shadows and emphasizing creased brows and frowning mouths. Outdoor scenes are, as far as I can tell, always hostile interactions. Even indoor scenes in natural light: the priest dies with harsh sunlight streaming in through the broken chapel window. When characters are softer with each other, it is always under artificial illumination. Sunlight is too bright, too revealing. People like this need some shadows to hide in.

Did I like this movie? That's a tough question. It's not really the type of movie you 'like'. It's definitely powerful and well-constructed, thoroughly absorbing and all that. There's a taste of Greek tragedy in the inevitability of the ending and the way Goncharov is eaten alive by hubris. But I wouldn't say I liked it. The characters are all terrible people whose arcs involve them getting worse, and the whole thing feels deeply claustrophobic, as if I, too, am trapped in Goncharov's downward spiral. When characters realize their mistakes, it is only when it's too late to correct them - but only in their own minds. It's a very pessimistic story, about human beings who are overcome by the very worst parts of themselves.

Is Goncharov deserving of all those glowing reviews? Yes. Was it unfairly snubbed at the Oscars because the academy was turned off by the violence? Probably. Will I ever watch it again? Fuck, no.

Excuse me, I have to go watch some Pixar movies if I ever want to smile again.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #goncharov #70's #there are horses in this movie #unreality #in case you've been on twitter or something all day #this movie doesn't exist.#i read six text posts and pulled this out of my ass at one in the morning

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showrunnerihardlyknowher · 2 years ago

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girl yeeeesssss spill the fucking tea 😫 don't go hiding that drama in the tags

Okay, so originally I wasn’t going to say anything because I did not have the energy or desire to rehash all of this to a community that I hardly interact with besides post-dumping every ~4 months. But then, ironically, two people DM’d me about this this week and now I’m feeling spiteful again, so let me regale you with the cringe tales of the Tumblr g/t community and why it gives me a headache to think about. And you know what? This bitch is being a pinned post, too, because I’m not going to let it be swept under the rug anymore. I’m rocking the boat, I’m naming names, I’ll be a little goblin starting dumpster fires.

Now, I will say there are definitely further issues in the community that I can’t personally speak on – rampant racism, transphobia, etc. That’s not to say these things aren’t happening or aren’t important to bring attention to, but I am not someone who witnessed it firsthand or experienced it. In my handful of years being active in this community, they are topics that have been brought up a fair few times, which is enough of a sign that it’s an ongoing issue. However, I also have not looked at any g/t related tags in almost a year, so whether or not these discussions are still happening or have been relatively resolved, I don’t know. It’s not my place to talk about them in depth when I would have no idea what I’m talking about or what to reference, in which case I implore others who have unfortunately dealt with this to please speak out about it. There’s other drama I am able to talk about because I went through it myself or by proxy, and so that’s only what I’m going to be relaying in this post.

I feel like the most infamous implosion was the GTMS/Chamomile-g-tea debacle from half a year or so back, but at the same time based on the messages and DM’s I’ve received, it seems like…a lot of people have forgotten about that, or at least weren’t around/invested enough to know what happened. The quick recap is that @unicornofgt created a written series about giant mech suits that were actually powered by giant humans in a post-apocalyptic setting, inspired by a post made by our shared friend bolshoycorvid about Pacific Rim. It grew into a fairly well known series in the community, and while I had only read the first chapter, I still at least recognized it from my mutuals and some of the tags.

And then Cham found it and became utterly obsessed with it, pumping out fanart left and right and opening the floodgates for its popularity. And that’s so cool! That’s great that such a talented artist with a large following genuinely enjoys someone else’s work that much, and is introducing it further to the fanbase for people to read! It’s amazing to get that kind of feedback to know people want to make art of your handcrafted characters because they adore them that much, it’s one of the best compliments a writer can get!

Except Cham really started getting into it. Like, helping-create-two-Discord-servers-without-permission, kind of into it. Like, posting-fanart-on-multiple-platforms-without-source-credit, kind of into it. Like, repeatedly-responding-to-messages-about-the-characters-without-consulting, kind of into it. And when I tell you her art for the main characters were everywhere, I mean they were everywhere, not just in the Tumblr g/t community. Tiktok, Twitter, Instagram, they were posted, and they were never credited back to unicornofgt. I had friends send me her animatics of it, gushing about how amazing it was, totally unaware that it was a storyboard to the first chapter of GTMS (which I recognized and told them, at least).

And was unicornofgt mentioned in any of these posts, was their fic linked, was it even noted that these weren’t her original creations she was spamming to every platform? Nope. Not a word. They actually had to repeatedly ask Cham to credit them as she continued to drop the ball, and even so it was too little too late, finally coming in the few weeks before unicornofgt put a stop to it altogether. Some platforms would only allow an additional note to be added via comment, which was often missed or drowned out by the sea of other messages. Other places like Tumblr could allow a full body edit, however that did nothing for the hundreds of reblogs that were already circulating without a link back to unicornofgt, and are still out there, even if unicornofgt had Cham delete her GTMS posts.

And naturally, if you’re not in the already niche Tumblr community, and even if you’re new to said community, you would have no idea! You would see her post these characters, answer questions about details for these characters, maybe even be invited by Cham to one or both of the two Discord servers for these characters (of which unicornofgt was a member of, but more often than not still not addressed for their story as Cham would take over and talk about GTMS when they were not online to agree/disagree) – Of course you’d naturally assume these are her characters and her story, and even if you knew different, you might become one of the many people swept up in the fandom environment created by Cham, which treated her as the forefront of it.

And please, don’t think I’m taking this out of context. Understand that unicornofgt DM’d me about all of this before they eventually abandoned their Tumblr a while ago due to this situation and the rampant bigotry in the community , and you can read their farewell post here. They told me about the growing anxiety and morphing disdain they felt when it came to their series, because it felt like that creative freedom had been robbed, pressured to morph their original vision to appease Cham, even at the expense of their own passion for GTMS. They felt unheard, ignored, and pushed aside while Cham got to reap the benefits of their own hard work to bring it into existence in the first place. No matter how much they spoke about it in private with Cham or openly on the two Discord servers (they had never wanted in the first place), it didn’t matter.

