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holybibly · 6 months ago

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𝕀'𝕝𝕝 𝕓𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕞𝕒𝕟 | 𝕐𝕦𝕟𝕙𝕠 𝕩 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: Best friend Yunho x reader 𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕣𝕖 / 𝔸𝕦 / 𝕋𝕣𝕠𝕡𝕖: Smut, Friends to lovers!au, Non-Idol AU ℝ𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 5.2k 𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: Yunho is a good friend, perhaps too good for you, and who else but him will help you discover a new sexual experience? Or Yunho will show you what it's like to have a real man take care of you. 𝕎𝔸ℝℕ𝕀ℕ𝔾: Hands and fingers kink, finger sucking, fingering, degrading, pet names, size kink, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, squirting, pussy slapping, oral, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, praise kink and more.

𝕟𝕖𝕥: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity @newworldnet

𝔸/ℕ: My responses to your requests, bunnies, are being taken to a whole new level. It's also what's been on your mind so much lately - Yunho and his beautiful fingers. Honestly, it's just a huge chunk of pure smut dedicated to Yunho's hands. But, I don't regret it at all.

ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 Part I @tiny-apocalypse @captain-joongz @alicedawitchbish @woohwababes @wlv-asteria @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisprincesss @lavishloving @teagietots @spooo00oky @sousydive @hwapou @bunnliix @softwsan @mjyungi @fantasy2wonderland @noirsfantasy @cassies-cookies @renaholicss @luffypants @hyukssunflower @watermelon2319 @peachygiku @bunnyxoxodarling @stolasisyourparent @soranosnowbunny @certifiedmoa @sanglix @slvtiny @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hecateslittlewitchling @xxawl @pastellbunno @starlletsblog @seonghwasstar @hwanring @vtyb23 @pearltinyy @minjaeum @chasevixx @bomi-ja @onedumbho3 @sanglix @cursedeastern @itza-meee @pinkies-things @atinism @mxnsxngie @nenefix-on @therealcuppicake @annafeebou @sharksandminhos @@lixies-pixieboy @@vampzity @0rangemilk @yellow-foxxing ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 Part II @unholywriters @hey-syia @hrts4nohee @vnessalau @mlink64 @tessakleine @fr34k4c1dr41n @313hwa @lilyuwon @tiziamattaga @un-knew @wiaxul @siyah-staryis @seonghwasbbgirl

"You know, it's not that difficult. If you want to give it a try, I can do it for you, Chagi."

When you hear these words fall from his pretty lips, your eyes widen in a comical way, and your mouth falls open a little.

'What do you mean?' You ask him quietly, just to make sure Yunho meant exactly what he said.

'Cum, baby. I can make you come with just the touch of my fingers.' Yunho says this in an easy, casual way, raising his big hand to the level of your face and moving his fingers to get your attention. "You know, it's called fingering."

Oh shit. He really meant what he said. Your heart starts beating faster at the sound of his slightly husky voice, and you automatically focus your gaze on his beautiful, long fingers. Fucking long, beautiful fingers. Sometimes you even wonder if Yunho's fingers could be longer than the dicks of some guys you've had sex with. Jeong Yunho was not just a good friend. He was the greatest friend in the world. Accommodating, sweet, and witty, he was always ready to help you in every situation and listen to you anytime, day and night. There were never any secrets between you two; Yunho knew everything about you, just as you knew everything about him.

You couldn't have been more grateful to him when Yunho came over to your house with ice cream and sweets after another 'cool' guy had turned you down on a date.

He sat beside you, big and warm like a golden retriever puppy, listening to all your complaints about being dumped, letting you nibble away your disappointment with ice cream and chocolate, wrapped up in his wonderfully soft sweatshirt, smelling of his vanilla-woody perfume. The smell of him used to make you dizzy all the time.

This was not the first time you'd been in this situation, and nights like this had become something of a tradition for you. Yunho always listened to you when you complained about how disgusting and unsatisfying your dates were. He was always on your side. To be honest, you always liked Yunho—much more than you should like a friend, but who wouldn't like Yunho? He was the absolute embodiment of the perfect man—looks, manners, character, and on and on. And you were completely out of his league. But in spite of all of that, Yunho never made you feel uncomfortable when you were in his presence. You always talked to each other in an open way, and there were no taboo subjects between the two of you. Even about sex... Over the years of your friendship, you had a good idea of what Yunho was capable of in bed, and he knew your preferences and desires regarding sex.

But when you told him about your other boyfriend's inability to bring you to orgasm, he had never offered to help you with your sexual frustration. To this very day.

"C'mon, you don't mean that." You say this as you shove a spoonful of strawberry ice cream into your mouth. The creamy, whipped mass melts in an instant as soon as it comes into contact with the warmth of your tongue, leaving behind a light taste of berry.

Right now, instead of your favourite ice cream, you really wish that Yunho had brought a couple of bottles of soju with him. Then you could blame the alcohol in your blood for making you blush, rather than the fact that his suggestion made you both confused and excited.

"Actually, I'm quite serious, Chagiya. I can make you cum with just the tips of my fingers.' He said it just as easily and calmly as he had before, looking at you with those big, shiny eyes of his.

Yunho looked so relaxed as he sat next to you, his arms wrapped around the big soft cushion, and you, in contrast to him, began to squirm a little in your seat under the sudden weight of his usually soft chocolate gaze.

"Look, T/N, if you don't want to do this, I understand; you don't have to worry so much. We can pretend this conversation never happened, and I'll keep listening to you complain to me about men who are too selfish in their desires and can't give you what you need. I've always told you, Chagiya, that you deserve so much more than these pathetic idiots you've been dating, and unlike them, I don't have to stick my cock in your pussy to make you come. I can fuck you stupid, just with my fingers." Yunho puts the pillow to the side and leans in a little bit closer to you. When he starts to speak again, his voice becomes more husky and sultry. "But I'm not going to do anything that you don't ask me to do. Just say the word, and we'll forget the whole thing."

"Yunho... I don't know; it's all so sudden." You mumbled, unsure, biting down on your lower lip and glancing down at his hands once more.

God, Yunho's offer was as tempting as it was damaging, but damn it, this was exactly what you wanted. You wanted it so badly. Perhaps, just perhaps, you'd been thinking about his hands more often than you'd admitted. More than once or twice, you've imagined how those broad, big palms of his would feel on your body, and even more so, how great his long fingers would feel as they plunged deep into your pussy. You are sure that the stretching is going to be nothing short of delicious. But you also knew that if you agreed to his proposal, your little crush on him would take a dangerous new turn. You were already halfway to falling head over heels in love with him, and this situation wasn't going to make it any easier for you at all.

"Relax, Chagi; there's no pressure. We can just forget about it; I already told you. If you don't want it...'

'But I do want to.' Before you had a second to think about what you'd just said, the words flew out of your mouth.

For a moment, you couldn't think straight, and there was a heavy pause between you that made you want to slap yourself on the forehead. You shyly glanced at Yunho from under your lashes in an attempt to analyse the expression on his pretty face.

Yunho runs his tongue over his lips, leaving a glistening trace on the soft, pink flesh, and you unconsciously repeat the movement as he does. He can already see that you're totally into it, and a slight satisfied smile appears on his face.

"I'm not going to lie; it sounds nice. But you don't have to do that; I understand if you were just kidding and..."

"Y/N, I'm not kidding. You're beautiful, sexy, and sweet, and you totally deserve to have your body worshipped. You need a man to show you how it's done, not a boy, Chagiya.' Yunho raised his eyes to you, and the darkness swirling inside them was something you'd never seen before.

God, that look—why does he have to look like that right now? It was the first time since you'd met Yunho that you felt so turned on by his presence. Damn it. You could feel your body heating up and moisture starting to gather between your legs, making your lace panties stick uncomfortably to your bare pussy. But you tried to ignore it and just squeezed your thighs tighter. He probably didn't even mean it in a serious way, and you're already starting to fantasise about it.

'Oh, Yunho...' That's all you could manage to say at the moment. There were too many thoughts running around in your head—too many ideas—for you to be able to focus on anything in particular.

On the outside, Yunho was completely calm, but there was a real flame of desire burning inside of him. He wanted to touch you so badly; he wanted to touch you in a way that friends were never supposed to do. It literally ate him up from within, but he was just a friend to you. You never looked at him with those seductive eyes that he knew you gave to other guys, guys not like him, guys who could never satisfy you properly, who could never fill you and make you squeal and dumb from their dicks. He could give you that. Yunho could give you anything you wanted.

Tonight, when he had offered to fuck you with his fingers, it had been a thought he hadn't even realised he had said out loud. But damn, now he was unspeakably glad he had done it. You were right there in front of him, and he wasn't going to deny himself the chance to finally get what he wanted. He didn't care about the consequences. After all, when Yunho was done with you, you wouldn't be able to think about anyone else but him. God, all he can think about is how beautiful you'll look when you collapse under his touch and the blissful look on your face when you come on his fingers. Hell, he's hoping to see you drooling and squirting with his name on your lips.

"What should I do?" you ask, pulling the sleeves of his sweatshirt tighter over your hands so that only your fingertips are visible. God, this is so fucking embarrassing.

Yunho just grinned and moved even closer to you, so that your legs were now resting against his thigh. He gently cupped his large, warm palms around your face and forced you to look into his eyes.

"Just relax for me. Will you? Let a real man take care of you properly, Chagiya."

Jeong fucking Yunho, you should stop now, or you'll start begging him for more than his fingers, and when you say that, you mean his dick. And generally, it wasn't even metaphorical—erything in Yunho's body was of impressive size, and his dick was no exception. You'd never tell Yunho, but you might have accidentally seen him masturbating a couple of times when he stayed at your place. Of course, it was completely by accident, but the image of his beautiful hands wrapping around his huge, thick, veiny cock, the deep, husky moaning and the blissful expression on his handsome face—that's the image that's burned into the back of your eyelids for life. The memory alone made your pussy clench around nothing.

Yunho slowly ran his thumb over your lips, smearing the remains of your favourite strawberry ice cream, while you were lost in thought. He made a mental note to buy you some strawberry lube for the next time you have sex, which is definitely going to happen. He doesn't even doubt it. You reflexively open your lips as you feel the slightly rough pad of his thumb pressing against the soft, sticky flesh of your lower lip, allowing him to push his finger deep into the wet warmth of your mouth.

Yunho's eyes grow heavy with desire as your tongue wraps lightly around the long appendage and you begin to suck on his finger, looking up at him from under your lashes with big stag eyes as if to ask for his approval.

"Such a good girl for me." A deep groan echoes in his chest as he sees your plush lips wrapped tightly around his finger, and Yunho can't help but think about how those same lips would wrap beautifully around his thick cock. But what he'll really be dreaming about for the next few weeks is the sugary expression on your face as you lick the slightly calloused pad of his thumb with your tongue. Your lower lip glistens with ice cream residue and saliva. Fuck. You look so fucking slutty and sweet at the same time that all he wants to do is bend you over and fuck your brains out.

You can't hold back the whimper that comes out of your throat at the praise he gives you. Did you ever think that you would have a craving for praise in you, or is it just because of Yunho? The vibration around his finger reaches all the way up to his crotch, and his cock twitches as it strains against the jeans. You suck his finger deeper into your mouth—wet and hot—sliding your tongue over it, up and down. Back and forth over it. When he suddenly pulls his finger out of your mouth, a thread of saliva connecting it to your flushed lips, you let out a weak moan of frustration.

"Baby, I'm the one who has to take care of you today. Aren't I?" He said as he let go of your face and got up from the couch, only to kneel down in front of you, but even in this position, Yunho still towered over you, making you feel small and vulnerable. When did your adorable puppy retriever ever have the time to turn into a big, bad wolf? "If you change your mind..." He began placing his hot palms on the bare skin of your thighs and discreetly pulling them apart so he could get a good look at your wet panties, the sight of which made his mouth fill with saliva. "Just say the word, and I'll stop immediately. Anytime, chagi..."

Honestly, Yunho is absolutely lying to you right now; he doesn't know if he can take his hands off you at all, especially after seeing your pretty pussy covered only by the thin lace. The milky French lace hugs your cunt perfectly, stretching just enough to outline the shape of your labia, and he can't stop himself from moaning as he sees it. Your excitement seeps out onto the fabric, forming a large wet patch at the front. Yunho knows that your hole is throbbing with the need to be filled and your clit is swelling, begging to be touched.

Yunho's fingers dig hard into the soft flesh of your thighs, much harder than you expected, and you whimper, biting your lower lip and shaking slightly under the grip of his hands.

"I get it...I trust you, Yunho."

"That's it, Chagi. I'm going to make you feel so good. I swear." Yunho whispers as he leans down and kisses the top of your thighs while he keeps his eyes on your face for a second. Your mind is in such a state of confusion that you can't concentrate on anything else but Yunho and the warmth of his hands and his lips on your skin.

He can't resist sticking out his tongue and licking the thick strip on your clothed cunt. He moans into your pussy and your face feels like it's burning. Yunho runs his tongue over the smooth fabric of your pussy once more, moistening it even more with his saliva.

God, you're amazing. He's wanted this for such a damn long time, and right now he can say that his cock is harder than it's ever been. He wouldn't be lying. How could he not be?

"You're so beautiful, baby." You begin to wriggle in his arms as Yunho's lips close over your pussy, and you hear the sound of faint sucking on the wet lace in his mouth, his beautiful lips pressing right up against your throbbing clit making your little hole contract even more, begging to be filled.

'Oh God, Yuyu...' Your tone is whiny, almost pleading, and you feel a satisfied smile spread across his mouth as he buries his face harder into your pussy, your legs trembling slightly at the movement of the lace over your sensitive folds. He hasn't even done anything yet, and he's practically pushing you to your limit, and you're almost ashamed of it. If Yunho keeps going like this, you're going to come just from him sucking on your panties, and he doesn't even have to use his hands to do it.

"Mmm, my girl is so warm and sweet; I can't wait to feel that cunt from the inside." He says it quietly. His voice is deeper and huskier than you've ever heard before. Yunho lets the disgustingly wet material of your underwear out of his mouth and bites lightly on the inside of your thigh, causing you to gasp for breath. "Chagi, as much as I like seeing you in my clothes, I want you to take off your sweater. Let me see those nice tits of yours."

Maybe it's his voice, or the dark, burning look in his eyes that are usually too soft and shiny, or maybe it's Yunho himself, but you obediently follow his command, eager to please him. Agonisingly slowly, your hands pull up the super-soft fabric, exposing more of your skin millimetre by millimetre. You find yourself holding your breath, waiting to see what his reaction to your naked body will be. Your fingers brushed against the boning of your bra, sliding up the thin lace cup, higher up the bulging tops of your breasts, until Yunho's sweatshirt was next to you on the couch, and you were standing in front of him in nothing but your lace underwear. Remembering what he'd said, you cupped your breasts with your palms and squeezed lightly a few times before pulling the lace cup down and letting your tits fall out. Your nipples were instantly made hard by the coolness of the air.

