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jisungsplatforms · 4 years ago

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[Chapter IV: You F*cking Minx!]

Pairing: Producer/Music Major! Han Jisung x Photographer! fem! reader

Genre: NSFW! Smut; non idol au, college au, strangers to lovers

Warnings: Mature Content! strong language, masterbation (m&f) (only implied this chapter), discussion of kinks, good old nudes & teasing Jisung ;)

Chapter Word Count: 2.8k (lol minus the emojis cause APPARENTLY, they count on docs)

Taglist: @hyunjeongins @seungstarss @es-kay-zee @hyunjinsplaything @formidxble @freckledquokka @lbxgsunshine @cartierbin @solistired @rainbowmagicpixecorn @http-hyxnjxn (want to be added? send an ask or a dm! <3)

You were starting to think that touching yourself every night was rather unhealthy...

It’s been over a week since you and Jisung met—a week since the both of you started your unspoken arrangement. Breathing heavily, you laid limply on your untidy bed, the only source of light available was the moon’s rays peeking through your curtains. The lower half of your body was completely rid of any clothing; the only thing covering your skin were splotches of your essence. Your phone then lit up with a notification from ‘Hannie Bear’.

1 new message(s) from Hannie Bear 🍯🧸

Hannie Bear 🍯🧸: u okay baby? do u wanna sleep now?

Using your unsoiled hand, you grabbed your phone and typed as best as you could.

Me: Nah, I still have a little bit of energy left in me

Hannie Bear 🍯🧸: really? cool lol

let’s chat for a bit

Me: Sure. Just hold on for a sec

You sat up and wiped your hand on the towel laid under you. Swinging one of your legs off the bed, you used your toes to pick up your garments from the floor, and quickly put them on. Two new notifications from Jisung appeared on your screen. You read his messages as you threw your dirted towel onto the floor.

Hannie Bear 🍯🧸: aight.

actually you know what? just call me please!

You laid back down and tapped on his icon, which now consisted of a selfie of himself from when he ‘needed to use’ your phone a few days ago, at the top of your screen to switch to the call screen. Your phone rang several times before Jisung answered. Through the phone, you could hear the faint sound of rustling and a groan.

“Hey,” he greeted with a raspy voice. You instinctively smiled when you heard him.

“Hey.”

Jisung cleared his throat before speaking. “So I was wondering, since— ah wait. Sorry, my throat’s kinda...”

“No, go ahead. I don’t mind.”

“Thanks,” he chuckled. “You should get some water too! You know, cause— yeah. After all that.”

You laughed, heart warming at his consideration. “Yeah. Thanks!” Bringing your phone with you, you walked to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water. You set the call to speaker mode before putting your phone down to drink. Hearing the hilarious way Jisung took big gulps of water almost made you choke on your water.

He let out an over-exaggerated ‘ha!’ and said with a funny voice, “Refreshing!” Hearing your snort made Jisung smile. “Okay, so now that we’re both hydrated, I’ll tell you what I’ve been thinking.” You hummed to acknowledge him. “So, you know how we’ve been doing this for almost two weeks now, right?”

“Yeah…?” You picked up your phone to go back to your room.

“Okay. Well, we never really talked about, you know, things that we like.”

“Things that we like?”

“Yeah! You know what I mean?”

‘Huh?’ You thought about it for a few seconds before realizing what he was talking about. “Ohh. Do you mean our kinks?”

“There! That.”

You scoffed playfully. “I knew this conversation was bound to happen.”

“Well, then spill, girl!” Jisung said flamboyantly. “Don’t keep me waiting!”

You giggled. “Weirdo,” you whispered, softly grunting when you plopped onto your bed. “Where do you want me to start?”

“I don’t know. I guess just tell me like, what role you like playing in bed, or if you don’t even use roles at all.”

“Well, we’ve masterbated together long enough for you to know that I don’t mind either; sex is sex and it should be enjoyable, whether or not there are sub/dom roles...but I do like being submissive.”

“Oh, right. Nice,” he snickered, “Okay, now what? Vanilla or Kinky?”

“Kinky, all that way.” Jisung wanted to laugh at how fast that answer came out. “Of course, there’s nothing wrong vanilla sex, in fact, it’s very much appreciated in this household.”

“Ahh. Someone of culture. I respect that.” The both of you chuckled. “So, what are some things you want to be done to you?”

“Like, receiving?” Jisung hummed in confirmation. “I guess I like being marked? And being praised and using pet names, but of course, who doesn’t?”

“I feel you, I feel you,” he nodded on the other side of the phone. “I like that too.”

“I also like being tied up.”

Jisung sat up, wide eyed. “Rope-bunny?!”

You guffawed, hearing him so shocked like that. “What? Surprising? Remember, no kink shaming!”

“No no! It’s not like that it’s just-” he sighed through puffed cheeks, “wow, that’s fucking hot.”

“Thanks,” you giggled. “But that’s only the beginning.”

“Shit, there’s more? Holy fuck— please tell me.”

“Overstimulation & edging, I think that’s fucking hot too.” You could hear Jisung’s breath hitch on the phone, making you smirk. “I also really like choking and being able to see myself getting fucked; I think there’s a name for it, but I forgot.”

Not hearing his reply, you snorted before continuing. “And I have the biggest breeding kink ever. You know what I say: the messier the sex, the better.” You stopped when you heard Jisung take a deep breath.

“Whoa, Y/n. I-” he signed. “Let me calm down before I pop another boner ‘cause of you.”

You felt a surge of pride run through you. “What? Too much?”

“Oh, fuck no. Just insanely hot.”

You laughed, adjusting yourself to lay on your stomach. “Too bad. There was still a lot more I wanted to say,” you grinned. “You should tell me what you like then, baby. I need to know how I could please you too.”

“Hmm,” he thought to himself for a while. “So you already know that I like filthy, kinky sex too and that I usually take up the dom role but if I have to be honest. I’ve always wanted to try subbing.”

“Really?” you smiled evilly. ‘How interesting’

“Yup. I mean, I like being babied, so I think I’d really like it.”

“Oh? Would you like to try it sometime, baby boy?”

The line went dead silent for a while, filling you with worry. All of a sudden, when you were about to ask Jisung if he was okay, he whimpered. “Please?” he muttered, and you swore you could already see him pouting. Now it was your turn to take a deep breath.

“Hold on, baby boy. We both just finished touching ourselves not too long ago. Let’s do this another time.”

“Aww...Boo. You’re no fun,” Jisung’s usual cheeky self returned.

You rolled your eyes. “Sorry, but I already came 3 times tonight. Let my vagina rest, Sung.”

“Fair,” he laughed. “Does that mean I get to sub next time?”

“Hm… If you’re nice to me, then yes.”

“Oh baby, you know i’ll be the best behavior if it means getting topped by you.”

Instead of feeling horny, you only felt playfulness behind his words. “Good. I’ll be sure to give my baby a treat tomorrow then.” Jisung cheered giddily, fueling your own amusement. “By the way, what’s with the kink talk? I mean, I knew it was gonna come eventually but still.”

You couldn’t see it, but Jisung shrugged at your question. “Well, if we’re gonna be together, then I need to know everything about you that you enjoy.” Your face dropped, your chest swelling in adoration and alarm. Not hearing a response from you made him panic. “Uh- unless you don’t wanna be a thing! That-that’s fine too...i guess, w-whatever! I just—!”

Jisung stopped when he heard you giggle. “You’re so cute, Sung.” You softly said in content. “It’s getting late, baby. I’ll see you in the morning, hm?”

“Y-yeah! See you in Jung’s class, baby!”

You ended the call then slid your phone under your pillow. Pulling your blanket all the way up to your chin, you squirmed around until you were comfortable enough to sleep. The only thing in your mind was Jisung and how much your relationship with him developed way too fast. It was a little...frightening for your fragile heart.

2nd Period; Mrs. Jung’s Renaissance Literature class. Probably the most boring class ever. Everyday, you regret ever signing up for it.

You begrudgingly walked to class, purposely taking small, slow steps so you don’t have to be there on time. However, as boring as the class is, the only reason why you find it tolerable is because it is the only class you share with Jisung. Looking up, you found yourself in front of your Literature class, much to your dismay. Grumbling, you stepped inside the room to find Jisung already at his (now) usual place at the back of the class, right beside you. ‘Weird,’ you thought, seeing how it’s usually you who comes to class before him. Jisung looked up, feeling eyes on him from the front of the class, and smiled when he saw it was just you. He gestured for you to come over to him; your heart racing as you stepped closer to him.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted happily, watching you take your seat beside him.

“Hi, Sungie,” you replied, setting your camera bag onto the floor under your legs and taking your laptop out of your bag. Feeling Jisung staring at you, you tched jokingly. “Am I that attractive that you can’t keep your eyes off of me?” you laughed. What you didn’t expect, however, was Jisung’s blunt response.

“Yes.”

“O-oh? Uh…”

“I thought I made it clear that I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in my life,” he said truthfully, giving you a bright smile. Your eyes were wide, face heating up at his straight-forwardness. He threw you a flirty wink and chuckled, going back to sit up straight at his own seat. Flustered, you hid your face with your hoodie, tightening the drawstrings to further conceal your blush. From beside you, you could hear Jisung snort, trying not to laugh at you. Before you could scold him, the bell rang and Mrs. Jung entered the class.

Jisung’s drowsy eyes wandered the whole room for the umpteenth time. His ears only shut out the mundane information his instructor was teaching. Something about a Scottish poet named George Lauder being responsible for the advancement of the steel industry or whatever? ‘Man, what does that have to do with the renaissance era?’ It’s only been 30 minutes since the class started and he already wanted to get out of here. No matter how hard he tried focusing on the lesson, the words only went through one ear and out the other. Needless to say, it way too uninteresting for him to retain anything.

His eyes then traveled to your hunched form. He had to resist the urge to pull out his phone and take a picture of your cute face all scrunched up in concentration, your figure engulfed by the oversized purple hoodie you were wearing. In the midst of his ogling, Jisung felt a gentle kick on his right leg. His eyes focused to finally notice you side eyeing him. It was as if you were telling him ‘pay attention or else’. All he did was grin and continued gawking at you.

You rolled your eyes, deciding to not mind him and try paying attention to Mrs. Jung; even if you yourself thought the class was boring as hell. You then feel a warm hand on your left thigh. Since it was just Jisung, you shrugged his hand off of you and typed in the shared doc you both created just to talk in this class. You typed:

‘What are you doing?’

Leaning over to his own screen, Jisung read the message on his laptop then replied.

‘babe i’m sorry but i’m so fucking bored’

‘Me too, but you gotta pay attention, baby boy’

‘hmm i love it when you call me baby boy ;)’

You side-glanced him with a ‘are you serious?’ look while he merely smirked, wiggling his eyebrows as if it would seduce you.

‘Funny. Don’t you dare get horny in the middle of class, Han Jisung!’

‘:)’

Jisung made a quiet sputtering noise as he put his head down onto the table. From the corner of your eyes, you could see him fiddling his platform sneakers with his feet. You restrained yourself from laughing at him. He looked exactly like an annoyed kid on the verge of throwing a tantrum. You shook your head. ‘The poor man is really trying’

Sneakily sliding your phone into your pocket, you stood up from your seat, the chair making a slight screech, catching Jisung’s—as well several other students’— brief attention, to head to the front of the class. Signing your name into the ‘restroom log’, you briefly pointed to the door when you made eye contact with Mrs. Jung, and went to the restroom. You grinned to yourself, thinking about how Jisung would react to his little gift.

The painfully bored boy watched as you left the room. He pouted, his boredom only increased tenfold without you. He went back to his laptop, clicking on another tab to do something, when he felt his phone vibrate from his back pocket. He jolted. ‘Who the hell would text me while I’m in the middle of class?’ Jisung slowly took out his phone to check his notifications. Seeing your name on the screen, he stared in confusion.

‘Y/n? What’re you doing?’ Glancing to see if Mrs. Jung could see him, he unlocked his phone to read your message.

My baby 💘: Remember what I said last night?

Many thoughts, none of which were pg, raced through his mind. ‘What exactly are you talking about?’ He adjusted his keyboard to properly type with one hand.

Me: depends

are we talking about me subbing or your “gift”?

My baby 💘: Hmm sure. You’ll see 😉

Jisung nearly let out an audible ‘huh?’ because of your rather cryptic message. Not wanting to get caught, he hid his phone between his legs and waited for your next text. After almost a minute, this phone vibrated again. Big Mistake…

Strike 1!

‘God, Han Jisung, you fucking idiot!’ The shock unintentionally sent waves of pleasure between his legs, almost coaxing out a whimper from his mouth. He cleared throat, trying to ignore the erection that was threatening to pop up, and inconspicuously took his phone.

Strike 2!

If Jisung died at that very moment, then he wouldn’t even be mad. No regrets or anger whatsoever for his eyes was blessed with the most salacious photo of yourself. There you were, sweater pulled up to show off the lacy red bra that adorned your breasts—your arms deliberately squeezing them together to make them even more tempting than they already are—and pants pulled down enough to show a cheeky glimpse of the matching set of panties hugging your hips. Jisung swore he could feel his blood rushing to his dick and nose; he even went as far as wiping it in case he really did get a nosebleed.

‘Y/n, you minx...’’

Me: baby…

what you’re doing is very dangerous for the both of us

My baby 💘: Oh? Are you sure you didn’t forget what we talked about, baby boy

Jisung anxiously looked back and forth from his phone to his teacher. He covered his mouth when you sent another shameless nude to him. Now it was a picture of your hands cupping your breasts, your bra unclasped, threatening to slide off your shoulders. How you managed to take the photo was beyond Jisung’s comprehension. Though, now that he’s as turned on as a horny 13 year old boy on a porn site for the very first time, it’s safe to say that there was nothing on his mind except you, and you only.

He set his keyboard back to its default mode and put his head down, fingers hastily tapping on his phone to reply.

Me: come on baby

please don’t do this to me

i’m hard. i really popped a boner in the middle of class…

this is fucking embarrassing

Jisung just knew that you were laughing at him, finding great joy in his predicament. He subtly adjusted himself to do something about his hard-on. ‘So fucking embarrassing’ He blushed, biting his lip. He silently prayed to whatever deity out there that his erection was unnoticeable through his sweatpants; he was so grateful that you two sat at the back of the class. His phone buzzed again, it was another message from you.

Strike 3!

He’s out…

My baby 💘: It’s mommy for you today, baby boy 😉😉

Above was a picture of you...Bra hanging from your mouth...Your pearly teeth biting down on one of the straps...Pants off...Panties moved to the side...Showing off your dripping core to the camera...Your fingers threatening to slide inside your core…

Somebody please help this poor man. He might get a heart attack because of you. And if he doesn’t die from that, then it might be because of the rage of sexual frustration he felt when you came back with a seemingly innocent smile on your face. Jisung was just lucky nobody noticed his hard cock throbbing the rest of the session. More importantly, thank god Mrs. Jung is an oblivious old woman.

‘Y/n L/n, you FUCKING MINX!’

[PREVIOUS CHAPTER] 📱 [NEXT CHAPTER]

#stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz fanfic #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz smut #han jisung smut #han jisung scenarios #han jisung imagines #han jisung x reader #Late Night Indulges

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scarlett-vixen · 2 years ago

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@graveswrites here it is, the story that I look back on and laugh about but at the time was very confused and slightly scared.

ALRIGHT!! Buckle up buttercup because this is literally the weirdest thing to ever happen to me! I literally cOULD NOT make this up this is a real thing that happened I shit you not. I apologize to any followers who thought I was a normal person…I am not lmao.

Tw for those who read this: drugs (just edibles) and blood (not mine) mention.

Alright so let me set the scene for you: Last year my ex and I went to a renaissance festival, we got a hotel because he wanted to watch the fireworks display they do at closing each night. We spent the entire day at the festival and decided to got back to our hotel for a few hours to cool off before the fireworks, it was about 6 pm and fireworks started at 8. So we go back to the room around 4pm, watch some tv and head back out at like 7:15. We get back to the festival and stop at a booth selling puzzle rings (something he’s always wanted).

Here’s where it starts getting weird. So we ended up buying rings for each other and while the lady is telling us how to put them together and take care of them my ex makes some innuendo or whatever and they lady thinks it’s the most hilarious thing she’s ever heard so she calls over her friend working the shop with her. Now these women are both in there like mid to late 30’s so not just some little teens and I say this because of what happens next. The friend comes over, hears the joke, and then LOSES HER SHIT! She’s like red in the face laughing and then apologizes in a normal tone and whispers “I’m a little high” the lady selling us the rings is like “oh did you take one of your gummies” and the girl goes “no it’s one of Jerry’s” and apparently Jerry has some strong shit because the girl was baffled by that. Then somehow (I don’t even remember what happened) the lady selling us our rings goes “you guys want a gummy?” My ex looks at me for permission and I was just like yeah sure as long as I get some. The lady tells us to split it because “it’s really strong” now mind you I’ve played with the devil’s lettuce before but this was my first gummy, my ex however was well versed in most types and wasn’t that worried. So we take the gummy and split it. “Kat don’t take edibles from strangers that’s rule number one!” I write porn for demons but that’s where you draw the line? Anyway.

So we finish buying our rings, the lady gives us her card with info if we ever need to reach her and we go to the fireworks show. Fireworks are dope and now the festival is over so it’s a mass exodus to the parking lot, drunk people dressed as pirates and medieval people all collectively heading home. The edible is sort of kicking in but not in the way I expected so we’re both just chillin. We stop at McDonalds for food, talk about how the “edible AINT shit” and head back to the hotel. Now mind you: our hotel was literally 10 minutes from the festival, we left the faire grounds at 8:30, we left McDonald’s at 8:45. We have been gone from the hotel for roughly 2 hours maybe.

We pull into the hotel parking lot and I see 1 cop car, I jokingly go “Uh-Ooooh, someone’s in trouble!” Thinking it’s just a typical minor thing.We drive to the side of the parking lot and see another cop car at the front, I’m now thinking “someone got too rowdy while drunk and probably got into a fight” we then pull into a parking spot and there’s 2 MORE COP CARS making a total of 4 and we both go “OH” now mind you this is my first edible and I have anxiety so my brain automatically goes “they know”. We walk up to the front of the hotel and there’s a lady cop standing at the front, my high ass is cradling our bag of food like a baby in my arms and my ex goes “is everything all right?” To which the lady cop says “oh, yeah, everything is fine, of course.” Making it sounds totally not fine.