They told me about the instances in which they had multiple talks with Cham about this crossing boundaries, but ultimately not feeling they could enforce them because as a meager content creator, they should feel grateful that someone so popular was giving their work as much attention as it was getting. Friends and followers agreed with that sentiment because more and more people were becoming unaware who the true creator was, and it seemed on the surface unicornofgt consented. They told me about how Cham had to be repeatedly told to stop and redirect any questions relating to GTMS to unicornofgt, instead of taking it upon herself to answer them, as a majority of the time whatever she said was at best a bad rehashing of unicornofgt’s own explainations that watered down unicornofgt’s characters to “silly stupid little incompenant man” and “big badass woman who loves him sooo much”, and completely ignored bolshoycorvid’s characters altogether. Sure, to Cham’s benefit, she would back down…for a little while, and then start those habits all over again and ignore what was previously requested, especially during the mini internet breaks unicornofgt would have to take since the pressure gave them further fatigue, contributing to their pre-existing chronic health problems.

Let’s not forget the free for all fandom that was created as well. Anyone with questions/comments/concerns all went straight to Cham and rarely to unicornofgt. Art requests, ideas or what-ifs, AUs – all to Cham. Her friends and mutuals straight up telling bolshoycorvid that they’ve never read their GTMS fics despite them being a fair chunk of the overarching universe, simply because they were hardly acknowledged in Cham’s art and frequent posting. The influx of underaged users coming in to join the fun and the Discord servers, which unicornofgt had already said they were uncomfortable with and had wanted the main server to at least be 18+ (a request that was, once again, ignored by Cham, who irresposibily never checked the ages of new users to the point any and all of her mod privileges were revoked and all invites were turned off). So many problems came from having those kids in an 18+ space, essentially taken over by Cham, that unicornofgt decided to pull the plug on the entire server and cut finally Cham off a week later.

From my understanding, this fandom behavior was even worse on Twitter to the point the GTMS characters were selected to be used in a roleplay tournament. The host reached out to Cham for her opinion of character authenticity during the rounds, while others were asking if they could use her art/comics for voice acting. Meanwhile Cham sent all of these to unicornogft because she thought it was funny, but didn’t reiterate to any of these people that these were NOT her characters and if they wanted permission from the creator, they needed to reach out to unicornofgt. Even when unicornofgt tried to pass on this message, it was ignored by Cham’s little fandom, who continued to view her as the creative authority.

But even worse than Twitter was the Tiktok, where many of Cham’s GTMS videos went semi-viral, still leaving her sitting pretty at 18k followers while neither unicornofgt or bolshoycorvid saw any of it. Hundreds of comments gushed about the art, meanwhile both the true creators were lost in it. Eventually Cham didn’t even ask permission before posting, not bothering to check if it was true to the characters, but why stop to think when those videos are getting views up to 250k, with all the comments telling you they adore you and your work? It is your work, right?

What’s so insane to me is that you would think for such a talented artist, she would know the value of being properly credited for your work, especially fanwork across multiple platforms. But no, it had to be explained to her the importance of crediting the real creators of these characters in her posts, and the highly contrasting way people consume art, quick and easy to appreciate, vs writing, which takes more time to consume and appreciate. This isn’t some multi-billion dollar international franchise that’s universally recognized at a glance like DC/Marvel. This was a fun little series created between friends and shared with a small community as something new to enjoy for a little while. It’s not a licensed IP, it’s someone’s personal pet project that they enjoy. It’s completely unreasonable to assume a rando on Twitter is going to look at a badass pose of a giant woman and know that it at least came from an obscure series from an obscure fandom by a single person who was just trying to have fun on the internet. Hell, even 4chan users on the hentai board ask for sources all the time, to know who created these characters they’re jacking off to so that they can go check out their other work!!

Instead, you try to get the source for a GTMS fanart, you likely get Cham, and from Cham you get…no one. Because she failed over and over to make reference that it belonged to anyone else, via tags or in the text body, until long after it was too late with an edit. And there’s no sense in trying to beat around the bush, that’s borderline art theft. You took a character word for word, design for design, setting for setting, and sold it off as your own. It doesn’t matter that it wasn’t your intention, that you were ignorant of the consequences – it’s what happened and it needs to be owned up to. This isn’t a petty squabble between two teens on fanfic.net about a demonsona OC for Sonic Underground, this is an adult making a conscious decision to post content of something that doesn’t belong to her and not give an ounce of credit. Not only that, it just furthers the divide between artists and writers in a creative space, with the latter hardly ever getting their dues for putting in their effort for a written piece that an artist can doodle in 15 min.

It was like creating a spectacle out of smoke, a flimsy foundation that was bearing its full weight down on the mental and emotional health of the person who actually created it. In a matter of months unicornofgt had gone from a simple writer of funny size difference things to being forced to watch their vision be watered down for the sake of uwu soft giantess wholesomeness, none of it being done by their hand.

And I think the worst part about all of this, after this whole mess finally came to light thanks to unicornofgt finally finding the courage to put their foot down and cut Cham off completely (both as a friend and for having permission to make anything GTMS related in the future), is that it was unicornofgt who had to leave this platform. It was bolshoycorvid who had to leave, in part for other reasons, but because they were also snuffed during this fiasco as well as both a co-creator and someone who had their own canon OCs/fics in the GTMS world. It was other friends and mutuals who left because they couldn’t stand the toxicity of this fandom anymore, the hypocrisy, the sheer lack of critical thinking and the inability to hold people accountable for their actions. GTMS was essentially abandoned after the dumpster fire was put out and that was it. The series that everyone seemed to fawn over and adore was forgotten at the drop of a hat.

