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kisses4choso · 10 months

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#USELESS CONFESSIONS

SYNOPSIS: your boyfriend finally reveals his secret identity, spider-man, but you've known for months ATSV CHARACTERS: hobie, miles, & miguel WARNINGS: cursing, still can't write hobie's accent, (ooc?), est. relationship, nicknames in hobie’s cause he’s british duh! NOTE: LONG, not proofread…

“i’m not playin’, sweetheart, i swear it," HOBIE stated, noticeably a little confused at your reaction-- or lack thereof.

you shrugged, placed a brief kiss on his lips, and proceeded to play with his lip ring, “i’m not kidding either, we’re cool.”

and while hobie truly did love sharing kisses with you, he didn't think it was the best time for a make-out session.

“jus’ listen, yeah?” he pulled away from you just a bit, leaning his head back against the couch in your living room.

he didn’t mean to make a big deal out of this. the most he had done to prepare was trying to guess every reaction you could possibly give him.

just in case maybe you’d dump him for your own safety, or cried and asked him not to risk his life.

even then, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. but that’s how it was with hobie, everything was in the moment, and he was sure he’d think of something. but right then, his mind was utterly blank.

you smiled, an attempt at consoling your obviously distraught lover, “i really do believe you, hobie.”

but even as the genius he was, he hadn’t prepared for this.

a moment of silence passed between the two of you as he thought, his hands opting to caress your sides as you hid your face in his neck. his lips brushed against your ear, an action that made you jolt, “…for real?”

you peered up at him, “yeah, i’ve kinda known this whole time.”

you felt him tense under you, his hands stuttering before ultimately just stopping their movements and circling your waist.

pulling back to look at his face, his expression was surprising, it was odd for you to catch hobie off guard. his eyebrows were lifted and his mouth was slightly agape, allowing you a peek of his new tongue piercing.

“you didn’t think i’d stop to question how sometimes you’d come in through my window… that’s on the second floor, when there are no stairs?”

a small laugh escaped his lips, and he dropped his head on your shoulder, “hell, i didn’t even think ‘bout that.”

“i know, bee.”

“a detective, eh? how long?” he searched your eyes curiously, a pretty smile playing on his lips as he stared, and you would have absolutely kissed him if it weren’t for the situation.

“a few months ago when you got a weird alarm on your weird watch, then ditched me randomly during our movie marathon and came back all bloodied up and sweaty.”

he exhaled a shaky breath of relief; out of everything that could have happened thanks to his confession, he thought this was definitely a great outcome — you sitting pretty on his lap, teasing the hell out of him for thinking he was slick.

really, it couldn’t get much better than that in his eyes.

“‘nd you didn’t say anything?”

you smiled, relishing in hobie’s surprise. you had also noticed his weirdly inhuman senses, his ability to predict bad events, or the way he noticed your presence without you saying a word. “one, i knew you’d tell me eventually. two, it was fun.”

you remembered the times he’d catch something before it hit you, or save you from a nasty fall, answering your suspicions with, “i jus’ got a feeling,” or his cheesy go-to “jus’ my heart’s instinct to protect you, y’know?”

and while the second one was cute and all, you knew from the beginning that hobie was hiding something, you just needed time to figure out what and why.

on the other hand, hobie was convinced he was an amazing liar.

he didn’t realize he had a habit of playing with his rings or breaking eye contact when he had to come up with a quick lie, but of course you would notice it.

either way, he had been testing the waters for a while and he was sure he’d be okay with any answer you gave him, but he couldn’t lie and say this wasn’t the best one.

“yeah? had fun?” he asked, poking at your sides and watching your smile fall. he always found himself amused at how easily your body would give him reactions.

what he did realize was you enjoyed playing with him in the same way, “you just fuckin’ love bein’ a tease, huh?”

“what? how?” MILES is suddenly panicked, if you figured him out, did that mean he was too obvious? did his enemies know too? his classmates? teachers? his parents?

god, he sure hoped not.

he had taken every precaution to make sure he was being as discreet as possible, and he didn’t even know how you came to find out.

he tried his best to hide it, especially from you. he knew the dangers he took on as a hero, but for a while he thought it was best not to involve you too.

he wouldn’t, couldn’t, have some freak use you to get to him. he couldn’t risk putting you in danger.

but there he was, sitting at his desk as you laid on his bed, looking through his collection of comics. the guilt of the white lies he had been telling you was eating him up, so he spontaneously confessed.

he expected you to cry or run out of his room, maybe even laugh at him in disbelief.

but he didn’t think you’d just hum, flipping through yet another one of his limited edition comics.