We enter the lobby and the lady behind the counter is watching a wall of security cameras with a different cop, my ex and I are now concerned but more worried about not being arrested, we quietly walk by and head upstairs. I should note this here: the hotel was only two stories, you went up the stairs, turned right and a brisk seven second walk later our door was right there. We go up the stairs and at the very top are two cops both standing with their hands on their hips in like a power stance, they say good evening and we both just squeak in response now a little more worried about why there are so many cops.

AS I SAY HELLO!!! I turn to face our room and there is a trail of blood splattered all over the floor. My ex and I both very loudly go “OH?!” And a fourth cop comes running from around the corner holding his nose and sniffing while saying “oh sorry about that I had a nose bleed!” We both scurry inside our room, lock the door and stand in complete silence for a good 20 seconds before I say “that gentleman did not have a nose bleed” My ex gives a nervous laugh and we turn the tv on to eat. mind you my ex suffers from chronic nosebleeds and gets them randomly so I know what a massive nosebleed looks like. We have been gone for only two hours and now the hotel is swarming with cops and there’s blood all in the halls

We stayed in the room all night scared the cops would somehow know we took an edible and just watched B99 (yes I know cop show while cops in the hall) SO I finish my food and lay down next to my ex while we start a new episode, I blink and now the middle of a different episode is playing, I blink again and suddenly we’re on the next season?? I’m very confused as to what’s going on but my ex isn’t concerned. I finally decide I want to get up and put my pajamas on BUT my bag is across the room, not super far though no big deal right? Wrong. I stood up from the bed and felt like a new born deer trying to walk, it took me so long to make it to my bag, I’m laughing hysterically, my ex is laughing hysterically, this gummy is kicking my ass! It takes me like 10 minutes to put on shorts and try walking back to the bed, I feel like I’m inside of a hamster ball and some kid just kicked me and sent the ball spinning into the void. I finally make it back to bed after changing and just face plant. I rolled over and said “I think it kicked in” we both bust out laughing, the time was now 11:45 pm so I had been fading in and out of consciousness for the last 3 hours basically but just thought the tv was skipping through episodes. The cops were still in the hall at 12:15 am because we heard their radios going off when we turned the tv off finally.

We wake up the next morning and are like “hahahah what a wild night can’t believe that all happened” we collect our things and go to check out, I commented “I wonder what happened for all those cops to show up?”my ex makes the statement “surely they’ve cleaned everything up by now” we open our door and there on the white wall across from our room is another HUGE splatter of blood. And we just go “or not” we checked out, got in our car (still slightly feeling the edible effects), started driving home and my ex goes “next time I’m paying the extra $100 for a hotel we know.” And we NEVER found out what happened.

After telling some of my friends about it and laughing they were like ???? Why didn’t you just get your stuff and LEAVE? That’s so scary??? Looking back, yeah we probably should’ve just gone home but honestly I don’t know if we would’ve made the drive home because that gummy kicked in HARD lmao but also we were both more scared of the cops somehow knowing we were high than we were the possible murder scene going on. Anyway that was my first experience with a weed gummy and I will forever cherish that memory because honestly wtf.

TLDR; one time my ex and I ate a gummy from a lady at the renaissance faire and then there was a murder mystery at our hotel that night.

#I still laugh about this #it just got weirder as the night went on #tw blood #tw drugs #tw edibles

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dadolorian · 4 years ago

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Seven Days of Valentines, (Diamonds and Daddies side story) Whiskey x F!Reader CH 2

A/N: Thanks to @talesfromtheguild for Beta reading and helping me with many ideas for this! This will be a weekly series leading up to Valentines Day

I try to keep Readers physical appearance as open as possible for this story, but please note in these chapters shes going to become more of a ‘character’, some specific interests of hers are going to come into play.

This is canon to the main Diamonds and Daddies story, but i am uploading as its own thing. You do not need to have read Diamonds and Daddies to read this, just know its a fic about Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels being a Sugar Daddy and the reader is a professional Sugar Baby.

Fandom: Kingsman the golden circle Ship: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x Cis F!reader Warning/tags: established relationship, fluff, semi-public sex, sex against a window, P in V sex, fingering, Oral (M and F receiving) , multiple orgasms, slight over stimulation, dirty talk, choking, Daddy kink, DD/LG/BDSM style relationship, creampie,biting/marking, possessive language, aftercare, Jacks both a gentleman and a DIRTY BASTARD, Reader is 100% into it all

Word count: 6K +

My master list Seven days of Valentines masterlist AO3 LINK Buy me a Kofi

Summary: Whiskey whisks his Sugar baby away for a romantic Valentine’s getaway. Day two he takes her to see her favorite work of art.

Tuesday 9th of February

The second morning in Rome started with an early morning makeout session, soft, gentle kisses roused you from sleep, followed by a shower and a traditional Italian breakfast delivered to your suite as the two of you sat watching people make their way to the coliseum.

The coffee and crespelles were a perfect way to start the day, made all the more better by Jack’s large hand resting on your thigh, drawing gentle patterns with his thumb as you each sipped your mugs in comfortable silence.

By eight thirty AM the two of you were dressed in your warm clothes and out the door, ready to partake in whatever adventure Jack had planned.

You sat literally on the edge of your seat in excitement as you were driven around Rome to our destination for the day. Jack warmly chuckled beside you at your boundless enthusiasm, smiling wider to himself as you began snapping pictures along the way of the general beauty that was Rome.

Once you were dropped off Jack took your hand in his, leading the way up the road and round the corner. You practically hummed in excitement beside him, bouncing in glee as the large walls of Vatican City loomed over you.

“Jaaaacccckkkk!” you squealed delightedly, as he led you to the back of a growing queue. “Are we going where I think we’re going?”

He chuckled at your excitement again. “Couldn't take my girl to Rome without letting her see her favorite work of art could I?”

You bounced in place, trying to express your excitement and gratitude in any articulate way you could, you cupped his face and pulled him down for an expressive kiss on his cheek.

“You have no idea how excited I am Jack!” You elated, almost jumping for joy beside him.

He tried to calm you down and keep you still by resting his hands on your hips, pulling you to his front in a gentle embrace.

“I have a fair idea Sugar,” he hummed, kissing your brow affectionately. “I remember when you mentioned wanting to visit Rome, on our New Year's trip, just a passing comment, but your eyes lit up when you mentioned the Sistine Chapel, I just knew I had to take you one day Darlin.”

Your hands rested lightly on his chest, with your gaze cast down you smiled, tenderly remembering the brief exchange you had shared months prior. At the time you never took much note of your conversation, having forgotten all about it until Jack had surprised you with this trip, but clearly Jack had taken notice, and went through great pains to make your wish you had barely ever shared before a reality.

You had lost count of the amount of times he proved himself of how utterly perfect he was for you was incalculable.

He amazed you every day, outdoing himself with each little surprise or adoring words, each grand gesture or gentle peck, each casual touch or passionate kiss.

Jack Daniels, as cocky, ridiculous, and flirtatious as he was, was everything you had ever hoped for.

“I wish I knew, just how to show my gratitude to you Jack,” you whispered softly to him.

He gently pulled your gaze back up to meet his.

“Darlin, you don’t need to do anything other than stay with me. You’ve made this lonely heart feel something again for the first time in years, and that's more than enough for me.”

Your lower lip wobbled and your eyes threatened to spill, Jack preemptively stopped your sappy tears from spilling with a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Come on Darlin, lines moving.”

Jack walked arm in arm with you throughout the whole tour of Vatican city, your gaze was often fixed to the beautiful architecture or paintings, but everytime you glanced over at Jack, his eyes were fixed on you. You had his whole attention, not the paintings, not the tour guide, you.

“Jack?” You asked softly, concerned he was only humoring you and didn't actually care about anything you were seeing. “Aren't you interested in all this?”

“Oh I am Darlin,” he reassured. “But I love watching the way your eyes light up, better than any painting here.”

“You’re just trying to butter me up Cowboy,” you smiled up at him.

“Can’t help it Sugar, pretty thing like you on my arm? Who can blame me?”

“You flatter me Jack, You’ve been sweet talking me from the moment we met, I don't even think you would know how to stop,” you teased.

He chuckled and kissed your cheek.

“No Darlin, I don't think I would know how to either.”

It was impossible to express just how fantastical it felt to see some of the famous pieces found in the Vatican museum, Raphael’s ‘Transfiguration’, The statue of Laocoön and his sons, The Vision of St. Helen , Da Vinci's St. Jerome in Wilderness, masterpieces you had only ever seen photos of on the internet or in your meager collection of art History books. Completely indescribable. But these experiences paled in comparison to seeing Michelangelo’s Creation of Adam, photos could not compare to how breathtaking it was. It loomed above you, alongside dozens of other High Renaissance masterpieces, but your eyes were pulled back to that one each time.

You imagined Michelangelo, centuries ago, in his genius, laying on his back atop the precarious scaffolding as he painted it, how grueling it was, how long it took.

You never thought you would ever see it, not in person, it had been such a fantasy to you you had never really mentioned it before until Jack had asked you those months ago.

Daddies had taken you on vacations before, trips to sunny beaches and tropical getaways, when they wanted to impress you and have you show some skin, but not once had they ever asked you where you wanted to go, what you wanted to see.

There had been no desire to share your interests, to take you to experience culture and art over bikinis and parties. Jack had been right, you had been with some shit Daddies before you met him.

The picturesque beaches and clear oceans may have been pretty to look at, but it couldn't hold a candle to the beauty above you.

Standing there, with your neck strained up at the ceiling, your eyes began to water for the umpteenth time since you had landed in Italy, but you willed them away this time, focusing on the painting to burn the experience into your memory and refusing to let the tears fog your vision as emotions overwhelmed you once again.

“Baby?” Jack’s soft voice cut in, his arms wrapped around your middle as he came up behind you, kissing your forehead. “You good?”

“Perfect, Jack,” you whispered back, giving your neck a break by resting the back of your head on him.

“Everything you ever dreamed about?” He asked, following your gaze to the painting.

“Better,” you sighed, squeezing his arms around you.

You clung to Jack’s arm as you made your way out of Vatican city and back to the streets of Rome. He patted your hand affectionately, placing a kiss to your temple.

You had been so...so... moved, by Jack's surprise, by the artworks, by the experience and you knew you couldn’t express it to him. And you knew he knew.

You were beginning to understand the magnitude of his affections, he wasn’t just trying to impress you, to show off and boost his ego like many men before him.

No, Jack's masculinity wasn’t so fragile that he had to prove himself like that, he may flash his money for you, to buy you trinkets and clothes just as they all had before, but the way he went about it was so different.

Stuff wasn’t what he relied on to keep you with him, no, he kept you by his side by paying attention, by caring about you, for you.

He wanted to make you happy, truly, and he expected nothing from you in return apart from your companionship.

His words from earlier in the day were really starting to strike a chord with you.

“You’ve made this lonely heart feel something again for the first time in years.”

You looked up at him from the corner of your eye as he led you through the streets. He seems to know where he wanted to go, and you trusted him not to get you lost.

“Jack,” you whispered softly. “I-”

“Don’t need to say a thing Baby,” he interrupted. “I know.”

“But, I-” you sighed. “How?”

“How do I know?” he asked, amused. “Baby you thank me every damn time I do something for you, no matter how big or small, I've picked up on a few things. I can tell when you’re struggling to figure out how to thank me.”

He stopped in his tracks, guiding you to his front and pulling one of your hands up to his lips to kiss it.

“You tear up when something specially meaningful, those are the times you can’t figure out what to say,” he cupped your face in his large, warm hands. They felt nice against the chill that had clung to your cheeks. “But you don’t need to say anything Sugar, I can tell just by lookin at’cha you’re grateful. It made you happy, that's all I wanted. I don’t need a ‘thank you’, I just need you.”

Your lip wobbled and you pouted up at him, making him chuckle.

“See? Just like that, and I get yer waterworks running,” he teased, thumb wiping a tear that was threatening to spill.

You rolled your eyes and swatted his chest playfully.

“None of that Darlin” he laughed, ducking his head to kiss you. “My Baby gets all sappy for Daddy’s sweet words huh?”

“Don’t get cocky,” you giggled, trying to duck from him gleefully.

“Thought you liked me ‘cocky’,” he joked as you turned and tried to walk off, pulling you back into his grip, back flush against his front. “Specially when it’s inside-”

“Jack! People are watching!” you laughed, swatting at him over your shoulder, grateful at least your conversation wasn't too loud and probably not understood by the locals who rolled their eyes at the childish tourists as they passed.

He laughed merrily, letting you go and gently taking your hand.

“Such a killjoy,” he joked, leading the two of you again. “Come on then Sugar, lets get some lunch.”

Lunch turned out to be in this adorable local cafe hidden down many sidestreets.

Jack told him a work colleague told him about the hidden gem, unknown to most tourists, and had made a point to bring you there.

You sat inside, safe from the bitter cold as you sipped your hot drinks and shared croissants and muffins.

Silence passes between you, as you watch from your window the small trickle of locals walk by, trudging through the remaining snow slush, on their way to wherever it was they were going. It was a perfect way to relax after your tour, Jack told you to enjoy it while it lasted, because he had one more surprise for the day.

Jack’s second surprise was a tour of Castel sant'angelo.

It was originally built as a mausoleum, over the centuries it became a fortress and castle, in modern times, it had become a museum.

“Two museum tours in one day?” You asked, humming as the two of you walked over the beautifully sculpted bridge leading up to the impressive building hand in hand.

“Well with it being so close to the Vatican, I thought ‘Why not?’ , and I know how much my Baby appreciates her art and history,” he smiled.

Taking his words from earlier to hear, you thanked him with just a kiss on the cheek.

Jack insisted the two of you could walk back to your hotel by the time you were kicked out of the castle at closing time.

‘Just a forty minute walk’ he promised.

You pouted at him, shaking your head no.

“My feet are killing me Jack,” you whined.

“Won't it be romantic though Baby?” He asked, trying to convince you.“Walking through the streets of Rome at night? Just the two of us?”

It did sound nice, in theory, but the sky was clouded over, your feet hurt, the ground was covered in slush and it was starting to seep into your supposedly waterproof boots.

“My toes are going numb and it’s freezing Jack!”

“But Baby-”

“Daddy,” you sniveled, trying to appeal to his dominant, caring role over you. You wrapped your arms around yourself to block out the cold as the temperature dropped further. It was bearable in the day, sunlight and warm clothes enough to keep you reasonably warm. But you weren't dressed with the expectation of being outdoors too long, and as the snow began to fall you pulled yourself to his chest, snuggling into his warmth.

“Please Daddy, I don't want to walk like this.”

He sighed and wrapped an arm around you, caving to his instincts to care for you.

“Alright then, let me call a cab Honey Bee,” he relented, pulling out his phone.

You groaned when you made your way into the hotel room, throwing the keycard on the table and collapsing by the door , tearing off your boots and letting your soaked, numb toes free.

Jack chuckled at your dramatic behaviour, not removing any of his gear much to your confusion.

“There’s a few more presents on the bed for you,” he smiled, heat in his eyes and flashing his canines at you as he crouched down in front of you, stroking your cheek. “Want you to go in there and put them on-”

“Jack, my feet are too sore for any heels toni-”

“No heels, Honey Bee,” he said, his tone and use of your moniker a clear warning for you to fall in line. “You’ll like it, I promise. Now go open your presents and get dressed while I go pick up dinner.”

He stood up as you nodded and took his hand when he offered it, helping you up and grabbing the keycard from where you discarded it.

“Be back soon Baby,” he smiled as he opened the door and left.

Alone, you padded into the bedroom, your feet grateful for the plush carpet as you made your way over to the bed.

Laid out across the sheets was a beautiful little pair of pink and black satin sleep shorts, a matching bralette, a cute pair of pink fluffy bunny slippers, and a long fuzzy pink gown. You ran your fingers over the material of them all, amazed at how soft they all were.

Atop your outfit for the night was another folded up note. You picked it up carefully and opened it up, greeted by Jack’s familiar scrawl once again.

“Day two of seven, I know your feet must be real sore today Baby, I hope a relaxing evening with Daddy makes up for it. Get dressed and go pick out a movie out in the livin room for me. Happy Valentine’s Week Sugar, Love Jack”

You softened, reading his words, again as you folded the note back up and began redressing.

The satin felt even smoother as it covered your skin, and the fuzzy robe and slippers helped warm you up after your cold trip back to your suite.

Once dressed you wandered out into the living area, delighted to see the couch covered in soft blankets and pillows, a gift hamper sat on the coffee table containing sweets, a bottle of wine, glasses and some foot lotion. Your heart warmed at the thoughtfulness of it all and how intimately comfortable it was.

As you snuggled under one of the blankets and flicked on the TV, scrolling through movie options you heard the keycard beep and the door unlock.

“Back Darlin!” Jack called from the entranceway , you heard him put something down and head to the bedroom.

He joined you a few minutes later, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants that hung low on his hips and his trademark stetson, carrying a large pizza box.

You smiled and bit your lip, admiring his little tummy that you loved so much.

He placed the box on the coffee table and snuggled under the blanket with you.

“Pick something out Baby?” He asked, one arm over the back of the couch and other hand wandering up your thigh under your robe and resting there.

“I think so,” you hummed, relaxing back into his embrace and warmth, head resting on his shoulder. “Sci-Fi movie by the looks of it.”

“Prospect?” Jack questioned. “Don’t usually sound like our kinda thing Darlin.”

“Yeah, but one of the actors caught my eye in the preview clips,” you giggled. “He looks like you Daddy.”

He quirked his eyebrow at you and gave you a shrug, letting you click play as he pulled the pizza and wine over for you to share.

You almost choked on your pizza when the actor showed up and Jack exclaimed in annoyance that he looked nothing like him.

“What are you talking about?” You laughed. “He could be your twin!”

“I know for a fact my Mamma only gave birth to one Daniels boy thank you very much!” He proclaimed.

You giggled hysterically, curling into him, trying not to knock the pizza box onto the floor.

“He’s just you with more scruff!” You gasped for breath between your laughter. “Listen to him he’s even got a southern accent too!”