Why? Because it wasn’t the written fics or unicornofgt that everyone was attached to; it was Cham’s art and her version of an OOC story she was pushing they loved. And once she stopped posting it, that was it. Dead in the water. Absolutely tainted. Can you blame unicornofgt for not wanting to touch their own creation that they had made from the ground up and put so much thought and energy into, all because it had been essentially stolen and ruined by someone with a much larger following? A following that hit over 20K during Cham’s GTMS reign across multiple platforms , might I add, while unicornofgt was lucky to see a fraction of that for the same concept.

I also want to note again that these are retellings told directly to me from the persons involved, including unicornofgt prior to their leaving, former fans, and Discord members, that I am airing with their permission. I’m also not someone who has a lot of social media or who followed GTMS at all, this is almost entirely coming from the creator (the REAL creator) in the time before they left, their experience dealing with the fallout, and the sentiment that even still they don’t hate Cham, but just wish there was even a single legitimate consequence on Cham’s part (and that non stop self bashing at the rescue of yes-men does not count). And it hurts to see a fellow g/t content creator be so scarred from this, to lose all interest in the things they cared about most and only wanted to share with their friends, due to one person’s inability to stop and think about their actions. And sure, maybe this is old drama, maybe it’s small and petty to still bring up, but it doesn’t seem like anyone else is going to pull back the rug that this was swept under, so it might as well be the local menace to the community to make a long ass post about it. Chamomile-g-tea killed an entire series and drove the creator, the co-creator, several fans and several more friends who also made g/t content off of an entire website because she couldn’t be bothered to not feel entitled to other people’s toys.

I lost a lot of good friends as a result of this, and the g/t community lost a lot of good content creators as well, to the point this really was the straw that broke the camel’s back for me to say fuck it. To sit here and watch my mutuals abandon their Tumblr’s and all their works in favor of avoiding Cham and her followers who keep pretending she did nothing wrong, acting like her excitement justified her “promotion” of the story, never holding her accountable and accepting at face value her claims that she had no idea the distress she was creating, letting her act as if she’s the victim of this whole ordeal – nah, chief. It didn’t matter if it was on purpose or not, it still happened, and she was allowed to get away with it scot-free, so I will continually throw this in everyone’s face so that the g/t community never forgets its track record .

Because I really don’t understand how this entire community can go through the same run around of “is fearplay/petplay morally wrong to create in a place full of minors” (which is another debate I am NOT getting into right now) and cause several blogs to abandon ship over the backlash they received…but a well known artist forces a popular series to be discontinued and runs off the original creator and their friends after she stole their concept, and everyone is just like “damn, that sucks, she just got too excited /:” and pretends it’s nothing? There have been plenty of former blogs that were called out for less and were forced to be accountable for whatever fuckery they were doing. Besides, I thought we were supposed to be thinking about the poor children here, the sweet minors, which was what her wholesome SFW blog catered to. Last I heard from one of her followers she started posting softcore GTS (I wouldn’t know, I have literally 0 desire to scout her blog), which sure, go ham bestie with your titties and light crushing, we all know I’m an 18+ blog.

But then she continues to interact and mass reblog from minors and bring them into her inner circle, sooo…which is it? Are we worried about corrupting the kids or not? Do minors have the ability to use critical thinking about what concepts are right or wrong, or not? Are people accountable for what they post or is it the responsibility of the viewers who need to heed the tags? Y’all don’t get to have it both ways. Not to mention, I will reiterate again, she never verified anyone’s ages and let them in freely to what was intended to be an 18+ space on the GTMS servers, which created PROBLEMS to the point the servers had to be shut down.

Everyone else can sit around thinking she got off scot-free and never needing to address the fact she destroyed an entire series beyond a meaningless sorry, but I’m not going to forget, even if I’m still the only one left from that era and friend group to be able to tell this side of the story. That hurt my friends just as much as it hurt the community to lose such incredible writers and their beloved content, and that’s inexcusable to me. Writers in general are already treated awful, especially in the g/t community, to the point people have the audacity to complain there’s no new content to enjoy after all the good writers got fed up with the lack of recognition. Art and writing are two different mediums and they both require an insane amount of talent to pull off beautifully – just because you can enjoy a pretty picture in 15 seconds versus a plot-rich fic in twenty-five minutes does not make one superior to the other. But if those fics are continually pushed aside, then why would any creator waste their hours and days and weeks and months making a story for no one to see?

Writing out concepts and ideas are a labor of love that are graciously shared to YOU to also enjoy. Trust me, I have no problem keeping an idea to myself or to be tossed back and forth to my friends for fun, it’s far less effort to still ‘see’ whatever story I would have jotted down for 20K words. If the community is going to continue treating writers like shit, as demonstrated through this hot mess, then of course no one is going to stick around to deal with it. A talented writer lost the world they built, the characters they developed, the story they were trying to tell, to one single artist, yet they were the one who had to pack it up and call it quits after getting hit with hate, while the other gets to roll in the second hand clout from un-credited posts across various platforms to further their own artistic career.

And frankly, I don’t really care about what kind of reception this post has; if it’s only seen by 5 people or if it’s seen by Cham herself, if people agree or disagree vehemently with it. This blog is also more or less dead aside from the few times a year I drop a new fic or art, so feel free to scream into its void as much as you want lmao

#g/t #g/t community #gtms #so anyways yeah fuck the g/t community all my homies hate the g/t community #and there's soooooo so so so much more drama that i didn't even touch here #because my main thing was about cham and i started getting more and more heated as i wrote this lmao #but i also prob won't be talking about those other dramas either because i just cannot bring myself to care anymore #if the last thing i do here is to bring light to this situation than so be it #idk i dont rly have much to say besides that i miss my friends and i miss the good times of 2019/20 and i miss the vibes

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j0kers-light · 1 year ago

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Imagine y/n shows up to joker wearing a playboy bunny suit and ears and fluffy tail with rope in her hands.