“your mom let me in once to drop off your backpack, and i saw your mask just laying on your desk.”

and even though he had just admitted to you what he did on those days no one knew of his whereabouts, he acted as if you were accusing him of a felony, “what if i was just a big fan?”

you looked up from the comic to find miles staring at you intently, genuinely awaiting your answer. you sighed, thinking of another situation that had revealed him to you.

“two months ago, i went to look for you at your dorm so we could watch spider-man win that big fight right in front of our school on the news. your window was left open but your phone was lying on your bed, and i know you don’t go anywhere without it.”

he looked down at his shoes, a wave of embarrassment suddenly crashing against him as he realized he had been lying for no reason at all.

“plus, i saw that spider-man wore those really nice— suspiciously clean— jordan’s you always wear.”

he must’ve looked like an absolute fool.

“oh.”

you couldn’t help but laugh at the cute pout that adorned your boyfriend’s lips, so you decided to push his buttons just a little more.

“then a few weeks ago you saw my spiderman keychain and started asking all kinds of questions about what i think of him. or well, you, i guess.”

he sighed deeply, rubbing his temples as if he were experiencing a severe headache. but that’s practically what it felt like, to think he was making a once in a lifetime revelation only to be brushed off.

“alright, i got it, i got it,” he put his hands up in mock surrender, “was i that obvious?”

and you couldn’t help but lie to him just this once, only because he looked disappointed that not only had you spoiled the surprise, you had also apparently been waiting to pull up receipts on him.

in other words, he looked like a kicked kitten.

“not obvious at all.”

“what?” was all MIGUEL could think to say. he knew you were undoubtedly intelligent, it was one of his favorite things about you. well, not so much then. and hey, he was smart too. he could one-hundred percent, no doubt, outsmart you.

or so he thought.

“i said, i know. i’ve known for a while now.”

he said nothing, instead he chose to simply look at you, confusion evident in the crinkle of his eyes and the twist of his mouth.

“can you at least… explain?” he mumbled, heart stopping just a little when you rolled your eyes, and he genuinely couldn’t tell if it was adoration or humiliation that he felt in that moment.

you looked at him from your side of the bed, “do i need to?”

and his pride couldn’t be more crushed, but he needed to know what his mistake had been. surely, he had slipped up and told you before while drunk or something.

he wasn’t obvious. at all.

“you’re usually a jealous guy,” you said, and he immediately responded with a groan. he hated when you called him out on it, plus, what did that have to do with anything?

“what?” you asked, “am i lying?”

“just go on.”

you laughed, but ultimately decided to go along with him, “but when i’d rant about how great spider-man was, it wasn’t an issue.”

“is that really all you’ve got?” he asked, bothered by your restraint. he wanted to know more but at the same time he felt compelled to keep himself in the dark. maybe it would save him some dignity.

“i also noticed you leaving in the middle of the night sometimes,” you said, pausing for a moment. when you had seen the bruises he’d wake up with the next morning, you could have sworn your heart dropped.

the first couple of times it happened, you thought the worst of him. you thought that he’d spent the night at some stranger’s house, doing god knows what, but when he’d come back with ugly cuts and dirt smeared all over him, you ruled that out.

“and sometimes you’d have crazy fast reflexes.”

he narrowed his eyes at that, arms crossed over his chest defensively, “i train a lot.”

“that’s another thing, your physique is the exact same as spider-man’s,” you told him, and of course you of all people would know. you’d probably recognize miguel by his silhouette alone, not that it was hard to. he was six foot nine, far above the average human. everything about him was big, from his abnormal stature to his presence.

and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t stare at his back enough to recognize every curve and dimple it held.

so when you saw spider-man face to face, looking down at everyone and exuding that same overwhelming existence, you were bound to notice the similarities.

he huffed, pacing around the room in a state of… half astonishment, half distress?

it was hard to tell when he was muttering more than a few curses to himself.

“miguel, c’mon, i’d say your fangs are enough of a giveaway,” and he glared at you for that, his shoulders slumping as if the humiliation of everything had taken over him.

“dios mío, can’t you at least act surprised?”