“I resent being compared to a scruffy, sweaty, bastard space man who talks so damn weird Darlin!”

You covered your mouth, biting back a sassy comment about the ‘talks weird’ comment and tried to compose yourself.

“How can you not see it?” You asked when you finally calmed down. “The similarities are scary.”

The two of you eventually agreed to disagree as you finished your pizza and wine and moved on to a few after dinner chocolates from the hamper.

Jack rubbed your feet with the lotion as you lay on the couch sideways, easing the tension and soreness from your feet in his lap as the movie went on. You melted to his touch, unwinding from the long day on your feet.

You had taken quite a liking to the southern spaceman with the silver tongue, much to Jack's growing annoyance, he grumbled as you cooed at the man on screen.

But as irritated as he was, he pulled you to his side in comfort as you watched your little crush have his arm amputated, hiding your face in Jack’s chest throughout the difficult scene.

“Poor Ezra,” you murmured when the scene was over.

Jack rolled his eyes and kissed the crown of your head. “I don’t know what you see in him Darlin.”

“He’s your scoundrel, space-cowboy twin Jack. What’s not to like?”

“Think you need your eyes checked Darlin. I might actually be bothered ‘bout your little infatuation if you didn’t insist so damn hard that he looked like me.”

You giggled and settled down again against his bare chest.

“Hmm...”

“What are you hmming about over there?”

“You’d look good with a little blonde patch.”

“Shut up.”

When the credits rolled Jack switched off the TV, shrouding the room in darkness and stood up, gently pulling you up to your feet beside him. You were tired after such a long day, and the movie and snuggles afterwards only made you more tired.

He rested his hands on your hips and gave you a tender, soft kiss.

“You like your new jammies Baby?” He asked, smiling when you nodded. “Yeah? You look so dang cute in them.”

He nuzzled his nose against yours.

“Is my Baby too tired tonight? Or do you want to have some playtime with Daddy before bed?”

You whined in response, resting your hands on his chest.

“I always want to play with you Daddy.”

“Oh I know you do Baby, but Daddy thinks you need your rest. Bed time for you I think.”

“I don’t want to go to bed Daddy.”

“Think you’re awake enough for it Honey Bee?” he asked, gently shoving your new robe off of your shoulders and onto the floor.

“Yes,” you nodded.

“Prove it,” he rasped, firmly pushing you to your knees in front of the couch and pulling his sweats down enough for his balls and hardening cock to hook over them.

You licked your lips and looked up at him, taking him in your hand at the base. His eyes burned into yours as you opened your mouth and began kitten licking at his tip, circling your tongue around him.

You kissed him, from base to tip, worshipping his cock.

He moaned at your teasing little touches and you felt him twitch in your hand, hardening slowly under your touch.

‘That's it Baby, Get Daddy nice and hard,” he sighed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back to lose himself to the feeling of you coaxing his cock.

You felt the crotch of your sleep shorts become wet, aroused by his raspy voice and lewd moans. But you kept your hands where they were, on his thigh and cock, knowing if you touched yourself without permission his ‘playtime’ with you would become a (delicious) punishment.

You relaxed your jaw and took him into your mouth, letting your tongue run along the underside of his length as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper into your mouth.

He let out a loud guttural moan, hands cupping your head to keep you in place.

“Hmmmmm fuck Baby!” He spat, looking back down at you and gently thrusting his hips into your face, careful not to choke you. “You’ve gotten so good at that! Can take me so well now can’t cha? Almost all the way!”

He rocked into you slowly, now fully erect in your mouth, you concentrated on breathing through your nose as he pushed himself deeper with each thrust.

You had succeeded in taking him easier than when you first had gotten together, but it was still a struggle to truly deepthroat him and supress your gag reflex, so far you had never managed to take him all in before you backed out. You kept your hand on his thigh, ready to tap out when needed.

Your eyes never left his face, and his never left your lips, watching as inch by inch his cock went further into your mouth.

“Breathe Baby,” he encouraged, hungrily watching his spit covered cock push and pull in and out of you. “If you can take me all the way in tonight Baby, I’ll give you a big reward.”

You mewled around him, excited by his promise of a reward. He always delivered on those promises in a spectacular way.

You took a deep breath through your nose and relaxed your throat as best you could, successfully taking him further, your jaw hurt and your throat protested as he pushed in even deeper.

Your eyes watered as your lips finally met the groomed hair at his base. You blinked up at him, waiting for approval and praise for having taken him all the way for the first time triumphantly.

“Hnnng! Fuck! Good girl! Good Girl!” he panted, watching you, transfixed on the way his cock looked shoved all the way down your throat. “Perfect, warm wet little mouth fuck!”

He reached down cautiously, fingers tracing over your neck gently, feeling the bulge in your throat. You whined, feeling light headed as he gripped your neck and squeezed lightly, he gave an experimental thrust, even with the awkward angle and groaned at the feeling of his own hand squeezing your throat tighter around him.

“Oh fuck Honey Bee I’m so deep,” he moaned, squeezing tighter, making you more light headed. “Doin such a good job, you need to tap out Sugar?”

You shook your head no as best you could, head swimming and body buzzing as he chokes you with his hand and cock.

“Can feel my fat cock moving inside you Baby, so damn hot, making me even fucking harder.”

He kept thrusting into your throat slowly, careful to not actually choke you. You were getting a little high from the lack of oxygen, far more aroused by it than you ever thought you could be. You only tapped out when black dots started to swim in your vision.

Jack pulled free without hesitation, crouching in front of you to check you were alright as the obstruction in your throat was gone and your lungs heaved in oxygen.

You gulped down air hungrily as Jack kissed your face in praise.

“Did so well baby, so proud of you, you took me all the way,” he murmured, nose nuzzling along your hairline. He waited for you to be ready to continue , and when your breathing had calmed and you gave him a nod to continue, he kissed your forehead, stood up and pulled you to your feet with him.

“As promised, my little girl deserves her reward,” he growled, nodding over to an armchair by the sliding door. “Go sit,” he ordered softly.

You scrambled to comply, anticipating your reward with glee.

He sauntered over, discarding his stetson on the coffee table before kneeling down in front of you, hooking his fingers into your sleep shorts.

“Up,” he gently instructed, pulling them down your legs as you lifted your hips for him.

He brought the shorts up to his face and inhaled your scent, licking up the crotch of them to taste the juices that soaked them.

“My baby tastes so good,” he praised, discarding the shorts over his shoulder. “Spread ‘em wide for me Sugar,” he said, gently coaxing your leg apart and licking his lips.

He didn’t tease, intent on giving you your much deserved reward as he drank you down and shoved his tongue deep into your dripping hole.

Your back arched, eyes closed and thighs shook, he pulled them over his shoulders to give himself more room, his strong arms wrapped around your thighs to hold them still.

You whimpered in delight, gripping his hair and pulling him deeper, his eyes cut up at you, letting you know that at any other time, an action would not be tolerated, and he would have you reprimanded for being greedy.

But this was your reward, you deserved it.

Jack did not hide his messy noises as he ate you out like a man starved, wet smacks of his lips on your lower lips, the sound of his skin coming into contact with your dripping thighs, his moans and your sounds of pleasure filled the room.

You gasped when you felt a thick finger prod at your hole, pushing up into you beside his tongue. Your head snapped down to watch as he slowly pumped his finger into you, his tongue began lapping up your folds until he reached your clit, suckling on it gently.

“Daddy!” You whimpered, pushing your hips up further into his face.

He gave you a cocky grin as a second finger joined the first, stretching you out so perfectly, his fingers were so much thicker than yours, fuck you loved his fingers so much, and he knew just where to stroke to make your body sing. In such a short time he had learnt your body better than you ever had.

“My Baby wants to cum?” He asked, running his tongue over your folds again.

“Yes, please Daddy,” you pleaded.

“Daddy prefers when you’re patient Baby. But you earned it tonight,” he growled, standing up with his fingers still inside you. Your legs dropped from his shoulders as he leant over you to nibble at your ear, you felt your juices that still coating his jaw as his skin met yours.

He abandoned his slow pumps of his hand, fucking you hard and fast with his skilled fingers. You keened under him, writhing at the sudden change.

“Look outside that window Baby,” he ordered in your ear hotly. “There's still people out and about, all they have to do is look up here, and they’d see you getting fucked by my hand.”

You felt your core clench around his fingers at his words, a wave of your arousal flooding out, soaking his hand.

“You like that idea Sugar? You like the idea of some stranger seeing my fingers buried in this pussy?”

You whimpered and tried to thrust up into his hand.

“Answer the question!” He growled.

“Y-Yes Daddy!” You cried, panting hard as you felt your pleasure building.

“Yeah? You get off on the idea of someone else seeing you? Seeing what’s mine?”

He sucked a mark into your neck, hoping it would show tomorrow, his secret little claim.

“Want everyone to see you? Like some kind of common whore? You’re mine Baby, don’t you forget that.”

“T-that's what i want them to see!” You whined, racing towards the edge, hoping he wouldn’t deny you as he often did to tease. “I want them to see who-who I belong to!”

He growled in approval.

“Yeah? What else Baby?” He asked, encouraging your line of thought.

“W-want them to see...That you’re- you’re the only one who can make me cum, that you’re the only one good enough!”

“Oh Baby you sure know what to say to stroke your Daddy’s ego,” he hummed in pride. “Go on then, show them, show anyone watching how hard Daddy makes you cum.”

You were already well on your way to your pleasure when he gave you permission to cum, but he helped you along by diving down and sucking hard on your clit.

Your back arched further as you screamed out his name, your walls clenching hard over his furious fingers, as they attacked that sweet deep spot inside you on a mission.

It hurt how powerful your orgasm was, how hard his fingers fucked you through it. And as it washed over you you were ready for him to pull out, for him to let you come down from your high, but his fingers did not slow.

You mewled, sensitive and sore from your first orgasm as you felt him forcing your body towards a second one already.

“D-Daddy, too- too much!” You whined, wriggling in his grasp.

“Yeah?” he asked, his teasing tone told you he didn’t believe you, he moved his head away from your clit to look you in the eyes, speeding up his fingers. “What’s your color then?”

Your hips began thrusting up to meet his hand again.

“Color Baby?” He reminded.

“Green,” bucking up hard now into his hand to chase your fast approaching second high.

“Thought so,” he hummed, taking your nipple into his mouth through your bralette, gently sucking on it and tugging it with his teeth.

When he had soaked the fabric and thoroughly teased you he released it.

“You’re going to cum again for me, that's your reward. Daddys going to make you cum so hard your pretty little pussy will be ruined tomorrow.”

You sobbed under him, anticipating how tantalizingly sore you would be with great delight.

“Come on, be a good little girl for me and cum,” he cooed, grabbing your jaw with his free hand to make you look at him, his face only inches away from yours.

“Cum for Daddy, and I’ll fuck you right up against that window for everyone to watch.”

Your stomach flipped at the thought and your core tightened around his fingers again.

“If it weren't so damn cold out there I’d fuck you right on that balcony, so the whole of Rome can hear your screams for me.”

He brushed your clit with his thumb as the words fell from his mouth, pushing you over the edge for a second time.

“That's it Baby, cum for Daddy,” he cooed softly, lips ghosting yours. “Squeezing my fingers so tight. Can't wait till my cocks all snug up in there, my favorite, perfect little hole.”

His words made your second orgasm just as powerful as the first, you shook hard in your chair and screamed loudly until your voice was hoarse. You tried to muffle the scream with your hands which, until now, had been gripping the armrest for dear life ever since Jack removed himself from between your legs.

He was having none of that however, grabbing your wrists in his hand and pulling them away from your face to hear your screams of pleasure.

He coaxed your orgasm as long as he could, slowing his fingers but still thrusting them hard inside you. Dragging it out.

You shook from the aftershocks each time his fingers shoved up against your cervix, whimpering as your breathing struggled to return to normal and body tried to unwind.

He pulled his fingers free from you, loving how your pussy tried to suck them back inside. You mewled at the loss despite how oversensitive you were.

He held up his hand to inspect it, proudly displaying how drenched it was in your cum.

“Look at that Baby, down past the wrist...You horny little thing,” he rasped, letting you watch as he wrapped his slick coated hand around his neglected cock, pumping it slowly, you could hear the wet pass of his hand with each pump.

“Stand up,” he ordered gently, not helping you as you stood up on shaky legs, struggling to comply as your legs threatened to give out underneath you.

“Top needs to go too Honey Bee,” he instructed, watching you with predatory eyes as you raised your arms, taking the sexy little Bralette off and discarding it somewhere behind you.

“Up against the window, arms up.”

You wobbled over slowly, sighing as your body touched the cool glass.

You felt so exposed up against the glass, despite the fact there was no one currently walking about outside, and there was no light in the living area now that the TV was off, the only light source being the lights outside, lighting up the coliseum.

You could see Jack's reflection in the glass as he came up behind you, stepping out of his sweats. You could hear him still pumping his cock with you slick.

Your back arched as he ran the tip of his cock over your dripping folds, making you gasp and shudder.

“Poor Baby, still so sensitive,” he teased, pushing you against the cold glass with his free hand, making your nipples tighten painfully at the chill. You wriggled slightly as he pushed his hips forward, tip entering your hole.

“Shhhh Baby, Daddy needs his fair share too, needs to fuck your pussy,” he sighed, your tight wet heat slowly enveloped him as he slowly inched his hips forward.

“Need to make you cum. One last time.” He emphasized the statement by snapping his hips forwards, filling you up completely as his hips slapped up against your ass.

He gave your oversensetive body only a moment to adjust to the stretch before wrapping an arm around you and fucking into you hard and fast. His free arm grasped your neck, lightly choking you again as his cock hammered into you.

“Fuck, so wet baby. Your cums soaking me, dripping down Daddys balls,” he rasped into your ear.

Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap, filled the room as you were shoved up against the glass with each thrust.

You cried at the delicious stretch, at how he made your tender, sore hole buzz with pleasure every time he shoved himself inside, at how your body stung from the cold glass, and at the filth he rambled into your ear.

“My perfect pussy, Daddy’s pretty little princess. Think about how anyone could walk past. Could see you,” he teased, turning you on more. “Stuffed full of my cock, wouldn’t be hard, this low down, just need to turn their head a lil bit, ‘s all it would take to see you.”

You moaned at his words, tightening around him.

“Fuck, squeezing me so tight,” he whispered in awe,thrusting harder into you.

You closed your eyes and lost yourself to the delirium of being fucked by him, trying hard not to cum around him until he gave you permission.

He didn’t like it when you came without his permission.

He chuckled darkly into your ear, slowing his thrusts down to teasing rolls of the hips. “There's someone now,” he rasped, watching someone walk by further down the street, you cracked your eyes open and could see just how close they were, close enough that if you called out with the window open, they would hear.

“I don’t think they’ve spotted us. Let’s see if we can change that shall we?” He suggested with another dark laugh, letting go of your neck to grip your hips with both hands, making it much easier to thrust inside you and leaving nothing to silence your noises as he slammed into you again with the same speed as before.

You shrieked, watching with wide eyes at the passer by, hoping he did not hear.

It was annoying just how arousing the idea of this stranger catching the two of you was.

Before you could even stop yourself, you came around Jack’s cock without warning. No build up, no tensing, it hit you so suddenly you couldn’t have stopped yourself if you had tried.

He growled angrily behind you, pausing his thrusts as you squeezed him hard, as your walls fluttered and tried to milk his cock.

There was no way you could hide what you just did, it may have snuck up on you fast but he felt it. Felt you squeeze him and shake in his grasp.

“Did you just fucking cum Baby?” He snarled. “Without Daddy’s permission?”

“I’m sorry!” you sobbed. “I didn’t mean to, it happened so fast!”

“You got off to the thought of some stranger seeing you, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you whimpered pathetically, not wanting to anger him further by lying to him.

“Such a filthy little slut,” he berated, rocking back into you. “If Daddy didn’t need to cum so bad I'd punish you right now. Throw you over my knee and remind you that Daddy owns your orgasms.”

“I know Daddy! I’m sorry! So sorry!”

“I believe you Baby, but that don't change the rules. Doesn’t mean you get away without some sort of punishment.” He licked the shell of your ear, nibbling at you lightly.

“Tomorrow night, I really will destroy your pussy. I’ll hold you down and fuck you so hard, till you cum so many times you pass out, never letting up until you’re beggin me to. Daddy will choose how many times you cum, when you cum, and how hard you cum, to remind you your pleasure belongs to me.”

You sniveled, panting as your breath fogged up the glass.

“Y-Yes Daddy,” you agreed.

“Now stay still, Daddy gonna fill you up, get you nice and creamy.”

His rocks built back up to the harsh thrusts, reserving no gentleness for you as his grip would no doubt leave bruises on your hips the next day.

He growls, the steady slap of his thrusts, bumping of glass and the blood rushing in your ear was all you could hear.

And even though you had already cum three times, you could feel a fourth bubbling deep inside, warming you up.

He pounded you against the glass.

He cursed as his thrusts became frenzied, violent bucks up against your ass as he chased his release.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, here it comes!” He bellowed, digging his teeth into your shoulder and marking you hard. He groaned against your skin as his hot cum flooded you. You felt it fill you and warm you up, even if he didn’t let you cum again, you adored the sensation of him filling you up each time.

His thrusts slowed as you felt his seed begin to leak out around his length.

You mewled at the loss of the orgasm you knew he wouldn’t have given you anyway.

He pulled out slowly, releasing your shoulder and watching as his softening length fell from you.

Your knees buckled, but Jack was quick to catch you before you fell and scoop you up into his arms.

“There we go Baby,” he murmured, gently nosing at your temple. “Let's get you sorted.”

As usual Jack’s aftercare consisted of his soft praises as he tended to your physical needs.

He washed you, tended to your marks, dressed you back into your new pajamas, and tucked you into bed. You drifted in and out of his care, only catching a few words here and there.

“Good girl”, “Did so well,” and “So proud,” were the familiar praises you heard.

He joined you under the warm blankets when he decided you had been thoroughly cared for, pulling you close to his chest to snuggle and murmur affections at you. You nuzzled deeper into his warmth, completely boneless and spent, listening to the gentle timbre of his voice as you drifted off.