I’m squealing just thinking about it.

His Lighthouse: Joker’s Bunny (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Joker’s Bunny - Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A STORY UPDATE!

Hey hi anon 🖤✨

I love love loved this imagine! I can’t believe tumblr had the audacity to delete it! It’s been sitting in the inbox since August 7th! Yay for refreshing?

Anyhooooooo I’ve been merging asks to dwindle the numbers down and I came across one that…. well.. It’s not my cup of tea. BUT! If it's up your alley (lol no pun intended) it's implied. I’ll mark it with an ** and let you figure it out. I do regret to inform that this is rather short because I love to tease. I will return to this idea later 😏

I won’t add a tag list until I complete this oneshot!

It was only supposed to be a nickname, an inside joke to use however Joker seemed fit. He gave you so many, it was hard to keep up with them all— yet this one stuck.

You were naturally curious, a timid little thing and overly cautious.

You always weighed out the options presented to you before jumping all in. Joker said it as a joke all those months ago but overtime, it became something more. One could argue that you adopted the moniker.

You responded to it without fuss and rarely rolled your eyes or huffed under your breath whenever he used it.

You would tilt your head and scrunch your nose to really bring the nickname to life. One random day you found yourself accepting the name when you used the emoji to refer to yourself.

You were without a doubt, Joker’s Bunny. He never thought you would take the title so seriously.

Joker groaned to himself.

Whhhhhy didn’t he stay with you tonight? You practically begged him to with those e/c eyes of yours but he stood firm on his ‘I have to go, it's im-port-ant’ spiel.

You pouted but sent him off with a kiss. Now Joker regretted his decision as each boring minute dragged on during this briefing. To be fair, it was important. Too bad Joker wasn’t listening. He spent his time staring off into space. daydreaming about you.

He wondered what you cooked tonight. Was it that new recipe you wanted to try or did you play it safe and fix one of his favorites? He loved your cooking and could go for a hearty meal after sitting through this snoozefest.

His thoughts were plenty and quickly changed. Did you take a bubble bath with that new bath bomb he bought you? Joker saw it in passing and immediately thought of you after seeing its onyx and opal swirls in the store.

If he remembered correctly it was called Night Sky and smelled like forbidden fruits. It had your name written all over it. So what if he stole a few for you?

Joker was envisioning your body soaking in the tinted water when his phone chiming startled him out of the fantasy.

He fished it out of his coat pocket and arched an eyebrow when he saw your message come through. Speak of an angel and you appear.

you coming home?

J smirked to himself after reading the word home.

It stirred up a flurry of emotions within him every time you used it. Joker thought he had no need for a home until you entered his life and proved him wrong. Every person needs a home; his just so happened to be you.

And Joker was feeling a bit homesick.

He found your message a bit odd since you knew he was overseeing a meeting tonight. Did something happen or were you just as needy as he was? He really should’ve stayed at home with you in the first place. Joker sighed and scanned the room.

The team was talking amongst themselves on how to pull off the hit without gaining the authorities’ attention. Joker drowned them out thirty minutes ago. He was only here for appearance’s sake and could care less.

They could iron out the details without him and that became the determining factor to answer your question. With a roll of his green eyes, he replied.

What’s in it 4 me?

Joker watched three tiny dots appear and fade multiple times over a course of several minutes. Whatever you wanted to say was deleted over and over until Joker finally got a vague response.

Come and find out 🐰

Such a sassy little thing you were tonight. A few seconds later, Joker received an attachment pic from you. He took one glance at it and reacted.

“Oi! Where you going, Boss?” A henchman called out.

Joker was already storming out the door to even notice that he scared everyone with his abrupt exit.

They were waiting for Joker to voice his opinion and he just up and left. Not like he cared. The small group however began to panic and scrambled to find a way to revise the plans to meet Joker’s high expectations.

They could all die trying to rob the bank for all he cared. Joker’s mind was elsewhere, solely on you.

His Bunny was asking for it.

It was the only explanation as to why the dying sun captured your sexy silhouette oh so perfectly. When Joker got home, he was gonna ruin you.

Joker didn’t notice Frost coming down the hall in his mad dash to the elevator. Frost took one look at his boss and scoffed.

“Let me guess. It’s either the airheads in the meeting or something B did.” He ignored Joker’s venomous glare yet the lack of response spoke volumes.

“Are you coming back after you fix her attitude?” Frost sighed softly.

The elevator door dinged open upon arrival and Joker marched inside to stab the ground floor button. He locked eyes with Frost and set his demands.

“Don’t bother us unless.. I dunno, it’s err raining cats and dogs.” Which meant no, he wasn’t coming back and they both knew it.

Frost spoke his own reflection as the doors slid closed. “I don’t get paid enough for this.”

There really should be a guide to these types of things. How to look sexy for your lover while wearing a ridiculous outfit.

Perhaps you could write a guide yourself; it beat psyching yourself up to no avail.

You planned this for weeks and now the day finally came to commit and you were having second thoughts.

The last component arrived a little while after Joker left for his meeting and you just couldn’t stall another night. It was now or never.

You wouldn’t have the confidence to do this after today. Just looking in the mirror you felt silly all over again. Knowing that Joker left you on read didn’t boost that confidence any higher either.

It wasn’t that disappointing– Joker constantly left you on read in text conversations, the problem was that he left you hanging after you sent him a risque picture.

It took you ages to get the angle, the lighting, and find a pic you actually liked, before sending it to the clown and he didn’t appreciate none of it.

You checked yourself out in front of the floor length mirror and sighed as your heels clicked sharply on the hardwood. You thought you looked cute, hot even! But your opinion was moot if Joker didn’t approve.

Maybe he opened the message and got busy before he could respond? You told yourself anything except the truth.

He probably hated it and didn’t want to hurt yor feelings.