“go ahead and tell me again. i’ll pretend.”

and although his eyes had been closed, he could definitely feel the way you were grinning. ear to ear, probably, enjoying the power you held over him in the moment.

he turned his body completely away from you, dramatic, sure, but what would he be if not a prideful bastard?

you definitely would never let him live this down.

“this was a mistake, i take everything back.”

hobiebrownhobiebrownhobiebrown...

#across the spiderverse #atsv x reader #hobie brown #miles morales #miguel o'hara #hobie x reader #miles x reader #miguel x reader #atsv x you #miles x you #hobie x you #miguel x you

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luckykiwiii101 · 6 months

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HOW TO CHANGE YOUR SELF CONCEPT AND MANIFEST YOUR DREAM LIFE WITHIN A WEEK!!!

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💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

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(For when you feel like you just can’t do it).

HEY YOU THERE!!!! Are you still in a continuing loop of not seeing ur desires? Of feeling lack? Feeling like there is so much weight on your shoulders and that your desires are out of reach?

Well believe it or not…we’ve all been in that position. We’ve all been in positions where we put our desires above us, too high to reach. That’s just called having a terrible self concept. And if you are familiar with the law of assumption, you know that self concept is REALLY IMPORTANT!!!

If you really believed that you can’t achieve what you want, then you wouldn’t be here in the first place. Reading this post. Surfing tumblr to read success stories and tips&advice. That tiny amount of faith you have says a lot. We’ve all been at that point, having little to no faith. I’ve been there, at one point i start doubting the law. But i knew i didn’t deserve to live a sad life, so i changed my inner self.

You know how the law works blah blah blah. One thing to familiarise yourself with is how “illogical” it is. This was a concept i didn’t grasp before. I thought it was ridiculous for people to wake up in their dream house, with their dream EVERYTHING. It felt so…unnatural and odd. I felt like things like that couldn’t happen. I thought maybe they tricked themselves into seeing that. But when i started to realise that we are just pure consciousness, everything changed.

First of all, people who manifested their dream life didn’t “teleport” to a different realm or anything. They just changed their awareness to their liking. You are aware of not living your dream life, so that is what you see. Everything in your life is based on your awareness. What you’re aware of. Are you aware of being a master manifestor? If so, then you are a master manifestor. Everything you accept to be real is REAL. YOU gave into the 3D and accepted it as real. That’s why every time something bad happens to you, you say “why is this happening to me!!! I’m so unlucky” etc. You accepting your undesired 3D circumstances as real is literally self sabotage. The only time where you can accept your 3D as real is when it is in your favour. The 4D (imagination) is the REAL and ONLY reality because the 3D cannot exist without it. Still don’t believe me? Remember the time when you really believed that something would happen and it did, for example believing that you would fail an exam. Anyway, i’m not going to try and convince you to believe in the law of assumption if you don’t already. Because no matter what, in a week or less your state will manifest. Belief or not. Wanna know why? You’ve manifested constantly your whole entire life before even knowing about the existence of the law. You did all that without believing in it. LMAO you literally manifested to find it difficult, without believing in it. The law is based on faith, not proof. Proof (which for most of you reading this is the 3D). Never see the 3D as “proof” of your manifestation. Why would you do that? Looking in the mirror after listening to a subliminal to check for results is accepting the 3D as proof. Being surprised when your manifestation “didn’t come” in the desired amount of time is accepting the 3D as proof. BUT HELLO?!?! The 4D IS THE REAL REALITY!!! THAT IS A FACT NO MATTER WHAT YOU BELIEVE!!! NOTHING CAN CHANGE THE FACT THAT THE 4D IS THE REAL REALITY!!!

