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osaemu · 4 months

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GOJO SATORU: ONE FOR THE MONEY, TWO FOR THE SHOW

✩ ‧ ˚. synopsis: you and satoru, your fake boyfriend, have awards to accept and places to be. so how'd you two end up fucking in a bathroom? NSFW

contents: fem!reader. semi-public sex, p –> v, blowjob, unprotected sex, creampie, praise, you two get walked in on at the end (kinda). references hungry for more. not proofread, ignore any minor mistakes. 3.5K words.

“you two are so cute together,” the interviewer sighs, looking at you and satoru in turn. “please, tell us more about your relationship!”

satoru laughs, resting his hand on your back and pulling you into his side. you put on a smile and instinctually put a hand on his chest, pretending not to notice the way he stiffens up at the contact. “where do i even begin?” satoru asks dryly, turning and looking down at you affectionately, and he’s almost a good enough actor for you to believe there’s any real emotion behind those cold blue eyes.

two weeks ago, satoru’s media team came to you with a request for you two to start dating as a way of gaining more attention from your fans. naturally, you declined—it’s not like you’d gain anything from the deal but the burden of being paraded around on the arm of the man you hated—satoru gojo, the cocky son of some famous actor in the 90’s. but after multiple increases in the amount of money satoru’s team was willing to throw at you, you finally agreed under the condition that this arrangement would end the second you wanted it to.

“i’m sure you’ve seen our latest movie on netflix,” satoru starts, looking back up at the interviewer, whose eyes have practically turned into hearts. “the one with the serial killer, yeah? well, it started from there and just grew into more.”

“i guess you could say the attraction on the screen wasn’t all acting,” you add with a knowing smile. good thing you were a decent enough actor to pretend as if you weren’t just lying through your teeth, otherwise the millions of dollars in your bank account would all be gone.

the interviewer laughs and turns to the camera, saying something about how the chemistry between you and satoru was what really made the movie a hit—in fact, it might even be the reason you’re both getting nominated for best actor and actress.

“well, if you’d excuse us, i think we should get back to the party,” satoru jumps in, nodding his head at the interviewer in thanks. he removes his hand from your back as you follow him to the main area, weaving through crowds of fans and interviewers on his way there. you walk at his side, heels clacking against the freshly polished floor. satoru dips his head and whispers, “hold my hand.”

you scrunch up your nose and shake your head. “no thanks, it’s not like anyone’s watching right now. it’s way too crowded.”

“just do it,” satoru mutters, grabbing your hand anyways. when you start to pull away, he fixes you with a stern look and adds, “they’ll think something’s wrong if you don’t.”

“ugh, fine.”

two hours pass, filled with other actors’ remarks on how good you and satoru make as a couple. suguru geto, one of satoru’s close friends who had played a cult leader in a recent documentary even said that you might be the girl who could fix satoru. yeah, right.

“so, when do awards start?” you ask satoru, swirling your drink and relishing the sound of the ice clacking against the side of the glass. he shrugs and takes a swig from his own cup, which looks suspiciously like apple cider disguised as champagne. “really? you’re nominated for like, four awards, and you don’t even know when you’re getting them?”

satoru laughs carelessly and looks you up and down, eyes lingering on the short cut of your dress. “at this point, i’ve got so many awards that it doesn’t even matter anymore. and by the way, you look really good in that dress. oh, wait, didn’t i buy it for you?”

“you’re not smooth.”

“then why am i nominated for best actor, huh?”

“because the system’s absolute shit, obviously. otherwise toji would win every time.”

satoru groans and drinks the last couple sips of his drink, rolling his eyes. “don’t even mention that piece of shit.” you shrug in response, hiding your smile behind your glass. a couple years back, satoru had lost a role to toji and to his despair, the movie did really well, despite what he’d promised to the producers who had turned him down. and it looks like he’s still bitter over that, and all of a sudden, the perfect plan to piss satoru off appears in your head.

“look, it’s toji right there!” you gasp, setting down your drink and hopping off your seat, walking over to toji while ignoring satoru’s warnings. “oh, hi, i’m a big fan,” you say to the tall, well-built man, smiling bashfully. toji turns and looks down at you, raising an eyebrow and smiling.

“hey, pretty, you’re the girl in that movie with the serial killer, yeah?” he asks, crossing his arms. you nod and internally marvel at how tall he is—especially compared to satoru, who, by any standards, is pretty damn tall. toji looks you up and down, taking his sweet time drinking in the way your dress hugs your figure. “that scene in the alley was really fuckin’ good,” toji adds conversationally. “you’re definitely winnin’ best actress for that.”

anyone who’s watched the movie knows that the scene he’s referring to is the one where you get fucked by satoru against a dark alley wall—and you’ve seen enough edits of the scene to know exactly why it’s getting all the hype.

“aw, thanks,” you say coyly, resting a hand on your hip and tilting your head. “y’know, i’ve always wanted to star in a movie with you,” you continue, hearing satoru come up behind you in the background. you ignore the sickeningly obvious way he clears his throat and flutter your eyelashes at toji, who’s eying you with interest.

“i’d like that. i can probably pull some strings,” toji replies with a smirk. his dark eyes flicker from you to satoru and his smile turns almost patronizing. “and who’s this?”

“her boyfriend. and i really hate to interrupt this friendly chat, but she’s not up for grabs,” satoru snaps, wrapping an arm around your waist and dragging you back to your spot at the bar. you shoot satoru an indignant glare, but receive no reply besides his tightening jaw. toji laughs and waves you off, mouthing “call me” at you when you turn back apologetically.

satoru drags you by the hand to one of the bathrooms, shoving open the door with the side of his arm and pulling you inside. there’s a long, shiny counter, which you become very familiar with once your fake boyfriend hoists you up and sits you on it. “the fuck was that?” satoru hisses, narrowing his eyes accusingly.

“what, we were just talki—”

“i don’t like the way he was looking at you,” satoru interrupts, crossing his arms tensely. he fixes you with a cold stare and you fidget uncomfortably with the hem of your dress, which you now realize is rather short.

“okay, and?” you reply irritably, starting to get annoyed by the way satoru keeps patronizing you. “it’s not like we’re even dating, gojo,” you snap, emphasizing the use of his last name.

“yeah? well, i don’t need my ‘girlfriend’ slutting herself out to the guy everyone knows i hate,” satoru fires back, taking a step forward. his palms rest on the counter on either side of your exposed legs, and you suddenly notice how red satoru’s face is. the flush in his cheeks wasn’t as noticeable underneath the bar’s dim lights, but here, it’s rather obvious.

“are you jealous?” you ask incredulously, unable to suppress the cheeky smile that finds itself on your face. satoru’s jaw slackens and his eyes widen, and that’s enough of a sign for you to confirm it—satoru gojo, your fake boyfriend, is jealous. he doesn’t reply immediately, so you laugh, throwing back your head and giggling at the way satoru’s petty rivalry seems to be only one of the reasons he was so eager to get you away from toji. “aw, that’s so cute, but we aren’t even dating, sweetheart,” you coo, reaching out and caressing the side of satoru’s face.

he instantly swats your hand away, rolling his eyes at your laughter. “well, we still have to act like it, you idiot,” he mutters, leaning over you and eying the low neckline of your dress. you instinctively cross your arms and glare at him, and satoru only cocks an eyebrow in return. “so, if we were actually dating, do y’know what i’d be doing right now?”