You puckered your glossy lips at your reflection, preparing to take off the ensemble when you heard keys turning in the front door.

Joker was back in record time. It made you wonder how he got here so fast but that was the least of your worries.

You grabbed his gift off the dresser right as you heard the bedroom door slam into the wall.

Joker was going to leave a dent in the wall if he kept doing that. You told him time and time again to stop. You were about to scold him right then but the fiery heat in his eyes stole your breath.

Joker was a raging bull, just shy of steam blowing out his nose.

His target? Poor ol’ you shifting your weight from heel to heel. You hid his surprise further behind your back and of course, he noticed.

“Whatcha got there.. Bunny.” Joker stressed the endearment more so than usual since you were dressed the part.

You wore your tallest pumps and donned a fresh pair of fishnets to go nicely with your f/c bunny suit. It clung to your figure in all the best ways and the white cuff links and debonair tie around your neck was the icing on the cake.

You looked every part the bunny Joker called you. He admired the bunny ears atop your head; one bent, the other straight. He loved every little detail you had.

Joker slowly stalked towards you with his head tilted slightly. “I asked... Whatcha got behind your back Bunny? Is it a surprise?”

You nodded demurely. So that’s how you wanted to play? Joker just grinned.

“Yeah? Is it…. for me?” You giggled when he tried to steal a peek if not for you dodging his attempts at the last minute.

Joker was all for your playful mood tonight and growled lowly, seeing your sly smirk. You did your makeup so pretty, but he was over the moon seeing your plump lips shimmering all for him. You wore that shade he bought you recently. The one that tasted like strawberries.

He wanted to ruin it and you.

His green eyes roamed down your beautiful face to your neck on full display for him to nibble and mark, down to your breasts practically bursting out of your suit.

He wouldn’t be surprised if you bought it two sizes too small with how your curves spilled out over the leather confines. Joker wanted to lay you down and knead your soft flesh and rip holes in your fishnets. You looked so good and he wanted to play.

There was so much he wanted to do! He grew tired of you ducking and dodging and grabbed your arms roughly. “Gotcha Bunny! Now… let’s uh, see what you oh..”

Joker audibly swallowed as you bit your lip and looked away.

Joker stared at the bundle of rope in your hands, honestly at a loss for words. The bright color would look heavenly against your skin tone and you knew Joker wanted to tie you up for months now. He introduced the idea once or twice and tested out the new concept by binding your wrists.

It excited you and drove him wild. It was high time he got his wish by going all in.

Joker rubbed his thumb against the rope and met your shy gaze. “Y/n… are you sure.”

You nodded and leaned up (even with heels on J towered over you) and kissed his cheek but Joker required a verbal agreement.

“I need to hear you say it, bunny. That you’ll let me uhh, tie ya up? You wanna be my sweet rope bunny huh doll?”

You nodded again but Joker reached out and gripped your chin, “Use your words, bunny.”

You moaned out and closed your eyes. Joker had yet to do anything and you were already worked up. “B-Bunnies don’t t-talk.” You gasped.

Joker was speechless as you finally turned around and let him see the fluffy bunny tail** you wore. You walked over to the edge of the bed and bent by your waist to wiggle your buns for Joker.

His breath was shaky but overly excited for what was about to happen. Joker unraveled the colored rope in his hands with a mocking tsk of his lips.

“What a naughty, naughty bunny girl I have.”

#🐰 series #to be continued #Joker’s Bunny #bunny girl #thanks anon!#thanks for the ask!#ledger joker x reader #joker x y/n #ledger joker #reader insert #joker x you #joker x reader #joker x black!reader #heath ledger joker x reader #heath joker #heath ledger!joker #ledger!joker #ledger!joker x reader #chaos universe

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yanny-77 · 6 months ago

Note

OMG YOU KNOW AFTG?!??&!?!?! fuck yeah!!

I fucking love your FW story and I was just browsing through your tumblr rn and suddenly BAM aftg.

Do you think youll ever write for that fandom?

Oh hell yeah! I could talk about AFTG forever. I always wonder what people think about all my eclectic fandoms. I even slipped a reference to AFTG into Ch 8 of The Underpants Heist. Did you catch it?

I’m not sure how much overlap there is between AFTG and Fourth Wing, but when reading Iron Flame, every time Violet would say “I’m fine,” I’d think of Neil “I’m Fine” Josten. Neither of them was ever fine lmao

I’ve been going hard on AFTG lately because I’ve got TSC brainrot. It’s a big part of the writer’s block I had in April because I just couldn’t make myself think about Bodhi and Ridoc when Jean and Jeremy were right there.

I have a few ideas but I don’t know if they’ll ever leave my head and become actual fics. Before TSC, I never really considered writing fic for AFTG because I wasn’t sure I could do the characters justice. That, and I never wanted to write Riko.

But as I read Jean’s POV, it was like a lightbulb went off in my head. So much of Kevin’s actions and personality make sense now…from giving Nicki shit over chocolate to his attachment to Andrew to immediately asking Neil if he can play. Plus, I absolutely loved Jean’s friendship with Cat and I am so curious about Jeremy. What’s his backstory?

#ask yanny #yanny wips #the underpants heist #fourth wing #AFTG #all for the game #my kind of weird

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astrofiree · 2 months ago

Text

Somethings Need to Change

I wasn't going to get my hands involved in this. I initially skilled through harkre's post yesterday and thought nothing of it. Until someone brought it to my attention because there was fighting in the comments. Now while I would like to slug it out in the replies. However...that gets messy. So instead I'm going to put everyone's replies into a reblog and credit them. Cause that's what you're supposed to do when there's drama on tumblr. Make it easier on people to read and know what the fuck is going on. Which will be below the cut.

@dutifullylamps: Summary: A bunch of things that hurt my feelings and I didn’t like so now I’m trying to cause other people to not like this person because I still have a middle school mentality and I’m bitter.