That night you dream about old castles and handsome southern princes.

credit to @talesfromtheguild for this little bit

“Hmm...” “What are you hmming about over there?” “You’d look good with a little blonde patch.” “Shut up.”

Tag list:

@thats-one-tender-foot @luminescentlily @nuttybeardetective @ishqinbbc @ben-is-a-hoe @calamity-queen @phoenixhalliwell @talesfromtheguild @the-arctic-violet @jeeperky @mando-amando

#SugarDaddy!Whiskey #7dov #DIamonds&Daddies #agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #jack whiskey daniels x reader #my fic #thots #smut

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pedros-mustache-main · 4 years ago

Text

the arrangement

summary: it is all clear and simple—until it isn’t.

word count: 6.6k+

warnings: sugar daddy relationship, age gap (john is ~35, reader is ~23), angst, language, innuendo, suggestive themes & moments (not 18+ but be mindful—probably more so than with anything i’ve written!)

a/n: for the sake of this fic, veronica et al. don’t exist. i refuse to write infidelity. okay i hope you enjoy because i am very upset about the cottagecore!brian fic that i wrote which was eaten unceremoniously by the monster living in this website. xoxo!

1986.

he doesn’t kiss you; you won’t let him.

it’s all a part of the minutiae of your arrangement. he has his rules: a shower before and after—sometimes together, but mostly alone; meetings out of the public eye, normally his london flat; no contact with his colleagues. you have your rules: no outside arrangements with other women (or men, for all you care); no spur-of-the-moment visits; and above all, no kissing.

he can—and does—have a field day with the curves and contours of your body whenever he gets the chance. his mouth knows your skin well, and you’d like to think you know his in a similar fashion. you know what it feels like to be touched and held and loved by him, but his lips have never so much as brushed yours, and you intend to keep it that way. it’s just a quirk, a bothersome little thing you carry with you to all of your arrangements. kissing is too intimate and, though you’ve been more than intimate with john, there’s a line in the concrete you are unwilling to cross. he respects that, so the arrangement works.

you like him. he’s charming and intelligent, thoughtful when it matters. he never forgets a date despite his busy schedule, and he seems to anticipate your moods, knowing just when to spoil you a little extra to ease the pain of a ruined portrait or sour customer. he supports your art endeavors, though you are firm about him staying away from your studio apartment. like kissing, it’s too intimate, too personal. he pays the rent, though, and is admittedly happy when you confess he has inspired a piece or two.

still, he’s confounding. there’s a pervading sadness about his person, even when he’s laughing. it runs deep—that sadness—and you can’t pinpoint the origin. you suspect he must be lonely even though he’s one of the world’s foremost musicians. why else would he dote on you endlessly? why else would he throw his hard-earned money at the feet of a girl too young to be his proper lover and too guarded to ever give him the chance at something real?

not that he’s tried to move the arrangement to something deeper. he hasn’t. for that alone, you’re more than content to stay with him. you’ve had strings of other arrangements before, but never one that’s lasted this long. it always falls apart eventually—unmet expectations, dangerous feelings, the unfortunate death. a year and a half with john is a long time, and you’re surprised he’s not bored with you yet. you’re surprised you aren’t bored with him.

but truly, he is kind and well-off—physically and monetarily—and so long as he’s keen to have you around, you’ll stick around. you aren’t complaining.

of all your arrangements, you like john richard deacon the most.

he’s been gone for some time, consumed by the magic tour and promoting the latest queen album. he’s tired, ready for a break, and when he calls you a week before his return, you can hear the shoulder-crushing weariness in his tone.

“i’m getting too old for this, [y/n],” he says.

his sigh is heavy, and it gives you pause. you hold still, the paintbrush between your fingers suspended in midair. you twist on your stool in discomfort. though you know your role—and you play it splendidly—there’s always a flare of uncertainty in the back of your mind when john muses personal.

you shift, cradling the telephone between your shoulder and your ear. “you’re only thirty-five, john,” you say after a moment. “hardly an old fart.”

“well, i feel one.” something crinkles over the line. “i think we’ll be on break for a good while after this. freddie is—” he sighs again. “when can i see you?”

you can’t help but smile. you dip your head to the side as you study the foot of the angel in your painting. there’s something not quite right, so you lift the corner of your smock and wipe away the top of her big toe.

you like it when your men are eager; it means they still intend on supplementing your income and leaving you fine gifts. as soon as the eagerness begins to fade, as soon as the meetings are less and less frequent, you know it’s time to look elsewhere. nearly two years later and john is more eager for an evening with you now than he was at the start. you have nothing to worry about.

“when do you get back?”

“thursday.”

“then you can see me thursday.”

he exhales in something that sounds a lot like relief. you bite your lip to keep from smiling wider. he’s wrapped so tight around your pinky; neither of you seem to care.

“good, good. i’ll bring you something from barcelona. what do you want?”

"hmm. surprise me.”

“you don’t like surprises.”

“you’re right. how about some of those fun little tiles? the colorful ones, y’know?” he hums in agreement. “i can put those in my kitchen.”

“tiles? my baby wants tiles?” he laughs, and you’re thankful for the thousands of miles between you. the affectionate term, spoken normally in jest, sends your thoughts straight to the gutter every time, loathe as you are to admit such a thing. “fine. tiles it is. see you thursday.”

“it’s a date, mr. deacon.” you pause then add, “get some rest, john. you sound knackered.”

“i am.”

“i’ll see you thursday, handsome.”

he says goodnight, wishes you sweet dreams, and hangs up. you drop the phone to its base and sit back, stretching your arms over your head.

the canvas before you is taller than it is wide—twenty-four by thirty-six. the customer, a repeater, requested something angelic and bright, a new addition to their marble villa in the south of greece. you’re happy to oblige, but you’re stuck on the bottom portion. should the angel be in flight? poised on a cliffside? in a garden? you know it doesn’t matter, that the buyer will be happy regardless, but it matters to you. each painting needs to tell a coherent story, and you like for that story to fit well with the piece’s ultimate home.

your mother says you are blessed with a gift by god. john says you have natural talent. you think you’re just good at copying. it’s not forgery; all of your paintings are as unique as they are original. still, you’re excellent at replicating dead-and-gone styles: renaissance, rococo, romantic, hell even the odd modern piece. whatever the customer wants, you can reproduce it for a fraction of the cost. your work pays handsomely, but averaging only one painting a year doesn’t pay all the bills that pile up on your kitchen island over the months. that’s where john comes in. it evens out in the end, with more than enough on the side to play with.

rising from your stool for a much needed break, you cross the concrete floor, the stone cool beneath your bare feet. the evening has gone drafty, so you shut one of the tall windows looking onto the side garden. you pick up your mail from beneath the flap on the front door and rifle through. nothing urgent, though there’s a letter from your mother. you tuck it to the side.

john would detest your studio if he ever saw it. it’s unfeeling, bare bones and vaulted ceilings and exposed beams. most of the open floor plan is used for your painting endeavors. there’s discarded portraits along the wall, a few untarnished canvases tucked in a corner. there’s a worktable that doubles as a kitchen table, and a cramped kitchen shoved beneath the loft which houses your bed and wardrobe. you don’t mind the gray walls and gray floors and metal and lack of personal touches. if anything, the simplicity allows your creativity to explode.

after a piece of jam and toast for supper, you return to your painting. the angel should be on a cliffside overlooking the sea, you decide; after all, her home will soon be greece. dipping your brush to the mixture of tan and dark brown you’ve been using for her skintone, you curl a leg beneath you and set to work. only this time, you struggle to keep the excited smile from your face.

john’s coming home. you missed the bastard—him and his money.

thursday evening you find yourself on john’s front stoop, fist poised to knock on the door. the dress beneath your coat is silky, like water against your skin. you feel underdressed for the turn of the season but you’re likely to be without clothing entirely within the hour so you grit your teeth against the chill on your legs. you clear your throat, adjust the curled ends of your hair, and knock on the door. the bottle of champagne in your hand grows heavy as you wait, and you finger the small string of diamonds around your neck.

john inhales through his nose sharply when he opens the door. “[y/n],” he breathes before sweeping you into a tight embrace.

you laugh, crushed against his chest, your arms snug around his shoulder. he smells clean, like soap and fresh tea. you lift your legs, giggling further as he spins you about the rowhouse foyer.

“okay, okay!” you squeal. “put me down!”

he drops you to the floor, your heels clicking against the hardwood. “let me take your coat,” he says, sliding behind you to remove your outer layer. you shimmy out of the garment and bite you lip on a smirk when he sucks in a breath through his teeth.

“like it?” you ask, twirling on the ball of your foot in a slow circle. your dress—pale pink, short and open in the back—leaves little to the imagination.

“you’re a sight for sore eyes, angel.”

he steps away from the coatrack to circle his arms around your waist. he settles his hands in the curve of your spine and drinks you in, his pupils expanding with appreciation. you preen under his gaze and rest your palms on his brightly patterned shirt. you never tire of this—no matter who your benefactor is. the glazed look in their eye when they see you wearing a necklace newly bought or sporting a handbag of your choice or simply pushed against their strength is intoxicating. you feel powerful and desirable and unstoppable all at once.

“missed you.” john lifts a hand to brush a lock of hair away from your face, and the gesture is decidedly intimate. it sends a chill down your spine, your mouth tightening. you know if this were any other relationship he would bend forward and capture your lips, marking you as his and erasing the weeks apart with a single touch. you know he’s fighting the urge to do so now; you can see it in the way his eyes flick to your mouth and hold there.

to ease his yearning, you wind your arms around his neck and squeeze him tight, curling your fingers in the base of his recently trimmed perm. you like the fluff; it’s quirky—like him. “missed you, john.” you kiss the corner of his jaw and pull away, trailing to the kitchen.

he’s hot on your heels.

lifting your rump onto the kitchen island, you cross your ankles and grin as he enters the room. “did you bring me my tiles?”

john blinks, as if he’s not sure what you’re talking about, but then recognition lights his eyes, and he snaps in remembrance. “ah yes, the tiles! hold on.” he slips into an adjoining room before returning with a brown box tied with a white ribbon. “here.”

you take the box, smile at him where he leans against the counter opposite you, and tear off the string. within the box there’s a small index card covered in john’s neat script. you lift it and meet his eyes again; there’s a faint blush on his cheeks as you read aloud.

“[y/n], i thought you deserved something better than a few titles. love, john.” lowering the card to your side, you push back the tissue paper to see a framed pencil sketch of a woman mid-gown fitting. the seamstress is crouched against the floor, her back to the viewer. the woman being fitted is twisted, glancing over her shoulder as the seamstress works, her reflection visible in an invisible mirror. you squint and push your nose to the corner then nearly drop the frame to the floor.

your head snaps up so fast it cracks. “john, you didn’t.”

he just beams, nodding.

tucked in the right hand corner of the sketch is the artist’s signature, a signature you know well. mary cassatt.

“got it in paris,” he explains. “thought you could use an original from your favorite.”

you brush your fingertip along the signature and feel the sting of tears beneath your eyelids. of all the gifts you been handed—holidays in rome, designer bags and jewelry, luxury rides to and from the city—this, this, is the best. part of you hates the sudden rush of emotion that spreads through your chest, but you allow the feeling to take hold, opening your arms to him. he steps between your legs, and you curl yourself around his body.

“thank you, john,” you whisper. your voice is muffled by the fabric of his shirt, but the way he presses his hand against your shoulder blade tells you he heard you loud and clear.

he hums against the crook of your neck. the vibrations tickle your throat, and you flush. you draw back, far enough to meet his gaze, but close enough to feel his breath against your face.

god, you could kiss him.

the thought strikes you like a bolt of lightning, and you resist the urge to gasp. you’ve never thought it before; the rule of no kissing is ingrained in you so deep the mere idea of breaking it sends you for a loop. but there he is—generous and gorgeous and yours. he knows you well, spoils you well, and all he asks is you entertain him in return.

how did you get to be so lucky?

clearing your throat, you brush past him to hop off the counter. you tug the hem of your dress down a smidgen and touch his shoulder. “want me to go shower?” you ask, cocking your head toward the bathroom.

he turns to face you and shakes his head. “no.” his arms are around you again, as if it pains him to keep his distance for a moment too long. you can feel it in the thrum of his heart against your ribcage. you swallow hard.

your brow pinches in a frown. “but you—”

his mouth is already tracing the lines of your neck, warm and wet and dizzying. he grips your hip, his fingertips pressing through the satin of your dress. “forget it, [y/n]. i’ve missed you,” he whispers, a tattoo on your skin. “come to bed.”

“but the sho—”

he pulls back and lifts a hand to grasp your chin. the touch is not angry, not possessive; it’s just firm. the words in your mouth dry up, and you meet his gaze with wide eyes. “i said forget it.”

you nod, mute.

his eyes lower to your mouth. his tongue darts out to swipe his lower lip.

he steps away, his fingers trailing down your arm until they circle your wrist. he leads you through the house, silent, until you reach the foot of his bed. moonlight washes through the open terrace doors. a misty rain drifts into the room, bringing with it a chill and a whisper of autumn.

you toe off your heels, run your finger down his grecian nose, over his straight jaw. there’s this feeling in your stomach, one you can’t quite place. it’s a mixture of contentment and nerves, joy and apprehension, all at once. it’s a foreign feeling, and there’s no time to dissect it as john leans close.

his nose nudges yours. “i missed you.”

you sigh, wistful, and pull him onto the bed.

come morning you are sated and sore. you groan through a stretch, curling your back like a cat as you adjust to the morning light. you slept well, better than you have in several weeks. you can’t be sure if the dreamless slumber was due to exertion from your evening activities or pure tranquility. you missed sleeping beside john; he has a comforting way about him, even in the throes of pleasure or sleep.

you turn your face to see john already wake, propped up against a pile of pillows. you grin and reach for him.

“morning,” you mumble on a yawn.

he blinks contentedly at you, a half-smile on his mouth, a lit cigarette between his fingers. “morning.”

“sleep well?”

he nods. “that was the most sleep i’ve gotten in weeks.”

with a chuckle, you pinch his bicep. “funny—i thought the same for myself.”

he pats the space beside him, and you shuffle to lie perpendicular to his body, your head on his bare chest. he drapes an arm across your torso, and you lift his hand to fiddle with his long fingers.

the terrace door is still open, allowing mid-morning warmth and the gentle hum of the street below to fill the room. you sigh and smile when john takes a drag of his cigarette and tilts his head to exhale in the opposite direction. he knows you hate the smoke, thoughtful boy.

when he turns back, he catches your eye, furrowing his brow as he studies the look on your face. “what?”

you shake your head. “nothing.”

he grunts, shifts a little lower along the pillows. “tell me about the paintings you’ve got going in that pretty head of yours.”

“just one for the moment—an angel near the sea. it’s for the olsons and their villa in greece.”

“olson? wasn’t he the one who bought that nudie fashioned after his wife?”

“precisely the one!”

john smirks. “how’d you feel if i had you paint something like that for me?”

you guffaw, flipping over onto your stomach to slap his breastbone. “john!”

he holds up his hands in surrender, though there’s a mischievous twinkle in his gray eyes. “oy! it’s just a thought!”

you huff. “continue like that and i won’t finish the painting i’ve started for you.”

he leans back against the pillows in surprise. his neck is contorted in the effort it takes to properly meet your eyes as he sits, and you poke the double-chin that’s popped up beneath his jaw. he swats your hand away, though his fingers wrap tight around your wrist. he presses his pointer finger against your pulse point.

“you’ve started a painting for me?”

“course i have. don’t sound so surprised.”

“what’s it of?”

you narrow your gaze. “don’t know if i should tell you. it’s supposed to be a birthday gift.”

“my birthday’s not for a while, [y/n].”

“my paintings take a while, john.”

he sighs, squeezes your wrist, lifts it to kiss the bone on the side of your hand. “tell me,” he mumbles, his mouth against your skin, eyes locked on yours.

on an inhale, you give in. “it’s victoria park. well, victoria park seventy-five years ago.”

his eyebrows rise, and his fingers tighten around your hand. “victoria park? my victoria park? from leicester?”

“where else, silly?”

he goes quiet.

the air in your lungs stills, and that funny feeling you had the night before flares in your stomach. you feel your jaw slacken as he rakes his gaze over you in such unabashed adoration it makes your gut twist. there’s an overwhelming desire to be near him, to feel him as you’ve never felt him before, rising like the tide, and you are pulled to it like a baby sea turtle searching for the safety of the ocean. it’s a natural pull, but you are determined to ignore it.

you sit up, brush a lock of hair behind your ear, and turn your back to him.

he runs his finger along the curve of your shoulderblades. you shiver.

sensing your discomfort, john sits straight in bed, the covers around his lap rustling with the movement. “you know,” he says, pulling on his cigarette again. “freddie would like one of your paintings.”

“what?” you look over your shoulder with a frown. “you told him about me?”

he shakes his head. “no, i just mean what you do is his style. he’d be thrilled to have something so… romantic.” he pauses and lifts a brow in question. “i could mention it to him, ask if he’d be interested?”

your frown deepens. this is not the john you know. john rarely speaks about his bandmates, preferring to keep his exploits with queen separate from your arrangement. when he does talk about his job, it’s normally a complaint here, a silly little story there. though you’ve been with him more than a year, you know more about his life before queen than his life during. he’s private, like you, and you respect that. it’s why your arrangement works: mutual respect for the other’s boundaries.

but there’s something different about him. you noted it the night before. first no shower. now suggesting he introduce you to freddie. it doesn’t make sense.

or maybe it does. maybe this is his way of shifting the relationship, subtly, under your nose, done before you realize what’s happened.

a thread of panic weaves itself around your spine.

“what’s this about? you’ve never wanted me to meet freddie before.”

he shrugs, playing innocent. “just an idea. we’re on break now, will be for some time. i figured meeting you would give freddie something to fuss over.”

“you know how i feel about my studio, john.”

“i know, i know. you like your privacy.”

john stubs out his cigarette in an ashtray on the bedside table then scoots closer, drawing you close with an arm around your waist. his mouth works idle patterns along your shoulder, the spot where your neck meets your back, the ticklish spot behind your ear.

you tighten your hold on his arm, your nails biting his skin. when you speak, your voice is but a whisper.

“i don’t want things to change.”

he stills, lifting his head from your skin. “sorry?”