“what?” you decide to humor him.

satoru’s demeanor completely changes at your question, going from pissed and flushed red to almost playful.

“this.”

and just like that, satoru slips his slender fingers underneath the bottom of your dress and pulls it up, exposing your black, lacy panties.

“gojo, what the—”

“shh, it’s all for the show,” he whispers teasingly, brushing one finger against the warm skin of your thigh. you involuntarily shiver from his touch, and against all rational impulse, find yourself wanting more.

in the acting community, satoru was well-known for being a stuck-up brat, and when you two had first announced your relationship, plenty of actors doubted it. after all, how could you, the classy it-girl of the movie industry, date an asshole like satoru? but even you were surprised at how easily people started to believe it when you two interacted in front of them. you’ve been told that you two had a rather unexpected burst of chemistry together, and that your relationship might actually make it.

what a shame.

satoru hooks his fingers underneath the waistband of your panties and tugs them down, raising an eyebrow when you don’t protest. he maintains eye contact with you as he slides your panties down your thighs, exposing your embarrassingly-wet cunt. satoru looks almost as surprised as you do at how soaked you are, even as he runs two fingers over your slit before sliding them in. you hate how good it feels—it’s been a while since you got a chance to sleep with another man, especially since you’ve been stuck with satoru for the past two weeks.

“shit, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” satoru murmurs, scoffing in mild disbelief as he meets your eyes and smiles. he curls his fingers upwards, causing your thighs to reflexively close before satoru reopens them. “so, wanna explain, sweetheart?” he tsks, tapping your thigh with his other hand.

you make a face and look away, cheeks heating up the longer satoru waits for a response. “it’s probably from toji,” you snap back after a moment. satoru laughs sarcastically, shaking his head almost condescendingly and pulling out his fingers.

“nice try, hon,” he says sweetly, lifting his fingers to his mouth and licking off your slick in one smooth motion. satoru exhales heavily and swallows, taking his time in doing so. “want me to go grab toji to join us?” satoru asks, forcing a smile on his lips. “i’m sure he’d love to watch you beg—”

“shut it, gojo,” you interrupt, swatting away his hand, which somehow found its way back in between your thighs. “we have an award show to get to, there’s not enough time for this bullshi—”

that was a mistake. satoru instantly lifts you off the counter and, ignoring the rather wide range of curse words you throw at him, sets you on the ground and starts unzipping his pants. “shh, we got all the time in the world. they can’t give an award to someone who isn’t there, right?” satoru cooes, threading one of his hands through your hair and pulling you closer to him. his other hand finishes unzipping his pants, freeing his already-hard dick.

you look up at satoru, forcing yourself to act unimpressed—even though you know damn well he can see through your half-hearted attempt at hiding your real feelings. “s’ that all?” you ask, hating yourself for the crack in your voice when satoru laughs at you.

“ah, i think it’ll be more than enough for your pretty face to handle. now c’mon, open nice n’ wide for me,” satoru instructs you, reaching down and tilting up your chin as he guides his dick into your mouth. against all rational impulse, you let him, all while glaring daggers at him from below.

you run your tongue over his flushed red tip, and satoru sucks in a harsh breath, chest tensing as you continue kitten-licking him. his hand moves from your chin to the top of your head, and he pushes your mouth farther onto his dick, jaw tightening the more your tongue laps at him.

sure, maybe you shouldn’t be sucking off your fake boyfriend in a bathroom where anyone could walk in at any time, but it’s the first time you’ve felt this way in too long, and you weren’t ready to let this feeling go just yet. so you humor satoru and moan, smiling when you feel the way his whole body loosen up at the soft vibration. “f-fuck, didn’t think you’d actually know how to give a man a good time,” satoru mutters through gritted teeth.

“really?” you ask, pulling away from his dick for a moment to catch a breath. “we fucked for that movie, though, and you seemed pretty damn satisfied then, didn’t you?” you say in-between heaving breaths. satoru scoffs and shakes his head, pushing your mouth back onto his dick.

“yeah, but that was for a movie. this isn’t,” he clarifies, eyes fixed on the mix of spit and pre-cum dribbling down your chin as you continue sucking him off. “fuck, why are you good at this?” he hisses, almost incredulously—it’s as if he was hoping you wouldn’t be this good for him for some reason, but now’s not the time to reason through it or wonder what’s going on in his mind.

satoru shudders around you, and you feel the hair threaded through your hair tighten. it’s not enough to be painful, but his grip still makes you whine from the increased pressure. his breathing becomes more shallow as you run your tongue over his length, and his foot starts to bounce on the floor as he gets closer to cumming down your throat. “shit, baby, m’ close,” satoru confirms a moment later, tilting his chin back and glaring at the ceiling.

“fuckin’ hell, i—” he cuts himself off with a loud, lengthy groan, pushing your head even farther on his dick and tensing as the full force of satoru’s orgasm hits him. he lets loose a flurry of curse words as he cums in your mouth, filling you up to the point where it starts dripping down the side of your face. it’s hot and salty, two sensations that you normally wouldn’t put together, but in this moment it’s all you can think about as you slide one hand downwards towards your throbbing pussy.

still reeling from his surprisingly quick orgasm, satoru leans back onto the counter and pants for air. as for you, you’re starting to want some of his pleasure for yourself—so you slip two fingers inside your cunt and pulse them back and forth, needy moans slipping out of your lips at every thrust. “gojo,” you call, looking up at him and licking his cum off your lips. the sight of you kneeling in front of him, cum dripping down your lips and fingers knuckle-deep in your cunt is enough for satoru to cum again, but he forces himself to maintain some level of control.

“jus’ call me satoru,” he murmurs, reaching down and tugging you up to your feet. it’s hard to stand while your legs are trembling, but thankfully, satoru does most of the work for you by positioning you against the wall, back facing him as he aligns his still-hard dick in front of your dripping pussy. “say it,” satoru mutters in your ear, resting one hand on your waist and the other on the wall just above your shoulder. “say my name f’me, sweetheart.”

“s-satoru,” you breathe, and a moment later, your fake boyfriend—who doesn’t feel so fake anymore—shoves himself inside of your welcoming cunt. you’re already wet enough to the point where he doesn’t really need to prep you at all, but you’re still just tight enough so that every thrust feels like he’s breaking you down in the best way possible.

“y’feel so good,” satoru groans, resting his chin on your shoulder and snapping his hips back and forth, setting a steady yet harsh pace. you stutter out satoru’s name again and again as your vision goes blurry, with your only thoughts revolving around the dick shoved up inside you and the man praising you in your ear.

satoru curses when he feels your walls clench around him, breaths growing shallower with every thrust. “arch your back for me, princess,” he mutters, eyes fluttering rapidly as he squeezes your waist. “yeah, jus’ like that,” satoru praises, breath brushing against the side of your face as he continues thrusting into you. “how’re you feeling, pretty? s’ this all right with you?”

you nod shakily in response, swollen lips hanging wide open as you gasp for air. satoru clicks his tongue and slows his pace, dipping his chin and studying your face. “gonna need you to use your words, angel.”