So for those who aren't aware, Harkre's whole post was about how he was signaled out and believed to be a godmodder. I've gone through similar things myself all because for whatever stupid reason people do not know how to communicate on WoW when it comes to rp. Despite it being a major unspoken rule in roleplay in general. Something that's followed on forums, on tumblr, and other mediums. Why it's not enforced on WoW is stupid.

Now when you bring it up, you're treated like shit who have never gotten out of that Mean Girl high school mentality like dutifullylamps has demonstrated. So here let me be helpful and show at least some guides to roleplay since the community seems to neglect that part. These will emphasize on communication.

I would like to point out that ironically one of the ways we learn how to communicate effectively is by pretending we're doing a role and we can talk out what we're going to do, which is different from rp. So why rpers can't communicate is kind of ironic when you think about it in adult type scenarios. Something I was skimming over trying to find the sites above.

Except people will try to say "but it ruins the story. It makes it seem too ooc." My brother in christ you do not work for Blizzard. Who the fuck cares? I don't want you to hit my character without my permission. Though to argue I feel bad for Harkre cause Residiuum events are always clusterfucks. I try not to get involved because they are. Usually someone pre-determines what my character is doing. Sometimes people whisper me what I want to do when I'm the middle of writing my response.

Another thing I don't get with Moon Guard is the need for someone coming forward with clear issues with someone else. The communication line has been dropped or there is none because again...for whatever fucking reason, people on Moon Guard or well....WoW in general never learned how to properly communicate or even roleplay. Which is honestly mind boggling to me as someone who has rped on forums, and tumblr for many many years. I learned how to roleplay. I learned how to communicate. I come to Moon Guard and what I knew about rp was eviscerated. But anyway the thing that ultimately annoys me aside from the lack of proper communication is that people will attack the clear victim, gang up on them, and then support the abuser. And it's always the enablers of narcissists. Why is that?

Then again I that's also a tumblr issue as well. It's happened in other fandoms on tumblr so I shouldn't be surprised. Our reaction shouldn't be "oh I'm sorry that happened." We should be angrier about it and demand more action. We are all in a community and it's up to us to make this community better. One where victims are properly heard and the narcissists gets kicked out and running for the hills and not the other way around.

@onetimeblog: Instead of sending every single residuum member screenshots and claiming how I "stole" your idea for a minecraft server (really?) and thrashing and kicking and just making yourself look even worse?

And now for the moment we've been waiting for. I'm going to break this section by section because oddly, Niklos decided to put this in the replies one at a time and not a reblog. But even then I'd still break it down.

Anyway, the thing is Harkre probably couldn't hold it in any longer because he kept seeing you get away with shit constantly. Usually what happens when you're abused by a narcissist so long. You hold it in, think you're the problem. You try to do things one way, which is the right way. However, that doesn't work. And trying to ignore the problem doesn't work.

You constantly see your abuser handling things normally. While you have to duck out of places because they somehow manipulated everyone around you to make it seem like you're the problem. I wonder if this sounds familiar Niklos cause it's something that you have been doing for years. There's evidence of it. You can only sweet talk your way out of a paper bag for so long. And DARVO only goes for so long. After awhile you finally have the courage to speak up about it.

Problem is you got caught again. Though this time you don't get to talk your way out of it.

When you know damn well Agonyn doesn't listen to anyone. He kicks who he pleases and nobody can say persuade him to, or not to, otherwise. You were kicked out of Midnight Repose because according to THEM, you ran into their voice chat and started yelling loudly and when told to stop, you didn't. I know now, the one that I thought was your friend, was actually you on a second account. And I also know that you have been the one -

I'm going to point out I don't know what point leads to where since reading through the replies is a pain in the ass. So forgive me if this looks wonky.

I honestly doubt that. I seem to remember Brady saying that he was blacklisted from every other guild because of your shit. Honestly another deflection. "Oh they can do what they want." That and the "you have no friends, it's just on another account." Is some serious bullshit. You don't know anything. You're just trying to make someone be your scapegoat.

Find some new material. You suck at this.

when I was AFKing in the cemetery and I got your PM bomb and a link out of nowhere about Tyragonfal and I had to pan my camera around to see Tyragonfal walk by, so far away I couldn't even cast on her. WTF? And now I know - you were stealthing after her, on your lv20 trial, while on your paid account you were PMing everyone she walked by as far as your camera can see, in the same way you did to me for weeks. To a point where you pissed enough randoms off you got -

Tyragonfal doesn't have many people who like her. For all you know it could have been some random that has the same information.

This information that your buddy is a notorious sex pest. Yeah. I too have the dark knowledge of knowing that and I received it from someone else. I can't remember who linked me it. I know for a fact it wasn't Harkre. But Tyragonfal has other people that don't like her and would try to track her down and do the one thing most trials do in Stormwind...and no it's not look for erp.

Inform the public that there is a piece of crap in our midst and maybe they will stop playing the game. But sure let's turn Harkre into the scapegoat cause he's the ONLY person outside of Brady to actually say something against you.

So like… don't blame me. Nobody pushed you out, you pushed yourself out. The people reporting to Agonyn? Not me - it's all the people that fought your toon while your wore the Residuum tag only to see you log out after hours of emote combat - of which I wasn't even involved in. I just was told. And when a player told you that they don't want to RP with you anymore? You told him "You are involved whether you like it or not." And now you are hyper fixating on me.

Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit. You're one of the principal people organizing the Residuum events and you're always the stare of every single show. There is NEVER a Residuum event where you're not there. Either as the main star or the supporting actor. Never the extra.

Residuum has to do things exactly as you planned it. For example after the week long attack you had Residuum people at the funeral vigil thing as candles. I thought it was weird when a guildie at the time had to take part in it. Even weirder that they were there again as floating candles. I thought nothing of it.