“i said i don’t want things to change.” turning, you meet his eyes, nearly losing your breath in the process. he’s close; you can practically taste him on your lips. “what we have works. don’t you think?”

“’s just an idea, [y/n].”

ducking your head, you play with the hair on his arm. your heart squeezes tight. “i know. but i say yes now and tomorrow you’ll be…” you lift your face.

he seems to understand without needing you to finish the thought.

he untangles himself and swings his legs over the side of the bed. you watch his movements, stiff and irritated. he pulls on a pair of ratty joggers, rising from the bed to shut the terrace doors. you startle at the sound of glass rattling in the windowpanes.

“john, i—”

he cuts you off. there’s another cigarette between his fingers now. “better take a shower,” he quips. his eyes remain planted on the cigarette packet in his hands. he taps the thin stick against the cardboard several times before jamming it between his teeth. “you didn’t take one last night, and we wouldn’t want things to change, now would we?”

the door slams shut, the blast echoing in your empty stomach.

you don’t hear from john for a week and a half. it’s not uncommon, the length between visits. he’s busy, you’re busy. sometimes you can barely find time for yourself, let alone him. still, there’s no box of chocolates delivered to your doorstep, no flowers dropped off at an inopportune time.

there’s just silence.

it worries you at first, and you wonder if he’s dropped you like a hot potato. it wouldn’t be unheard of. one arrangement ended in a similar fashion, and you nearly lost your studio in the process. but john is better than that. he wouldn’t leave you on the verge of homelessness, would he? he cares about you too much to do such a thing.

your fears are assuaged when a bouquet of flowers does arrive one afternoon. you have paint smeared along your forehead, and your neck cracks as you stand to answer the doorbell, but the sight of sunflowers in a pretty blue vase erases all your uncertainties. the note tucked in the ramble of flowers makes you smile—sorry for being a dick. give me a call if you forgive me – j—and you tape it to your refrigerator.

john is still yours; you are still his.

you call him that night, and after reaffirming your boundaries, the phone call devolves into a mess of heavy breathing and whispered encouragements and sinful sorts of pleasure.

as you fall asleep, you’re struck by something he said in the hazy cloud of post-bliss: even if this is all you give me, i’m happy.

even if this is all you give me…

he wants more. how much you aren’t sure, but enough that you can’t fall asleep as readily as you normally do. frustrated, you slip from bed and finagle your way down the stairs to the kitchen. you warm a glass of milk and lean against the counter, sipping slowly. your eyes fall along the mary cassatt print, now housed on the kitchen wall above the vase of sunflowers. the milk in your stomach curdles.

john deacon loves you; and if you tarry any longer, you’ll be close to loving him, too.

the decision to call the arrangement off does not come lightly. you mull over it for days on end, even as a sliver of your heart warms to the idea of allowing john to love you as he pleases, of letting yourself love him back.

it’s all you can think about the next time you see him face-to-face. as he pours you a glass of wine and lays you out on the living room floor, your thoughts are elsewhere. when he takes you shopping for canvas frames, you let him hold your hand, but you can’t focus on what he’s saying about the best fit. even when he mentions your studio and you find yourself willing to invite him inside, you cannot shake the feeling that you are losing a part of yourself you will never regain.

but would it be so bad? giving in?

you’re interested in john, that much you will concede. he’s good and kind and generous and a hell of a good romp and you enjoy your time with him. but the stubborn part of you refuses to let go of your own autonomy. you will not become his plaything, his arm candy at all the queen functions he so dreads. you value your independence too much—the safety of your well-crafted walls—to be anything other than his dirty little secret.

you’re prepared to shove your concerns aside and continue on until john makes the decision for you. he gives freddie your studio address, and freddie shows up one morning unannounced. you invite him in, sketch out a painting over the worktable, smile when necessary, and ignore his wonderings about your connection to john but on the inside you’re reeling. you’re livid and you’re hurt.

you’ve never been hurt by one of your arrangements before.

after freddie leaves, john answers the telephone on the third ring. “hello?”

“we can’t see each other anymore,” you say, your voice firm.

he’s quiet for a moment. “i’m sorry—what?”

“you heard me, john. i’m calling it all off.”

“why on earth would you do that?”

unbidden, an answer rises to your mouth: because i think i like you as much as you like me and i’m scared.

with a harsh clearing of your throat, you instead say, “you sent freddie here. i told you not to do that.”

“he did what? no, [y/n], i didn’t send freddie to you.”

“then how else would he know who i am? my clients don’t run in his circles.”

panic laces the edge of john’s voice as he rushes to explain, but you grit your teeth against the sound. “i swear, angel, i didn’t tell him where you live. i might have told him about you, yeah, but he’s my best friend, and i needed some advice.” he hesitates, sucks in shaky breath. “don’t do this. don’t call it off.”

you swallow hard. for the first time in a long time, you feel a wash of tears over your eyes. “you want too much from me, john. i can’t give you what you want. i’m not the girl for that sort of life.”

“oh, baby, i—i’m sorry. i know i’ve been pushy lately but i—” he sighs. “god, i love you so dearly. i’d give you the world if you let me.”

at this you choke on a sob. surprised by the sound, you press a hand to your mouth.

oh god, you love him too. the feeling crashes over you like a wave, and you’re the sea turtle who has found the safety of the sea. john is your sea. he envelops you, carries you to safety and uncertainty all at once. but you know him—he will protect you, guide you, with everything he is and all that he has.

you love him, you love him, you love him.

but it’s not enough. it’s not supposed to go like this, and you both know it.

“i’m sorry, john,” you whisper. you didn’t remember that tears taste salty. “please don’t call me, okay?”

you hang up before you can hear his protests any further then you crawl into bed and weep.

several months pass. autumn fades into winter, and you grow colder by the day.

you’re stressed. you cut john off entirely, opening a separate bank account and shuffling your monies and generally working to disentangle him from your life. but no john means no stable income. you’re fine for the time being, your painting for the olsons paid for and gone; but you’ve taken to rushing your artwork now, allowing customers to sit for hastily and poorly arranged portraits with their dogs and children. the paintings are lovely, yes, but they’re not you. it pays the bills, though, so you can’t complain.

you continue on freddie’s painting. he paid you upfront, so you owe him that much. in the evenings, after shooing the last snot-nosed kid and yippy dog out of your home, you turn on the lamp above the canvas and return to the sort of art you yearn for day and night. the painting screams freddie mercury all over.

there’s a man, mustached and tan, draped against a purple chaise in the center of the canvas. he’s flanked by a tall gentleman with wiry hair who is focused on a globe in the corner. to the far right, two other men—one blond, one brunette—whisper amongst themselves. you realize, belatedly, that you are painting queen in some sort of ridiculous nineteenth century daydream. it makes you snort every time you sit down to work.

you struggle to capture john in the painting. you know his face better than you know your own. you dream of it every night and wake to an image of it every morning.

you love him. you miss him.

you’re not certain when you started loving him. maybe six months in when he took you to new york and the moma and the empire state building. maybe nine months in—your first christmas together—when he gifted you a song. maybe a year in when he confessed his deepest fears—fears of loneliness and isolation and an empty old age—and made you promise to stay by his side. maybe when he came back this last tour and you wanted to kiss him so badly it hurt to hold back.

you’ve never been in love. you don’t quite understand the way it works, but you know enough to know that you love him. perhaps you always will, your disco deaky, the thoughtful boy.

you finish freddie’s painting come the first of the year. it’s been four months without john, four months entirely on your own. you have no compunction to find another arrangement. no one could fill the shoes of john deacon even if they tried, and the idea doesn’t appeal to you like it once did. you’ll go it alone for a while and revel in the autonomy you so desire.

freddie invites you to dinner when you call and say the painting is ready, and you reluctantly go. you’re half afraid he’ll pull some trick and invite john as well, but he swears he’ll be on his best behavior. the night of the dinner, you dress warm and gently arrange the framed canvas in the boot of your car. after losing your way twice, you eventually find his house and park outside. jim helps you carry the painting through the tight gate and into the front parlor where freddie waits, hands clasped in excitement.

“oh, i could just piss myself i’m so thrilled!” freddie squeezes your shoulders when you unveil the completed work. “i look so divine, like bloody oscar wilde!”

the edges of a smile lift your mouth. “yes, divine indeed.”

“you are more talented than you know, [y/n],” freddie says. he boops the end of your nose. “you shouldn’t hide your talent.”

“i don’t! i sell my work.”

“yes, but you could be a star, darling. i could make you a star.”

“i don’t want to be a star, freddie.”

“then what do you want?”

you sigh, shrug, and curl your lips in a wry grin. “not sure anymore.”

“perhaps dinner will help you figure it out. come on, it’s ready and we don’t want it getting cold.”

you follow freddie to the dining room. what awaits you sends your blood running cold as the frost outside. john richard deacon, handsome as ever, sits at the table, a smoke in hand. he looks up when you enter, surprise painting his face at the sight of you bundled in a winter coat in his friend’s dining room.

you twist in the doorway. your fists tremble with rage. “fuck you, freddie!”

he cringes. “okay, i can explain. you just have to hear me out before you slit my throat.”

john rises to his feet. “[y/n]…”

you ignore him and keep your gaze on freddie. “you promised!”

freddie nods. “yes, i know, but you see it was my fault that this whole thing fell apart.”

at this, john turns his head. “what are you on about, fred?”

“well, when you told me about your relationship with [y/n]”–-he lowers his voice to a stage whisper, looking at you from the corner of his eye—“when you told me you loved her”—he returns to his normal voice—“i got very distracted by the idea of a painting of the four of us. so i ignored your issue and looked her up and then it all fell apart.”

john sucks in a deep breath, shaking his head. he runs a hand down his face, and you note the weariness etched along his eyes. “fuck, fred.”

“so, you see, it’s my fault. if i had just left well enough alone, you two might still be shagging like rabbits and spending all that hard-earned money instead of moping like a pair of silly-pants!” he sobers, his nose twitching. “i really am sorry. it was selfish of me.”

“freddie—” you start.

he shakes his head. “no! i won’t hear any excuses—not until you’ve made up.” a timer somewhere in the kitchen dings, and he snaps. “now… if you’ll excuse me…” he slips from the dining room, shutting the door behind him with a tell-tale click.

you look to the floor. you should get your winter boots polished. they’re horribly scuffed.

john speaks first. “you look good, [y/n].”

lifting your head, you scoff. “you always were a flatterer.”

“no, i mean it.”

you run your eyes over him and feel your heart trip. god, you missed him. “you look good, too.”

“what have you been doing?”

“oh, this and that. mostly painting portraits.”

“you hate portraits.”

“i know.”

outside, the cricks chirp loudly, but you wonder if john can heart the beating of your heart over the chorus of insects.

“[y/n], i—”

“john—”

he smirks. you look to your toes again.

“you go first,” he says.

lifting your head, you dare to step further into the room. you steel yourself, biting the inside of your tongue to keep from spilling your guts at his feet. “i was wrong, too.”

he cocks his head to the side in confusion. “what do you mean?”

it’s time, isn’t it? seeing him now... how could you ever live without him?

“i was foolish and stubborn and willful. i knew what i wanted, but ignored it for the sake of my own stupid ideals.” you step closer and catch a whiff of his cologne. it sends a thrill straight to your belly. “turns out i need people just as much as you do.”

“what are you saying?”

“i’m saying i was wrong to turn you away. i was scared. i’ve only ever known love with a price tag on it, never real love. not until you anyway. as complicated as it is, you have loved me better than anyone else, and i was blind to it for so long. and even when i wasn’t blind to it, i pushed you away. i’m sorry.”

he swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing. “what—what are you saying?” he asks again.

“i’m saying i miss you and i’m a right git and i love you and i’m sorry.”

he reaches for you, his touch like fire on your wrist. “i shouldn’t have pushed you.”

you shake your head in disagreement. “i needed a good pushing. i didn’t realize how much i needed you until you were gone. and fuck all about the money. i don’t care about that. i needed you. i need you.”

john moves his hands to cup your face, his palms warm on your cool cheeks. he leans downs and presses his forehead to yours. you exhale, sure that if you open your eyes, if you move an inch, you will wake from whatever dream you inhabit. you don’t want this moment to end—him and you and no one else, all the possibility in the world stretching out before you.

“you don’t know what it means to hear you say that,” he whispers. “i would be content to love you silently, but, god, i love you.”

you laugh and open your eyes, blinking back tears. you pull away to meet his gaze. “even though i’m a stubborn fool?”

“i’m more stubborn and more foolish than you ever could be.” his thumbs work over the apple of your cheeks. “i love you,” he breathes.

“i love you.”

you grin. he matches your smile.

“kiss me,” you whisper.

his eyes widen, his mouth parting. “but—”

“it’s part of our new arrangement. you can kiss me whenever you like so long as you promise not to smoke in bed.”

“fuck. i—” he shakes his head, eyes fluttering shut. you lift a hand to his cheek, and his eyes open.

“i know. me too.”

he captures your mouth, the touch soft and everything you have waited to find, everything you have searched for in all the wrong places. he kisses you, holds you against his body, weaves his hand in your hair. he moves his lips in tandem with yours, and you feel like you’re floating.

he kisses you, and you are home.

#john deacon #john deacon x reader #queen #queen fic #j writes #the arrangement

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casualdadnomad · 4 years ago

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modern hc for every possible atla ship

Alright, I said I’d do it and now I’m doing it. We will not be arguing over ships because it’s impossible to argue if I include..... all of them. I’ll include some nice ship things and then rate the likeliness of the ship happening in my au.

Kataang: my babies. soulmates. they would be that adorable couple that has been together since the eighth grade. they work well together because they’re both kind hearted and care about each other deeply. they hold hands in hallways, call each other pet names (the infamous “sweetie” that makes sokka want to die), and always try to give each other little surprises to brighten each other’s day. they’re very into valentines day. would it happen? yes. 100/10.

Sukka: my babies part 2. sokka comes to every football game to cheer her on during halftime. he also goes to every winter guard competition. Suki goes with him when he does his graffiti. she insists it’s to be a lookout in case the cops find them, but she just loves watching him make his art. they don’t go out much, and are just as happy watching anime in suki’s room as they would be on a date. would it happen? YES. 10/10.

Zukka: the hottest ship of the ATLA renaissance. probably the best ship of all time. they just have this perfect dynamic. sokka is a genius with terrible ideas and no impulse control. zuko is just a guy with anxiety. sokka would definitely help zuko come out of his shell a little bit. and iroh loves his nephew’s boyfriend. sokka helps out for free in the jasmine dragon if zuko is working. would it happen? maybe. i do love them a lot. 8/10.

Zutara: okay. everyone has an opinion on zutara. my opinion is that i don’t like it unimportant. they stay up late on facetimes and talk until like 3 am. they play a lot of games and katara is super competitive, so zuko lets her win a lot. she’s cute when she’s convinced she’s the king of gamepigeon 8 ball. would it happen? unlikely. 4/10.

Taang: i don’t hear about this ship a ton. it’s not one i ever thought about. they’re both super protective, even though neither of them really need to be protected. aang is definitely more affectionate than toph, but toph can and will beat the shit out of anyone that hurts aang. would it happen? they’re the only two freshmen, so maybe, but still unlikely. 5/10.

Tokka: i’ve always thought toph’s little crush on sokka was adorable. they would skip school, go break the law for fun, that kind of nonsense. this is one of those rare instances where sokka has the most common sense. they would be more of a “what’s up you ugly idiot” kind of couple than a “hey baby! :)” kind of couple. would it happen? I could see them getting along. it would be pretty chaotic. 6.5/10.

Mai Lee: MY GIRLS. they’re perfect for each other. Mai is peak alt girl. She’s a goth queen, eyeliner sharp enough to kill a man, chains, little shirt big pants, and a nose piercing. ty lee is the exact definition of cottagecore. strawberry dresses, lots of blush, makes her own earrings. ty lee even gave mai a pair of earrings she made to look like knives. they walk down the street holding hands. if anyone throws them a weird look, mai throws a knife right back. would it happen? HELL YES. 1,000/10.

Tyzula: here’s the thing. azula never did get that sweet sweet redemption arc, so in my au she’s still a bit of an asshole. if they got together, i can see azula really trying to improve herself as a person for ty lee. i see ty lee really trying to sell the idea of including azula to the rest of the friend group. i’m really into the idea of instead of ty lee “fixing” her, having azula work on herself with ty lee as some extra motivation. would it happen? if azula put in effort to be a better person, sure. 7/10.

Maitara: what, did you think i was going to forget maitara? i did say every ship. katara vibes with the softgirl aesthetic while mai is on the egirl side, and honestly i am living for it. would it happen? this one is definitely a rare ship. but i think it could work. 5/10.

Maiko: ah yes, the canon one. zuko’s not quite as edgy as mai is. he’s like, if you diluted the eboy aesthetic a little. but i think it would maybe work between my two emo babies. they’re a couple that you never really see engaging in any pda so you just assume they’re friends until someone tells you otherwise. they’re very cute together, but dare i say kind of boring...? would it happen? goth x goth solidarity is cool, so maybe. 6/10.

Azutara: dude, there’s not a lot to say for this one. it’s been a little while since i’ve even seen an azutara shipper. are they extinct? (azutara babes pls tell me if ur not extinct). yeah so if this happened i think it would be because azula put in the work to be a good person and was welcomed back into the group. once she was in the group, katara would have gotten to know her real personality and liked her. but katara also holds her accountable for her actions. she puts up with no bullshit because she knows her worth. would it happen? i don’t think so. 2/10.

Sutara: this seems like chaos. these ladies would be the power couple of the century. i think with two women so strong and powerful, they’d butt heads a lot. they would be out in the world and actively changing it. would it happen? they’re both badass awesome women, but i’m not sure. 3/10.

Zukaang: uhh... i can’t say i ever thought about zukaang before now. but i guess you would have this bright ball of energy and a dark brooding type, so i can see how it could be cute. would it happen? um... no. i’m not sure if opposites attract that much. 0/10.

Tophko: another one that has literally never crossed my mind! i’m not sure how i feel about angry + angry as a dynamic. i think they would make great friends. okay, i think they would be a couple you mostly wouldn’t want to mess with. they can mess with each other, but no one else is allowed to mess with them. would it happen? no. i’m a slut for height differences, but not at the expense of a good personality match. 0/10.