“m' good, i wanna cum,” you mumble, a loud moan slipping through your lips when satoru laughs and resumes fucking you a millisecond after you answer.

“i’m gonna fill you up, baby, i promise,” satoru whispers, and his words are barely audible over the lewd, sticky sounds coming from everywhere. all your senses are directed at satoru—the man you really shouldn’t be fucking right now, but all your inhibitions fade away as you feel your stomach start to tighten as you approach your orgasm.

“fuck, satoru, m’ close,” you whimper, arching your back even more and clenching your teeth shut. satoru sucks in a sharp breath as he confirms that he’s also about to cum, and his thrusts grow sloppier the closer he gets. “don’t stop, please, i—”

from there on, your words mix themselves together, with the only understandable word being satoru’s name. your fake boyfriend spills into you first, cum leaking from his tip and mixing with yours as you both chase your releases. and it hits you hard—if it wasn’t for satoru, you would’ve crumbled to the ground from the sheer force of your orgasm. all you can see is white as satoru finishes emptying his load inside of you, and the sticky, viscous liquid trails down the warm skin of your thighs as it overflows from your abused hole.

“shit,” satoru mutters, stumbling backwards and eyeing his now-soiled clothes. “this was a couple thousand dollars, damn it.”

you exhale a breathy laugh and turn around, leaning against the wall and meeting his half-lidded eyes. “you kidding? my dress was way more than that, and there’s no way i can wear that out now.”

satoru grins, running a hand through his ruffled hair and walking back towards you, touching your waist and sliding a finger over your dripping cunt. “you were so good f’me, baby. what were we arguing about again?”

“i have no idea,” you mumble, watching satoru lick his finger clean. he’s shameless—even as clarity returns to both of your minds, he still insists on dragging the moment on. not that you mind—that was the best sex you’d had in a while, even if it was too fast and in a bathroom.

“we should get back to the ceremony,” you say distractedly, pulling down your dress and frowning at the new wrinkles. “can i wear your suitjacket? i don’t want people to see this.”

satoru sticks out his bottom lip and pouts, looking you up and down. “but i like it. you look like you just got fucked by a really hot guy. oh, wait, that’s me!”

“you’re an asshole.”

before satoru can reply, the bathroom door opens, and you both jump out of your skins. thankfully, satoru had time to pull his pants on, otherwise it would’ve been significantly more embarrassing. suguru pokes his head in the bathroom and rolls his eyes when he sees you and satoru, and an exasperated sigh slips out of his lips when he sees your fucked-out states.

“are you two seriously fucking during the awards?” suguru snaps, amber eyes glittering with dry amusement. you look away bashfully, tugging down your dress even farther out of embarrassment. satoru shrugs nonchalantly and walks over to suguru, offering his hand in search of a fistbump.

suguru eyes him dubiously and crosses his arms. “did you wash your hands?”

“heh, no, not yet.”

ignoring satoru’s smug grin, suguru swats his arm away with the back of his hand, disgust evident all over his face. “gross, fuck off.” he turns to you and arches an eyebrow, looking you up and down disapprovingly. “you two should clean up before coming outside, otherwise they’ll probably take away your awards,” suguru adds, wrinkling his nose. “i’ll tell them you’re on your way.”

“okay, thanks,” you mutter, face warmer than ever. suguru nods in response and leaves, and when you and satoru finally return to the awards ceremony, there’s plenty of whispers about you two, and most of them aren’t very family-friendly.

well, at the very least, nobody’s gonna doubt that you two were a couple now!

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wileycap · 2 months

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So, uh, Netflix Avatar, huh? Yeah. I guess I'll make a really long post about it because ATLA brainrot has is a cornerstone of my personality at this point.

So.

It's okay. B, maybe a C+.

That's it.

Now for the spoilers:

The biggest issue with the Netflix version is the pacing. Scenes come out of nowhere and many of the episodes are disjointed. Example: Aang escaping from Zuko's ship. We see him getting the key and going "aha!", and in the next scene he's in Zuko's room. And then he just runs out, no fun acrobatics or fights, and immediately they go to the Southern Air Temple where he sees Gyatso's corpse, goes into the Avatar state, and then sees Gyatso being really cheesy, comes out of it, and resolves that conflict. Nothing seems to lead into anything. The characters don't get to breathe.

The show's worst mistake (aside from Iroh fucking murdering Zhao) is its' first one: they start in the past. Instead of immediately introducing us to our main characters and dropping us into a world where we have a perfect dynamic where Aang doesn't know the current state of the world and Katara and Sokka don't know about the past, thus allowing for seamless and organic worldbuilding and exposition, they just... tell us. "Hey, this is what happened, ok, time for Aang!" There's no mystery, no intrigue, just a stream of information being shoved down the audience's throats and then onto the next set piece.

The visuals are for the most part great, but like with most Netflix productions, they just don't have great art direction. It feels like a video game cinematic, where everything is meant to be Maximum Cool - and none of the environments get to breathe. It's like they have tight indoor sets (with some great set design) and then they have a bunch of trailer shots. It's oozing with a kind of very superficial love.

Netflix still doesn't know how to do lighting, and with how disjointed the scenes are, the locations end up feeling like a parade of sets rather than actual cities or forests or temples. As for the costumes, Netflix still doesn't know how to do costumes that look like they're meant to be actually worn, so many of the characters seem weirdly uncomfortable, like they're afraid of creasing their pristine costumes.

The acting is decent to good, for the most part. I can't tell if the weaker moments come down to the actors or the direction and editing, but if I had to guess, I'd say the latter. Iroh and Katara are the weakest, Sokka is the most consistent, Zuko hits the mark most of the time, and Aang is okay. I liked Suki (though... she was weirdly horny? Like?) but Yue just fell kind of flat.

The tight fight choreography of the original is replaced with a bunch of spinny moves and Marvel fighting, though there are some moments of good choreography, like the Agni Kai between Ozai and Zuko (there's a million things I could say about how bad it was thematically, but this post is overly long already.) There's an actually hilarious moment in the first episode when Zuko is shooting down Aang, and he does jazz hands to charge up his attack.

Then there's the characters. Everybody feels very static - Zuko especially gets to have very little agency. A great example of that is the scene in which Iroh tells Lieutenant Jee the story of Zuko's scar.

In the original, it's a very intimate affair, and he doesn't lead the crew into any conclusions. Here, Iroh straight up tells the crew "you are the 41st, he saved your lives" and then the crew shows Zuko some love. A nice moment, but it feels unearned, when contrasted with the perfection of The Storm. In The Storm, Zuko's words and actions directly contradict each other, and Iroh's story gives the crew (and the audience) context as to why, which makes Zuko a compelling character. We get to piece it out along with them. Here - Iroh just flat out says it. He just says it, multiple times, to hammer in the point that hey, Zuko is Good Actually.

And then there's Iroh. You remember the kindly but powerful man who you can see gently nudging Zuko to his own conclusions? No, he's a pretty insecure dude who just tells Zuko that his daddy doesn't love him a lot and then he kills Zhao. Yeah. Iroh just plain kills Zhao dead. Why?