"You've got such nice tits, baby. Play with them for me. Show me how you like to please yourself." Jesus, what's going on right now? Your ex-boyfriends never treated you like this, eager to get into your cunt as fast as possible to get their own high. And that condescending tone of his voice, you would never have thought that Yunho could be like that, but damn, you were in love with it. Maybe even a bit too much for your own good.

'Mm, okay.' You closed your eyes tightly and concentrated on massaging and kneading your breasts, occasionally tracing the sensitive nipples and lightly scratching them with your fingernails, before wrapping your fingers around them and pulling.

Your back arched, and your mouth opened in a loud moan. The sharp sensation of the rough stimulation sent a powerful rush of pleasure through your body.

"You're so good for me; next time I'll suck your tits until you cum just from the feel of my mouth on your nipples." The words made your pussy quiver, spurting out more moisture, and you moaned loudly, flicking your fingers over the hard, dark pink buds.

"You can't say such things..." You whimper at Yunho's vulgar words, but still, your body responds in the most delightful manner to this.

"Stop me then, Chagi. Tell me that I should stop." Yunho says, kissing your clothed pussy gently and drooling even more on your panties. The sensation of his kisses almost made you miss the moment when his fingers ran along your slit, lightly pressing the lace between your labia. The contrast between the lace fabric and the soft touch of his warm lips was making your body burn, and if he was going to continue to tease you like this, you were just going to go crazy.

"P-please... Please, Yunho." You whimpered, which made him stop teasing you for a moment, and he lifted his head to meet your gaze. You looked so fucking beautiful for him: your hands squeezing the swollen flesh of your tits, leaving the red fingerprints on them; your hair a total mess; your legs spread wide so he could see your pretty pussy; and your gaze completely unfocused and hazy. He was just getting started playing with you, and you looked so fucked already.

"Please, what, baby? What do you want? Tell me, Chagi."

"I need more, please... Fuck me, Yunho. Make me cum on your fingers." You began to whimper, looking up at him with big, pleading eyes.

"Look at you; you're already such a slut to me, aren't you, Chagi? Your pretty little panties are all sticky and wet from the amount of slime leaking from your needy cunt. Do you want my fingers deep inside you? Shall I make you squirt, baby?" Yunho's voice was dark and low as he lightly scraped his nail across your clit through the lace, and you screamed as your body began to tremble slightly as your cunt tightened around nothing at all. "You want that, don't you?"

"Mmm hmm." You moaned, shaking your head to confirm. Right now, you can barely concentrate on anything but the sensation of Yunho's presence beside you, his hand touching your wet pussy. When he touches you like this, you can't help but think about the size of his hands, the length of his fingers, and how deep they can go into you.

Yunho's fingers hook into the lace of your panties before pulling them aside as he blows lightly on your pussy. A smug smirk spreads across his handsome lips as you're shrieking softly and your hips are shaking weakly from the intense stimulation.

"The words, Chagi, I need your words; otherwise, you won't get what you want so much. I could play with you all night long..." Yunho presses his fingers to your swollen clit, rubbing it in tight circles before scratching it with his fingernail, causing you to moan lewdly and raise your hips to get more of the burning sensation of euphoria that is spreading through your body from his touch. You are completely unaware of how much your dynamic with Yunho has changed in such a short time. You hadn't noticed the dark, domineering side of his personality before, cleverly hidden behind his chocolate eyes and adorable puppy behaviour.

"Oh God, yes, I want it so badly. Please, Yunho, fuck me as deep as you can with your fingers. Make me squirt. I need it so badly..."

"Since you're asking me so nicely, baby, Who am I to refuse you?"

Everything is happening too fast for you to be aware of it. Yunho's long, flexible fingers slide easily into your cunt as the slightly rough pads of his fingers rub along the soft, tight walls of your pussy.

You moan pathetically. The sensation of pleasure mixes with the pain and flows through your body like hot lava as he forces your tender pussy to stretch around his fingers, your soft walls aching as they open up for him. He pushes his fingers deeper and deeper into you until the long appendages are inside of you all the way down to the base. His thumb presses against your clit, rubbing it in rough, tight circles as he goes. You let out a long, loud moan, so obscene you can hardly believe it's coming from you. But there's absolutely nothing you can do to stop it, especially when Yunho's beautiful, skilled fingers are delighting you.

'Yunho...' His name flies out of your bitten lips with a soft, panting whimper.

You lower your eyes down, your vision blurred with excitement, and through the lustful haze, you see how much his fingers are glistening with your juices as they thrust in and out, making slippery, wet noises with each movement of his hand. You're so fucking wet, it's almost embarrassing.

"Do you like it when I fuck you with my fingers?' Yunho asks you with a smug smile as he carelessly pushes his fingers into your pussy. When he pulls them out of your hole, a huge amount of mucus comes out of the small opening, a sight that is so disgusting and erotic at the same time that it almost makes him cum. His hard dick, painfully squeezed between his underwear and the thick denim, throbs and leaks pre-cum.

Yunho's throat dries up as he sees the thick sheen of your excitement covering the length of his fingers, and he sticks out his tongue to lick his lips. He runs his fingers along your folds, smearing as much of the slime as he can over them, watching as the thick and sticky strands of moisture stretch out behind his fingers.

Your wetness shines everywhere: on your swollen labia, on your soft, silky folds, on the inside of your thighs, and he desperately wants to lick you. But he'll save that for another time; right now, it's all about making you cum just from his hands.

"Y-yeah, I like that so much. Fuck...". Your words turn into a long, drawn-out whimper as Yunho spreads the folds of your folds with his fingers and gently blows cool air over your swollen clit. He can clearly see how red and swollen your pussy is, and the excitement that flows from your quivering hole is gathering in the slippery puddle under your arse as you lie on the couch.

"Fuck, you're so perfect—all pretty and flushed for me. I'm going to milk that sweet cunt of yours until you're a total wreck and you beg me to stop. Orgasm after orgasm, you're going to give me every last drop of you." Yunho plunges two fingers into your tight cunt once more, his long appendages easily opening you up and stretching the silky walls. He bends his fingers deep inside of you, pressing them perfectly against the small, super-sensitive bundle of nerves, and you almost lose it.

You instantly scream in ecstasy, your eyes rolling up as the pleasure runs through your body like a surge of electricity, the tight walls of your pussy clenching rhythmically, thick streams of your sweet moisture dripping from your hole onto the palm of his hand and running down his veiny forearm.

Yunho immediately picks up the pace and starts fucking you as if his life depended on it. With his other hand, he squeezes your thigh to keep you in place and to prevent you from closing your legs.

As your hips start shaking violently, your groans turn to pathetic sobs, and your cunt begins to milk his fingers—your inner walls clench rhythmically around his fingers—Yunho knows you're close. He abruptly pulls his fingers out of you, and before you can react, he slaps you across your pussy with the open palm of his hand. You squeal at the searing contact, black spots dancing in front of your eyes as you sink into blinding bliss and feel a wave of incredible pleasure wash over you.

But Yunho doesn't stop there; he slaps your pretty cunt several more times, each time a little bit harder than the last.

"God, you look gorgeous. We're almost there, baby, just a little bit more..." Yunho groans like he's about to come. But you are so lost in a thick haze of bliss that you are barely aware of what he is saying to you.

His fingers plunge into you again, this time even deeper, stroking over your most sensitive spot over and over again, almost bringing you to a state of semi-consciousness. Your body is tensed, your back is arched, and your hips are rolling wildly as he moves his hand. The knuckles of his fingers flex mercilessly as he aggressively caresses the sensitive, spongy stretch of nerve inside you. There is a genuine sense of euphoria coursing through your veins. The silky walls of your vagina clench together almost to the point of pain to prevent the movement of his fingers.

The edges of your vision blur, and you feel the walls of your pussy begin to contract intensively, a sign that your climax is near.

"Yunho! Shit, I... I'm going to..." As your orgasm consumed you, your head was thrown back, and your mouth opened in a loud moan. God, this must be exactly what Yunho had in mind when he told you that you were in need of a man, not a boy. You've been fucked, really fucked, for the first time in your life. But Yunho doesn't want to let you rest; instead, he continues to play with your throbbing pussy and sticks a third long finger into you with a dirty, obscene squelch.

"It's too much... Yuyu. Please, too much..."

Your words were nothing more than noise as Yunho paid no attention to them and continued his merciless caresses. You had no choice but to accept what he was giving you. A pleasure that went so deep into you that it became almost unbearable. But it was exactly what you'd always wanted—the feeling that none of your exes had been able to give you.

Yunho continued to twist and turn his fingers, touching the spongy and sensitive spot, and for a moment all you could see was white as you came for the second time. Your legs were shaking uncontrollably as your cum flowed uncontrollably down his arm and down his forearm as Yunho continued to push his fingers deep inside you, making your pussy squelch even louder, all the while keeping you at the height of your orgasm.

Every time his finger tips touched your cervix, a delightful shiver ran through your body.

His other hand grabbed hold of your thigh, his long fingers digging roughly into the soft flesh, leaving black, stinging marks and nails that were almost scratched until they bled.

"Please, Yunho... I can't take it any longer. Please!" You begged, but all he did was laugh sombrely and spread his fingers inside you, stretching you even further. "N-no, this is too much..."You were sobbing openly now as he lowered his head to lick the strips between your folds, occasionally circling your defenceless clit with his tongue, his silky hair tickling the inflamed skin on the inside of your thighs.

"Let go, Chagi, cum on my fingers; feel what it's like to be fucked by a man instead of a boy. Show me how you squirt, baby. Make a real mess of it for me." He said this without slowing down the pace of his movements at all.

You felt the familiar tension in your belly again, and the muscles in your thighs clenched as he suddenly pulled the palm of his hand away from your thigh and used two fingers to pinch your clit instead. The spiral in your stomach burst without warning, and then you came, but this time it was different for you: a huge wave of clear liquid erupted from your over-excited cunt and soaked Yunho's hand and his chin, flooding the couch beneath you and his white t-shirt.

The lightning-like waves travelled all over your body, and you were practically panting from the hot pleasure that was washing over you. Yunho gently stroked your folds and whispered sweet words about how well you had done and what a good girl you had been for him as he let you enjoy your third orgasm.

Finally, he pulled away and removed his fingers from your used, swollen cunt. His lips curled into a satisfied grin when he saw the mess you made.

You hiss with over-excitement as Yunho runs his tongue over your sensitive folds once again. His tongue swirls seductively over your quivering, leaking hole, and as he does so, you let out a strangled scream from your throat.

When Yunho is completely satisfied, he releases you and raises the gaze of his beautiful chocolate eyes to your face, which is exhausted from several repeated orgasms.

"I told you, Chagi, it's not hard at all. You just need the perfect man, and in my hope, I will be that man for you.".

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nellisconfetti · 1 year ago

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can’t wait to find out how many out of pocket shit about the aftg world we never found out because of neil’s one track mind. maybe waymack grew a mohawk at some point during the season (neil didn’t even notice), maybe aaron and nicky are famous at eden’s for their breakdancing (why would neil care about anything aaron does on his free time), maybe the exy banquets had a karaoke hour (the foxes were too busy fighting the ravens for neil to notice) maybe the baseball team had another mafia related drama going on at the same time (neil hates baseball so he never finds out) maybe the vixens were the same level of unhinged as the foxes and had some deep beef with another cheerleader squad (unfortunately neil himself has beef with all cheerleaders for whatever happened with the millport squad). so many possibilities, so much space for new lore.

#neil josten #aftg #all for the game #the sunshine court #tsc #the foxhole court #tfc #trk #tkm #text

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mearchy · 4 months ago

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The clones with drugs and alcohol - HCs

In no particular order. Obviously TW for mature themes.

REX:

Thinks of himself as a very responsible drinker, only occasionally indulges and usually when talked into it by his brothers.

Won't touch spice or any other drugs.

Able to be coaxed into shenanigans SO easily when drunk

Therefore his brothers have IMMENSE motivation to get him drunk when they want to pull Nonsense

Can also be a very sad drunk, I think. Please give him hugs.

Can hold his liquor... fine. His tolerance isn't great because he doesn't drink often but he's got engineered supersoldier metabolism so he holds up alright, to his relief.

CODY:

Who do you think Rex got his responsible drinking and drug habits from?

Except Cody is the kind of mf who learned through EXPERIENCE.

His batchmates have stories about teenage drunk Cody that they are sworn to secrecy about on pain of death.

Drunk Cody is TWICE as ready to throw down and is five times LESS inhibited about bodily tackling someone with no regard for his own safety.

Cody can probably hold his liquor but wouldn't it be so funny if he couldn't. Marshall Commander two-sheets-to-the-wind-from-four-glasses-of-wine.

WOLFFE:

He's the guy who will make direct, unwavering eye contact (ha. just the one.) with you across the table as you're both taking a sip from your drinks and suddenly you're in a competition for who can keep chugging their drink until the whole thing is empty and he's so scary how is he DOING that-

Wolffe has a naturally competitive and snippy personality but I do actually think he softens more around the edges with a few drinks in his system.

Not in a sloppy way just smiling a little more and being more affectionate.

Doesn't like or trust any substances that aren't well known to him, won't touch anything other than alcohol.

FIVES:

Sloppy, loud, kind of peevish drunk. All the shit that's always simmering under his skin has an excuse to come out.

“Listen, man. We need to start a revolution. Why hasn't someone bombed the Senat- oh, they have? Shit, can I be in on that?”

Will drop space acid or smoke space weed but only if Echo does. And Echo is smart enough to know that the paranoia Fives gets when he smokes weed is not worth it.

Type of guy to run across some random person in the desert and take psychedelics with them and go on an intense spiritual journey where he communes with dead gods. And then he shows back up at camp a couple hours later having achieved six new levels of enlightenment looking none the worse for wear. Only ever tells three people about this.

ECHO:

Echo is the kind of guy to have an Excel spreadsheet of dosages so he can bake the world's most precisely engineered edibles.

It doesn't work anyway because Fives keeps sticking his fingers in the batter and now the damn ratio is slightly off, why would you do that-

Also cannot keep a secret for the absolute life of him so he cannot pretend to be sober and he must be kept contained while drinking/stoned illicitly.

Maybe a very loving drunk. Or very sad. I'm not sure.

HARDCASE:

You already know he's in the club taking shots dancing on tabletops with his shirt off.

Life of the party, BUT he also doesn't mind being the designated driver. Flyer? Designated sober friend.

Type of guy to cheerily carry his drunk, passed out besties home and dump them into bed.