The 4D is all you need when you desire something. Fulfill yourself in the 4D. The purpose of “feeling it real” is not to convince yourself that you have it. It’s to remind yourself that you do. Embody the state of having your desires. If you don’t know about states i really recommend reading a blog about them. It’s literally the foundation of the law!!! Your state manifests!!! Never come from a state of lack. Never affirm from a state of lack. Never visualise from a state of lack!!! When i knew about the law for some time, i thought i was trying to “convince” myself that i had my desires by “pretending” to have them and “acting as if” i had them. That is literally coming from a state of lack. That is literally accepting that you don’t have your desires. But the 4D is the real reality. So stop accepting your 3D circumstances as real, because they aren’t. They are so fake. Faker than my old friends. The 3D is literally just a product of your past assumptions. It is not real!!! It does not exist the moment you accept that it doesn’t. Why do you think people manifest instantly in the void? Waking up in their dream house/apartment with everything they’ve always wanted? Because the 3D isn’t real. It’s like an illusion. Focus your awareness on having your desires and that HAS TO reflect! Failure does not exist!! Failure does NOT exist!!! Got it? Lemme tell u something. One night i was reading a success story about the void state and waking up in a fricking CAR when they went to sleep in their bed. I was low key shocked to be honest but my mindset has improved since then and i’m not baffled anymore (this was about 2 days ago). I had an epiphany from there. I literally started to realise that the 3D is literally not real. You are just pure consciousness. Whatever you are conscious of, you will see. It’s not “teleporting”. It’s not “magical”. You’re not in a parallel universe far far farrrr away from your loved ones, being surrounded by clones (because that was what i thought before and i was TERRIFIED!!!) Look around right now. Look!!! Look at your surroundings. They aren’t real. That’s just the 3D. The real reality is the 4D. You aren’t “creating” anything. You are just focusing your awareness on the REAL reality (the 4D).

You do realise that you have manifested countless things during your life, unconsciously (without knowing). What makes you think that you can’t do it consciously? Why? Do you believe that you are unlucky? Have you brainwashed yourself that badly that you lost complete faith in the law? You literally manifested for things to be difficult for you…isn’t that disappointing? Luckily, you will use your power to your advantage this time, and not for self sabotaging.

I REALLY RECOMMEND READING @piercedblunt posts because she made me understand the law of assumption so well!!!!

You are going to follow this routine for a week!!! I promise it is literally IMPOSSIBLE to not materialise your dream life. Whether it’s:

- Revising people’s deaths, waking up in a mansion, waking up in a different country, waking up with your desired body and face, becoming an alien, being able to fly, growing wings, being able to talk to animals, being able to manifest in under 2 seconds.

STEP 1

- Embody the state of HAVING, not desiring. States are the easiest things ever. So ridiculously easy to embody.

HOW TO EMBODY A STATE:

ANGEL’S FULFILLMENT “CHALLENGE”

READ THIS!!!

PERSISTING = REMINDING

You should acknowledge that those limiting beliefs were just created by your fears CAUSED by the 3D.

LMAOOOO HOW IRONIC! The ONE thing holding you back was the 3D…and it turns out that IT ISN’T REAL!!! Isn’t that so relieving? Literally most and if not all problems people have had with the law of assumption was based on the 3D. Now that you’ve accepted that the 4D as the real reality, this will be so much easier!!! Ofcourse there are things like “intrusive thoughts” that scared you but you aren’t embodying the state of those instrusive thoughts are you? No, exactly, so they will not manifest. Thoughts do not manifest. States manifest.

Remember, when manifesting, the goal is not to “get”. Because you already have it.

IT IS LITERALLY TIME FOR YOU TO ACCEPT THAT YOU HAVE YOUR DREAM LIFE!!!! STOP PROCRASTINATING!!! I promise you, your desired life with materialise in a week or less. Never give up.

SOME SCOLDING RIGHT HERE!!!

#law of assumption #loassumption #loa tumblr #loablr #loa blog #loa success #manifestation #void state #void

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lowkeyerror · 7 months

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A New Victim

Sam Carpenter x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Notes: 1st part of a lil mini-series, had to post something for Halloween, will contain suspected Scream warnings eventually

Summary: You knew something of the rumors surround your classmate, Tara but you never took them seriously. However you find yourself wrapped up in the real life horror story.

Pt2 | Pt3 | Masterlist

You had heard the rumors about Tara Carpenter and her sister circulating around campus. The rumors didn’t bother you much. Or rather they didn’t persuade you to treat your classmate, Tara, any differently than you would treat anyone else.

Some people were afraid to interact with her in fear of pissing her off. They were more afraid that getting on Tara’s bad side would alert her sister, Sam.

Now Sam was a little scary. You had seen her with Tara a few times. The woman looked like her primary state of being was upset. She looked like a very serious figure.

You didn’t blame her. Their whole group of friends had almost been murdered. Instead of sympathy and compassion the public offered accusations and scrutiny. So much so that they moved away from their hometown to escape the media.

“You’re friends with my sister, right?”

You were sat under a tree on campus the first time you heard Sam speak. Looking at her this close made your heart flutter. She was an attractive woman and that was enough to make you sweat a bit.

Unable to speak for a moment, you nod dumbly.