Iroh's characterization also makes Zuko come off as dumb - not just clueless and deluded, no, actually stupid. He constantly gets told that Iroh loves him and his dad doesn't, and he doesn't have any good answers for that, so he just... keeps on keeping on, I guess? This version of Zuko isn't conflicted and willfully ignorant like the OG, he's just... kind of stupid. He's not very compelling.

In the original, Zuko is well aware of Azula's status as the golden child. It motivates him - he twists it around to mean that he, through constant struggle, can become even stronger than her, than anyone. Here, Zhao tells him that "no, ur dad likes her better tee hee" and it's presented as some kind of a revelation. And then Iroh kills Zhao. I'm sorry I keep bringing that up, but it's just such an unforgiveable thematic fuckup that I have to. In the original, Zhao falls victim to his hubris, and Zuko gets to demonstrate his underlying compassion and nobility when he offers his hand to Zhao. Then we get some ambiguity in Zhao: does he refuse Zuko's hand because of his pride, or is it his final honorable action to not drag Zuko down with him? A mix of both? It's a great ending to his character. Here, he tries to backstab Zuko and then Iroh, who just sort of stood off to the side for five minutes, goes "oh well, it's murderin' time :)"

They mess with the worldbuilding in ways that didn't really need to be messed with. The Ice Moon "brings the spirit world and the mortal world closer together"? Give me a break. That's something you made up, as opposed to the millenia of cultural relevance that the Solstice has. That's bad, guys. You replaced something real with something you just hastily made up. There's a lot of that. We DID NOT need any backstory for Koh, for one. And Katara and Sokka certainly didn't need to be captured by Koh. I could go on and on, but again, this post is already way too long.

It's, um, very disappointing. A lot of telling and not very much showing, and I feel like all of the characters just... sort of end up in the same place they started out in. I feel like we don't see any of the characters grow: they're just told over and over again how they need to grow and what they need to do.

To sum it up: Netflix Avatar is a mile wide, but an inch deep.

#avatar the last airbender #atla #atla spoilers #avatar netflix #netflix avatar #atla live action #netflix atla #zuko #iroh #katara #aang #sokka #zhao #ozai #review

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 3 months

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Mom, I am a rich man || Tom Blyth x gf!reader

Summary: Fans have always speculated that Tom was dating someone until he confirmed it in an interview. After digging through Tom’s socials, fans stumble upon you, a Yale law student.

Warnings: fem!reader

Wc: 341

A/n: anyone studying law atm? 🙋‍♀️ ALSO THANK U SM FOR 6K AHHH THATS INSANE!!!

Divider by @pommecita

“I did it!” You slightly furrow your eyebrows at the text message your boyfriend sent you before clicking onto the link that he sent. It was a 2 minute interview that he did while at one of the premieres for his hunger games movie.

Tom looked insanely good in his tailored suit, exuding confidence as he engages with the interviewer. Cameras flashed around him, capturing the glamour of the event, and you couldn’t help but smile, feeling a sense of pride for your boyfriend.

The interviewer, a charismatic host with an air of familiarity, turns his attention to Tom, eager to delve into the behind-the-scenes of the blockbuster. “Tom, how was the filming process for ‘The Hunger Games’?” She’s asks, a glint of curiosity in her eyes.

Tom smiles, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. “Oh, it was fantastic. The whole cast and crew brought so much energy to the project. But what made it truly special was having my family here. They visited during filming, and even my girlfriend, who took some time off uni to be with me. I greatly appreciated that.”

Your heart swells with warmth at his words. Tom, ever the supportive partner, acknowledges your sacrifice and commitment to being by his side during this whirlwind experience.

Your 2 months in Berlin with Tom was a great opportunity to take a break from all your uni work, and of course, spend some much needed time with your boyfriend. The revelation that he has a girlfriend elicits a gasp from the woman interviewing him.

That video goes viral on the internet. With Tom’s fans searching the internet for anything that could lead them to finding out who Tom’s girlfriend is.

With hard digging, fans discover your insta page. Your posts containing photos of your life as a law student at Yale and fans were pleasantly surprised to find never seen before photos of Tom that you’ve posted.

y/n_y/l/n just posted a story!

y/n_y/l/n

Liked by tomblyth and 2,941 others

this months dump!

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yourfriendsusername: 😍😍

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: ily!

yourfriendsusername: uh oh, ur getting famous…. remember me pls!

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: sorry, who are you 😂

user1: omg so this is Tom’s gf? SHES GORGEOUS

user2: damn she’s hella smart huh?

↘️ user3: DUH SHES IN YALE

user4: eh, she’s mid

↘️ user5: studying at one of the ivy league’s is far from being mid lol 😭

user6: she’s been posting him for so long now, how have we only just found this out 😂

user7: so she’s pretty, she’s smart, and she’s bagged Tom Blyth? Damn girl. Teach us ur ways!

user8: THE LAST PICTURE AWEE

user9: the bouquet behind his back- the way she’s looking at him- my single heart cannot 😭✋

user10: studying in Yale is such a flex oml. And studying law too? Imagine being able to say, yeah my mom’s a lawyers. COULD NEVER BE ME. 😃

tomblyth

Liked by y/n_y/l/n, rachelzegler, phoebedynevor, tomblythupdates and 8,307,163 others

yeah my girlfriend is cooler than me.

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y/n_y/l/n: Alexa, play brooklyn baby by Lana Del Rey 😁

↘️ tomblyth: volume up Alexa!

rachelzegler: y/n’s side eye 🙈

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: 👀👀

↘️ tomblyth: side eyed me the whole damn time

user1: HE FINALLY POSTED HER!

user2: can’t wait for more gf appreciation posts 😆

user3: what’s a uni student doing dating an actor like Tom Blyth?

user4: first pic. sleeping on the road tn.

↘️ y/n_y/l/n: pls don’t 🙏

↘️ user5: AHH SHE REPLIED TO YOU

↘️ user6: UR SO LUCKY TO CALL TOM UR MAN.