He's actually an explosives expert not just an enthusiast and he’s kind of a genius and everyone forgets that until he gets drunk and starts writing the equations to create insane explosive devices on his napkin while enthusiastically explaining it to his friends.

Very high alcohol tolerance.

GREGOR:

This man dresses like he's from Bangor Maine. I just know he was on that void planet smoking wild amounts of weed, and wearing Birkenstocks and a Patagonia puffer vest over a flannel shirt while doing it.

Thinks alcohol is a crutch.

FOX:

World's most miserable drunk.

But also can act really embarrassingly flamboyant so he stays away from alcohol at all costs.

Heh... I should kill my boss heh... wouldn't it be fucking hilarious if ... haha if I just walked into his office with a grenade right now and pulled the pin... fine, fiiine, yes, stop yelling at me. I would neeever leave Thorn with that much paperwork.

Zero tolerance, complete lightweight, doesn't matter how often he drinks. Can't hold his liquor for shit.

DOOM:

He either does mind-boggling amounts of coke or he's completely 100% straight edge and always has been. Don't ask me how I know this.

BLY:

He's so normal about alcohol I bet.

But he is giggling and kicking his feet and twirling his hair while talking to his brothers about Aayla and about the adventures of his men.

Absolutely incorrigible gossip.

Not braver after a few drinks just more prone to melting into a puddle.

Tried space MDMA once (spice?) just to say he did and hated it.

Uhhh if I do a part two it will include the bad batch and some other clones I missed.

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powderblueblood · 1 year ago

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HELLFIRE & ICE — eddie munson x f!oc as enemies to star-crossed lovers

CHAPTER ONE — THE POISE, INTEGRITY and LUCK OF A KENNEDY

MASTERLIST | NEXT

summary: you go head-to-head with your new neighbor, eddie munson, and lose something precious to you in the process. content warnings: NSFW / MINORS DNI swearing, classic 80s classism, tommy hagan jumpscare, eddie munson jackin off word count: 3.4k

Dear reader, I wish I could tell you it ends well for you.

I wish I could tell you that this is nothing but a bad dream, or a fugue state, or an extremely vivid hallucination brought on from that weed your friends buy from that burnout in the horrendous denim vest that is now your next door neighbor.

I wish I could tell you that you’re not sitting on your designer suitcases in the weed-ridden lot of a trailer park, watching your mom (who is already it’s-five o’clock-somewhere drunk) charmlessly haggle about the rent.

See, you used to have money, but now you don’t.

You used to have a dad who wasn’t incarcerated, but now you don’t.

You used to have integrity, but the IRS seized the last of that along with your childhood home in Loch Nora.

I wish I could tell you that you weren’t totally fucked. But it seems that there’s no way this total shitheap of a situation could get worse–

“Need a little help with that?”

–except there is. There totally is.

You flex your hand, relieving it from it’s writing cramp. You’ve been hunched over your journal, perched on your ready-to-burst luggage for what seems like hours now– admittedly, you’re the kind of girl that’s used to valet service. Bellhops carrying your suitcases to your room when you used to join your dad on business trips.

But valets never looked like this. Squinting at you from beneath his ratted-out waves, Eddie Munson gives you a once-over that makes your stomach lurch. You know him the same way everyone in Hawkins knows him– either barrelling through the hallways like a tweaked out autocrat whose only dominion is over his group of unwashed dorks or palming off baggies at parties. But there’s something about Munson that’s always rubbed you the wrong way. He’s so loud and defiant and achingly obvious, smug when he’s got no right to be.

Especially now.

“Excuse me?” you drawl, snapping closed the leatherbound journal.

“Just wheeling out the welcome wagon. It’s not often we get new neighbors with so much…,” he pauses, gaze scanning over the boxes and bags and randomized ephemera being loaded out of the cheapest moving van Hawkins has to offer, “Shit.”

“If I didn’t know any better, Munson, I’d say you were casing the joint.” In fact, you find yourself wondering where exactly your jewelry box is– y’know, the leftover shit your parents didn’t already pawn. The millieu of your grief made you forget about the high possibility of people in the trailer park stealing your stuff.

Munson grimaces. “Do I look like a thief to you?”

“You look like a drug dealer to me,” you snipe, smile all fake. “You might be looking to diversify your criminal skillset. How should I know?”

From where you sit on your straining suitcase, you’re about eye-level with Eddie’s crotch. And call him a weirdo, call him whatever, he doesn’t mind the view. As much as he’d like to pretend he’s above the discordant buzz of Hawkins’ gossip scuttlebutt, news of your family’s downfall is hot shit. He can barely believe it’s really happening, and right in his front yard; Hawkins High’s stoniest, coldest fox and her equally foxy mom were packing their fur coats and shit into a double wide. Eddie couldn’t lie– he liked seeing people like you get knocked down a peg. So he’d come to gloat. A little.

But you’re all snappy and full of venom– not like in school, where he’s almost positive you’ve never made eye contact with him.

He doesn’t mind that change in attitude either.

“C’mon. That luggage looks a little heavy for you, princess,” he says. “I don’t entirely trust you getting it inside the trailer without breaking a nail.”

“I don’t need your help,” you say, shoving that tattered journal into your book bag. Eddie wonders what kind of bullshit you’re always writing in there– every time you’re not in the middle of some idiot milleu with your popular cohorts, you’re practicing your longhand.

“You could use it, though,” he counters, and the condescension in his tone makes your cheeks flare up. You spring from your seat on the suitcase, making Munson take a shocked half-step back. His eyes blaze, rounding out as he takes you in at your full height.

Still taller than you. He'll be okay. He thinks.

“I’m a goddamn cheerleader, you Neanderthal looking dipshit,” you spit, “I’ve got a core of steel.”

You turn and dip, reaching for the thick leather handles of the case and discover–oof–that’s a little bit way heavier than you were expecting it to be. But spurned by sheer stubbornness and a need to get away from him as quickly as humanly possible, you brace yourself against the screaming muscles in your arms and wobble the baggage all the way to the trailer door. Your mom stands in your path, dress slipping off her shoulders, blearily looking toward the Munson kid as he retreats to his own trailer with a languid backwards tread. He can’t look away from this scene.

“Mom. Mom, can I fucking–” you struggle through gritted teeth, “The bag, Mom. Get out of the way.”

She moves out of your way at an aching half-speed as Munson’s eyes burn hot on your struggling frame–he’s loving this, he’s loving seeing you in the shit just like everyone’s loving seeing you in the shit–and you deposit your suitcase in your brand new matchbox-sized bedroom with a heaving gasp. Shit.

You cross the room in about three steps, heading to the window to close the blinds– shshk. Sshsk.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

The blinds begin to close, but stop dead not even halfway across the window. They’re stuck, leaving you without a particle of privacy. Which sucks, of course, because you were really banking on some scheduled crying time tonight.

You had held it in for as long as you possibly could, all that hurt and frustration at the disaster your father had landed you in, promising yourself that you’d let it all out once you and your mom had a safe place. A place that wasn’t your estranged aunt’s basement couch, or a motel you could barely afford. A place that you could at least pretend was home. In your minds eye, you had envisioned something modest-if-shitty– the sunnier end of Cherry Lane, maybe. You hadn’t counted on a place that required a gas hookup.

You tug on the beaded chain with a desperate force and no give– exasperated, you let your head slump against the filthy windowpane. The bedroom window stares directly into the window of the trailer opposite, where a warm yellow light flickers on and illuminates another bedroom.

Peeling posters and a guitar on the wall. Of course. Of course you’ve got a bird’s eye view into Eddie Munson’s fetid cave. He spots you in the window and pouts a big ol’ pitiful pout– poor little rich girl. Missing your velvet blackout curtains?

You can’t flip him the bird quick enough before he closes his fully functional blinds.

–

You sleep like shit. Exhaustion couldn't even beat you into a slumber. You couldn’t be bothered to begin the unpacking process and instead fished out whatever closest resembled pyjamas from your luggage (an oversized t-shirt from a father-daughter trip to Columbia University), curling up on your bare mattress with your coat thrown over you, but the thing that was really keeping you awake? You couldn’t find your pen.

Your prized possession pen, your fountain pen in the ruby-red casing. Your journaling pen. You refuse to write in your diary with an inferior instrument, alright, that’s just not how it’s done, but it’s nowhere to be found. It’s not rolling around the bottom of your book bag, though you’ve emptied the thing three times. It’s not anywhere.

You ask your mom if she’s spotted it anywhere, but she’s still in a Valium haze when you’re buzzing around, trying to get ready for school.

That’s a whole other ordeal. Your acceptable school clothes are, again, buried in some suitcase that was hastily packed as agents waited for you to vacate the property. And by appropriate, you mean your carefully chosen pastel color palette– the very best of the very trendiest, the ra-ra skirts and the bomber jackets that sit so perfectly on your poised shoulders. The kind of clothes that make someone like Tina go, God, I wish we could trade dads. Just for the credit card.

Now, all you’ve got to hand are the clothes that feel like your dirty little secret– thrift store suede and dark, rich knits, dresses of velvet and leather boots. The kind of things you collect just to collect, to dress up in when you know no one’s going to be looking at you and think someday. Someday you’ll be someplace where you don’t have to wear the exact right JCPenney piece of shit to fit in with a crowd. Because these are the kinds of clothes that feel right, but make people, important people, people like Carol go–

“Jesus, Lacy, dressed for a funeral much?”

You hadn’t though the ensemble was too dark, but hey, in the harsh light of day. You bashfully shrug your jacket closer around you, faux fur collar tickling your ears. “I’m in mourning.”

“Shit, I hate driving out here,” Tommy Hagan squawks from the driver’s seat, already agitated first thing in the morning, “I always feel like I’m gonna get carjacked.”

Forget your shitty car; the only thing they’d be stripping for parts out here is you, Tommy, you want to quip, but you just fasten your seatbelt. Carol had managed to guilt him into giving you a ride this morning, an effort in pity and also because she wanted the gossip from the trailer park before anybody else.

“Yeah, how was it, Lace? Did you like, deadbolt the doors and shit? Because you really gotta do that out here.”

“You should get a bat to leave by the door. Y’know, for intruders,” Tina blankly adds, staring into her compact mirror.

“You should get a gun,” Hagan says, peeling out of the park with a quickness, “if that’s who you’re livin’ next to.”

“What? Who?”

“That Munson freak,” you sigh, resting your head against the windowpane again, “He like, basically threatened to rob me when I was trying to move in yesterday.”

A chorus of disgust rises up in the car that makes you feel good– warm, surrounded, accepted. Even though it blatantly wasn’t true, you’d do just about anything to win your friends’ approval these days. You noticed a certain waver in their stares when you revealed where you’d be moving to, after your dad was sentenced and everything.

A lot of the time, you didn’t feel like they wanted to be there for you, more that they wanted to be the first to hear the dirt on Hawkins’ most scandalous family.

Usually you’re the one on the receiving end of their deep, dark secrets.

It’s like they feel like they finally have something on you.

Or, no! That’s crazy, you’re just being paranoid. These are your friends. As much as high schoolers can be friends.

“I’ve got just the thing to take your mind off it, Lacy,” Tina says, pinching your arm, “Kegger at Harrington’s on Friday. He even asked about you–”

“--he said he could give you a discount at Family Video if you need it–” Hagan sniggers, earning a smack in the ear from Tina.

“--shut up! So, you’re not a total social pariah yet, okay?”

You blink. You know Tina means well, but sometimes she is so fucking tactless. “Um. Didn’t think I was one, Tins, but thanks for the reassurance. I guess.”

–

He’s not a thief. He swears to God, or whatever the cooler alternative of God is, he’s not.

But he’d be lying if he didn’t consider keeping the stupid red pen just to see if you’d miss it. It’s engraved, he noticed, while rolling it between his fingers as he lay in bed last night. And Eddie Munson is a man not unfamiliar with the value of a decent writing utensil. Those D&D campaigns don’t write themselves. You want something that’s going to be in it for the scribbling long haul and this thing’s not bad. Etched in teeny tiny letters on the pen cap are your initials– the letters of a name no one calls you anymore.

Which is the part that makes it stupid, obviously. What is it with rich people and putting their monogram all over everything?

God, she’s obsessed with this fuckin’ thing, Eddie thinks. Wonder how much it’s worth. A lot, to you, obviously. You’re always etching with it in English, using it to push a lock of hair behind your ear in the library. Tapping it against your lips when you’re standing at your open locker, the tip settling right into your Cupid’s bow, the red casing bouncing off the plush pink of— woah. Pause.

Eddie had to take a beat.

He’d been tapping the pen against his lips too. Thinking about you. Thinking about your lips. That nasty little pout you gave him outside your trailer, the snarl it curled into when he goaded you on.

Fuck, was that kinda… were you kinda…

It’s enough for him to jam the pen into his mouth and palm himself over his boxers, just to make sure. And— yep. He’d hummed, a kind of well whaddaya know! and slipped his hand under the worn elastic waistband. He even gave himself a couple of tugs, just to make sure.

And the thing that made him really sure was the Technicolor vision he had of confronting you in the library’s restricted section.

Yanking that pen away from your mouth and grabbing a fistful of your hair.

Clamping his mouth onto yours and sinking his tongue so deep inside he could taste the cherry Tab lingering on your uvula.

Guiding your hand, your writing hand, past the undone clink of his belt and waistband of his jeans so you could stroke him to the head.

Ink stains mixing with precum.

Moaning into your mouth.

Giving you something to write to dear diary about.

So now, back in the harsh light of day, this stupid rich bitch pen is burning a hole in his pocket.

Almost like payback, as if you’d embarrassed him by making him hard in the privacy of his own trailer, he approaches you in the most audacious setting imaginable— the cafeteria.

You sit there, among your usual gaggle of Gap zombies, but you look— different. You’re dressed different. Cool jacket, Eddie involuntarily thinks before mentally slapping himself. Shut up! We’re here to humiliate her, remember?

“Lacy,” he says, but he draws it out all over his tongue so it sounds like laayyyy-ceeee, and you are visibly disgusted by this. He looms over the table, barely containing the twisted grin on his face. He's playing the part of fake bashful here, you see. “You, uh, dropped this outside my place last night.” Your shoulders go tense. Eyes of your space cadet friends snapping back and forth, from Eddie to you to Eddie to you.

Because it’s true. Technically, you did drop it and technically, it was outside his place but the implication is what's killing you.

Eddie can barely outstretch his hand before you snap the pen from him, icy fingers a shock to his skin. This sick thrill gathers like a twister in his stomach as you freeze in place, staring him down with a laser pointed glare. Fuck. Off. And. Die, it says.

But he doesn’t! “Oh gosh, no need to thank me, Lace! Really, it was no trouble at all— what are neighbors for!”

Mocking giggles start bursting from the popular kid peanut gallery. But the flavor is… off.