But it's plainly obvious that you control everything. Much like how you control the Cathedral. Ever thought it's odd on how there's no one else that does their own thing in the Cathedral. Everyone has to tow your line. Gee....I wonder why that is? Maybe because you're a control freak.

I wouldn't put it past you to whisper to Agonyn and tell him to kick Harkre or even complain. You did it with Brady. You did it with the Divine Inquisition. That's your thing and even Irwin said it best. You act as thought the Cathedral is yours. Except it's not yours. It never was.

reported and suspended. So like.. harkre? Find a better hobby at this point. Everything you claim, I have receipts on. And now you just openly outed yourself as the level 1 troll that's been harassing me on two accounts - and I know you have a third account you are happily RPing on as well. Because you just don't hide yourself that well. Why don't you focus on that third, unblemished, untouched character and just enjoy RP -

Oh, bullshit. You have jackshit. You have ZERO receipts. If you did you would have posted them already. That's the thing with narcissists like yourself, Niklos, you talk a lot of hot fucking air. A lot. You bullshit more than a politician. But when it comes down to it, you won't produce shit.

And the best part of it is....there's evidence of you constantly bullshitting.

Even your so called post about Brady's accusations, you came up with no screenshots. No fucking evidence. Give it up, Niklos. You should be the one who should play a different game. You should be the one making a new unblemished character. Maybe start anew on Wyrmrest. You'd be great at it. Best part about it is...

There's no one there that you can abuse. Hell you can move your whole guild there.

Let This Be a Message To ALL Community Leaders:

Your role in a community is to not treat everyone like they're your Barbie.

Your role is to facilitate roleplay in a concise manner that makes it fun for everyone. It is not meant for narcissists.

If you cannot fulfill this role, then maybe it's High fucking time for you to step the fuck down.

I'm sick and fucking tired of narcissists getting away with shit. Getting away with treating people like shit for simply saying no. For standing up for themselves after being doormats.

Moon Guard needs to fucking change and for the better.

Edit: Thanks to @certifiedooc for pulling up the related posts. I added it for clarity.

#moonguard #moon guard #niklos adamantt #remnant of lordaeron #world of warcraft #wow #getting tired of this bullshit #tired of the narcissists and their enablers and people just being like “oh im sorry for you.”#“sorry that happened”#“You're so valid and...” hows about do something.#please for fucks sake. What's it going to take? Someone to unalive themselves? Is that when Moon Guard wakes the fuck up.

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dethtallica · 1 month ago

Note

Since tumblr doesn’t allow you ask from side blogs -_-, I’m @violent-red btw

I have a request that is kinda the counterpart to your Dave/Lars fic. Please tag me if you end up taking this request :))

Set prior to Dave being kicked out of Metallica, like very early days Dave/Lars where they are very much in love (like first serious relationship). Lars is acting bitchy, and sets off Dave’s temper. Basically brat taming, with Dave being very dominant and Lars being a whiny bottom. Sweet aftercare.

Thank you!

Also, I really like all your fics you have written so far! :D

thank you!!! here’s your dave/lars smut ;)

TEMPER

1982

CW - rough sex, spanking, choking, anal, degradation

Lars was a bitch.

That’s what got him into this situation. He was being a slut like always. He teased Dave by “accidentally” dropping his drumstick and bending over to show off his plump ass, taking that popsicle from earlier a little too deep in his throat and making sure Dave could hear the wet noises of his fingers working in and out of him when he excused himself to go to the bathroom just so he could finger himself.

These were his ways of begging for Dave to fuck him all day. And now, here he lays on Dave’s bed, fully naked and needy.

“Do you know how bad you’ve been today, you little slut? Can’t even get through practice without you begging for cock like a whore. Pathetic. You don’t deserve to be fucked.” Dave spits.

Lars whines at this, bucking his thin hips off the bed as a silent plead. His hard cock weeps against his stomach painfully.

“I do-! I do deserve it! I deserve to be fucked!” He whines. Lars doesn’t care if he’s been a brat— he needs his boyfriends dick and he needs it now.

Dave doesn’t approve of his back talk. So, he growls as one of his hands quickly reach to the drummer’s neck, squeezing him tightly. He’s careful to not seriously hurt his precious boy.

Lars gasps and coughs as his face turns a light shade of red, cock harder than ever. He loved being put in his place. More than anything. His length drips sticky pre-cum on to his lower belly as he tears up from the painfully arousing asphyxiation Dave is so willing to give him. With teary eyes, he looks up at his dom with silent desperation.

It’s the most beautiful thing Dave’s ever seen.

Lars continues to pathetically gasp and struggle against Dave’s iron grip until he finally lets go, letting Lars get air for only a split second before his mouth is forcefully filled with two of the guitarist’s calloused fingers. The smaller boy takes in a deep breath from his button nose before swirling his warm tongue around the digits in his wet mouth. Dave smirks at the small dane below him desperately trying to please him.

“So adorable. My adorable slut.”

Lars whimpers around his slick fingers and begins to suck on them without breaking eye contact with the dominant redhead. Lars knows the action of getting the guitarist’s digits shoved in his mouth means he’s going to get fingered soon, and Lars can feel his hole clench just thinking about it. His eyes dart to Dave’s erection and he nearly cums on the spot thinking about how good it’ll feel inside. The guitarist notices his boyfriend’s gaze and smirks, digging his fingers deeper into his wet mouth enough to make Lars gag and twitch.

“I’m gonna take these out now. But I want you to beg for me to finger you, got that?”

Lars huffs. He wishes he could tell Dave “I’m not doing that.”

But Dave understands. Dave gets why he only responds with a huff— it’s because he’s being a brat and refuses to listen. He doesn’t need Lars to tell him that. Dave’s eyebrows furrow and he snarls, not pleased with the response he was given. So instead of giving his lover what he wants, he quickly removes his hand from Lars’ wet mouth to use both of his rough hands to flip him completely over so he has access to his soft cheeks.