↘️ user7: nah, he’s actually my man.

user8: crying. screaming. throwing up.

user9: it’s happening 😭 Tom finally posting about his gf

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imaramennoodle · 1 year

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have you ever tried to make plans last minute with a friend group of 12 indecisive high schoolers who all live 20 minutes away from their school but in the opposite directions so they're really 40 minutes away from each other because thats what I spent my afternoon doing

#did suggest crying as an option #it was not accepted.#ivy's rants #haven't used that tag in a hot minute whoops #I also ?? didn't notice that my friend group is big??#we're never all together #like the play is where most of us see each other #but then theres a few not in tech/not actors who still hang out with us after school #and there's people in tech who DON'T hang out with us after school & go straight home #like everyone involved in the play had lunch together Thursday Friday bc we had a performance for middles schools in the area #I was like 'huh I really am friends with all these people'#also in the same vein the lunch guy just .. gave me like 8 mozzarella sticks instead of the usual 5 on thursday #I gave some to my friends I felt like the mozzarella stick fairy godmother

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whilomm · 2 years

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voice acting isnt just about How Many voices you can do (tho that is a really valuable skill), there are plenty of voice actors who are known for doing a single voice, usually just their normal voice, or they get most famous off roles that are just their normal voice

patrick warburton (joe from family guy, kronk)

kristen schaal (mabel pines, louise belcher)

H john benjamin (archer, bob belcher)

J.K. simmons (cave johnson, stanford pines)

gilbert gottfried (iago, digit from cyberchase)

(note: just listing a couple of their so goddamn many roles each for recognitions sake, they got so many more of course, also some of them like H john benjamin might have more vocal range than their normal voice, but you know what i mean)

the difference is these VAs 1. are cast for the roles that are right for that one voice theyre known for 2. do a good job at that one voice 3. most of their voices are memorable and unique

...chris pratt is being cast just for the name recognition, in a role hes not suited to, and doing a shit job, with the most boring ass normal dude voice in the universe. which, yeah sure it worked in the lego movie where he was literally playing Normal Guy McDudeface. it dont work for an iconic character known for having a unique voice.

so like. having no vocal range or just using your normal voice for your biggest roles is fine!! if your normal voice fits. if chris pratt wants to play more Normal McDudeface chars, well he can still go fuck himself for being a homophobic piece of shit and supporting his 3%er bro of course. but he could give a passable performance. sucks ass as mario tho!!!

anyway no "you can still tell its jack black why are you praising his voice huh" isnt a good arguement. yeah you can tell its him but, besides the fact that no he is actually changing his voice to fit the role even if its still recognizable as himself, hes doing a good job at it. thats the difference. his normal but slightly to the left voice works. pratts doesnt.

#mario movie #chris pratt #chrisp ratt #mario #voice acting #jack black #bowser #buzzy

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cordeliawhohung · 11 days

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uhm enjoy this totally self indulgent hurt/comfort pornstar!gaz x reader where you fake an orgasm on set (:

Two hours isn’t an uncommon amount of time for a shoot. Even for the most experienced of actors, there are plenty of position changes, water breaks, and directions to be given that always bogs down film time in some capacity. You’re used to it. You’d been in that industry for years, so you know how to pass the time, especially when filming with Kyle. He always knows how to make you laugh, how to strike up a conversation as lights and camera angles are adjusted — it’s always nice with him.

But something is different about today. It feels painfully long, like you’ve spent a majority of your day there rather than just a handful of hours. You’re more quiet than usual, and when Kyle attempts to strike up a conversation, your responses are just as empty as your eyes. A terrible glossiness has taken over their usual beautiful sheen, yet you still push through in all the obnoxious angles the director has you contort into in order to give the viewers the best visual possible.

Kyle notices almost immediately. There’s something empty and numb in the way your body reacts to his touches. Your pretty moans sound dull when he pumps two thick fingers into you, and your brows don’t pinch together when he whispers in your ear. When he sinks his cock into your cunt after an overly drawn out foreplay period, you don’t flutter around him like you normally do. All your little tells — those delicious tells — have suddenly vanished off the face of the earth, leaving the studio feeling empty as he ruts into you.

Really, you’re just glad your face is in the mattress while Kyle fucks you, because you don’t think you could look him in the eyes. Not when you’re feeling like that. It’s as if some void has taken up the space in your chest just for something rotten and vile to fester in the darkness. Nothing feels good. It doesn’t feel bad either, it’s just so far out of your reach you don’t even bother trying to chase it.

You’re so… tired. Tired of filming, of being there in that fucking studio as people peer at you from behind cinema cameras and lights so bright you’re all but promised a migraine later. You just want it to be over; to go home and sleep until whatever that darkness is finally passes, so you do the unthinkable.

You’ve never had to fake an orgasm with Kyle before. He always takes such good care of you, always is so attentive and in tune with your needs and desires, but you’ve done it so many times before with other actors that it’s easy. It’s easy to wrench your eyes shut as you force your thighs to tremble, and you moan and groan like a pathetic bitch in heat just how you know the viewers like. What makes it difficult is that Kyle’s pace slows, as if trying to gently fuck you through the orgasm that was never even on the crux of arriving.

The moment he pulls out and tells the director he’s done for the day, you know you’ve fucked up.

“Huh?” the director asks as if baffled.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Kyle repeats.

“We’ve got Viagra on hand if you need it,” the director says, trying to convince him to go longer.

“I said that’s enough.”

You bury your face further into the fresh linens at Kyle’s biting tone. You’ve never heard him sound so stern before; not the playful and teasing Kyle Garrick. It was enough to get the director to give in, and you hear a symphony of sighs echo throughout the room as everyone starts to tear the set down. Though all you wanted to do was go home, you couldn’t bring yourself out of the sheets. Maybe you didn’t really want to go home at all; just melt into the bed until there was nothing of you left.

Plush fabric brushes against your back, causing you to jolt. Kyle smooths your robe over your body as he gently urges you to sit up so you can get your arms through the sleeves.

“C’mon,” he quietly prompts, “let’s get cleaned up.”

Once you are both properly wrapped in your robes, Kyle keeps an arm snug around your waist as he leads you into your dressing room. Usually the two of you go your separate ways once the cameras stop rolling, but he doesn’t this time. He closes and locks the door behind both of you as you mindlessly wander towards the counter. Pressure begins to build behind your eyes as white hot shame boils in your stomach, climbing up your chest and into your face.

Kyle lets you run away for only a short moment before he’s crossing the distance between the door and the counter, hands ready to mend whatever is broken. You want to retract, to continue to hide away instead of facing the beast eating you from the inside out, but your fortitude breaks the moment his hands reach your shoulders.

“Doll,” he says, voice so soft it’s as if he fears he’ll shatter you with words alone. “Where’s your head at?”

You refuse to look at him, and instead your eyes keep glued to his chest as you keep your head lowered. The biting sting of tears builds in your eyes just as your bottom lip begins to tremble. It’s impossible to articulate the way bile eats at your esophagus just at the thought of trying to spill your guts to anyone, let alone Kyle. You try in vain to keep a straight face, but your sniffling has already given you away.

“You know you don’t have to fake it with me, yeah? If you’re not into it, we can always stop,” Kyle then says.

Wide eyes suddenly pierce through Kyle’s face as you look up at him, bewildered. “You could tell?” you ask as your voice cracks.

It’s difficult for him to find the words to explain how familiar your body is to him. How he has every inch of it ingrained in his mind as if it had never been separate from him at all. Yet you give him no time to even think before your hands are pawing at your eyes as you try and wipe away your tears.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong. Everything feels so off, but everyone was already getting set up and I just- I don’t know,” you ramble.

“Hey, hey,” Kyle shushes. His hands glide from your shoulders to your cheeks where he holds your head in place, forcing you to look at him. His touch is almost as warm as his eyes are as he studies your face, tongue darting out to wet his lips before he continues. “You don’t have to explain anythin’ to me. We all have those days. Just… promise me next time you’ll talk to me. I don’t wanna fuck you if you’re not into it.”

His words destroy you in a way nothing else has, and it’s enough to really get the waterworks running. Despite it all, his gaze is soft as his thumbs brush your cheeks, and you begin to melt into him as your hands reach for his chest for stability.