Eddie scans the little in-crowd that are scoffing at your expense— which, okay, is totally what he came over here to do but… these are meant to be your buddies, right? Shouldn’t Hagan be threatening to beat Eddie’s ass right about now?

But instead they’re just… letting you stew. No one’s telling Eddie to back off, no one’s calling him their second favorite F slur (freak, naturally).

Nicole Summers is laughing into her sleeve. That’s rich. Underclassman Carver is almost looking at him like, Yeah man, you got her good!

Which does not feel good. Feels kind of shitty, actually.

Too easy of a win.

You didn’t even get a chance to fight back. You couldn’t.

Fuck.

Eddie turns heel and heads back to his table, a gaggle of befuddled Hellfire heads eager to know what the hell was that, man?! But even he can’t quite put his finger on it.

He feels… bad for you.

—

“Anybody got bleach?”

It’s the first thing you manage to choke out after a chorus of ooh, Lacy, what a good neighbor! and Hope that’s all you dropped outside his trailer, girl! All through lunch period, you’re the fucking laughing stock squared thanks to that long haired douchebag.

“Bleach ain’t gonna cut it,” Carol smirks as you both exit the girls room and head toward your respective lockers, “That thing is totally contaminated with freak cooties. Better toss it— unless you don’t mind.”

See, that’s the thing. You do mind, because it’s your stupid goddamn special idiot sentimental pen and now he’s gone and— and— freaked it up somehow. Exploiting the fact you’ve had to make a major lifestyle downgrade because it makes him feel better. It makes you feel even more exposed than you’ve been getting used to feeling lately.

Before you can get into it any more, Carol is clotheslined by Tommy to go, I don’t know, finger each other behind the basketball bleachers or whatever it is they do instead of going to study hall. You’ve lost track.

You push past the gathering rush in the hallway to access your locker. Just as you slam the door closed, it appears again, like an insistent apparition.

“What, Munson, are you here to tell me you put a bomb in my book bag? Because, if so, great. At least that’ll kill me.”

Munson stands there, leaning against some poor bastard freshman’s locker, brow all tight.

“Was I kind of a dick earlier?”

You stare at him, incredulous. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“I was. Shit, I knew it!”

“Why the fuck are you talking to me.”

“I didn’t mean it to come off like that— well, okay, I kinda did, but that was pretty cold. I mean, your dirty laundry’s already all over Hawkins, I probably shouldn’t have been like, waving your panties around—“

“Munson.” You gesture toward him, as if you’re going to clutch him by the forearms to shut him up, but halt at the last second. Fuck, you can’t stand him, you can’t stand the way he’s standing there with this earnest look in his eyes, on some hair metal Ferris Beuller protagonist of reality bullshit.

Your eyes flare white hot, jaw flexing.

“Listen to me. We may live in a regrettably closer orbit now, but that does not require us to acknowledge each other as human beings. In fact, if you try and pull some shit like that again— in fact, if you even so much as deign to look in my direction again, I will slash the tires on that fucking decommissioned World War II ambulance you call a van. You do not exist to me, and I better not exist to you. I am not your neighbor, I am a figment of your fucking rotted pothead imagination at best. Leave me the fuck alone or I will eat you. Capiche?”

You know for a fact that these are the highest volume of words you’ve ever spoken (or will ever speak) directly to Munson, and he knows it too. You don’t let loose like this— you don’t even talk to anyone outside your friend group unless extracurriculars or group projects call for it. Not because you’re shy, but because you’re discerning.

Munson has managed to disarm you of all that with one stupid little pen.

He’s staring at you with a deviously shiny-eyed gaze, one that makes you feel like you need to button the modesty button of a blouse you’re not even wearing.

“M’kay, well, let me know if you need a ride after school!” he chirps and shrugs and takes off down the hallway to some class he’s certainly failing.

And you’ve just earned the first big fat F of your life, by letting Eddie Munson get under your skin.

author's notes: hi! if you've read this far, i owe you my eternal thanks. been a hot sec since i wrote fic so i appreciate it. - thee perennial reference to lacy's nickname— best imagined sung to yourself in your bedroom mirror and having a classic 18 year old existential crisis, lol! - the journal and fountain pen motif is a not entirely subtle reference to veronica sawyer from heathers. please expect this trend to continue - as far as timelines go re: steve's working life and tommy and carol's high school careers, bear with me. all will be discussed or at least briefly mentioned but will there be inconsistencies? of course there will, babe. i'm here to fuck around, i'm not here for continuity - horndog eddie munson you WILL live forever! - please reblog, like & comment to show support! i've got some killer chapters planned for this fic and i live to entertain u

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #eddie munson x you #published by powder #in progress #hellfire & ice #e. munson by powder

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taylorscottbarnett · 3 months ago

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Kamala Harris showing up to the DNC in a TAN suit is some epic-level trolling.

For those that don't know, on August 28, 2014, United States President Barack Obama held a live press conference, he committed the biggest attack on American values and our ability to project power worldwide.

He wore a Tan suit. Here's a bit from it:

"There's no way, I don't think, any of us can excuse what the president did yesterday. I mean, you have the world watching." - U.S. Representative Peter King [R]

"tanghazi" - Republican Twitter

"un-presidential” - Fox News’ Lou Dobbs

Fox News lost its shit on this.

Well done Kamala.

Well done.

#politics #us politics #dnc 2024 #dnc convention #obama #biden #harris

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astheforcewillsit · 2 months ago

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(anyway wrote my post-war codywan fic where gets to find himself and be debrainwashed while coming to terms with the role Obi-Wan/Jedi-Order played in the enslavement of his brothers with a happy ending)

Working Pains Summary: It has been two years since the Clone Wars ended. Two years since Cody has had a proper conversation with his General. But in between extensive therapy, deconditioning, and learning to be an actual person, Cody doesn't know where Obi-Wan Kenobi fits in that.

(Un)fortunately, when a Jedi led peace treaty with former Separatist territories fails spectacularly, Cody gets the opportunity to close up loose ends.

Obi-Wan almost dies, and predictably Cody finds himself by his side.

----

Fox is waiting for him when he gets to the hospital. And Force is the place a mess.

To put it mildly, the hospital waiting room is a complete shit show. To put it accurately, Cody hasn’t seen chaos like this since he was in a medical wing during the clone wars. Behind the reception, doctors run like fire licks their feet through the halls, rubber soles squeaking against polished floors. Nurses call out orders like commanders on the battlefield, shouts slicing through the disorder in the waiting room. Droids console families who sit helplessly to hear the news of their loved ones.

(Cody fights the innate urge to help. But he’s not that man anymore.)

The Clone Wars may be over, but Cody hasn't moved on enough to let droids hold his hand while he cries. Not just any droid, after least.

Instead Fox sits beside him, briefing–telling him what news he's heard.

A surprise attack in hyperspace. Over a thousand dead, more injured. A Jedi led peace attempt in former Separatist territory that turned bad real quick. Tale as Old as fucking Time, and if Cody’s heart wasn't beating in his throat, he would have chuckled.

And the icing on the cake–the failure was led by none other than Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.

(He remembers where he was and who was with when Fox had commed him just that name three hours ago. Laying in bed against Rex as they watched a holo about loth cats, Boil asleep on the opposite chair. Jesse the most awake of them all, texting back and forth with someone on his datapad.

He remembers how the mention of his former General had been enough to take him from the Company of his brothers, brothers who had held his hand through hours of therapy, through the realization that he had been brainwashed and used.

That he had fought for a Republic who used him and abused him, and that the Jedi had led them still. That Obi-Wan had done little to save him. They had been there as he came to that ugly, painful revelation. They had been there with him as he put space between himself and the Master.

And yet, the last he saw of them was the disappointment when he threw caution to the wind to come to said Jedi’s side. Force, he hoped they didn’t hate him after this.)

Who is supposedly amongst the injured.

This is supposedly one of the better hospitals, though. In a higher, more affluent level of Coruscant. Fox has assured him of this. Still it begs the question-

“Why not the temple? Wouldn’t they know how to help him?” It’s been an hour and Cody is tired of sitting.

He stands, arms crossed as he begins to pace. Across the room a woman screams, her shrills erupting into inconsolable sobs. Both Fox and Cody wince. It hurts them all particularly more than a human woman would. Kel Dor have a knack for doing that.

Clearly the medical droid is not doing its job.

“Overwhelmed,” Fox supplies, chipped, “Kenobi was awake enough to request that the more injured be taken to the Temple–Jedi and non-Jedi alike. The Temple obliged”.

Cody wants to scream. It was clearly a ruse. The man was certainly the most injured of them all. How could they not see it? Two years apart from Obi-Wan and Cody could pick out his General’s tricks blindfolded. Did they know how many times he insisted his men be treated before him? How many times he’d lie to the 212th medics about his injuries just so the clones were being treated first?

Obi-Wan would give his blood to an orphanage if he was bleeding out.

“He'll be okay, Cody.” Fox is meticulously calm, as if sensing Cody’s distress. It's been practiced. Fox two years ago would have lost his absolute shit. Quinlan Vos was on the mission too.

“If I were with him, he'd…” he breathes in deeply and pinches the bridge of his nose. Old habits die hard. Conditioning even harder.

He is not the Jedi’s or the Republic. He made that clear when he left GAR. When he distanced himself Obi-Wan.

That chapter has been long closed. And therapy made him realize just how fucked up his head was. Marshall Commander Cody, the most fucked up of them all. The most loyal.

Finding himself after that involved time with his brothers. And consequently, his relationship with Obi-Wan had suffered.

And Obi-Wan had been very sparse in reaching out to his men after. At least Cody. He'd put up his walls, fallen into the mold of the perfect “Jedi Master”, lack of attachments and all.

(If the clones felt the Jedi used them, maybe the Jedi felt the clones tainted them. Weapons that drew them to the Dark Side. Maybe the feelings was mutual. Or maybe that’s how Kenobi was before the war).

“The desk is clear,” Fox indicates to the clerk, who runs a hand through her tight curls, “Let’s go.”

Cody wastes no time in crossing the distance between the vast space of the desk and the clerk.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he manages before she can even collect herself, “we’re here for him. He’s the General–The Master–”

“The Jedi? Yes, he's recently gotten out of surgery. No visitors yet, name?”

At a time, he had been on Obi-Wan’s list of emergency contacts. Especially as the war waned. He hopes their time apart hasn't ruined that. If so, he has Fox. And all his ties to the government.

“Cody, CC-2224” he provides, urgently, “I'm–was his Commander–during the–” The underpaid clerk raises her hand, and directs them behind the rooms.

“You're on the list. I think we called you like five times, but you didn't answer." He swallows thickly. He had seen the number on his comm. He had an inkling about who it was for. But he just didn't pick up. He couldn't bring himself to. And then Fox called.

"Here's the room number.” She gives a breakdown of the directions and the maps that makeup the hospital. Visiting hours are defined, but Cody thinks that with the chaos, they’ll be extended. She ushers another family to the desk as she finishes with him.

Fox is able to walk him through the hospital layout sans the map. His time in the Corries saw him through these walls one too many times, as both an escort and patient.

Cody doesn’t think he could focus on the map if he tries. His hands are shaking, his breathing is uncharacteristically unsteady. Shaking like he’s stepping back onto the battlefield for the first time.

–

There’s less chaos on Obi-Wan’s floor. But still, it has been touched by the disarray from the waiting room. His room isn’t even private, most likely due to the lack of beds. And as far as Cody can tell, there’s at least one other patient in there, separated by a curtain.

Within the first few seconds of finding the room, Cody looks everywhere but where he should. He takes note of the window. The curtains are open, and the vibrant lights of Coruscant’s nightlife infiltrate the hospital room. He pays attention to the ambiance, the cycling of the machines, the steady rise and fall of his chest, a forced atmosphere of peace clashing against this war that still drags the Jedi into it.

Against whatever the hell is going on in Cody’s heart.

Fox says something behind him, gently coaxing him into the room. Automatically the soft lights illuminate the space. Cody had hoped they wouldn’t do that. It was easy to make out the outline of Obi-Wan’s body in the dark, helped by the lights from the window.

Now he has to look at him.

He remembers the last conversions had with Obi-Wan. Bits and pieces, his mind clinging onto them like oxygen. Stretching them out until this very moment.

“I’m sorry, Gen—Obi-Wan I haven’t been in touch, things have just been happening.”

How does one explain that ‘things’ are extensive therapy, working through years of brainwashing and mind control? Realizing that the man you loved the most and his entire Order sat near the pinnacle of that.

“I understand. These things take time. Please Cody, let me know if you need anything.”

Though despite the anxiety, despite the confusion. He still loves this man, he still wants him safe. And he knows danger follows Obi-Wan Kenobi wherever he goes.

“Be safe, General.”“It’s just Obi-Wan, Cody. I am not, and never should your General. And if that’s too familiar, Master Kenobi will suffice for me.”

How long was that? 6 months ago? 12 months ago? Two years ago? What had he lost in the time he tried to reclaim himself? Tried to find himself.

Who had he cut loose when he shed the skin of Commander Cody of the 212?

Obi-wan had answered then with some sort of sad resignation that Cody couldn’t pinpoint. Like they wouldn’t see each other again. He wonders now if Obi-Wan had sensed his inner turmoil. Kriff, of course he did. He was a Jedi.

That’s why he never reached out. Why he stopped when Cody stopped.

Suddenly he’s crying like a child when this starts to hit him.

The confusion of it all. The suddenness. He could have lost Obi-Wan, and he doesn’t know if that would make him feel better. It might make him feel worse.

Sobs and sobs rock his body. He didn't feel sad when he came in. He was anxious, yes. But sad? No, not at all. He hoped they could talk.

He acknowledges that this is a lot from him too. He hasn’t been on a battlefield for two years. He hasn’t seen an injured man like this since the clone wars ended.

Fox leads him to a comfortable chair, and places a gentle hand on his back. He’s glad he doesn’t ask questions. Fox isn’t like the others who lose their mind at the sound of Cody crying. He’s the eldest, supposed to keep them together. But Fox lets him be the baby.

As he revels in Fox’s comfort, he’s shocked to realize the absence of company.

It occurs to him then that Obi-Wan doesn’t really have many people to visit him. His relationship with Anakin Skywalker was infamously laughable. Ahsoka Tano had remained a distance from the Temple even after everything. The Council was spread across the galaxy, keeping peace without an army.

The Order was busy. Fighting wars the Jedi should have left ages ago. Cody thinks sadly to himself that they should have taken their Jedi with them. They could have sorted out the logistics later on.

Oh Force, he thinks, did I…did I leave him alone? Mustering all the strength in the world, he forces himself to look at Obi-Wan.

He doesn’t like what he sees.