Jetko: ah, the infamous jetko. the thing about jet in my au is that he’s kind of a sports boy. jock vibes. i guess i haven’t thought about his personality much except that he’s, well, a cocky sports guy. even if mans was bi or gay, i think he would have too much internalized homophobia to openly be in an gay relationship. would it happen? here’s the thing. i could maybe see them having kissed once or something, but not together currently. 4/10.

Jetka: okay i see a handful of people saying jetka rights so i thought i’s include it. i think the most likely scenario would be, maybe, they kissed once or twice and then sokka got ghosted because jet was closeted and scared. since jet obviously didn’t try to burn down a village, maybe that could be the reason sokka doesn’t like him. would it happen? maybe they never got together but jet could have been sokka’s first dude crush or something. 2/10.

Jetara: my immediate thought was that jet asked her out and they went out for like a week but katara quickly realized hey, he’s an asshole. ALTERNATIVELY, katara recognized him as the guy who hurt her brother or zuko and never went out with him at all, because hey, i don’t need all that drama. would it happen? maybe awkward exes. 3/10.

okay these took soooo long! if you have another ship, questions, or headcanon ideas, my ask box is always open!

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not-xpr-art · 4 years ago

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Art Deep Dives #1 - The Value of Art ~

Hi everyone!

This is the start to another project I want to start on this account, a companion to my Art Advice tag, and each week or so I’ll be ‘deep diving’ into art history, arts & culture, society’s relationship to art, etc etc... (I basically want to make use of my history of art degree, and also because I genuinely love talking about this stuff... especially without the pressure of deadlines lol)

Side note: don’t worry about these being really ‘academic’ or ‘formal’, since neither of those things are in my vocabulary lol... this is a very casual, informal kind of ‘essay’ writing that I want to be accessible to everyone, regardless of how much you know about art!

This first one is a kind of follow up of my Art Advice post talking about references, and I’ll be talking about the ideas of how we ‘value’ art.

(this is about 1600 words long by the way...)

The Value of Art

It’s no secret that art is highly subjective. Particularly when it comes to the question of ‘what is the most important type of art?’. It changes from person to person, country to country, and era to era. How we define ‘great art’ now is vastly different to how we defined it several hundred years ago. I mean, just look at the kinds of art in galleries in the modern era (Tracey Emin’s bed comes to mind) versus that of the 18th century (with the likes of Joshua Reynolds, JMW Turner and Thomas Gainsborough). Really, it’s clear to see that what we see as ‘the most important type of art’ is forever changing...

Or... is it?

In order to really answer whether the kinds of art we value now versus that of the past has changed, we need to first establish what ‘valued art’ even means.

I think in today’s day and age, ‘value’ is often synonymous with ‘price’. So, a Banksy original chipped away from it’s original wall setting and having been sold at a Christies auction for £3.2million is, by this definition, what we as a society ‘value’ as art... Right? Or maybe ‘value’ is more to do with what kinds of works that are displayed in big galleries or public spaces? The Tate has an entire wing dedicated to the works of landscape/seascape painter JMW Turner, so surely that means that we today place a high ‘value’ on his work still? What about public sculpture? Architecture? Sculpture and architecture are often a lot more available for the general public, and even if most people wouldn’t be able to tell you who made the Statue of Liberty, they at least know about her and perhaps even enjoy to look at her? And surely the fame of buildings like the Eiffel Tower or the Taj Mahal mean that they, too, are ‘valued’ as pieces of art? And what of artworks from other countries and cultures? A Chinese man may find no ‘value’ in a painting by a so-called ‘Great Master’ of the Italian Renaissance, but instead will ‘value’ a piece of Imperial Ming Dynasty porcelain instead, does that mean his opinion is the ‘right’ one? Colonialism has played heavily into what arts are now called ‘valuable’ and what are not, so how do we quantify whether a work has ‘value’ without placing our own individual cultural bias on it?

Basically what I’m getting at is, what we value as art in this day and age is very complicated, in a big way because our society is complicated. But for the sake of arguments, and for my next few points, I will be defining an art’s ‘value’ predominantly by whether it has been featured in a big gallery... Which also means I’ll be focusing on painting and sculpture... And also focusing on the Western world of art, specifically Europe, which I want to clarify doesn’t mean I personally ‘value’ that art more, it’s just where I’m from and predominantly what I studied in my course...

Art historians often declare the Renaissance (around the 14th to 16th centuries) the ‘beginning’ of what we know as art today. But for this essay, I want to instead start a little before this, in the Early Medieval period. People often know of this era as ‘the dark ages’, in Europe at least, because it was after Rome had fallen and taken all their so-called ‘genius’ with them. A particular note for why for years we’ve seen this period as ‘regressive’ is through their art. A quick Google search of ‘Medieval baby’ will come up with a plethora of results for a wide range of paintings depicting babies (usually the baby Christ) as scaled down versions of adults, complete with receding hairlines and strangely buff arms and chests.

Now, is this because medieval babies actually looked like this? I think this is... highly unlikely... I know most things happened earlier in that era than nowadays (girls getting married and pregnant at age 14, for example), but I think it’s a bit of a stretch to think their babies had six packs... No, instead it’s more likely that rather than being direct representations of babies, these were purely symbolic. And particularly given how they often were of Christ, art historians often say that the weird adult-baby hybrids are to represent Christ’s divinity.

Now... What’s all this got to do with art and value? Well, the thing about early medieval art is that the value was almost entirely placed upon the symbology and meaning of a piece. Later in the medieval period, paintings began to become more ‘realistic’ to some extent, but it still for the most part stayed true to this idea of symbolism over representation.

That is, until we get to the Renaissance and all of that gets thrown out of the window because artists want to be able to paint babies that actually look like babies, thank you very much! And with the likes of Leonardo da Vinci championing for art to become a science, surely this means that the kinds of art that was valued in this era were highly accurate portraits or landscapes... Right?

Short answer? No.

Long answer? Well, portraits and landscapes had their place in the hierarchies of art. Portraits were often commissioned by wealthy patrons, and were basically ways of the artist showing off how good their portrait skills are. And landscapes were less important, more seen as ‘nice backgrounds’ than anything else. But the art that was highly valued by most wealthy patrons and art connoisseurs of the time was... (imagine a drum roll here please)

History painting! These are basically big biblical or mythological scenes, often with a lot of figures doing a variety of things (think Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel), often with some pretty landscape as the backdrop, and often featuring a couple of portraits in the mix (including one of the patron who commissioned it, probably being blessed by the Virgin Mary, and a cheeky one of the artist peeking out from behind a bush or something...). From the Renaissance era up until basically the mid 19th century, History paintings were seen as the most important works of art to be featured in galleries.

And really, things only really began to change when we reached the end of the 19th century, with the development of photography.

Photography, and film, both lead to a massive shift in not only the kinds of art that are produced in the 20th century, but also the kinds of art that are valued. For so long art had been the main form of representation of society, and the advent of photographs meant that art had almost lost that ‘purpose’. Not to mention the leading towards a more secular society which no longer had a need for symbolic or spiritual artworks.

So, the only place art could really go was to become a form of expression instead. The likes of artists like Picasso and Braque pioneering cubism, being about new ways of representing the world. The Surrealists delving into ideas of the subconscious. Pop-Artists like Warhol looking into media and consumerist society, and the list goes on...

Which brings us onto my most hated period in the history of art: Conceptual art.

I’m not going to go big into this period, which is still around today (unfortunately), but all you need to know is this twat Marcel Duchamp flipped a urinal (which he didn’t even make himself) upside down and called it a ‘fountain’ and shoved it into a gallery and thus art that has no value beyond it being ‘concept based’ was born. And yes, yes I hate it a lot (I’m not even trying to be objective about this, I hate conceptual art with a burning passion... some guy put some sh*t in a box and put it in a gallery & called it art and I am SO mad about it lol...). And as much as I hate this period, what it does signify is how art began to be valued not through the craftsmanship of the work itself, but instead the ideas.

And this idea remains today. Damien Hirst has forged his entire art identity on creating works that are based entirely on some ‘meaning’ that could be forced onto it, rather than the aesthetic or material value. And as mentioned before, Tracey Emin’s infamous bed isn’t about the work and effort gone into the piece itself, but instead about what the artists intends for the piece to ‘mean’. So, the ‘value’ of the work is what it says, and not what it is, essentially.

(This is not to say that there are no artists who work today that get featured in galleries and are highly skilled at their craft. The one that springs to mind is Grayson Perry, who’s well known for his pottery and tapestries with some kind of social commentary bled into them.)

This ideology around art also bleeds into online spaces of art (which I see as distinctly separate from the world of art galleries and the Turner prize). I still see artists, and non-artists, talking about how much they enjoy work that is ‘original’, and oftentimes ridiculing and demoting ‘fanart’ as purely ‘derivative’ or ‘unoriginal’.

And all this brings us back to history paintings. Because their ‘value’ wasn’t just in the immense amount of skill that went into them. A large part of their ‘value’ was that artists and non-artists alike saw them as feats of the artist’s ‘genius’ or ‘imagination’ at play. And in the same way that Early Medieval art was valued for the symbology of the piece rather than the representation, history paintings had the benefit of including both elements. In essence, they were both meaningful AND beautiful.

In conclusion (just to remind you that this is technically an essay lol), a lot about art HAS definitely changed in the last few hundred years, particularly in what kinds of art is getting made now (and why we make art in the first place). However, what we as a collective society ‘value’ as art has remained surprisingly the same, often with a heavy preference for a work’s meaning and symbology, which can sometimes overshadow the craftsmanship of the work itself.

I still hate that godforsaken Duchamp toilet though...

(images used:

unknown medieval painting (I just liked that he had his hand down mary’s dress lool)

mona lisa by da vinky

detail of the creation of adam on the sistine chapel by michelangelo

a photograph by louis daguerre, often known as the father of photography

*clenches fist* ‘fountain’ by marcel duchamp

‘my bed’ by tracey emin )

I hope you enjoyed this informal essay about art, I will definitely be doing more of these in the future! If you have any thoughts on this, feel free to reply to this or message me, etc! I love having open and frank conversations about art!

#art history #art discussion #essay #history of art #art #long post #renaissance art #early medieval art #conceptual art #i over simplified a lot of this i know but i hope this is still interesting to read lol!#art deep dives #value of art #no sources or bibliography because we die like MEN #(also u want me to site things that i can't remember why or how i know them??? look just... trust me plz...)#(honestly this is more about sparking a discussion than anything lol)

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lady-plantagenet · 4 years ago

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Ship bingo: Henry VI and Marguerite d'Anjou

@kafkastan tagged you in this because I don’t know who anonymous is. (Anons don’t be shy x; I’m the biggest chump on here, you have nothing to worry about). And yes Nora, haven’t yet and for a second there thought you were the anon XD XD

Some Comments: So. Wow the only shipbingo I put ‘it’s complicated’ for. In other times I would have just been like ‘nope’, but reading your fics (highly recommended btw check her out on AO3 as strikethesun) and discord comments has influenced me somewhat to understand that a ‘ship’ can be of great interest and meaning without it being your(well my) typical ‘they find each other hot, they defied authority to get married’ etc. I’ve also done quite a lot of research on Margaret because of the upcoming chapter (late coming cause of the Ficathon assignment *winks*) so I at least have some opinions and emotions towards one side of this ship atm. I *am* picky about it! I mean especially after hearing accounts of the horrendous histfic out there (you know I mean the one with watersports), I think I would only trust someone with nuance to write about this pairing), and as it follows I’m intrigued by the many paths this could be approached. By now I have my own headcanons but I can also see the multitude of different ways, after all there is a wide spectrum with many shades between friendship and romantic love (maybe even sexual but I have to admit this part confuses me a bit). I do and would continue reading your fic about it, but despite the promise of character study this could take I don’t see many others thought I would be interested ~.

The ‘softly’ and ‘unhealthily’ categories I feel are especially appropriate for this situation. You see, usually it is the woman who is credited with softening her man up but I love the trope subversion. We know Margaret had some soft sides (deriving great entertainment from fixing matches for her ladies: ‘She was an indefatigable match-maker, and seldom ceased meddling with the private affairs of the gentry (Letters of Margaret of Anjou, Camden Soc.; Ramsay, ii. 128, 141; Paston Letters, i. 134, 254, 305, ed. Gairdner’)) and she bring a 'devout pilgrim to the shrine of Boccaccio' (Chastellain, vii. 100. ed. Kervyn de Lettenhove), delighting in her youth in romances of chivalry, and seeking consolation in her exile and misfortunes from the sympathetic pen of Chastellain’ - my feelings for Chastellain himself aside, 🥺. Basically, I know she’s popularly seen as a girl-boss from birth but she really seemed pushed into assuming her more martial position by circumstances and need (and I admire her even more for that tbh) and that’s why I feel like she loved Henry for his more pious, gentle self. The feels kick in with my headcanon that the kingdom falling apart leads her to resenting Henry a bit, without wanting to, at least initially before she accepts her unconventional role as the leader of the Lancastrian movement and inwardly thanks god that it was her that was put into this position rather than someone of weaker resolve. After all, there’s two sides to Margaret’s family: Réné the big renaissance and romantic man who both supported Joan of Arc but also spent many years in captivity with his wife doing the exegies... pretty much like Margaret and Henry hhhh!! Those double apparitions haunt me. I guess you can see where the ‘unhealthily’ kicks in - the initial resentment she feels and the stress and hardening she needs to go through during this metamorphosis before making peace with the situation and taking on the role with some willingness that later turns in persistent ambition and resolve. Her son is talked about enough as the motivation but what about her husband???

I put unrequited/one-sided in there too because I wouldn’t mind seeing that but like from both of their sides if it makes sense LMAO. Like she thinks he has no interest in her and is downright a monk (being young, confused and thinking romantic love cannot exist without sexual love), whereas he feels like he continuously disappoints her because he is well aware of the courtly background she comes and knows he doesn’t fit the rubrik ;’(. The mutual pining would be especially poignant if it remained that way after they are separated by exile, growing especially strong in that one night they are both in the tower but do not see each other. They both have thoughts that have turned in their heads while facing their respective moments of isolation and despair but neverthelles even now at this moment of physical proximity they cannot express them... Idk I have an odd amount of headcanons and feelings for Henry VI/Margaret of Anjou which is odd because they never pop up in my head when anyone asks me what my ships are. Tbh that one picture by @sneez (you know the one with Henry crying and the baby) did hit me a bit. I also put best friends because I like the idea that they may have been a platonic thing all along, but I mean this more in sense that I am ok with them being portrayed as a couple where one is ace (Henry) rather than one where they have no sexual feelings towards each other AND there is none of that romantic tenderness... somehow I feel like I need there to be some romantic feelings in there ngl, I just feel it...

Tbh with the squares I said pretty much everything I had to say so perhaps there’s no point in me adding the ‘The Ship’ extra heading, but, I think the only negative feeling J have about this ship is that I can’t help but feeling some resentment myself towards Henry... I mean when all is said and done he is the main factor why the country got into such a state and now that I know it’s unclear just quite how *mad* he was I sometimes feel like people don’t stop and think enough about how he should have tried harder into stopping the factionalism from growing and moulded himself. There are many far more educated and knowledgeable about him as a person so I would like to be told if I’m entirely wrong in my assessment, it’s just that while I am no *Yorkist* I think that it can be quite silly how people criticise Warwick and York relentlessly as if they should have accepted the sorry condition of the country and just got on with it. Though of course, I in no way think their demonisation of Margaret was fair, hélas! In any case my feelings towards HVI though complicated (his scholarliness is massive brownie point for him from me not that it matters) still tend towards positive more than negative and I do ship it!

#🍷❤️#ship bingo #here you go <3 #was just waiting for you to ask!#margaret of anjou #henry vi #as you can all see I hilight with the colour I associate the respective ships with ;)

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dracosaurusrex · 4 years ago

Note

cute asks!!;))

angel, awe, baby, blossom (all 3), buttercup, calm, candlelight (or just the last dream you remember), charming, cozy (both), cuddly, daisies, dear, dobby, dovey, euphoric, forever, garden, heart, honey, hugsy, jiggly, kissed, prince, princess, prinky, shine, smitten, sparkle, starlight, soft, squeezed, thimble, velvet, whiskers, wobbly

LOL YOU AND THESE ASKS HAHA I LOVE IT ❤❤❤😂😂😂

angel; do you have a nickname?

Ina on tumblr, but people I know personally call me Sab or Sabby

awe; how old are you?

2ne1

baby; favorite color?

I like darker colors, but recently I’ve been into emerald

blossom; favorite book/movie/song?

My fave book rn is the Housekeeper and the Professor by Yoko Ogawa.

Fave movie Howl’s Moving Castle!

Fave song as of now is Lighthouse Keeper by Sam Smith

buttercup; showers or baths?

Showers :D

calm; favorite scent?

My mum’s perfume :) Oh and KBBQ, pasta, and chocolate

candlelight; what did you dream about last night? (or the last dream I remember)

Hmm...Draco kissed me LOL and it felt real. Like yknow how you dream in third person? I didn’t that one time (it was 1st pov), and it really seemed like he was there aha. His forehead was all up in my face and errythang LOL

charming; have you ever been in love?

Yes yes haha. Although, I had a false sense of what love was back then

cozy; eye/hair color?

Both brown!

cuddly; what’s your favorite time period?

The Renaissance! Mainly for the artistry and craftsmanship that arose during that era.

daisies; describe a moment when you felt free.

When I started indulging in things that I enjoyed for myself. No care given to how people would respond to me, just living for myself and myself only.

dear; zodiac sign?

I’m a cap!

dobby; dream job?

I’d like to be a cancer researcher with a focus on the tumor microenvironment :)

dovey; any paranormal/magical experiences?

Not really paranormal, but there was one time I read too many creepy pastas at once, and I couldn’t sleep because my senses were just 💥💥💥

euphoric; talk about someone you love.

He has the looks, but I think his mind is much more beautiful. I don’t know how long it’ll last, but I’m certain I can learn a thing or two from him, and that’s why I’m grateful to know him in this stage of my life.

forever; where do you feel time stop?

When I play organnnn or when I’m drawing

garden; how many languages do you know?

2: english and love language LOL JK. Um I can’t speak Tagalog, but if someone were to talk to me I’ll be receptive and respond in English. I think others call that receptive bilingualism?

heart; silk or lace?