Sam ignores it and continues with her questioning,” Have you seen her today? I’ve been looking for her everywhere and I can’t find her.”

“She left class a bit early today. I think she said something about Chad needing her help with something.”

Sam rolls her eyes, “Of course she did. I’m Sam by the way, sorry to interrupt you."

Before you can say your own name, the younger Carpenter sister is shouting it as she approaches the tree with Chad trailing behind her.

“Y/n! Don’t mind my overprotective and obsessive sister. What ever she threatened you with, I can promise she won’t do.”

“Where have you been? Y/n told me you left class to meet Chad.”

Tara glares at the girl sitting,” You told her I skipped.”

You shrug,” She seemed worried, so I just told her you left with Chad.”

“Where I am is none of her business. She has my number if she’s looking for me.”

Sam scoffs, “Having your number doesn’t mean shit if you don’t answer your fucking phone.”

“I think we should all just calm down for a second, okay. Tara is safe and everything is fine,” Chad tries to de-escalate the situation.

“No, it’s not fine Chad. Why is my sister skipping classes to meet up with you? And why isn’t she answering my text or calls?”

Y/n had no place in this conversation, but she felt like moving away would only cause a bigger fuss.

“Because we were fucking. Is that what you want to hear Sam?”

Sam runs a hand through her hair,” I don’t care that you’re fucking. I care that I can’t get in contact with you when I’m worried about you.”

“What are you worried about?”

Sam looks at the girl as if she’s grown two heads,” Are you fucking serious Tara?”

Tara groans,” We aren’t there anymore, Sam. We left Woodsboro. No one is coming after us. So why should I have to live my life in paranoia because you can’t move on?”

“Fine, you know what I'm done. Don't pretend you don't have that feeling like someone is always fucking watching us. Don't pretend like what happened back there doesn’t fucking traumatize you and make it hard to live your day-to-day life. But most of all don’t act like there aren’t psychos out there willing to try to fucking replicate that shit because it happens every fucking time, Tara.”

Sam storms off after that. Tara’s eyes soften for a moment before her mask comes back on. Chad goes to rest his hand on her shoulder, but she shakes him off.

It’s only then that her eyes land on you, “You must feel like it’s your lucky day getting front row tickets to the freak show.”

You shook your head, “It’s none of my business, so I don’t really care.”

Chad senses that there’s more you want to say, “But…”

“But your sister kind of has a point. There’s a lot of sick fucks out there that have a weird obsession over him and over y’all. Entire internet communities are filled with those kinds of people. It’s a little naïve to think that just because you moved away that you’re safe.”

Neither Tara nor Chad like the way the last sentence sounds in your voice. They both eye you suspiciously. That’s when you realize what you said could come off wrong.

You began to sputter and put your hands up in surrender, “I’m just agreeing with Sam.”

Chad wasn’t convinced, but Tara had known you a little better. She knew that your awkward demeanor was tried and true.

“Anything else you want to pile on, Y/n?”

You look between the standing pair,” You left class to fuck your boyfriend?”

That leaves them both blushing rapidly. Tara quickly spews out, “He’s not my boyfriend.”

While Chad opts for, “We did not hook up.”

You laugh at their response. Unfortunately for you, this brought you a step to close to the kids from Woodsboro in the eyes of Ghostface.

The killer had watched the entire interaction from start to finish. From the moment Sam approached you, the killer began analyzing you.

They saw the potential interest you had in Sam and your budding friendship with Tara as enough reason to add you to their list.

Tara and Chad eventually left you alone. Shortly after their departure you decided that it was time for you to leave as well.

It was still daylight when you decided to make your way to your apartment. There was a pit in your stomach as you walked. Though the streets were crowded, it felt like someone was staring at you.

You wanted to dismiss the feeling, but you checked your surroundings first. It was almost as if the crowd had faded away and the sounds of the bustling New York streets came to a halt.

Staring at you from across the street, was Ghostface. In your mind this wasn’t real. It couldn’t have been. You had stopped walking, almost paralyzed in your spot.

The killer sent a wave your way, before dragging their finger across their neck. You shut your eyes as you stood still. You were trying to convince yourself that when you opened them, you’d wake up from a dream.

When you feel a body collide with yours, you shriek and push the person away. Your eyes shoot open instantly.

You don’t know if it’s lucky or unlucky that Samantha Carpenter was on the ground in front of you.