Obi-wan looks pale. Almost as pale as a Kaminoan. According to the briefing from Fox, it wasn’t the burns that landed him on a stretcher. Though his body is covered in enough bacta to challenge that. It was the smoke inhalation and the blunt force trauma to his head apparently.

Cody remembers their many conversations with Obi-Wan about complex relationship with armor, and his fear when his General had stopped using it. The boys of the 212 had made bets about when Obi-Wan would end up in a body cast.

And while he’s in no body cast now, It looks like life has finally collected that toll.

Cody is almost terrified by how well he’s able to fall into the role of a vigilant commander. After the tears have dried, and the fog has cleared, he pulls the chair closer to the bed and breathes.

—

Fox disappears when the sun rises, excuses himself behind the curtain. He tells Cody that despite the curtain being closed, there's no one behind it and that he needs some space to work. Cody assumes he's left to do some Senate work on his datapad, or whatever Fox does to keep himself busy nowadays. He leaves with a gentle press against Cody's forehead, promising him he'll return.

At some point the doctor comes in to check Obi-Wan's vitals, and explains to Cody what procedures were done. He lets him know the Jedi will be there to collect their councilmen within the next few hours where he will likely undergo extensive Force healing for the mental strain he apparently suffered.

He shoots a quick message to Rex, who he left alone when Fox came to collect him. He thinks Rex may understand what he’s going through, though he’ll never say it aloud. They all know that Rex spends enough time loitering around the secured cells in the upper levels Coruscant to visit his old General.

(Rex doesn’t know Cody knows this though. That just like everyone who’s had the displeasure of meeting Anakin Skywalker, they still see some good in him.)

He groans after Rex shoots back a thousand question marks, even tries to comm him. He rushes to silence his comm, not wanting to wake the patient whose eyes have already started fluttering behind closed lids.

Its a futile attempt, because before he knows it, the bed’s occupant is stirring faster than he would have liked him to.

“Cody?”

It’s been two years, and yet a million years would not have prepared him for their eventual meeting.

What does one say?

“Sorry Sir–Obi-Wan, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He settles for an apology. Force, they could have been in their tents again. Commander and General. It’s so natural to fall back into old habits. Comforting and terrifying all at once.

For his part, Obi-Wan pushes himself up with his elbows, rising slightly so he can look Cody in the eyes. His blue eyes are wide, confusion radiating throughout his expression. And then, his gaze softens, and his brows furrow in guilt.

“Oh you’re not supposed to be here.” He says the first part gently, more to himself than to Cody, “ I apologize, I meant to remove you from my emergency contacts.” For some reason, that hurts. Cody swallows, feeling a familiar thickness in his throat.

“Life must be getting difficult for you, Master Kenobi, if you’re starting to fall behind on administrative tasks. You used to be on-top of that during the war.” He returns the comment with a formality of his own, though he means for it to soften the blow as well. If this is hard for him, it must be hard for Obi-Wan too.

In response the Jedi chuckles, coughing as he does so. Cody fights the urge to lean over and caress him. You are not his Commander, anymore. You are not his. He is not yours.

“Well, the adjustment from General to Jedi Master has had its ups and downs. Sometimes the details get lost in the translation,” he offers with a smile, his blue eyes scanning the clone. Cody can feel the full extent of the Force upon him, probing him unprompted. He’d learned early on in his service that this was normal for the Jedi. Just as easily as they used their eyes to see, and their voices to speak, they used the Force to scan everything and everyone.

It is their way of communication.

Cody may have put up some boundaries when he left the army, but this is not one of them. He lets Obi-wan in easily. The Jedi feels him out, his Force touch light and airy. Ticklish almost. “You really don’t have to be here Cody.” Obi-Wan says, more seriously now, letting his body fall back onto the bed, “ You can go, I will be alright. I’ll have your contact information removed after this.”

The warmth of his touch is gone. It sends Cody into a momentary spiral. He didn’t expect this coldness, this lack of familiarity. The sudden end to their very impromptu beginning. There is so much he still wants to do. To say.

He can’t stop the words that escape his lips next.

“That no-attachment clause sure has come in handy now, hasn’t it.”

It’s a vile kick in the gut, to throw something as sacred as the Code in the Jedi’s face. Obi-Wan jerks himself up, eyes wide. His machine beeps loudly. He looks dumbstruck, as if Cody has just slapped him across the face. Hard.

Cody knows in that moment his General recalls the late evenings they sat alone together, talking for hours about the Force, about the Order. About what it meant to Obi-Wan, about how the galaxy wide bastardization of his Order, his family, had hurt him more than he let off.

How the Force--The Order--had been there for Obi-Wan at his lowest. That this "emotionless order of monks" had saved him from himself time and time again.

How many times had Obi-Wan dragged a broken, shell shocked Cody into his quarters, forcing him onto his bed to meditate. How many times had Cody spoken the words 'I am one with the Force and the Force is with me' as Obi-wan calmed him after a gruesome battle, shielded him from the sharp pain of immeasurable loss. How many times had the Force been there for Cody, orchestrated through Obi-Wan?

Cody knows Obi-Wan recalls these moments because the clone does as well. And now, his guilt strengthens.

“Excuse me?” He grits out, wincing, “You’re the one who wanted nothing to do with us.”

Cody recoils.

“Its…not that simple.” He manages, barely above a whisper.

In these past few months, he’s found himself saying this a lot. To his brothers, when they ask if he still cares about Obi-Wan. To his therapist, asking what he needs to move forward from what happened to him. To himself, when he looks at his reflection and wonders how he got to where he is now.

The Force is back, cautiously ebbing around Cody’s field. Hesitant as the former commander lets him in.

Gently, Obi-Wan speaks, “You were resistant to me in the Force, and cold whenever I was around you. I know what The Republic–what we did to you–I’m not an idiot Cody. I knew you wanted your space away from me.”

Cody cannot meet his eyes. He feels ashamed. And confused. As if the consequences of his actions are now coming to tear him into pieces. But he shouldn’t feel this way, right? He wanted this, right?

“I don’t…” Cody deflates and throws his head into his hands. This is what he was dreading. His mind is still a mess of commands, of order, of questions, of anxiety. This is like exposure therapy, his trigger and his love all bound in one.

Through the gaps in his fingers, he looks at Obi-Wan lying in a hospital bed, bandages on his arms and head.

Made to protect a galaxy that would have had his kind murdered if it hadn’t been for the discovery of the chips (and even that happened too late. Both have the saber and blaster scars to prove it). He thinks of Obi-Wan who threw himself into battle to save his men, who placed himself between Cody and a bullet to make sure his Commander made it out alive.

Who approached him after Order 66 to make sure he was okay.

Cody is flooded with thundering guilt. Was all this worth then? If he feels this way about Obi-Wan? What will he tell Rex? What will he tell Boil? He’s supposed to set an example. He’s supposed to be the one who breaks free. What will he be telling his brothers if he goes back? “Cody–Cody, breath!” How Obi-Wan found the time to leave his bed and pull up a chair that had been on the other side of the room in the span of two seconds, Cody does not know. All he knows is that he’s enveloped in Obi-Wan’s physical and not so physical embrace, breathing deeply as tears cascaded down his face.

“I thought I wanted that, Sir. And part of me is still finding out what all I want, but I know that I haven’t felt the way I just did when you touched me with the Force in a very long time. And I think that no matter how I feel about you, if you died today, I would have lost my kriffing mind.” He admits through tears, “so that counts for something, I guess. But I don’t know what that means for me.”

“Healing is not linear, Cody. I,” Obi-Wan falters, “I still have not spoken to Anakin. I still have not forgiven Qui-Gon, but I would never regret my time with them. And when I am ready, I hope to embrace my padawan again. I say this to let you know that should you never want to see me after this, I will accept that. But I will always be here, waiting for you to return Cody. Be it in this life, or when we are both one with the Force.”

Cody balls, sobbing loudly as he clings onto Obi-Wan. He nods, the coil in his stomach unfurling. He wonders if it is Obi-Wan’s doing.

“I’m sorry for what I said about the Code. I'm sorry for everything,” he breathes, pulling himself together, “I am usually not like this.” “None of that Cody, you have nothing to apologize for. The fault is ours. The Order should have done more for you and your siblings,” he states, fingers running through Cody’s hair, “I had hoped that by staying away we were doing that, but I suppose we should let you choose how we interfere.”

(He wants to tell him that this isn’t the case for all Jedi. Plo Koon tried the silent treatment, and Wolffe, Boost and Sinker apparently cornered him outside of his suite in the Jedi temple.)

“Clones getting a choice,” Cody chuckles through his tears, “what an amazing concept.”

Obi-Wan hums, fingers still twisting in Cody’s curls. Cody is more comfortable than he thought he’d be. He welcomes Obi-Wan’s touch just as he did the Force. “Obi-wan, I want to be with you. It won’t be easy, but neither was the war. And we both survived, somewhat.” The tears have stopped now, and he finds both his footing and his voice. Gently, he untangles himself from Obi-Wan’s arms and adjust himself so that he captures those blue eyes with his own.

“I think we can win this too. If you’ll be patient with me. I am still…healing, as you put it. They did a lot to us in Kamino, and to put it frankly my brain is fucked. And a lot of that was before the war. I will not be easy to be with.” “My padawan is Anakin Skywalker who nearly turned Sith during the war, I don’t think the Force wants me to be with easy people. And I don’t want to either. Besides, I was willing to not speak to you for two years. I will be as patient as you need me to be, Cody.”

“If you’re comparing me to the two second Sith, then we’re off to a bad start.” Obi-Wan erupts into laughter. Genuine laughter. Laughter so hard, he begins to tear up. Though Cody is somewhat hesitant to credit the humor alone for the tears. Maybe Obi-Wan needs an excuse of his own.

“Who’s idea was that nickname?” “It was Jesse’s, but now most of the 501st has adopted it. While half of the galaxy calls him Vader, the 501st calls him the two second Sith. I think it’s how they cope.” Cody joins in, reveling in the ridiculousness of it.

Leave it to the 501st and their General to be the much needed comic relief.

In between their laughter, and their tears, they lean forward, foreheads brushing against the other.

------------------

(Sometime later, when Obi-Wan has fallen back to sleep, and the Jedi have come to collect their council member, Cody stands to collect Fox from behind the screen. It’s time they both go home.

He nearly screams when he pulls back the fabric and sees Fox sheepishly bury his head into the mass of hair that is Jedi Master Quinlan Vos.

He doesn’t even want to ask how much the latter heard. )

#codywan #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #the clone wars #the prequel trilogy #quinlan x fox

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eddiegettingshot · 5 months ago

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someday i’ll get over this. but. it’s truly bonkers that the people who level accusations of homophobia at other gay/queer people with zero coherent thought or consideration tend to be the same exact people who literally, with zero self-awareness, will accuse fans of color of Pulling The Race Card because we’re not satisfied with the way the show and other fans engage with tommy’s past. like this shouldn’t be surprising to me but it is. and i do think that, at this moment, the truly pressing issue in this fandom - even bigger than the nasty and unapologetic misogyny - is how comfortable white people seem to be with brushing off or outright defending racism. even worse is the suggestion that people (of color!) are only expressing discomfort because of our ship preferences, and the suggestion that somehow this is something everyone is just obligated to get over and be ok with, when it’s perfectly valid to continue to be uncomfortable with a redemption narrative for a racist and misogynistic character, and it’s perfectly valid to criticize the way said narrative has been dealt with. like, your fox news-style rhetoric actually is real and that’s what’s actually stomach-churning to encounter. and i do think that it is actually the responsibility of people in tommy-positive spaces to root out that kind of shit instead of letting it slide

#but i have genuinely never EVER seen any of these people call this out. i’m hoping someone has. i’ve never seen it though

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quantumfizz · 16 days ago

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I hate terms comparing women to animals but Chinese feminists have a term for women that uphold patriarchy and refuse any kind of attempt at liberation as "donkeys" who stubbornly uphold misogyny

And it's a great name for someone that isn't quite a pick-me, esp when pick-me has been co-opted and warped until people started applying it TO FEMINISTS and gnc women. Plenty of women who aren't pick-me women are definitely defending and carrying shit for men that clearly could not care less about them, and who view them at the same level as a donkey.

Also holy shit if you think American women wanting to be 4B while still dating or being married to a man are fragile, the comments some Chinese radfems have about American 4B would shatter them lol. Like some posts and comments are astonished that American women can't even do the basic minimum of 4B, much less something like 6B4T/10bt that also involves boycotting misogynist brands and things like otaku or idol culture. In the US it's apparently "too much" and "too controversial" for women to CHOOSE to prioritize our happiness/safety and stop associating with men romantically and sexually. Not even forcing women to do it, just doing it ourselves is enough to warrant Fox News segments, YT videos analyzing this INSANE, RADICAL, HYSTERICAL movement.