Silk all the way, but I do fancy an elaborate lace from time to time

honey; coffee or tea? how do you take it?

I like both, but I personally like tea more only because I can drink so much of it without getting a freaking headache.

I like my coffee black most of the time, and I take my tea the same way (just plain). Although, if I’m sick I’d include honey because I find it soothing haha.

Jasmine, black, and oolong are 💥💥💥 btw

Also, if my lovely Brit friends can tell me how they prep their tea that’d be lovely, coz Lord knows I can’t put cream without the drink tasting funky afterwards oml

hugsy; do you enjoy people watching or bird watching more? why?

I like people watching more. This is not to hype myself up or anything, but as an artist I like taking reference from features I observe IRL, and people have so many physical differences that I tend to fixate on that immediately regardless of where I am or who I’m with.

jiggly; what do you usually like to do on weekends?

I like running, drawing, writing, but almost always there’s something else that I have to do aha

kisses; what romantic cliché do you wish for most?

A bookstore kind of love where the bad boy falls for the intelligent girl and they trade books with their thoughts annotated on the pages

prince; how would you describe your handwriting?

Imma just include a pic coz I honestly don’t know. Pardon my notes LOL

I guess kinda whispy? Slanted? e l o n g a t e d?

princess; do you play any instruments? if not, are there any you wish you could play?

I play the organ and the ukulele aha. You’d think I’d know piano coz of organ, but I honestly don’t (technique-wise) lol. It’s definitely something I want to learn tho.

prinky; how do you relieve stress?

I like to meditate. If I can’t do that, then I’ll go for a walk to think about how I can combat whatever is stressing me. If that doesn’t help, I take a nap to rest my mind.

shine; art or music?

alkfj;asdlkfjasd BOTH. Well, if you interpret music as an art, then art all the way.

smitten; do you collect anything?

yes, trash. LOL Okay forreal tho, I’ve never thought about it til now but I tend to collect a lot of art supplies and stationary. I’m a simp for those things.

sparkle; do you wear jewelry?

Yes, rings and earrings mostly.

starlight; what was your favourite show as a child?

I was a weeb child and Cardcaptor Sakura was my ultimate fave, no cap.

soft; describe your favourite spot in your house.

When i wake up early and the sun is still on the east side, it casts a pleasant light in my dining room. It helps me concentrate on my work a lot.

squeezed; who do you miss right now?

My best friend who currently has a bf. I don’t tell her that tho LOL. Every time we hang, it’s like nothing has changed so it’s honestly chill even if we don’t talk for ages.

thimble; is there somebody you look up to? who are they?

All writers, artists, creators here and everywhere. Honestly, shout out to y’all because I seriously build off from the energy that they give through their work. Like, woah you produced something from your mind, your heart? That’s so cool. I feel like I find more pieces of myself because of you.

velvet; are you an early bird or a night owl?

I am a night owl. But times are changing, and that 7am orgo chem class won’t be waiting for me so I’m working on it LOL

whiskers; do you usually wear makeup?

Not usually, tbh.

wobbly; have you ever wished upon a star?

I tend to look up at the stars more than I do wish on them hehe. The sky is so pretty.

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brideofcthulhu10 · 5 years ago

Note

What would each of the boys be like with a curvy/plus sized s/o?? 🥴

Okay so since there was no specified gender I'm assuming you mean a female s/o. If I'm wrong tell me right away and I'll be more than happy to fix this

Honestly being 5'4 and 223lbs I am by all means a curvy big girl, so i am really happy to bring this to life.

DAVID

Alright you're a bit heavy. So? Honestly he hadn't thought of it until you asked him what made him want you so much. What the hell was that supposed to mean, was there something about you not worth loving?

"Well, I mean, I'm kinda... heavy you know..? Wouldn't you want a girl that's, I dunno kinda skinny?"

"If I wanted a skinny girl, I would be with a skinny girl," he'd retort, yanking you into his arms. After that he would change the subject, he wasn't about to listen to this nonsense any more.

It sounds harsh at first, but he meant well. You were stunning, things like fat and skinny, short, tall, black, white- fuck you could be purple with green hair for all he cared, he loved you dammit. That's all there is to it! He'll still worship you like the moon and stars. You're a renaissance painting made living, there was beauty in every curve and don't you dare question him. If he catches you talking bad about yourself you can bet he'll remind you just how beautiful he thinks you are.

DWAYNE

Dwayne loves you the way you are, no doubt about it. In fact, he'll go out of his way to make sure you know it. He'll catch you looking down when a group of girls go by and immediately sling his arm over your shoulder and pull you against his chest. Don't worry about then, worry about which rides he was gonna take you on tonight. If you tried covering yourself up he'd insist on pulling your arms away. Don't hide anything, never be ashamed of who you are. He'd support your decision no matter what, but it had to be your decision. You'll be sitting on his bike with him and just mention how you were thinking about going on a diet.

"Why? I don't see anything wrong with you. Are you sick or something?"

Well, no. If it was for vanity's sake, again he'd ask why. Health is one thing, but just changing because the models in your teen magazine are size zeroes will immediately make him cut you off. Never change for anybody but yourself. Not ever. You are beautiful, every curve and fold is where it should be. Don't ever forget that.

PAUL

Paul will never shut up about you, you're his beach bunny regardless of size. All bods are beautiful, have you seen him? Picky isn't in his nature. Expect him to beg you for a night time beach trip! Beer, midnight swimming, even offer to go skinny dipping with you.

"Come ooon babes, I don't get to see you during the day! How can you deny a man the chance to see his girl in a bikini?? Its just cruel!"

Like Marko he'll see red if anyone makes you insecure, it doesn't matter who. The difference is he won't ask for permission before swinging punches left and right. Especially if you cry. Then all bets are off, this loveable goofball goes full blood lust and tears them apart. Later he'll be grumbling with a face covered in blood, complaining while you wipe the mess away. Any sort of lectures go over his head. Yeah yeah, killing is bad, blah blah blah. So what? It was an act of righteous justice! Nobody will hurt his kitten and live to tell the tale! He'll grow tired of the morality schpiel and just take you into his arms. Kisses, heavy petting, running his hands all over, he won't stop until he takes away any hurt left over from their lies. Smile for him babe, a frown doesn't suit those gorgeous cheeks. Leaving bites all over, he could just eat you up!

MARKO

Big girls means big snuggles! He savors your every curve in and out of the bedroom, kissing every inch of you. You say there's so much of you? Well he better get started then! He'll always check to see if you've eaten today ever since you tried to go on some crazy diet. What do you mean you want to skip dinner? Absolutely not! You have to take care of yourself! He'll hold you in his arms swooning over how cute you are, nibbling your neck until you burst into a fit of giggles. Oh, that adorable laugh makes him wild. Just let somebody make you feel bad about how you look, he'll promise to rip their head off. Let a surf punk walk by laughing, shouting how you two "look like the number 10". Cue red eyes tearing through his baby blue, giving an eerie smile before kissing your cheek.

"Hold my ice cream real quick baby bat, I gotta take care of something.."

It takes every ounce of convincing you have to keep him from killing those guys. Grabbing his jacket, bribing him with kisses and hugs, begging him to stay. They're idiots, not worth the effort! He'll pout, wrapping arms around you waist whining about how they hurt you, he just had to defend your honor! Instead he'll spend the whole night making it up to you, never leaving your side until you're practically glowing with joy.

#plus size #plus size imagine #fluff imagine #lost boys imagine #imagines #headcanon #lost boys paul #lost boys 1987 #the lost boys #lost boys #lost boys Marko #lost boys david #lost boys dwayne #fanfiction writing #lost boys fanfiction #fan theory #fanfiction #fanfic

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mahalkitajohnnysuh · 5 years ago

Text

Conflicted

So, I never thought that it would come to this. I do not tolerate this action due to family history, but I don’t know what came over me. Maybe I was overpowered by this guy’s charms that I just had to write something like this.

To know more what I’m talking about, read on. I won’t even give a summary because I want you guys to know what’s up with this.

And here’s the devil, erm, Jeong Jaehyun looking like a full-course meal even if he’s just serving face to hype you up.

Mahal ko kayong lahat! :)

–––

POV: 2nd person still.

Word count: 1,900 + words

Genre: Romance, with a dash of fluff and a bit of angst. A well-balanced meal, if I should say so myself.

Warning: Read until the bottom of this page, and you’ll get what you’re going to read, maybe next post or some other time.

–––

You felt conflicted whenever Jaehyun was near you.

Although he was your boyfriend’s ex-roommate, there were times that he would hang out at your apartment to catch up with him.

After all, they used to work together as radio DJs. They had a nightly program that you always tuned to before. You and Johnny were still best friends then, and you know you would be frustrated if he still had his program now that you’re together. You two won’t have the time to cuddle, because he would be working and you would wake up with him asleep on the couch.

As you watched Johnny and Jaehyun converse at the dining table, you couldn’t help but observe the younger guy. He was a Disney prince in real life – creamy white skin, immaculately dressed, and with great hair to boot. He also had a beautiful voice that everyone, regardless of age and gender, would fall for.

Those reasons made you feel weird because you’re already in a relationship with one of the most handsome men you know, but at the same time, you couldn’t keep your eyes off him sometimes.

Why am I even thinking of this? You thought as you tied your hair up in a bun to focus on your sideline. It has been a hot minute since you edited textbooks, and sometimes they amused you because some manuscripts contained hilarious content from idiotic authors.

You were already halfway editing the textbook when you felt someone tap your shoulder. You turned around to see Jaehyun, smiling with his adorable dimples on display.

“Hi Essie, it’s time to eat,” he said gently before he went back to the dining table. You followed suit since you didn’t say no to an invitation to eat. You saw that the guys prepared Korean barbecue, which you have been craving as of late.

“Wow, samgyupsal! I missed this!” You cooed, eyeing all the side dishes that you haven’t eaten in months. “I know you’ve been craving for this, baby. I hear you looking for samgyupsal in your sleep,” Johnny said, eliciting a chuckle from Jaehyun.

You glared at your boyfriend who just gave you a heart sign and winked when you raised your fist at him. Your guest was laughing at your interaction, entertained how one of his best friends bantered with his girlfriend.

As the three of you dug in, you talked about everything – from the weather, your music playlists (to be honest, you liked Jaehyun’s taste more than Johnny’s), your upcoming plans, and even your relationships.

“Uh, can someone please pass me the kimchi?” You asked, your hand trying to reach the bowl of said food across the table. It was Jaehyun who handed you the bowl, and you almost dropped it when your fingers touched.

“Sorry,” you both muttered, giving timid looks at each other. Johnny noticed your interaction and raised his eyebrows.

“Babe, what’s this? You’re shy of Jeong Jaehyun?” He asked, even stamping his feet for effect. You could tell that he was both curious and annoyed – curious that you felt that way and annoyed that maybe your feelings for him weren’t that strong as he thought.

“B-but…” you started, your eyes meeting Jaehyun’s for a moment before you turned to your boyfriend. “He’s too handsome, just like you…” Your voice was so soft that you felt you were the only one who heard it.

There was a moment of silence before Jaehyun cleared his throat. You and Johnny looked at him, which made him flustered. His ears were practically red now.

“Baby, I know he’s too handsome for this world, but I hope you’re not falling for him,” Johnny said monotonously, trying his best not to sound jealous.

On your part, you appreciated his honesty. That was one of the things you loved about him – his brutally frank comments helped you with your problems most of the time.

However, you also enjoyed how he seemed jealous of your budding crush on his friend, who now covered his face with his hands. “Please stop looking at me,” Jaehyun mumbled while peeking from the small spaces in between his fingers.

“Of course not, darling! You’re still my number one,” your attention was directed to Johnny this time, “but I have to be honest that Jaehyun is such a stunner that I can’t help but look at him sometimes,” you ended by taking a glance at the guy on your right.

The nerve of this guy to wink at you at this moment! You felt your body heat up at this, and you clenched your utensils tightly to fight it off.

“Jaaaaay! Don’t make her fall in love with you! She should be in love with me, and only me!” Johnny was whining like a baby, and the tension that enveloped the table earlier vanished.

You and Jaehyun laughed at how the 6-footer was acting. “Don’t worry, she won’t. Right, Essie? You’ll try your best not to fall in love with me?” The prince-like guy gave you another wink again and blew you a brief kiss.

You laughed in return, flushing red at the attention you were getting. “Hey, you’re totally trying to steal her from me!” Johnny quipped, whose long arm grabbed your wrist so you can focus your attention on him.

“I’m the only one you love, right?” He changed his voice to a sultry one and he gave you The Look. You felt your heart flutter and your insides became warmer. Ah, he still got you every time he did that.

“Yes, honey,” you murmured, shyly looking at his face. “You’re the one that I love.”

Jaehyun began to sing Shania Twain’s ‘You’re Still The One’, and Johnny followed suit. Then all of you sang the song until the end and burst into laughter at how funny (and flirty) you felt for the past few minutes.

After eating, Johnny had to take care of some errands, leaving you and Jaehyun alone in the apartment. “Don’t you even dare, Jeong Yoon-oh,” your boyfriend threatened, which you and your companion did not take seriously. “Don’t try to do anything to my girl,” were his last words before he left the house.

\\\

If there was one word to describe your situation after Johnny left, it was awkward.

You were seated on the end of the couch with a pillow on your stomach as you busily scrolled through your social media feed. On the opposite end was Jaehyun, who was also doing the same.

You could hear the videos he was playing, and you bet he could hear you mutter something under your breath. That was one quirk of yours whenever you scrolled through your Twitter feed – you had to comment on people’s tweets audibly first before responding to them on the app.

“You’re such a hoe, bitch,” you mumbled as you also typed it as your response. You were commenting on Ten’s latest post, which was an outtake on one of his shoots. He looked like a Renaissance painting that came to life with his velvet suit, silk ruffled shirt, and jeweled shoes.

“Who’s a hoe, Essie?” Jaehyun asked, melting you with his stare.

“It’s definitely not you!” You responded, cheeks red from embarrassment. You didn’t mean for him to hear your comment – you made a mental note to correct your quirk, so people don’t question you.

He laughed at your reaction and moved closer to where you were seated. “Then who are you calling a hoe then?”

You leaned back against the couch, hoping that there will be more space you could back out into. “It’s only Ten that I call as such, and it’s our thing,” you said, raising your phone to your face to cover how flushed it was.

“Really? You and Ten have a thing? Does Johnny know of this?” With every word he spoke, he moved closer to you.

“Not like that, dude! Ten’s one of my closest friends now. And you know he won't do something that will make Johnny angry, right?”

This stopped Jaehyun from approaching you, and it was his time to lean back on the sofa. “Oh, is that so?” he rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

When you thought that he was done from crawling toward you, he surprised you when he wrapped his arms around your waist.

You squealed as he tickled you on the sides, on your knee, and his hands crept up on your neck.

“Jaaaaaay! Stop that!” You said in between panting, getting tired from laughing. You were pushing him away, but he easily overpowered you with his strength.

“No, Essie, I don’t want to! Say the magic word,” he said while staring at you with all his might.

Time slowed, and you took in how intent he was on making you say the magic word – what was it, anyway?

“Please?” You breathed, returning the stare he gave you. “Please, darling,” you tried again, your voice breathier than usual.

He loosened his hold on you, but he didn’t let go. “Do I need to repeat myself?” You asked, your hands ready to untangle yourself from him.

“Darling, you make me feel conflicted,” he said with the most painful expression on his face. It was a mixture of sadness and struggle, a combination that was indeed painful to see on anyone.

“Are you for real, Jaehyun?” You raised an eyebrow, hoping it masked how shocked you were with his words. You hoped you sounded scandalized to make him stop what he was doing.

“Essie, I like you. A lot. It pains me that I was never able to make a move on you first,” he said, tilting his body toward yours. He now had a loving expression on his face, making your heart melt.

“But why now?” You could feel the tears pooling at the corner of your eyes.

Come to think of it, Jaehyun was always nice when you hung out with Johnny before. He never teased you – he was actually very sweet and was always on your side. There were times he held your hand, and you let him since you two were good friends.

And how could you forget that he used to kiss your cheek every time you said your farewell? It was not just your cheeks touching – he really pressed his lips lightly on your cheek.

But best friends trump good friends, and eventually, you weren’t able to maintain your closeness once you spent more time with Johnny instead.

“I’m sorry, Essie. I don’t know what to do,” he slowly unhooked his arms on you, “I’m such a fool for coming here. Now I’m confused,” he ran his hands through his hair and looked distressed.

“I’m sorry too, Jay. But if you must know, I like you a lot too,” you said while fiddling with your thumbs.

“Essie, you’re making me more confused,” He sounded annoyed now. “I don’t want to ruin your relationship with John, I know how much he loves you.”

“But does he know that you…like me too?” As much as it made you cringe, you just had to ask him that.

His answer surprised you. “He doesn’t, and I intend to keep it that way.”

This was a plot twist that made your love life more complicated – even though you already have Johnny, you had Mark trying his best to woo you, and now Jaehyun has joined ‘the group chat’, as the kids would say.

“So, what do you plan to do then?” The question came out of your mouth without any thinking, which you now regret.

“Do you want to sin with me?” The way he delivered it sent shivers down your spine. It felt as if you were talking to the devil, only he was clad in a sweater and black jeans.

From that day until the following week, you and Jaehyun had your trysts.

–––

FIN

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itsthebreakdown · 4 years ago

Text

Songs

Song Emoji Key

🍵 = Comfort (This can include dealing with mental illness)

💫 = Fan (Songs that are either dedicated to the fans)

🥳 = Happy (just having a good time or about happy feelings; Celebrations)

😈 = Haunting (kind of crypt or tormenting; can mean Mischief)

💔 = Heartbreak (Losing love)

💘= Love (Love in general)

💥 = Power (Motivation or empowerment)

💧= Sad (Dealing with sad topics; depending on the context could also deal with mental illness)

🌶 = Spicy, (more XXX based songs)

‘Groups & Songs will be added as They Come out

Male Group

Ateez

Desire

From

HALA HALA (Hearts Awakened, Live Alive)

Intro: Long Journey 💥

Light

My Way 💥

Pirate King

Promise

Say My Name

Stay

Treasure

Twilight

BIG BANG

Flower Road 💫

Loser

Block B

Yesterday 💔

BTS

Blood, Sweat, & Tears

Boys with Fun

Converse High

Dope

Fake Love

Hold Me Tight

I Need U

Moving On

Outro: Love is Not Over

EXO

Artificial Love

Beautiful

Call Me Baby

Can’t Bring Me Down

Cloud 9

Don’t Fight The Feeling 💥

El Dorado

EXO 2014: Promise

Exodus

First Love

Heaven

Hurt

Ko Ko Bop

Lady Luck

Lotto

Love Me Right

Lucky One

Monster

My Answer

Obsession 😈💧

One and Only

Playboy

She’s Dreaming

Sing for You

Stronger

Tender Love

They Never Know

Transformer

What If...