“I promise. I’m sorry, I promise,” you sob.

Kyle cradles the back of your head as he holds you in the tightest embrace you’ve ever received. The soft fabric of his robe soaks up your tears as your body rattles with each cry that escapes. Soft kisses press against the crown of your head as he holds you together, refusing to let you crumble.

He doesn’t pull away until you do, and you wipe at your wet face. Crying doesn’t make you feel any better than you thought it would, and if anything it leaves you feeling emptier than before. But Kyle doesn’t give up on you. It isn’t long before the dressing room fills with steam from the running shower and he’s leading you in there with your hand in his.

Hot water washes over your body while Kyle scrubs you clean. There’s something holy about the way his hands glide over your skin, as if he’s cleaning you from the inside out. Neither of you say a word, you just stand there and let him work at you until your muscles loosen and you’re so tired you’re certain you’ll fall asleep on your feet.

Kyle guides your heavy head up to look at him, and you watch his eyes take in the sight of your tired lids. Concern is still etched deep into his features even as his thumb ghosts over your bottom lip. Gears begin to visibly turn in his mind, and you feel your chest expand with something warm. His mouth twitches before it lands on yours, stealing you away with a kiss. There’s something different about this kiss. It’s leagues different from the ones he normally gives you on set; the primal, messy kiss where his tongue slips into your mouth as if he’s trying to devour you.

No, there is something different in the softness of it all. How he’s not trying to devour you as much as he is trying to know you. When his lips break away from yours just to dive back in for more, you nearly confuse it for love. You’re not sure what it is, or what it’s supposed to be; all you know is that it leaves you feeling a little less empty and only wanting more.

#pornstar!gaz #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #gaz x reader smut #kyle garrick x reader smut #f!reader

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stevenose · 2 months

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being so normal (18+)

a continuation of this series of blurbs (untitled, adidas, puppy grin)

contains: steve x reader; shy!reader; reader with a vagina; gender neutral pronouns used for reader, but good girl is used once; oral; fingering; blue balls :/

you really shouldn’t have smoked. but when eddie offers it for free, you take it.

because now you can’t stop looking at steve. you’re fixated on him like a moth to a flame. he’s the only thing in the entire bowling alley you care about. maybe if you were sober that would scare you - but also, if you were sober, you wouldn’t be looking.

everyone’s talking about something. steve included. you watch his brows furrow gently while jonathan tells a story about getting too stoned in california. how his pink lips quirk up and then fall flat again. his brown eyes all soft before they narrow when robin makes a joke at his expense.

and his nose. it slopes downward so straight. like it was sculpted. pink from the alcohol beginning its course through his system. there’s a tiny little freckle on his nostril that you want to kiss.

you want to kiss him. it’s so overwhelming that it’s almost painful. you’d love nothing more than to crawl over the table separating you and kiss him til he’s breathless. til his face is red and his pupils are blown. til his hands grip bruises into your hips. til there’s spit trailing between you two. til it trails down lower, down towards your aching, needy -

you’re snapped out of it when eddie slams his ringed hand down on the table in front of you, making you jump.

your brows crinkle together comically slow. you feel like you just woke up. “huh?”

“does steve have somethin’ on his face?” eddie asks again, smiling big.

“i don’t see anything,” jonathan adds.

you falter. “what?”

it must be physically painful for steve to not look smug over this. you wonder if he knows you were staring. his eyes meet yours and you feel dizzy all over again, so needy and so yet nearly fearful of his attention.

he’s a much better actor than you.

steve waves his hand, looking away from you, brown eyes focusing on the bar. “we all stare when we’re stoned.”

“maybe i just think he looks funny,” you finally say, which seems to be sufficient enough. eddie guffaws loud enough to hear over the music and jonathan slaps steve’s back.

“i’m gonna get you for that,” steve says, in a tone so casual it shouldn’t make your stomach flip, but it still finds a way to.

“gonna make them car sick again?” nancy asks. her eyes feel like they’re boring into the side of your face. like she knows something. it makes sweat bead at your hairline, pulse quickening when she raises her brows at you for a second.

and as the men leave to get drunker, nancy and robin sit staring at you. you play with the sweating edge of your glass of ginger ale, bouncing your leg.

robin’s the first person to break the silence. she swats at you, expression somehow irritated and elated. “how stupid do you think we are?”

“what are you talking about?” you deadpan.

“come on,” nancy huffs.

you point to the monitor above your table. “it’s your turn, rob.”

“how long have you been sleeping together?” nancy presses.

you gawk and you hope, despite knowing that nancy wheeler is the smartest person in a one hundred mile radius, that she’s falling for your innocence. “why on earth do you think we’re…?”

“oh, seriously?” robin scoffs. “you can’t even say ‘fuck’?”

“no, really,” you urge, knee bouncing faster. “why do you think we’re doing something?”

“you’ve been getting rides from him,” nancy points out.

“he has driven me somewhere three times in six months,” you amend.

this seems to make them short circuit, opening their mouths to protest but unable to find any ammo. you’re pleased with this.

“and by your logic, then robin must be having sex with eddie.”

robin groans, repulsed. “that’s gross!”

“how do you think i feel?”

“then why were you staring at him?” nancy asks.

you reach for your ginger ale, taking a long sip. “he’s cute,” you settle on. “so what?”

“if you aren’t doing something, do you want to?” robin continues. “i can, like, totally help you out here if you do.”

“robin,” you grit. “enough.”

as grueling as it is, at the very least, this behavior reinforces why you didn’t want to share your situation with steve in the first place. everyone is so nosy - and the only one who really has a right to be is robin. if you’d let it slip that you were being intimate with steve, she’d be furious that he didn’t tell her. but this makes you feel worse for hiding it, and you feel a little sick as you take another swig of your drink.

“well, if you’re not doing anything,” nancy says slowly. “and if his driving made you sick, and that’s why you pulled over, then you wouldn’t mind jonathan and i taking you home. right?”

you blink. “right,” you reply after a pause.

she stares, unwavering. trying to make you break. “so jonathan and i will take you home, then.”

you nod. “right,” you repeat.

nancy’s so goddamn petty, you think, watching robin finally get up to bowl. totally ruining your impending orgasm, again, just to prove herself right. you were so looking forward to riding steve’s nose. you try your best to not look irritated as the game continues, even as the boys come back, eyes ignoring steve’s - well, ignoring steve’s everything. you act like his entire existence is meaningless to you until he finds you in the hallway leading to the bathrooms, half drunk and messy.

“heyheyheyheyhey,” he coos, grabbing you by the waist, pulling you in to his chest. your body becomes overwhelmingly hot at his attention all over again. "c'mere."

"steve," you squeak, "we can't -!"

but he pulls you into the bathroom anyway, pressing you against the door and twisting the lock until it clicks. his mouth is on yours before you can protest, kissing long and sweet and serene. you melt for half a second before turning your head to the side.

"steve," you breathe, grabbing onto his shirt while his lips trail down your neck. "steve, we can't - they're on to us -"

"i know," he says between kisses, annoyed. "jon and eddie wouldn't shut up about it."

you open your mouth to protest but a moan comes out instead.