“Hey! What’re you-“

A loud smack echoes through the room followed by a scream from Lars. A red mark appears on his ass from Dave’s large hand slapping him with force. Shocked, Lars looks back with lust and fear in his eyes to see Dave about to spank him again. Another smacking noise and squeal are heard at the same time; now both of his cheeks have a red hand print on them.

“Dave! G-god, fuckin’ ow!” Lars cries, hoping his boyfriend’s hand wouldn’t come to slap him again.

“Are you gonna be good and beg now?” Dave asks, fully ready to give him another spanking if he denies.

“I’m not-“

Smack!

Lars sobs, gripping the sheets tightly.

“What was that?”

The dane takes a moment to catch his breath. He’s torn between wanting to be a brat and wanting to be a good boy for his lover. The internal battle in his head doesn’t last long, the angel on his shoulder winning him over. “…Please.”

Lars could almost hear the smile that quickly appeared on Dave’s face.

“Please what, slut?” Dave teases.

Lars groans, arching his back as his brown curls cover his sweating face.

“P-please.. please, fuck me, please fuck me with you fingers and cock. I need it. I need it so b-badly..” He finally pleads. Being a brat is fun, but he can only manage to handle a few spanks before he’s a crying and pathetic mess.

Dave chuckles. Satisfied with his pleads, Dave enters his fingers into the drummer before immediately beginning to piston them in and out of him. Lars yelps and his hands clench onto the sheets below him as ginger’s fingers stretch him out yet again. His face contorts into a pleasured expression from the tips of Dave’s fingers occasionally hitting his swollen prostate as they work inside him.

“Oh- Fuck- need your cock soon, fuck, fuck!”

Dave’s own length is begging to be inside the dane as he watches his digits disappear into the tight ring of Lars’ hole over and over again. Dave thinks to himself, he already fingered himself earlier. I don’t even have to do much prep. I should just fuck him now.

And that’s exactly what he did.

After only a minute of being finger-fucked, they were harshly removed before hastily being replaced with the tip of the guitarist’s cock. Lars moans like a whore, drool seeping out of his mouth as Dave’s length goes deeper and deeper into his slick and warm hole. It only takes a few seconds for him to bottom out and completely fill the brunette below him, who’s already cock drunk. But Lars isn’t the only one who’s already loving it— Dave is struggling to keep his composure from the tight heat surrounding him.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. Perfect cocksleeve. Just for me. Just for your master.” He praises before pulling out almost completely, just to shove himself back in.

The drummer nearly screams from that first harsh thrust. From there, a rhythm impossibly fast begins as Dave enters and exits him over and over again, hitting the smaller boy’s prostate endlessly. Lars cries out loudly and moans wantonly against the mattress as he’s fucked harder than ever before.

“Dave! Yesyesyesyes- please- oh fuck-“

Dave growls and throws his head back from the intense pleasure warming his cock. His lover’s slick insides made him feel better than anyone he had ever been with. Lars had been an anal virgin and had never sucked a dick before when they had met, and yet he was still able to give the redhead one of the best orgasms he’d ever had the first time they’d fucked. Just thinking about it made the guitarist’s cock stir even more, twitching inside his boyfriend.

“Y-you’re so fucking perfect, babe. You feel amazing, not gonna last long..”

The sound of slapping skin continues to fill the room as Dave praises his boy. Lars can feel his dick tense from the dirty talk and bites his lip hard enough to draw blood as he allows Dave to fuck him. He wonders how Dave feels, wonders if it’s just as good as when Dave had let Lars fuck him because he’d never been inside someone before. He can remember it clearly— his cock was squeezed by the warm walls of his redhead boyfriend who was panting and covering his face in embarrassment. Lars can only imagine how good that would feel along with being fucked at the same time, and before he knows it, his hand is traveling down to his erection to jerk himself off.

“Yeah, look at ya, desperate to get off already.” Dave says, out of breath, pounding into the boy.

Lars only whines and continues to fuck his fist as Dave uses his ass and abuses his prostate. His head is dizzy with pleasure and he feels like he could float into heaven at any moment. It’s not going to take much to bring him to the edge. In fact, both of them are already close to their climaxes, despite being connected for only a few minutes. Long foreplay will do that.

The guitarist eyes the sweating boy below him and gets an idea. His right hand snakes towards Lars’ hard nipple and gives it a harsh twist. The dane squeals and tenses up as he girlishly moans. Tears fall from his face from the intensity and pleasure, making Dave audibly groan from the beautiful sight. He looked so beautiful when he cried.

“I’m- im close- i’m really, ah!, close!” Lars warns, his face red and covered in tears and sweat.

Hearing this, the guitarist speeds up and gives Lars his all, determined to make the boy cum. Beads of sweat drip down Dave’s face as he feels his own orgasm catch up to him as well. It doesn’t take long for the dane to reach his climax. His back arches, tears streaming down his face and hole clenching as tight as possible around Dave before his load is emptied onto the mattress and himself. Liquids seep into the sheets as Dave’s hip stutter and fill the boy completely. The redhead’s mouth goes completely slack as the orgasm hits him like a truck.

They both ride out their orgasms until they come to a slow stop. Dave, still catching his breath, slowly pulls out and nearly collapses.

“..You okay? I know I was pretty rough. I love you, sweetheart.” He softly tells the panting boy below him.

Lars smiles and nods. He’d had a lot of fun and was finally satisfied after a day of teasing the hell out of Dave.

“Let’s go take a bath now. Come on baby.” Dave coos as he softly scoops up the sticky and limp Lars with ease. The brunette lazily cuddles and clings to the guitarist’s chest and allows himself to be carried to the bath. Dave peeked at his small face, peaceful and happy.

Maybe he wasn’t such a bitch.

@violent-red

#metallica #dave mustaine #lars ulrich #metallica fanfiction #fanfic #ask response #metallica smut #rpf #rpf smut

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