If you want to date/marry/have kids or already have a boyfriend/husband/children, you're not 4B and that's FIIIINE. 4B =/= good person and the only real feminists, and non-4B women =/= pickmes, donkeys, and women who aren't real feminists. Feminism and 4B aren't mutually exclusive. Just don't call yourself 4B if you're still planning on being with men romantically or sexually, it's that simple lol

#us politics #why are we even having this convo #feminism #4b

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teencopandthesourwolf · 1 year ago

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THINGS THAT HAPPEN IN EVERY EPISODE OF TEEN WOLF EVER

part ii (part i HERE)

coach finstock philosophy being the thing that actually fixes you

a soundtrack that consists of the sort of music that makes you wish you were no longer alive, plus (ironically) the excellent song lose your soul by dead man's bones

jeff davis forgetting character's ages and back stories and sometimes the characters themselves (fuck you forever for kira, jeff, you massive poopy head)

jeff davis forgetting the plot

jeff davis forgetting the fact that nobody likes him

tuning in for sterek and staying for sterek even when jeff davis stops giving the sterek scenes together, and staying for sterek even after one half of sterek leaves, in the hope that the half of sterek who left will one day return so you can keep on watching for sterek even though sterek is not even canon and you know inherently it never will be

brilliantly appalling special FX

meredith having even crazier eyes than the character from the show orange is the new black who has crazy eyes and is actually named crazy eyes

tyler hoechlin hands down having the best spine-tingling-hairs-standing-up-on-the-back-of-your-neck werewolf roar of any werewolf on any film or tv show about werewolves ever FIGHT ME

queer allegory my beloved <3

isaac inexplicably wearing a scarf all-year-round

all the characters bar derek (only bc it's hard to get it wrong with a henley and black jeans which is all he ever wears apart from the one-time crimson thumbhole shirt that was inspired drip) having honestly the worst fucking dress sense

jackson being the angriest most brilliantly hammy antagonist ever with the best facial expressions known to humankind who ends up evolving into the most adorable gayest gay to ever gay living his best life in londonia with his lovely boyfriend ethan where they are now both runway models for jean paul gaultier (who everybody knows is a french werewolf from way back when in the la bête du gévaudan era)

getting the feeling you should be doing absolutely anything else with your time instead of watching these idiots yet being completely addicted to loving this penny and dime clown show more than you love your own nearest and dearest

VOID STILES BEING A 1000 YEAR OLD FOX DEMON THAT MAKES YOU HARD

having the constant need to shake scott vigorously because he is the funko pop! bobble head we all know and are forced to tolerate

chris argent being such a cringe over-the-top-gun-toting-who's-your-daddy-badass that he somehow actually manages to circle back around to being rad af

chris argent being so real and a dilf

none of the characters ever talking about the fact that scott's dad was an abusive arsehole apart from stiles because stiles is a champion amongst men who makes sure to tell scott's dad between scenes that his head looks like a cross between a crescent moon and a foot

every single character on the show knowing that there is not a hint of a shadow of a doubt that derek and stiles are doin the narsty—even the off-camera characters we never get to meet are always congregating on the reg in the grocery store or the coffee shop or the WSWA (We See Werewolves Anonymous) bi-weekly meetings and are all like "you know that furious-looking autistic dude with the spectacular monobrow whose eyes are sometimes definitely way too blue? and the noodly peewee herman MIT ADHD kid with the duct tape jeep whose dad is the sheriff of this fictional town none of us live in? they are definitely fucking omg."

each and every school lesson we see scott and stiles attending actually being a top secret pentagram level mission impossible code for whatever supernatural shit is about to go down in beacon hills that day

outing you as the monsterfucker you really are LMFAO

(find part i HERE)

#teen wolf truthing #the saga continues #show of all time #my beloved <3 #teen wolf #sterek #every teen wolf episode ever part ii #tcats posts #a wolf and his queueman

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lakesbian · 1 year ago

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ok Worm Bigotry Breakdown in more detail for @silverflyingpikachu

tl;dr: author is Cishet White Guy From Canada In 2011. he ostensibly thinks he is progressive. this does not change his proclivity for tossing his Cishet White Guy From Canada Biases into the books and then saying even more bigoted things in defense of those writing decisions on forums. wildbow is just some cunt on the forums with bad opinions on wildbow's writing. the book is 1.7 million words long but i believe in my ability 2 categorize this shit with decent accuracy. everyone who has ever said worm's CWs can't be categorized, including wildbow himself, is a lying ass bitch. this will include some vague spoilers, because i can't really go in-depth without a few examples, but i'll stay away from anything too plot-critical.

racism:

- worm is fundamentally a book abt systems of power and the ways in which they suck. some of the critiques worm issues--e.g, its depiction of how school systems enable bullying, inspired by wildbow's own experiences w/ the school systems as a deaf kid--are viscerally accurate and incredibly compelling. but wildbow fundamentally doesn't understand how certain systems of oppression work--e.g policing--and subsequently, his attempts at depicting them occasionally fall flat onto their face and land in racist territory. this gets particularly nasty when combined w/ the White Guy Author propensity for racist stereotypes--for example, his chosen face of police brutality is a black girl portrayed as predatory & animalistic.

- who is also one of the only black people in the book overall, alongside--for example--an addict portrayed as having less interiority & being less deserving of empathy than A Literal Fucking Nazi. also, the main characters have to team up with the nazis "for the greater good" (defeating the mean asian villains) at one point. it is a mercy to the readers when this part of the story ends. - there are two black characters in the main cast. for the first, wildbow just Straight Up Forgot to include the most compelling aspect of their background + characterization in the text (it was provided via WoG instead, which i provide to all wormreaders like a fuckin' DLC patch when they get to where it's relevant) & entirely forgets they exist towards where the end of their character arc should have been. the second is introduced w/ the most misogynoiristic description on the planet but blessedly has a largely compelling and well-written arc as the book goes on. - depiction of china is just like. fox news level sinophobic "it's all a brainwashed indistinguishable evil cult" shit. not relevant for very long relatively speaking but insufferable to read. asian characters are also like. we got Brutal Yet Honorable Asian Man. we got Fiery Asian Girl With Blue Eyes. it fucking blows it's not good

- oh yeah forgot this one someone mentioned in the tags. #it's an insignificant paragraph and nobody talks about it but the part where it goes #“yeah literally EVERY cape in South America is with a cartel and the heroes are barely distinguishable from the villains” #fuck you #not that the others aren't bad the fatphobia gets really gross but nobody mentions this and that one got me so yeah typical Insufferable Awful Imperial Core Author Understanding Of What Other Countries Are Like - i could make this section one million bulletpoints long but the gist is summarized i think--wildbow's varied racist biases leak fucking everywhere, into character design, into narrative assumptions about who's deserving of interiority/empathy or not, into attempts at Saying Anything About Society, into which characters he prioritizes, into who he offers validity via the narrative, etc etc etc.

homophobia: - theres a girl named amy dallon in it and she is the worst lesbophobic stereotype ever known to man. no other Problematic Lesbian™ you can think of has anything on this girl. the worst part is that she genuinely has a decently compelling character concept and arc, which her being awful is integral to, so you might accidentally find her interesting anyway and then she'll move into your brain - wildbow kept accidentally writing characters that scan as massive dykes and then got really mad about f/f ships for the book being popular in the fandom. he responded by making a deranged forum post involving the phrase "pandering is pandering" insisting everyone (but the bisexual "hedonist") is straight and writing a scene into the book where one of the characters literally turns to the camera and tells the readers "not to get the wrong idea" about her hugging her friend. - over the course of 1.7 million words he finds excuses to loudly inform you that all of the relevant female characters are straight and it's sooo shoehorned in you can always tell when he's doing it - basically worm is like if naruto was about homoerotic teenage girls who do violent terrible things, in terms of levels of unintentional homoeroticism, and the author responds to ppl going "lmao gay" about the unintentional homoeroticism with poorly restrained seething rage

fatphobia: - generic brand of fatphobia you'll see in p much all mainstream media where only side/bg characters are fat and it's obliquely used as a descriptor to indicate that someone has negative personality traits or should be viewed as sort of gross

anti-addict shit: - wildbow generally likes writing about how social circumstances--i.e neglect from society, oppression, failure on behalf of systems--causes crime. he generally likes demonstrating the ways in which the villainous main characters are traumatized teenagers failed by society fumbling to keep existing & holding each other up through The Horrors. unfortunately all of this intelligent writing flies out the nearest window when addicts are involved. there is a gang comprised entirely of addicts, all of whom are portrayed as disgusting, violent, dangerous, and of course often racially stereotyped. it is a mercy to the readers when they're no longer relevant to the story. - on a more subtle level, characters are every so often just like. a little more anti-drug than they would realistically be and you can tell it's wildbow's opinions leaking into their characterization. this is largely what the anti-addict writing is kept to after The Addict Villains leave the story iirc.

if youre wondering wellwhy does anyone read this book then. to that i would say that unfortunately despite it all it'sa fucking excellent book. so we all carry on reading the parts that suck and thinking about how they suck and then reading the parts that fuck and going "ouuugh my god" and rolling down 20 flights of stairs about how hard they fuck.

#sorry if i missed anything this entire post was written while so tired #parahumans #apparenty people lke this one so ill maintag it in case anyone finds it useful its very slapdash though

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nineparlor69 · 8 days ago

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Oh, boy...

I made a Sonic creepypasta. Please, do not unfollow. I finally built the courage to do this, so bear with me for a bit. Okay? Okay.

Behold, Sonic Mortem.

Sonic Mortem, part one.

It was a pretty fucking boring night as usual. I was just browsing through some cheesy horror games on a site I was on, none of them really catching my eye. I don't know if it was how bad it looked, or if it was something else, but a certain .exe game managed to catch my eye. The title: Sonek EXE. I don't know what it was about this specific shit heap of a game, but it seemed more interesting than others. By the looks of the screenshots, it was probably another bloody jumpscare-fest. But what the hell. I was really bored and needed something to do. So, I decided to download it. After it finished installing, I opened the game and gave it a try. It of course had stolen sprites from the original Sonic.exe game, and the gameplay was no different. Well, until I got to the part where you were supposed to play as Knuckles. For some reason, I was still stuck with Tails. Maybe the dev was too lazy to put in the other characters. I brushed it off as simple slacking, and continued playing. As I kept trying to get Tails to run to the right, I realized that this had been going on for a while without even getting anywhere. He was just running, and running, and running. I took my finger off of the key, but Tails wasn't stopping. Maybe the key was stuck. I tried pressing it a few times to get it to work again, but it didn't fix anything. I watched as Tails ran before he finally came to the end of the level. Tails stopped moving entirely. All of a sudden, my disc drive opened. It had a disc in it, which was weird because I didn't put a disc in it. Maybe my little sister Abby was messing around in my room again? I thought that was the case until I got a good look at the disc. Sonic the Hedgehog 2. I didn't own that game. Not physically, at least. What the hell was a disc of it doing in my house? It was all scratched up, though, so it wasn't like I could play it. I decided to look back at my monitor to see if anything had changed, and I really regretted doing so. On my screen was Tails, face pressed up against the screen and breathing like he was running out of air in his lungs. He had this look in his eye… Like he was watching me, like he knew me. If it was a simple trick the developer of the game put in to scare a player like me, I would have just seen it as a petty scare and moved on. But I couldn't explain the disc it somehow put in my drive. I glanced at the disc of Sonic 2 in my hands, looking at the scratches. They looked like claw marks, similar to a wild animal. Like a fox… I looked back at the monitor after hearing a loud thud, and Tails was gone. Instead, I was greeted by the bloody blue bastard just leaning against one of the tree sprites. I decided to try pressing a few keys like the space bar or arrows, but they did nothing. All I heard were the in-game footsteps or jumping noise. Like there was something invisible. I felt a shiver run down my spine as I got the sinking feeling that someone, or something was watching me. I looked around my room, panicking as I felt like I couldn't recognize my surroundings. Vibrant colors and dim furniture blurred into one as I took in my familiar bedroom's layout for the last time. I looked back at the computer once more, seeing words in red on the screen. "I SEE YOU, ALEX. JOIN ME." And it all went to black. Now I wait. I wait for someone else to find me and set me free. Won't you come let me out, dear reader?

Sonic Mortem, Part two.

(Trigger Warning for gore!)

It was a pretty great day. Things were finally looking up for me. I got a sweet new house that had tons of room, and there was even a fully furnished gaming room.

I decided to unwind after all of the unpacking I did a few days prior by playing some video games from that old room, ready to play something really good. But, there wasn't much of anything. It was mostly some old retro games like Sonic or Metroid. Sure, they were good, but not quite what I was looking for.

I hopped on the old computer in the room, taking a look through all the old games on it. There were tons I really loved playing, and even a few others I've never played before.

I noticed a really odd game, a game called "Sonic Mortem". Probably an old STH2 ROM hack. I booted it up, met with a kick-ass title sequence. It didn't say who the devs were, though... The game started, and I realized that this was just another cheesy .exe game. But hey, maybe it wasn't going to be so bad.

Of course, I got through the classic Tails bit, getting that shithead fox killed and moving on to the real good stuff with Knuckles. But... Knuckles wasn't there. It was Tails. Again.

I kept playing, thinking that maybe the game would get better. I wasn't paying attention, and I soon realized that Tails was moving at break-neck speeds. I didn't see much from how fast Tails was going, but he seemed to have ran over and crushed something red. Oh, no. I went towards the right, shocked to see blood, bone, and brain splattered all across the floor. And there, laying in a big puddle of blood, was the headless corpse of Knuckles the Echidna. It looked so real, too...

A pop up appeared on screen, Tail's smirking mug plastered on it. I heard a voice. It wasn't demonic and low, though. It was synthetic and high. And what it said shook me.

"I'll be straightforward with you. I'm no god or spirit. I AM THE GAME. But I'm also the player. Do you know why, Tray? It's because I played YOU. And I'm going to keep toying with you for as long as you live. But of course you'd want to know why. Why I killed Knuckles. Why I'll never leave you be. Because it's FUN. And it was fun with that coward Alex, as well. I'll see you soon..."

the screen turned off, and the disc drive opened. Instead of a disc there, there was a newspaper. I picked it up, and immediately recognized it. It was the article about a boy about my age who went missing a while ago. Was this a threat?

I tried to go to bed, to forget what just happened, but it wouldn't let me sleep. It STILL won't let me sleep. I can hear something under the floorboards, scratching and scratching nonstop.

scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching and scratching

To be continued...

#nine spaghetti #nine's shit #sonic the hedgehog #sonic.exe #< kinda #this took me two hours in total

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missmaywemeetagain · 10 months ago

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Got a Lotta Lovin' to Do (A Scarf Universe Story) ❤️‍🔥

Okay, sooooo...this just came to me in a strange fit of inspiration this week. It's naughty but also a little sweet in concept. It may not be for everyone, so let's say it's currently canon adjacent for the Pink Scarf Universe...

This takes place a few months post A Pink Scarf Thanksgiving, in February of 1978. Yes, I know, we make it to '78 and there is something both heart wrenching but also wonderful in that, isn't there?

I wanted something that felt real but also a bit indulgent, and also wanted to bring our spitfire Sandy back into play. In fact, I made it from Sandy's perspective, which was a bit challenging considering the use of second person, but hopefully it makes sense!!

Premise is that Reader is in a fix, desperate to coax a very nervous Elvis back into her bed, and enlists her best friend Sandy to help in an unorthodox way.

Anyway, I'm a bit nervous about this one 😬 and am just sort of testing the waters as a preview, so let me know if you like it and want me to continue it! (Also, the turnaround was fast, so please excuse the semi-rough edit/revision! 🙏🏼)

xoxoxox, Madi 💗

(listen, I know this pic is much earlier than '78, but the vibe is right and the hint of silver at his roots seems applicable and has me in a chokehold, so bear with me here...)

TW: sexy smutty stuff, heading towards a threesome (mff/fmf), mention of medical issues/trauma, sassy Sandy, silver fox Elvis!!🦊

Got a Lotta Lovin’ to Do

February 1978

“Darlin’, you sayin’ what I think you’re sayin’?” he asks you. Elvis’ eyebrow is halfway to his hairline and he sounds more incredulous than hopeful, but Sandy can see the twinkle in his eyes when they slide over to her. It’s more than a cursory glance, one filled with questions and a latent heat. She wrestles with the urge to fidget under his gaze, clenching and unclenching her fists instead of looking away from his scrutiny.

She’s certainly never been one to back down from a fight, not even with the enigma that is Elvis Presley.

Especially not with him, she thinks.

But Elvis has never looked at her like this before and even knowing him as long as she has, she isn’t unaffected. Despite everything he’s been through this past year, he still has the ability to level a woman with a look, she’ll give him that.