White Noise

Tempo

GOT7

Back to Me 💔

Before the Full Moon Rises 🌶💘

Just Right

Nice 💘

Mine 💘😈

My Reaction 💔

Highlight

Plz Don’t be Sad 🍵

IKon

Love Scenario

Rhythm Ta

Mark & Xiumin

Young & Free

NCT

127

Angel 💘

Cherry Bomb

Baby Don’t Like It 🌶💔

Back 2 U (AM 01:27) 💔💥

Good Thing 🌶

Heart breaker

Limitless 💘💥

Baby Don’t Stop 🌶

The 7th Sense

Nu’est

Face💧💥

Hello

Nu’est W

Where You At

Sechskies

Be Well

Seventeen

Don’t Wanna Cry

Very Nice

Shinee

Body Rhythm 🌶

Close the Door

Colorful

Destination

Everybody

Lucifer 😈

One Minute Back

Queen of New York

Symptoms

View

Stray Kids

God’s Menu

Hellevator

Super Junior

Sorry Sorry

TXT

Anti- Romantic

Blue Orangeade

Cat & Dog

Crown

Nap of a Star

Our Summer

Wanna One

Spring Breeze

Winner

Really Really

Xiumin & Mark

Young & Free

Female Group

2ne1

I am the Best 💥

Come Back Home 💔

4Minute

Crazy

AOA

Good Luck

Apink

Mr. Chu

April

Tinker Bell

Aspea

Black Mamba

Forever

Next Level 💥😈

BLACKPINK

Bet You Wanna

Crazy Over You

How You Like That

Ice Cream

Love To Hate Me

Lovesick Girls

Pretty Savage

You Never Know

Brave Girls

Rollin

CLC

Hobgoblin 💥💘

Cosmic Girls

Dreams Come True 💘🍵

I Wish

Love O’Clock 💘

Renaissance

Starry Moment

Tick-Tock

Thawing

Dalshabet

Joker 🌶😈

Someone Like U

Dreamcatcher

Chase Me 😈

Everglow

Bon Bon Chocolat

D+1

Moon

EXID

Up & Down

F(x)

Red Light

Gfriend

Rough

Girls’ Generation

All Night 💘🌶

Baby Maybe

Bump It

Check

Dancing Queen

Express 999

Fan 🍵

Fire Alarm

Green Light

Gee

Girls are Back 💥

Holiday 💘🥳

It’s You 💫

I Got a Boy

Light Up the Sky 💘💧

Lion Heart

Look at Me

Lost in Love

Love is Bitter 💔

One Afternoon

One Last Time 💔💧

Only One

Paradise

Party

Promise

Romantic St.

Show Girls

Sign

Sweet Talk

Talk Talk

Talk Talk (2013)

You Think

Tears

XYZ

Girls’ Generation-TTS

Baby Steps 💘

Gugudan

Wonderland

I.O.I.

Downpour

Very Very Very

Itzy

Wannabe

KARA

Step

Mamamoo

You’re the Best

MINX

Love Shake

Miss A

I Caught Ya 💥💔

Love Song 💘

Melting💘💧

One Step 💧

Only You

Stuck 💘

Orange Caramel

Catallena

Red Velvet

Bad boy

Bing Bing

Carpool

Eyes Locked, Hands Locked

In & Out

Jumpin’

La Rouge

Ladies Night

Love is the Way

Milkshake

Parade

Power Up

Psycho

Red Flavor

Remember Forever

Sunny Side Up

Umpah Umpah

Zimzalabim

Refund Sisters

Don’t Touch Me

Sistar

Lonely

Shake It

STAYC

ASAP

T-ara

Sugar Free

The Ark

The Light

TWICE

Chillax

Dance the Night Away

Deja Vu 💘

Ho!

Knock Knock

Say Yes

Shout Thru the Heart

Stuck

Sweet Talker

What is Love?

Weeekly

After School

Weki Meki

COOL

Wonder Girls

Why So Lonely

Co-ed Group

SSak3

Beach Again

Male Solo

Baekhyun (EXO)

Bambi

Kang Daniel (Wanna One)

Flash

Movie

Night

Runaway

Waves

Who U Are

Taemin (Shinee)

Ace

Danger

Experience

Play Me

Pretty Boy

Wicked

SUGA (BTS)

Intro: The Most Beautiful Moment in Life

Female Solo

BoA

Over Across the Time

Lee Hi

Blues

Breathe

Fxxk Wit Us

Hold My Hand

I’m Different

Missing U

Official

Passing By

Up All Night

Video

World Tour

Autumn Morning 🍵💧

By the Stream 🍵

Everyday With You 💘

Last Night Story 💔

Secret Garden 🍵

Sleepless Rainy Night 💔💧

Sunny (SNSD)

Collar

Taeyeon (SNSD)

11:11

Cover Up

Curtain Call

Eraser

Feel So Fine

Fine

Fire

I Blame On You

I Got Love

I’m Ok

Lonely Night

Love in Color

Make Me Love You

Sweet Love

Time Lapse

Time Spent Walking Through Memories

Weekend

When I was Young

Seohyun (SNSD)

Hello 💘

Masterlist

#Masterlist #kpop

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that-shamrock-vibe · 5 years ago

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Disney+ What To Watch: My Top 10 Favourite Disney Classics

#7. The Hunchback of Notre Dame

Anyone who says this movie is controversial or unfaithful to the original source material really isn’t understanding that Disney always puts their own spin on things and isn’t going to go as dark as the original story is.

But also, you have to understand that while a lot of the dark themes of the original aren’t in the movie, the remaining themes of acceptance, prejudice and extreme religious views are still very much at play.

Here’s why I love this movie. It’s one of the few Disney Renaissance movies that isn’t a Disney Princess movie, the story flows from the introduction of our main villain and his adoption of our main protagonist, to our main protagonist meeting the movie’s love interest, to the main story of the movie being revealed as our protagonists protecting the movie’s love interest from the main villain.

Not just that, but the intertwining story of the love triangle between Quasimodo, Esmeralda and Phoebus which becomes the motivation for Quasimodo and Phoebus becoming friends and working together to save Esmeralda and the other gypsies from Frollo seemed rather genuine and is a commentary to Disney movies at the time that our main protagonist does not end up getting the girl but instead remains friends and is happy when they do end up together.

I also love the what if factor when it comes to Quasimodo’s interaction with the gargoyles. In some scenes you believe that due to Quasimodo’s forced isolation he is simply going mad and believing the three gargoyles actually come to life and become his only friends.

Especially at the moment, I believe that is very relatable as those of us forced into sole isolation need that escapism and imagination to possibly make inanimate objects real as a means of companionship. Not saying it works for everyone but for some it may actually help.

While it isn’t confirmed, it is implied they are actually real and act as the only real magical component to this movie. But there are a couple of other magical elements throughout the movie despite this being quite a grounded film.

When we see Esmeralda at the festival of fools she enters and leaves the stage through trickery such as smoke bombs and trap doors. This of course leads Frollo to suspect witchcraft and spur the catalyst of the movie where Frollo hunts Esmeralda for being a witch and ultimately attempts to burn her.

However, during said climax of the movie just as Frollo is about to “smite the wicked” and he is knocked onto clinging onto the gargoyle before it lights up and breaks off. People have said it is an act of god but I believe in witchcraft and that all Disney movies have a little bit of magic in them somewhere.

In terms of characters, Quasimodo is a very relatable character in terms of being born with a physical deformity and raised essentially in captivity which makes him a social pariah before finally being accepted by the citizens of Paris.

Esmeralda is one of my favourite female characters in Disney, not only is she a very grounded individual who knows what she’s fighting for and is determined to fight for it. But her genuine kindness in the face of such adversity is very commendable and a great example for anyone not just younger audiences watching the movie.

Phoebus is the 90s version of Kristoff from Frozen to me, he’s the boy scout, the dutiful partner and the loyal friend. However, outside of that he really doesn’t have any character to him. He stands for what is right which is why he cannot blindly follow orders when those orders are to burn an innocent family, does that make him three dimensional? Well no because while yes he ends up with the girl, there’s no real story on his side as to how they got together.

He wanted to be with her from when he first saw her dance. She saw one of Frollo’s soldiers and responded accordingly by bashing him in the head with a candle holder. It wasn’t until he was shot after disobeying Frollo and she nursed him back to health that she actually saw the good in him...but he never really had to get there he was already there, she had to make that journey.

Frollo as a villain is so creepy and controversial and everything wrong about religion it is ridiculous.

As a judge he passes sentence on the guilty and as a devout religious man he believes he is carrying out God’s work by freeing the world of evil and said evil being gypsies because they are witches and witches are the children of the devil.

That’s great villainous motivation particularly when you consider that his religious guilt was what made him adopt Quasimodo rather than, you know, drowning him in a well after murdering his mother...the main problem comes when he has lustful feelings for Esmeralda and on her death pier offers her a final ultimatum of either being with him or dying.

First of all who wouldn’t choose the latter option? Secondly, yes the dark elements from the original needed to be in this movie to some capacity...but little kids will see this movie and what they will see is an old man smelling the hair of a young woman and lusting after her while simultaneously wanting to see her burn.

This culminates beautifully in the song “Hellfire” which is one of my favourite Disney songs ever, the style in which it is performed, the visualisation of Frollo seeing those cloaked figures and Esmeralda’s image in the flames is so harrowing particularly at a young age, and Tony Jay’s singing is actually rather good.

The opening song “Bells of Notre Dame” is an operatic masterpiece, the booming choir, Clopin’s sing-song narration setting the scene of the movie and the dramatic scenes of Quasimodo’s mother fleeing the evil Frollo trying to save her baby was fantastic.

“Topsy Turvy Day” and “A Guy Like You” are fun, they’re the songs kids will play over and over again at parties or when they’re hanging out with friends and they’re on in the background.

“God Help the Outcasts” is harrowing, beautiful, powerful and a real representation as to the type of character Esmeralda is.

I’ve mentioned the climactic battle a couple of times but I wanted to mention it again be it contains a sequence I will never forget and possibly why this movie is so high in my estimations. I am referring to the sequence where Quasi saves Esmeralda from the pier and as he swings in to save her there is great wide shot of the mob that have gathered to watch Esmeralda burn engulfed in the glow of the fire and it is just magnificent as a shot. It’s terrible that Esmeralda is being burned but that visual will always remain as a thing of beauty in my mind.

It may not be the greatest Disney movie ever made but The Hunchback of Notre Dame is undeniably masterfully made under the circumstances and restrictions that the House of Mouse had to work under.

So what do you guys think? Post your comments and check out more Disney+ What to Watch Top 10s as well as more Top 10 Lists and other posts.

#disney #disney+#disney+ what to watch #disney+ what to watch top 10s #my top 10 favourite disney classics #the hunchback of notre dame #quasimodo #esmeralda #phoebus #judge claude frollo #hellfire

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promise-tingzz · 5 years ago

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I’m back with another collage but this time I’m doing something different…I am going to be talking about……ANIMES TO WATCH DURING LITTLE SPACE/REGRESSION…whatever you want to call you headspace is a-okay with me. I will being listing the names of the anime and descriptions below, I personally don’t usually watch cartoons in little space, and if I do I’m sorta in baby space. Continuing though I love to watch anime in general, in and out of my headspace, but sometimes little me can’t follow the plot of certain anime’s I watch when I’m big, so I usually stick to slice of life and light romance sort of anime’s. But getting on to the topic at hand, I will be listing the names of anime going down row to row. These anime’s are so good, I promise.

Top 9 anime’s I recommend to watch in little space

•the first one we have up there is blend S, I know you heard of the intro before. Smile, sweet, sister, sadistic, surprise, service. Yup it’s that anime. The anime is basically about a High school girl, named Maika Sakuranomiya, who has a lot of trouble finding a part-time job because of how scary she looks when smiling. Which is what you usually need to do when doing any part-time job. You have to show enthusiasm, moving on though. Even though she has trouble with her smile, she is scouted one day by an Italian man who is also the manager of Stile, a café where its waitresses are given unique traits such as tsundere and younger sister. It’s a comedy/ slice of life type anime. I give this anime a 10/10 and it’s perfect when I watch it when I regress.

• the second anime going down is power puff girl z, the plot doesn’t differ from the regular power puff girls cartoon except in the anime. Professor Utonium was, infact, experimenting while his son Ken Kitazawa/Utonium created Chemical Z (a variant of his father's Chemical X) when a local restaurant specialty fell into the Chemical X. Ken uses the chemical to destroy an ice glacier and avoid an ecological disaster. The impact causes white and black Z-Rays to fly across the skies of New Townsville. The white lights hit Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup transforming them into the Powerpuff Girls. Those hit with the black light became the series' villains. After defeating Mojo Jojo, Mr. Mayor assigned them to be the heroines of the city. They are called to action using the cry of Ken Kitazawa's robot pet puppy, Poochi. Yes I know the anime sounds very similar to the cartoon, I just find PPGZ more appealing to my taste. Again 10/10 I would total recommend.

• the third anime is POKÉMON, oml I love this so much, any gen will do. Ranging from the old Pokémon getting aired in 1997 to Pokémon the series: sun and moon. The old Pokémon is about our main protagonist, a young Ash Ketchum, just began his Pokémon training as he finally turns 10. But things don't go as expected for the him, when he gets a Pikachu instead of a standard first Pokémon. Winning gym badges is also tougher than Ash thought it would be. He's not alone in his quest for the badges, though, as former gym leaders Brock and Misty are by his side, along with some new friends. I love it all. 10/10.

• the fourth anime, starting from the second column is bananya it’s basically a cutesy anime basically about a white cat who lives inside a banana. That’s it. My regressed self can follow the easy plot and my regressed two year old-ish self can laugh at it. 10/10 totally recommend.

• the fifth anime we have is miraculous ladybug. Yes I know, don’t come for me alright, I know it’s sort of a cartoon but the creators had the thought of anime still in mind so I’ll call it even. It’s basically about a girl named marinette. She seems to be a normal teenage girl, she dreams of becoming a famous fashion designer, is a bit awkward/shy and has a crush on one of her classmate. But she has a secret other teenagers don't have, she lives a double life as a crime-fighting superhero known as Ladybug. She uses her superpowers to help protect her native Paris from supervillain Hawk Moth. She is assisted, much to her dislike, by fellow hero Cat Noir. even though she insists she doesn't need him -- a stance she might not take if she knew his alter ego is her crush, Adrien. Together, Ladybug and Cat Noir help keep Paris safe from Hawk Moth and other villains. The plot is kind of a bit to much for me when I’m tiny, but overall I rate it 9/10.

• the six anime is called miss kuboyashis dragon maid it’s about an average office worker Named Miss Kobayashi and she lives a boring/ not exciting life, alone in her small apartment–until she saves a female dragon in distress. The dragon, named Tohru, has the ability to magically transform into an adorable human girl (albeit with horns and a long tail!), who will do anything to pay off her debt of gratitude, whether Miss Kobayashi likes it or not. With a very persistent and amorous dragon as a roommate, nothing comes easy, and Miss Kobayashi’s normal life is about to go off the deep end. It’s a very cutesy and slice of life anime, I give it a 9/10. The only reason why is the short/small service scenes.

• the seventh anime, starting from the last column we have ouran highschool host club. it’s a romance/comedy type of anime which I love, in and out of littlespace. Following the plot, it is about an elite upper school catering to the ultra-rich, which is called ouran academy. Haruhi Fujioka, one of our main protagonists, is a working-class scholarship student, which is rare at the school. While searching for a quiet place to study, Haruhi stumbles on an unused music room which turns out to be the club room for the school's "Host Club" — a group of idle rich boys possessing exceptional good-looks who entertain female clients. After accidentally knocking over a priceless Renaissance vase that's worth far more than Harhui can possibly repay, she is forced to join the Host Club as an "errand boy" to work off the debt. Soon after, however, Haruhi proves to be a 'natural' Host (no training needed) and is promoted to full membership of the Host Club. It then becomes clear that something isn't quite as it seems. I love this anime so much. It also slightly grazes the topics of gender identity and sexuality. Covering the sexuality, lesbian, in one of the episodes. And covers the gender identity, non-binary, in episode one. Our little haruhi is non-binary. THEIR REPRESENTING SO HARD. I literally cried when I figured out haruhi was non-binary in the anime. Enough of that. I give the anime a 9/10. Only because it’s has a short/small amount of service scenes that I don’t like in little space.

• the eighth anime, the second in the last column, is called kiss him, not me. It’s appropriate I promise. The plot is basically about a girl named Kae Serinuma being a fujoshi, a female manga and anime geek who loves reading yaoi (boys love) material and imagining men together in romantic relationships, both fictional and real. But while she was watching her favorite anime one of her favourite characters is killed off, Kae is so shocked that she locks herself in her room for a whole week, missing school. Not spoiling the anime, she comes out different goes to school, and at first, nobody recognizes her. When they do they are shocked and overwhelm her making her cry and run off. Later on a group of boys gain crushes on her and fight to see who will win all of her love, slightly forgetting that she devotes her life to anime. I’ll let y’all decide if you wanna see what happens or not. I give the anime a 10/10.

• the last, and ninth anime we have today is…the old, classic, and one of my very favorites…SAILOR MOON. We all know sailor moon right?? It’s about a middle-school student named Usagi Tsukino, who lives in Juban, Tokyo. She befriends Luna, a talking black cat who gives her a magical brooch enabling her to become Sailor Moon: a soldier destined to save Earth from the forces of evil. It has kitty’s and a female protag who kicks butt to the max, what more do you want?? 10/10.

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