“oh, there?” he asks, breathless, attaching his lips to your sweet spot.

“steve,” you moan, breathy and low. “we can’t - they’ll - they’ll kn-know -“

he sighs and pulls away, pouting. “what were you looking at me for earlier?”

you’re a little speechless under his gaze. “why do you think?” you whisper.

he licks his lips. “i think someone here’s upset they didn’t get to cum.” one hand rests firmly on your hip, the other snaking around to the small of your back.

you’re trapped. deliciously so.

“and i think you were thinkin’ about how good my nose feels on your clit.”

you shiver, staring at the collar of steve’s shirt.

“that true?” he asks softly.

“not - not totally.”

“well, do you want that?” his thumb plays with the waistband of your skirt, clawing at it, wanting in. “want me to make out with your pretty pussy again?”

overwhelmed, your eyes fall shut. “nancy - nancy’s taking me home.”

steve falters, eyes going soft. “is everything okay?”

“she’s on to us,” you repeat. “thinks if we aren’t doing anything then i wouldn’t mind going home with her. so - yes, i’d really love that, but i don’t think tonight-“

but steve drops to his knees, like you aren’t in a public restroom. his hands push your skirt up, exposing your still drenched underwear to him. you open your mouth to ask what the hell he thinks he’s doing, but his tongue is on you before you’re able to finish your thought.

“oh!”

steve’s fingers keep your underwear pushed off to the side - his prize of the night now stolen from him. if he could, he’d send you back out there with your pussy on display, your underwear tucked safely into his back pocket. but he’s a gentleman, so he resigns himself to snag a pair from you next time.

he always assumes there’s a next time.

“we - they’ll - find out,” you pant, knees weak, your hands reaching down to push his hair away from his face.

steve laughs, pulls away, licks his lips. “do you really think i can’t make you cum in five minutes?”

you hold onto his hair in a white knuckled grip, tugging, listening to him pant and moan beneath you. his tongue licks delicately up your folds before he sucks at your clit, kissing it, flicking his tongue out. then he ducks down a bit, lets his nose rub against your swollen bud while his tongue fucks you.

“oh my god,” you moan, eyes rolling.

“do you want them to know?” he asks, voice thick with you.

you realize you’re being too loud, but it’s impossible not to be. steve brings you to rapture in ways you never thought possible. you never thought it was possible with him. his pretty face between your thighs begs for you to praise it, to let everyone in this goddamn dive know what he’s doing to you.

“you have three minutes,” you shoot back, panting.

“yeah?” he presses a kiss to your folds. “aren’t i supposed to make you pay for teasin’ me earlier?”

white hot electric shoots through you. “n- no.”

steve laughs, raising a hand so his thumb can rub circles into your clit. you sigh, trying desperately to still your shaking legs. “don’t have to let you cum, y’know. could just wait and see how desperate you can get for me. see if i can get you to hump my leg.”

he doesn’t need three minutes. he needs one more minute, needs his dirty mouth running, needs to make you feel like a pervert, and that’s all it takes. his mouth engulfs you just as you’re cumming, lapping you up, moaning as he tastes you.

“shit,” he gasps, pulling away, chest heaving. “wish i had an hour with you.”

you still don’t look at him as you ask, “what would you do if you had an hour?”

“stretch you out on my fingers,” steve answers immediately. “wanna see how well you could take ‘em if we had the time. if that’s okay,” he adds.

you nod, swallowing hard, dizzy. “that would be very okay.”

“you think i could?” he’s still not getting up. “you’re so tight on my tongue, bet it’d take an hour to get two fingers in you.”

but he’s going to try now, his fingers creeping back up your thighs and between them where you’re sensitive and halfway to dripping.

“we don’t have an hour,” you remind him.

steve just hums, using his free hand to part your legs. he’s begging with his eyes. “but we have a minute, right?”

your head falls back against the door with a quick mhm.

“you’re so cute,” he muses, the tip of his middle finger teasing your entrance. “so beautiful, you know that?”

you want to scream. “i did not.”

“must not tell you enough then, huh?” if you looked down you’d see the absolute adoration in his eyes. “sorry about that, angel.”

steve still isn’t trying to push inside of you. he’s just watching, staring up at your pretty face, the way it twists, your lip quivering. it’s so fun to play with you. he could do this all night but he knows he has about five more seconds until you remind him of the time again.

“please?” you finally whimper.

“good girl,” he beams, sliding his finger inside of you, nice and slow. it’s a stretch for certain, making your mouth fall open in silent rapture. steve drinks you up, afraid to blink and miss something. “so tight, honey. don’t think i’ll ever be able to fuck you.”

you clench around him. “you want to?”

“do you?”

you nod, suffocating.

“yeah?” he says softly, pumping his finger once, twice, in and out of you. “gonna need more space than the car.”

you really aren’t listening. you nod vaguely, trying not to be too needy and roll your hips downwards.

his movements still. “what if i came over tonight?”

now you’re listening. you let your chin fall forward to look at him. “really?”

“yeah.” his hair bobs as he nods, his face turning pink. “get to take my time with you.”

“nancy’s taking me home,” you remind him.

“i’ll come after you’re dropped off. if you want.”

you nod quickly. “mhm. yeah. i do.”

it’s a major loss when he slides his finger out of you, but the sweet kiss he gives you makes up for it.

“clean up,” he says gently. “i’ll be out here.”

your eyes follow his fingers the rest of the night.

#steve harrington smut #stevenose posts #ns/fw #steve x reader #i’m obsessed w him ;/

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leupagus · 3 months

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Guys I Might Have Three Nickels

I've been watching "Agatha Christie's Marple" for the past few days and it's pretty good! Marple adaptations all tend to have a better caliber of actors than a lot of bog-standard mystery shows (looking at you, "Madame Blanc"), and while Joan Hickson's Marple is right up there with David Suchet's Poirot and Jeremy Brett's Holmes as "literally can never be beaten, these are the best anyone's done it," both Geraldine McEwan and Julia McKenzie do a fantastic job as Miss Marple.

Then I got to "The Secret of Chimneys," Season 5 episode 2

and guys

Guys

So there's a murder of a viscount, like there is, and this detective Finch rolls up and immediately spots Miss Marple (in her NIGHTIE! standing at the window like some kind of hussy, honestly Jane) and doffs his cap to her with that little smile that makes you go, "huh."

At this point I've watched a couple dozen Miss Marple episodes where she goes through detectives like wildfire and this guy's supposed to be a "*guru*" so I'm expecting some battle of the egos or something and like, Stephen Dillane is great! But bleh, I might have to skip this one.

Then my dude asks Miss Marple to SHOW HIM THE BODY, with a pleased little smile at her as she goes "uhhhhhhhh but my knitting?" (He even does that thing where you use someone's honorific and wait for them to give you their name, and that's when I was like "ohhh this bitch knows exactly who she is.") What follows is what I can only describe as a meet-cute in the secret passageway where the viscount was shot (and in fact the body is STILL THERE) and where Miss Marple literally asks the police equivalent of "is there a Mrs Finch" and he looks at her like this:

At which point I'm like "ohhh my dude not only knows who she is, he deliberately came here without a sergeant so he could draft her," and sure enough he just starts...handing her pieces of evidence like "hey babe can you decipher this note for me thanks love you" while Miss Marple is like, "this approval and camaraderie coming from a cop... not sure if want."