His eyes slide back over to you, and Sandy can breathe again. It’s gonna be a long night, she thinks, if a mere glance has her feeling so exposed.

You nod, biting your lip, and she knows how nervous you are, how desperate you are for this to work. She grabs your hand in solidarity and you squeeze it in return.

If it were anyone but you, she wouldn’t have agreed to this. It is much too messy, but extraordinary people and circumstances call for extraordinary measures, and being in Elvis’ world has always meant living in shades of gray.

Sandy knows she’s the only one you’ll trust with this. For as much shit as she gives Elvis, she loves and cares about you both deeply, more than she might voice in mixed company. And you know she understands why this is so important.

Now the two of you just need to convince Elvis of it, too. Though by the increasing level of tension in the room and the way he adjusts himself in his seat, Sandy doesn’t think it’ll take much persuading.

He cuts quite the figure, sitting there in the plush, golden, velvet chair with his bejeweled fingers tapping a slow and steady rhythm out on the arms. After what happened last summer, he’d finally let his hair grow out to its natural color, the salt-and-pepper combined with glinting silvery streaks. It’s incredibly striking, giving him an even more handsome and regal air than before, if that’s possible. With his new post-recovery regime, he is looking good and, according to you, feeling healthier than he had in years. The result is attractive, to say the least.

But while that side of things improved, the sexual piece apparently has not.

Sandy and you perch on the edge of the bed, sitting so close you are pressed against each other, facing him, waiting for his verdict. Elvis takes in the two of you closely before sliding his eyes back over to her.

“And you, Sandra? You agreed to this?” His voice is laden with curiosity and surprise. She doesn’t blame him.

“Yes, with conditions,” she says, willing her voice to stay steady and calm when she’s feeling anything but.

He chuckles darkly. “Of course. I’d expect nothin’ less from you, honey.”

The endearment, one he’s used with her a million times over the years, now comes out laden and warm, sliding through her veins like liquid heat. She’s not sure how she feels about it, to be honest, but it’s a little late to turn back now.

Sandy looks at you for permission to continue. You nod.

“Okay, first, this is a one-time deal,” she begins, forcing herself to look him straight in those endlessly blue eyes.

His lips curve up with the beginning of a smirk and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know what he’s thinking. She thinks it’s funny how he’s posturing, considering the whole reason she is here is to help bolster his confidence, but she supposes over twenty years of adoration from females makes his response a habit.

Honestly, it’s the stipulation she’s the least worried about, it being there more for your sake than hers, and it gives you all an out if this goes south. But boundaries are good for Elvis. So she quirks a brow back at him until he nods.

“Second, no one hears about this. It’s a nonstarter. No bragging to the guys, ever. No one outside this room can ever know…especially not Jerry.”

This is the one she is most worried about. While her marriage to Jerry ended over half a decade ago, on relatively decent terms considering the circumstances, she knows this would cut Jer to the core, and that is not why she’s here. Jerry isn’t in Elvis’ employ anymore, but they are still good friends, brothers even, and she doesn’t want to ruin their relationship.

A cloud of seriousness falls over Elvis’ face, banishing his earlier mirth, and that lets her know they are on the same page with this one, despite his terrible track record of secret keeping. “Done,” he says with finality.

“Good. Third, I reserve the right to bow out at any time,” she adds.

“Honey, I’d never force you to do somethin’ you din’t want to do. Ain’t never been like that and ain’t startin’ now,” he says with surprising gentleness.

She nods, expecting as much. Taking a deep breath, she pauses before the last request, mainly because she can’t believe she’s actually saying it out loud. Might as well just get it done.

“Finally, your dick stays out of my pussy.”

He chuckles at your frankness while you choke, coughing wildly—she hadn’t warned you about this one. It’s more the principle of the thing, really. She is along for the ride, sure, but in the end, she’s mostly here for your wellbeing. And by the way he looks at Sandy with something akin to respect and nods as she rubs his wife’s back, she knows he understands.

You eventually recover from Sandy’s bluntness, turning your attention back to your husband with a hopeful look in your eyes. “So, is this…I mean…do you want to do this, baby?”

For the first time, you see his trepidation, his overwhelm of the situation only barely covered by his mask of humor. This is what you’d been talking about, this reluctance and lack of self-assurance. When you’d come to her about the fact that Elvis hadn’t been intimate with you since the medical crisis that nearly killed him, it made perfect sense. Not only had he gone through something terrifying, but his surgeries also changed his body in ways that must have been uncomfortable. Coupled with extensive recovery and weaning off old medications and starting new ones, it was a recipe for disaster in the bedroom.

Sandy knew you had to be desperate for you to ask her for this kind of help. You knew it wasn’t because Elvis found you unattractive or didn’t love you anymore—he was afraid he couldn’t perform, afraid he couldn’t satisfy you, and you were afraid you’d hurt him somehow. It was obvious your sex life had been amazing in the past, though according to you, it had dwindled the sicker and more in denial about things he’d gotten. But for you to invite her into the bedroom to put the spark back in their marriage wasn’t something Sandy had expected.

Apparently, Elvis loved some girl-on-girl threesome action and had indulged in such things back before you and he had finally gotten together. You were never entirely comfortable with the idea when Elvis brought it up in the past—the idea of sharing him didn’t sit well and knowing Elvis, he’d make some poor woman fall in love with him or someone would talk and you’d be in a fix, so the idea had been nixed before it could take root.

But now you were frantic and willing to try almost anything, which apparently included asking your best friend to fool around with you and your husband.

It’s a matter of trust, you’d said, twiddling your fingers uncomfortably in Sandy’s kitchen, tears pooled in your eyes. You knew she’d never talk, knew she’d never betray you, and most importantly, knew she could separate sex from emotion and would never fall in love with your husband.

It was all true. How could she say no to you when you needed her help so badly? So, here she was, apprehensive but intrigued, waiting for Elvis to decide all of your fates.

“You can just watch, baby, if you want to, or whatever, it’s fine,” you encourage him when he seems frozen and unable to respond. Sandy can see you both floundering in indecision and fear and can’t stand it anymore. She’s never been one for patience or inaction, after all, so without further ado, she silences your pleas for your husband’s attention with her lips.

“Oh!” you exclaim in quiet surprise against her mouth, your hands flailing a bit in resistance.

Talking about something like this and doing it are two different things, Sandy knows, but she persists, kissing you gently, hands cupping your cheeks, until you relax enough to kiss her back. She can’t help but feel a little gratification when you sigh softly and yield to her, your hands flitting to the curve of her hips.

It would be stupid to say she didn’t find both you and Elvis attractive, but never in her wildest dreams had it been in the cards to have either of you, so she’d never dwelled much on it. But now, feeling the weight of his gaze as she laps her tongue between your lips, testing your willingness to do this, her body lights on fire.

She pushes through the foreign feeling of being watched so intimately, knowing this is just as much about putting on a good show than anything else, but she didn’t expect it to be quite so tantalizing. Something about being the one to take charge sends a thrill down her spine. Dragging her lips down your neck to your collarbone, she knows she’s not imagining the rapid fluttering of your pulse under her lips or the way you lean back to give her more access.

You’ve never been with a woman, but she knows it’s been a long time since you’ve had attention of this sort from your man, either so when Sandy trails her fingers down over your breast, she feels the jolt go through you. Her moves are deliberate but slow, allowing you to acclimate, allowing Elvis to take in every movement.

She can’t help the warmth pooling in her belly when she palms the heaviness of your breast, pinching your clothed nipple and you gasp, arching into her with genuine willingness.

“Lord have mercy,” Elvis huffs quietly, and you both know you have him.

It’s much too easy, then, to unbutton your blouse, exposing the white lace bra underneath before pulling hers up over her head to reveal her own. You’d been clear about the white—apparently he gets all kinds of excited about little white underthings—and far be it for her to ignore such a titillating detail.

Sandy takes it upon herself to continue the play, pressing her lips to the soft skin of your décolletage, following the soft rise of your breasts before nuzzling and nipping at the dusky areola peek-a-booing through the lace. Mewling and pawing at her head, you are strung so tight Sandy thinks you’re not acting in the least.

It’s a little strange, this softness of your curves against her own, but pleasant. Moreover is the deep satisfaction in her belly at drawing little whimpers out of you as she kisses and reveals more of your skin. Even more surprising is the gratification of bringing something out of both you and your husband that has been out of reach for much too long.

Your fingers cart through her hair, manicured nails tickling her scalp in a way that makes her vibrate. She arches at the contact and looks up at you with a coy smile, sliding a hand up your smooth leg and under the hem of your skirt.

Elvis clears his throat, interrupting them. “Be good lil’ girls f’me and s-strip down to your panties,” he says in a gravelly voice Sandy has never been privy to hearing. A shiver runs down her spine, melting and churning with all the new feelings the evening is bringing. His tone is halfway between a need and a command and neither of you need to be asked twice.

Her inhibitions fall to the floor in a heap along with pants and skirts and bras. Never once in her life did she expect to feel Elvis’ heavy, heated gaze turned on her nearly naked form but now that it’s happening, she can’t help but squirm a little. She has nothing to prove and is usually confident in her skin, but she’s certainly not a young woman anymore, her body soft and curvy with the changes age brings. Her only consolation is at least the three of you are in relatively the same boat in that regard.

Sneaking a glance at Elvis, she is bit relieved to find his examination admiring rather than turned off. Though, considering he has two naked women ready to do his bidding, it seems the natural response.

“Don’t be shy, Satnin. I’m sure Sandra won’t bite toohard if you touch her,” he muses, those bedroom eyes of his flickering with lust. You giggle nervously and then look to Sandy for permission, which she gives with a nod and a reassuring smile.

Your caress is timid at first, then more exploratory of her body than she expects. Maybe it’s the resounding hum of encouragement from your husband giving you more confidence or just pure sexual energy and curiosity, but whatever it is has Sandy feeling delightful. A tweak of a nipple here. A soft tongue there. Hands and mouths finding a rhythm of pleasure.

Sandy palms your bottom, running her fingertips down along the seam of your white underwear, when Elvis cuts in, his voice thick with desire:

“Play with her an’ make her feel good, Sandra.”

Tingles erupt over her skin. She follows orders, sliding her hand down into your panties and through your soft curls until she reaches your hooded clit. She rubs gently, like she would do to herself, and you gasp in her mouth, body bowing to get more friction.

After a few moments, the unmistakable sound of a zipper clicks through the air. Her body suddenly burns with the scandalous nature of it all, and her excitement surprises her.

“Is she wet?” he asks Sandy.

Sliding her fingers down, she can feel the slick of your arousal on her fingertips.

“Yes,” she says unabashedly.

A pause.

“Are you?” His voice is low and dripping with honey.

A pulse of heat starts throbbing in her core, and for the first time tonight, she stumbles over her words, suddenly breathless. “I…I think so?”

“Honey, see if you’re makin’ Sandra excited,” he commands you, then with humor adds, “She apparently doesn’t know.”

Sandy throws a glare Elvis’ way but then your fingers are cold against the blazing heat of her muff, a sensation which makes her jump as you glide your fingers over sensitive, slick skin.

“She’s soaked,” you relay demurely, and all at once Sandy feels like the tables have turned in this little tableau.

“Show me. Both of you.”

His demand makes her stomach drop, like she’s on a roller coaster.

She feels disappointed when you pull your hand away, and the sentiment feels mutual. Both of you display your shining fingers in the dim light.

Elvis crooks his finger and beckons you both closer.

There’s no helping the curious way her eyes drift down and land on his dusky pink cock, the head peeking out from his foreskin, dripping and standing at full attention now he’s been released from the confines of his black pants. Sandy’s mouth goes dry when she realizes just how much nature has blessed him in ways other than his talent.

Is it wrong that she wants to touch it, to feel the heavy heat of him in her palm? To make him shudder underneath her touch? Perhaps so. The itch to torture him with her body just a little for every cunning remark and every dumbass selfish move he’s made in the last 15 years is strong and it makes her tingle just to think of.

He must read the look on her face because his eyes go a bit wide with something unreadable before narrowing with laser focus.

Her heart starts thudding against her ribcage, all the blood rushing out of her head when he wraps his large hand around her wrist, dwarfing it, and pulls her between his spread muscular thighs. Then he draws those glistening fingers of hers right into his mouth.

She gasps. Every nerve in her body is set alight with fireworks as he sucks her fingers clean of his wife’s arousal, his tongue warm and soft and oh-so thorough.

It’s her whimpering now as he pins her with his flaming eyes. Her breath catches. His mouth pops off her digits.

“Mmm…sweet as a sundae. You’ll see, Sandra Dee.” A slow, sly grin spreads across his handsome face as he releases her wrist.

Being on the other end of that devastating smile, especially in a situation like this, has her trembling. It pisses her off a little, actually, that he’s having this effect, and by the glint in his eye, he knows it.

Like he’s saying, Game on.

Then, he looks to you, pulling you close. His mischievousness softens slightly. Sandy is glad to see under the red flush of pleasure on your cheeks there is also a look of relief on your face, as if you are thinking, “Oh, thank heavens, it’s working.”

Sandy steps back, happy to give the couple space, but Elvis’ hand shoots out, latching onto her arm.

“Nuh uh, now where d’ya think you’re goin’?” It’s husky and playful but also fraught with an undercurrent of tension, as though he’s not quite ready and maybe a little nervous about being alone with his wife. He keeps his hand on her arm but turns his attention to you.

“Haven’t sampled another pussy in a loooong time, lil’ mama,” he drawls up at you, “Ya sure you wanna give daddy a taste?” His brow quirks, asking for permission, making sure you’re still comfortable with this arrangement you’ve surprised him with. The words are confident, but Sandy can hear the gravity behind them.

You nod encouragingly. “Yes.”

“Mm’kay then,” and then he sucks your fingers right into his mouth.

Sandy can’t help but blush wildly as she watches him savor her off his wife’s hand. And it’s positively obscene the way he opens his eyes and stares into hers brazenly as he does it.

Never has she felt quite so exposed. Arousal swirls in her core, betraying all her sensibilities.

Elvis runs his tongue under his upper lip after he’s done, where he lets it peek out at the corner of his mouth with a smirk. “Now ain’t that jus’ the cherry on top,” he purrs, eyes sparkling.

Sandy hates how she goes a bit weak in the knees at that. God, this man infuriates her, always has in that loving way of his, but this is a whole different level of understanding and intimacy she’s not accustomed to with him.

But whether she likes it or not, her body is absolutely buzzing with anticipation for the both of you, as evidenced by the way she clenches her thighs and the way her panties get just a little bit more ruined.

The motion doesn’t go unnoticed by Elvis, and his gaze darkens.

Oh, it’s gonna be a long night, alright.

A long night, indeed.

As always, I love and live for your reactions, comments, asks, and reblogs, so thank you in advance for both reading and giving another one of my stories a chance!