The woman wanted to yell at you, but the look of terror on your face stopped her. It was like you were in a trance, your eyes were glued to a spot across the street. Sam looks in that direction but doesn’t see anything.

She slowly picks herself off of the floor. She’s hesitant to touch you, so instead she just calls your name, “Y/n, what was that about?”

You turn your attention to the woman, but you look physically ill, and she takes note of that.

“I saw- He’s going to kill me. Oh fuck, I’m going to throw up.”

The bile quickly rises up your throat. You rush to the end of the street and hunch over.

Sam is instantly by your side. She holds your hair with one hand and rubs your back with the other. The Carpenter sister couldn’t really make out what you said the first time.

Once you finish vomiting, she wants to question you again, but refrains from doing so. Though it is against her own set of strict rules, you look unwell, and she can’t leave you like this in good conscious.

The apartment is close by, so she helps you stand and guides you to her apartment. You don’t say anything during the walk, you barely have even the cognizance to pick up your feet.

The only image that keeps replaying in your head is the cloaked figure dragging their finger across their throat. It makes you want to puke all over again.

When she enters the apartment it’s a full house. Tara, Chad, Anika, Mindy, Ethan, and Quinn; were all congregated in the living room.

Sam motions the people on the couch to move out of the way. She sits you up straight and everyone is silent.

“Who is that? I thought we strictly had a no one, except Quinn's hook ups and us, in this apartment rules.” Mindy is the first to speak up.

“Why is Y/n here and why does she look like that?” Tara gives her sister a pointed look.

“Don’t look at me I found her on the street like this. She shoved me to the ground and vomited in the street.”

“Poor thing,” Quinn reacts to Sam’s words.

“Did she say anything? Because it looks like she’s a walking zombie,” Ethan adds.

Sam nods, “She did, but I didn’t understand her and seconds later she was puking.”

Anika nudges Tara,” She’s your friend, try to get through to her.”

Tara slowly approaches Y/n. She gets eye level with the girl who seems to be in a catatonic state.

“Y/n, what happened? Talk to me,” Tara’s voice is gentle when she speaks. A side of her that no one in the house is used to seeing emerges.

You begin to tremble, and your eyes suddenly come alive. Your voice is shaky,” He’s going to kill me."

It was a whisper, but Tara heard you perfectly clear. Sam notices her sister’s body tense after the words left your lips.

“Who?”

You begin to shake your head as tears start to stream down your face. Your head buries itself in your hands.

“I saw him, across the street,” your throat burns as you spoke.

Sam hears that part and interjects herself in the conversation,” Who did you see Y/n?”

“Ghostface.”

#lowkeyerror #sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #scream #tara carpenter #anika kayoko #chad meeks martin #mindy meeks martin #ethan landry #quinn bailey

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earth2bucky · 3 months

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gale dekarios / reader

request for helping the other bathe post-injury!

All prior eves of lacerations and concussions considered, a sprained arm is hardly the worst of consequences you’ve invited in your travels. In the absence of any real, life-threatening danger, all that surrounds the injury is a persistent inconvenience. Your inability to help set up camp comes at no great personal loss, but the same can’t be said for the undesirable of bathing one-handed. And so you turn to your wizard, ever willing, to smooth out the indentations of armor from your skin and rinse the mud from your tousled hair.

Approaching yet another questionably sanitary body of water, led by his callused, ever-persistently ink-stained hands, you let out a deep sigh.

“Once we reach the gate, I’m not leaving the bathhouse for a full week. Mindflayers and cultists be damned. I’m not doing a thing until I’ve scrubbed off three layers of skin and smell of roses from a mile away.”

Gale’s eyes are occupied with ensuring the safety of your steps, but a gentle smile crosses his face all the same. Despite the weariness stamped beneath his eyes, he shines under the healthy glow of the moon. There’s something incredibly vulnerable about moments like these; hidden under tree cover from the heavens and their forsaken goddesses.

“And a robe. I’d like a robe. Something pretty.”

“I’ll see to it myself, love - though admittedly for my enjoyment as much as yours.”

Any flirty comeback you had lined up is overshadowed by a dramatic shiver as your skin hits the water. With the usual urgency of seeing you in any state of discomfort, Gale waves a hand absentmindedly over the surface of the water and you feel sharpness turn to warmth.

“Mm. You beautiful man, thank you.”

He smiles, a gentle, tired thing, and lowers you to kneel betwixt his legs.