Next is a series of romantic strolls through the gardens while they discuss murder, during which Finch reveals his undying love I mean his research into Miss Marple and the "dozen case files" of her previous exploits that he's collected like some deranged fanboy. Miss Marple responds to this by BLUSHING LIKE A SCHOOLGIRL and stammering about how pish tosh it's nothing really, and I couldn't find a gif of it but he's staring at her like this:

Yeah I bet u r tempted

He also makes a half-hearted attempt at negging her "amateur sleuth" status, only to then immediately assure her that he makes like, so much money being a big fancy detective and can keep her in all the yarn and garden seed she could ever desire.

There's also a late-night tryst at the compost pile right after Finch has been (mildly) poisoned and Miss Marple is like "men are so weak" as she roots through the garbage for clues.

Not how he wanted their first date to go D:

The next morning there's another murder which: bummer, but also allows the two of them to read love letters together and for Finch to give Miss Marple the following look as she explains how secret assignations among lovers can "quicken the ardor":

Miss Marple then goes onto solve the murders and btw hands over the priceless diamond that's been literally missing for two literal decades that she found in her spare time. The entire scene features Finch looking at her like this:

After the dust settles, Finch and Miss Marple have a lovely moment where he calls himself "another one of your casualties," then super casually mentions that he's probably going to have to go on assignment to use the diamond in a daring international espionage case and I can't decide if he's asking Miss Marple to go with him or simply trying to show her that he is cool and smart and would make an excellent wife, but either way the episode ends with her turning him down and Jane, we need to talk about your priorities.

Anyway I've already written 2K about the subsequent 10-year epistolary romance these two have following this episode because I make poor choices.

#agatha christie's marple #miss marple #julia mckenzie #stephen dillane #special thanks to introvertedpedant for their exceptional gifs #anyway yeah I fully did the 'haha what if I jokingly shipped them' and then 30 minutes later was like 'oh no'#miss marple rhymes with parple #seriously though what's the explanation for these choice #other than dillane reading through the script and saying to mckenzie #'ok so I'm gonna play him like SO SO down bad for you is that cool'#and mckenzie saying 'you jump I jump jack'

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seattlesellie · 8 months

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just a quick bbf!ellie blurb. (this really is the definition of a blurb 💗)

cw: public teasing, mentions of fingering, cum eating, strap on sex, ellie’s a lil perv whos cutting up some fruits. i don’t know. ♡

﹒ 𓈒 𓏸 ﹒ 🎀﹒ ࣭ 𖧋 ˚ 𓂋 ﹒

right now, her big, veiny hand resting on your naked thigh is nothing but a friendly, comforting gesture — right? and so is the way it caresses you slowly, short fingernails tracing faint circles on your skin, that make your thigh shiver and your skin grow goosebumps that she feels. there’s also absolutely no underlying motive for her covering both of your bodies with a thick blanket in the middle of august, nor for her breath hitching inside her throat when you lay your head on top of her shoulder for just a quick one second.

there’s also no reason for her to not answer your brother when he asks her a question about the movie you’re all intently “ watching “, and yet — she doesn’t.

“that’s such a cool scene” he voices, but to ellie, his best friend and your… whatever, it sounds like muffled gibberish, like he’s stuck inside a cardboard box. he could be banging on the walls and screaming “let me out!!!” and all she’d hear is her own thumping heartbeat. he glances over at her, and just when he catches her gaze, she hums a startled “hm?”

her forehead is covered with tiny beads of sweat, deep auburn bangs sticking to her scorching hot skin because again — it’s the middle of fucking august and she has a fuzzy blanket covering from her tippy toes to her crotch, and the girl sitting innocently besides her has been nothing but a teasing, irritating, mind altering presence that makes her toes curl up inside her socks whenever she’s around.

“i said, cool scene… i heard he doesn’t even use a fuckin’ stunt double”

ellie shifts on the couch and tries her best to look cool, calm and collected. her knee nudges yours by mistake and you nudge it again but you do it harder and on purpose, just to feel her hand tense up on your thigh.

“yeah, super cool” ellie mutters, followed by a chuckle that makes her sound anything and everything but genuine. she doesn’t even know the name of the film you’re all watching, let alone the name of the actor or even the goddamn genre.

all she knows is the feeling of her clammy palm against your thigh, and the flashbacks of you silently whimpering out her name on the porch last night playing in her head like you’re about to be nominated for an oscar. she also knows that the same hand that’s on your body was on your lips, sealing them, attempting to shut you up because the entire house was still awake, and that the same fingers that are now trailing small circles on your flesh were buried deep inside your heat.

when she cut a fresh plum today for breakfast, it’s thick juice splattered on her tatted forearm and she swore that when she pressed down on the fruit — and made a small dent, it felt like being inside of your grippy little hole. then she pressed on it harder and her finger was poking at it’s flesh and it was wet and sticky.

then, she thought about how your eyeballs nearly exploded in your head when she curled her fingers up. “oh yeah?, uh-huh, you like that?”, she teased, and didn’t even expect you to reply — but you mewled cries of “yesyesyes ellie, oh!, more, please”, and now it echoes in her head and she hisses. she presses harder on the fruit, wiggling her long finger in, the knife is nowhere to be found.

she’s thinking of how you gripped at her forearm when she pressed down on your tummy, and sobbed a needy, sickly sweet “oh— oh god, ellie” — which is funny or lewd or blasphemous, because god had nothing to do with it, and the cross that’s splayed on your family’s house walls has probably flipped itself upside down.

afterwards, she thought of how cute you looked, glossy eyed and pouty and sweet, when she told you to open up your mouth and stick out your tongue because your honeyed juices were dripping down her hand and she wanted to see if you’d taste your own cum. and you did.

she pressed down on your tongue with her thumb, circling it over and over again and nearly making you gag, then praised you with a husky “atta’ girl” through gritted teeth and a nearly quivering smirk.

your knees pressed up against her ribs, thighs pressed down against your tits, hands being pinned up on your pillow, cunt aching and clenching around nothing because she’s just letting you grind on her silicone cock and just that — because whenever you try and buck your hips the harness presses snugly on her puffy clit and she has to physically fight the urge to take it off and rub one out, staring at you and using you whilst you’re laying on your back.

she thinks you’re so nasty you might even like it.

she clears her throat and starts thinking about cool stuff she likes. cool stuff that don’t involve you, or your hole or your lips and your eyes or your hair or your tits—

and then and only then, she feels her cheeks grow red — nearly exploding, same color but a slightly lighter shade than the plum, rolls her eyes, scoffs and calls herself a “gross perv who’s also a terrible fuckin’ friend”

because she tried thinking of stuff she actually likes and she thought of you again.

the plum looks like it’s been through hell and back. like a meek soldier who’s been through a tough war and then lost.

so she throws it in the trash, picks another one and prays to god you won’t sneak your way into her thoughts again.

and you do, so the loop continues.

💗

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