Taglist Pt 1

@eliseinmemphis@russian-soft-bitch@tattywood

@sassanoe@thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle@carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23

@littlebitofgreen@paigevis@bugg06@xhannahbananax03@artlover8992

@18lkpeters@frozenhuntress67@girlblogger2002@kendralavon7@misspresley

@be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis @from-memphis-with-love

@precious-lil-scoundrel @stylespresleyhearted @prompted-wordsmith @crash-and-cure @elvisgf @lookingforrainbows @fic-over-cannon @godlypresley @ab4eva @whatstruthgottodowithit @elvisabutler @amydarcimarie@idontwanttoputanything @callieselvisobsessed @captainamerica1235-blog @xenaspace3-blog

@simplyamberj@claire-elvisgirl@everythingelvispresley@louisejoy86@deniseinmn @madelynpresley

#got a lotta lovin' to do #a scarf universe story #pink scarf #pink scarf universe #elvis presley #elvis #if you’re looking for trouble #you came to the right place #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis smut #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presely smut

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foxglovepng · 9 months ago

Note

Hello, first time requesting anything and I hope I do this right. I like what you've posted previously and I hope you enjoy this request idea.

I saw screenshots of a post recently about a TWST x Tinkerbell/Pirate Fairy event where shenanigans happens and everyone's UM's are switch around.

But what if Yuu got someone else's UM? Would they go power mad? OB by accident because they couldn't control the amount of magic? Just chill until the fairies corrected the switch? How would the owner of the UM deal with Yuu handling their power feel? And how would they feel about being magicless for the time being?

Suggested students are Grim, Azul, Jamil, Vil and Deuce, or anyone else you would prefer, all of them are fun options.

Hope you are doing well 💜

Characters: Idia, Azul, Jamil, Vil, Deuce, Jade, Malleus.

CW: Swearing, Probably an OOC Vil, Azul has a mental breakdown, Idia freaks out. SPOILERS FOR BOOK 6 (Idia), SPOILERS FOR BOOK 7 (Malleus), Probably OOC most characters tbh.

A/N: I heavily loved this movie as a child and I still love it and watch it on occasion. I know this movie so well I can predict the dialogue :sob: I switched out Grim for Idia because I believe there is a mention that Grim had a curse in Book 6 (correct me if I am wrong) But it was while Idia was discussing some possible theories about the Overblots. Because I loved this movie so much and I am watching it as a I write I will be yapping...a lot. Like just yap yap yap yap and I will be making more parts to this because I have a lot of Ideas. I also added Malleus because he is the only one in Diasmonia with a confirmed/offical UM.

I will also be calling you the Fairy 🧚anon <3

Feel free to let me know which fairy(ies) are your favorite. I love Vidia and Fawn.

W/C: Didn't check Fox yaps a lot (2.540k, 7 pages)

NOT PROOFREAD

For context there will be a Mage like Zarina who was obviously an outcast and who was very innovative and wanted to discover new things (Such as the Fairy Dust) The way I imagine it the mage probably wanted to do things that were considered "Illegal" for Mage magic the NRC students ran into this person and they used their UM to switch the powers of students.

(Character's relationships can be read as platonic or romantic)

Deuce (Bet the Limit)

He is not worried. Although he'd be more concerned about Yuu accidentally using it mid class and hurting someone. His UM is mainly dependent on others attacks so I don't think there would be an issue about hurting someone deeply to the point of hospitalization.

He is worried about the fact he can't use magic anymore. He used his flaunt his magic a lot in middle school now he's not no power (Karma really came back for him didn't it)

If Yuu casually happens to get his ability to summon cauldrons it would be hilarious if Yuu dropped a cauldron "Accidentally" On Ace or Crowley's head. He'd feel bad, but It'd be funny.

(Insert video of Ace getting bashed in the head with a Cauldron but it's bad apple.)

He'd eventually adapt to losing his magic, but he does want to try and get it fixed.

He will help Yuu as much as he can with controlling his magic. If they have any questions he will gladly answer them and help to the best of his ability.

Yuu is least likely to go power mad due to Deuce's UM being low on the list for Powers that will make Yuu go bat-shit insane and commit world domination. (Yes I have an actual list)

When Yuu Overblots

He would probably cry like genuinely.

Yuu has gone through enough in TWST and when they finally snap he would be extremely worried for Yuu because he is scared they will get hurt badly/hurt others badly.

Deuce's UM is actually scary so when it comes to overblotting Yuu could hurt A LOT of people.

Riddle's UM won't be able to help and Yuu could just basically absorb every attack that hits them.

Yuu could probably kill someone with his power and that is a really scary though to think about.

(Deuce can too since it is quite his power)

On a skill level there is a possibility Yuu could lose control of the magic, on a power level they could injure a lot of people. Either way Yuu and other people will be getting hurt.

If they somehow stop Yuu's overblot GET THEM THERAPY INSTANTLY make Leona or someone else rich pay for it.

Deuce would look like a sad puppy because he just witnessed his friend he deeply cares about just snap. Probably wouldn't leave Yuu's side while they recover.

He probably feels the most guilty as he couldn't do anything and wished he could have helped more.

Peep Grim crying about his henchman.

If Yuu DOES kill someone um mage jail? or how would that work since they aren't from TWST would they like be in custody in their own world???? because quite literally they have no information on Yuu to send them to Mage Jail.

I'm done yapping moving on

Azul (It's a Deal)

Instant panic attack instantly.

Considering his backstory and why he is becoming a Mage he would definitely freak out over not having his powers. Bro needs his octopot.

When he learns it was Yuu who got his powers he would feel a bit more relieved

"Yuu can I have my powers back? just make a deal with me."

"HOW TF DO I DO THAT????"

Jade and Floyd are laughing their asses off when he tries to teach you how magic works. They are not going to do anything to help AT ALL.

Azul does NOT feel happy about being powerless at ALL. He has a business to keep running and Yuu is struggling.

I can imagine Yuu accidentally making a contract and stealing someone else's power and then having to keep THAT ONE under control.

Overall I feel like Azul makes top 5 of "Yuu will have a panic attack from being unable to control this power"

Azul would probably adjust to the change but he would not be happy with it at all.

There is a possibility Yuu could go power mad, but Azul is based on capitalism Yuu is not. They would probably only go power mad as a way for threatening/bargaining to go home.

When Yuu Overblots

Pray Yuu has the power under control

Azul's Overblot 2.0 except no tentacles

Azul tries to help the best he can and then gets blasted with magic right in the face. (L bozo)

When Yuu just snaps Azul wishes he could of down more, but he realizes he only was helping Yuu for himself. Not for them. They had to deal a lot and he probably was the one that broke the camels back for them to overblot.

On a skill level and Power level it would probably be the same as Azul's however Yuu has less control over the power.

Yuu is getting back for when he overblotted. /hj

When Yuu unoverblots Azul gives them an apology and also starts the process for them to see a therapist. Probably get's an earful from Deuce and Ace about pushing Yuu over the edge.

Jade (Shock The Heart)

Is not worried.

He doesn't need magic to intimidate people although he needs magic to obtain information.

"Oya? it appears the prefect has my power."

You know how Azul and Deuce would help? He wouldn't

When it comes to Jade's power it can easily be exploited to gain all kinds of information from someone and in the wrong hand's world domination can be caused.

Yuu gets help anyway from Tweedle Dee and Dum over at Heartslabyul.

Yuu would accidentally use Jade's power on people and would probably gain information they wouldn't want to know and probably has gotten traumatized.

Begs Jade to take his power back and he just giggles at Yuu. He is fine with not using Magic, but it is funny to see Yuu attempt to use his magic.

He's enjoying you struggle. However if it gets to a certain point he may help keyword may.

When Yuu overblots

No one is worried lmao.

I mean overblotting is bad, but Jade's power is like so??? normal?? that an overblot would be dangerous, but his conditions are it can only be used once so if Yuu acivates it they probably wouldn't be able to use it again.

hopefully..

If not they are royally fucked tbh.

Jade can't do anything at all and probably will get grilled later for not helping Yuu.

When they unoverblot Yuu Jade is the first one to get them to the infirmary carrying them bridal style (slay king) and making sure they recieve proper treatment. Also apologises for not helping them learn as he was worried they would go power mad.

Jamil (Snake Whisperer)

He is flipping out.

Number 1. Yuu just got this power and barely can control it IMAGINE WHAT COULD HAPPEN.

(Manipulate Crowley into sending them home)

Number 2. Jamil needs his magic and as Kalims retainer he needs it more than Yuu :sob:

Jamil is already stressed out with wrangling Kalim 24/7 now he has this on his hands. Bro just might overblot from stress.

Either way he helps Yuu with gaining control because Yuu almost made Ace choke on his food from accidentally using the UM. And almost made Jack run into a tree (It was funny actually)

We all know how Jamil's overblot turned out someone call up the Octotrio to deal with this again.

There is a possibility Yuu could go power mad. However Yuu is a sweetheart (possibly) and wouldn't control their friends.. right?

Jamil physically can't adjust to being magicless and tries to literally hunt the person down but fails miserably.

When Yuu overblots

I dare Yuu to throw everyone who's fighting so Jamil can get yeeted too (I'd be funny I swear)

Jamil overblot 2.0 except Yuu loses control and accidentally brainwashes everyone. whoops

Jamil got his Karma from brainwashing the whole dorm

Wait if he can brainwash the whole dorm could he brainwash all of NRC? 😨

When Yuu snaps Yuu is coming for everyone INCLUDING CROWLEY his ass is not getting saved.

I pray for everyone who is fighting Yuu. Compared to Deuce's though I'd rather get brainwashed tbh.

If Yuu somehow manages to get pulled out Kalim is making sure everyone who was affected is okay and Jamil is rushing Yuu to the infirmary. When Yuu snaps it would be dreadful tbh and I don't think people would make it out of this OB with Yuu unless they physically got hurt to the point of unconsciousness, or Malleus was like "No don't overblot you're too sexy aha".

Jamil also apologizes for not being able to do enough and makes sure Yuu sees a therapist.

Snake whisperer overblot Yuu and Bet the Limit overblot Yuu are genuinely scary and I'm terrified.

Vil (Fairest One of All)

Instant panic

Vil's UM is so powerful that when a curse is placed with conditions it cannot be lifted even with Vil's interference unless the conditions are met.

Imagine Yuu with that power. Crowley suddenly has a way for Yuu to get home.

Vil would be more concerned with his potato having a power they CANNOT control. Yuu will be accidentally placing curses on people.

Ace would suddenly get paralyzed from the neck down and Yuu didn't know how they did it.

Yuu accidentally paralyzing people is crazy.

Vil helps Yuu try to gain control of the power but has a really hard time.

This is another one where if Yuu were to overblot it would be because they accidentally use the UM too much and are stressed because of it.

Vil doesn't mind being magicless however do NOT let his father figure that out he might force Vil out of NRC into modeling.

When Yuu overblots

Uncontrolled curse magic with a stressed-out overblotting Yuu. Yeah this is up there with Bet the limit and Snake Whisperer.

Someone is probably dying.

Vil almost killed Neige for gods sake imagine what YUU COULD DO.

Vil tried to curse Yuu mid overblot but forgot he couldn't use magic.

Vil is actively sending Rook after the mage who switched powers. Vil wants his potato back.

If Yuu manages to snap out of an OB Vil is also the one making sure Yuu gets treatment. He will also pay for their therapy and treatments.

When Vil gets his hand on the mage she will not be existing anymore /hj

!!!SPOILERS FOR IDIA AND MALLEUS BELOW SPOILERS I REPEAT SPOILERS I SAID SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS!!!

You have been warned

Idia (Game, Set, Match)

Every time I say Yuu is terrifying with a certain OB It gets worse. (I should make a list tbh)

Idia is freaking the hell out. Probably has a panic attack but we aren't there yet.

Idia's UM literally control the gates to the underworld and basically keeps the blot monsters in and if Yuu accidentally opens that.

I pray for everyone's safety.

Idia has probably headed a warning about this and is actively hunting down the mage. Ortho is helping too.

This is one of those where I say Yuu should not have it because with one wrong move and hundreds if not thousands of people could get hurt.

Idia is panicking Yuu is panicking Ortho is trying to calm them down.

Yuu most likely overblots because Idia is freaking them out, and they don't want to open the gates to hell.

I wonder if one of his parents could also open and close the gate with their magic that will literally help.

When Yuu overblots

Run everyone the gates of hell opened again.

If I had a nickel for every time someone overblotted and opened the gates of hell I'd have two nickels. It's not a lot of nickels, but it is weird that it happened twice.

Idia is making sure the literal gates of hell did NOT open, and surely enough they did.

Crowley is probably getting sued

In Theory the battle could be easy however when it comes to the UM someone tell Yuu to close the gates.

Blot monster domination 2.0

Ortho manages to hunt the mage down, but only until after the overblot is over and the gates have opened.

Idia completely forgot about Yuu's condition so when they switched powers he was more focused on closing the gate. He got grilled for that by Ace and Deuce who carried Yuu to the nurses.

I feel like this one is scary but more in the sense that Yuu has the power to the hell world.

Malleus (Fae of Maleficence)

Do I even need to say how bad this would be?

I know damn well most of Diasmonia is tweaking that Waka Sama just lost his power.

When Malleus learns it's Yuu he's more worried about them being stressed out over this and tries to help them the best way he could and even gets Lilia in on it.

Malleus is one of the top 5 mages in the world Yuu is probably one panic attack away from overblotting and putting everyone's ass to sleep.

Malleus is also concerned about the possibility of an overblot so he is definitely trying to keep them from overblotting. Whatever his child of man needs he will snap his fingers and it's done.

Yuu wants a massage? Malleus will arrange that. Yuu needs food he will buy Yuu some. Yuu wants ice cream? He wants some too. Yuu wants a fucking break? He will threaten Crowley for one.

He understands the power that was given to Yuu is a lot handle and will accommodate his Child of man (They are getting married after this)

He is also sending Silver and Sebek after the mage and the mage may or may not be existing after he finds her.

When Yuu overblots

As of 2/26/24 not all of Diasmonia has been updated/finished so I have no information as to how it will end/ how his overblot will go. But let's just imagine it.

Malleus fell into a dream world where he got to be happy with his Child of Man. He is King, he has children, and he's with his Child of Man happily. :SOBBING:

When he get pulled out from the dream he's like why :( probably all pouty since it was a good dream. And then remembers Yuu overblotted and is like no my child of man.

He is the first one to instantly get Yuu help bro can't teleport, but he can run and if he can still turn into a dragon he can fly.

He apologizes to Yuu even though he did all he could he still feel like he could have done more. He gets Yuu all of the treatments they need instantly and when the mage switches back their powers she is deader than his Mom.

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