As he settles into position, the hand that isn’t occupied with untangling your hair sits tenderly at your throat, right on the pulse. If you could wrangle yourself quiet enough, you’re sure you’d hear him matching his breathing against the dull rhythm. It's a habit you often catch him indulging in; to seek out veins and pulse and rewrite himself to the same tune. To love a living, breathing creature is to kneel in prayer to a fallible god - and Gale Dekarios is never one to back down from a challenge. He had flown too close to the heavens and swallowed the stars, and what a terrible waste it would be if not to bring them back and litter them along your collarbones in reverent kisses.

To be doted upon with such reverence, such pure devotion, suddenly spikes the threat of tears at your eyes. Gale is a devout man; to his studies, his fallen goddess, to the arcane. Really, it should’ve come as no surprise to you that his worship would extend tenfold to the object of his affections - but it seems to knock you right in the chest every time.

“I understand why Tara likes this so much.”

Gale makes a sound of amusement somewhere in the back of his throat. “I won’t deny that we share a profound bond, but I assure you that I do draw the line at bathing with my tressym.”

“I meant your hands, in my hair - silly man.”

“I see. I told you that the two of you were alike.”

“Perhaps, but I draw the line at purring for you.”

His resounding chuckle catches you by surprise, warm and boyish. It’s a pleasant sound, and a far cry from his usual intensity. You fidget under his touch.

“Please get this dirt out of my hair so I can kiss you.”

“In good time.”

You hum in agreement, despite the impatience that flits around in your gut. To his credit, he makes good on the promise on just outside of a minute, gently rinsing your hair with handfuls of water and using the other to shield your eyes.

When you eventually rise to face him, he looks just as wound up by emotion as you feel.

Thank yous are murmured in-between fond kisses that you begin to quite lose yourself in, only to be found back in your pain in an attempt to draw him closer. A hairsbreadth from his lips, your breath hitches, and Gale, ever attuned, begins to scheme.

“As much as I appreciate your usual tenacity - perhaps this is an excuse to still your wandering hands for a night."

Despite your pain, a pang of desire spikes in the pit of your stomach.

“Gale Dekarios, you are a sadist and an insufferable tease.”

His softening frown hangs around for a moment longer in dramatized hurt at your insinuation.

“Perish the thought. When have you ever known me a selfish lover?"

Another instance of pain rings out then, the way it often does when you’re feeling especially sentimental and consider Gale’s motivations too deeply. Always so composed, accommodating, willing to please. Refusing to indulge for fear of losing himself in the surrender. Whether it's a lingering effect of the orb or the result of serving a goddess you’re not sure, but you vow to dismantle it all the same.

You respond with a proposal of your own, and trust him to read between the lines. “Another night, when I have full use of all my extremities, you’re to let me return the favor.”

Any trepidation in his initial reaction is soothed by the sincerity in your gaze, or perhaps he’s simply too tired to protest.

“As the lady desires.”

You nod; kiss him firmly, and file away his promise for later.

“Excellent. Your tent or mine?”

#gale x tav #gale x reader #gale dekarios x reader #gale dekarios x tav #breaking the writing muscle out of retirement please be nice

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lotusmi · 1 year

Note

SUCCESS STORY!!🤎🧸

tw//mental problems, abusive family, bullying, suicide attempt, manifest/void obsession

first of all i want to thank lotus because it helped me even when i was thinking about suicide❤️‍🩹

it's been years since I learned loa and I was having problems with the manifest. althought I have known loa for 2-3 years, i constantly reacted to 3D and for such reasons I could not manifest anything for 2-3 years. and when i first learned loa i was obsessed with void. I was hurting myself to enter void. like if you don't enter void today I will kill you. i was crazy because of void. at the same time, I was staying in the family environment that dragged me to death, and I was bullied at school . i was hated by people even though i did nothing. i tried to commit suicide many times, my family wouldn't let me go to the therapist. also, no one said anything to the bullying I saw. thats why I bullied myself for years in the same way. if I told anyone I was being bullied and asked for help, they would say it was probably my problem to my face💀💀 and towards the end of 2022, i seriously couldn't stand it anymore. i was constantly reading blogs [i think there is no blog i haven't read, lmao] and the last time i couldn't stand it, i tried suicide again, but i failed. later i wrote to lotus and she gave me a lot of advice (baby ily😩❤️) and i cried more than i have ever cried that night. the problem is that while people were already ruining me, the real problem was that i was ruining myself too. after that day, in the first week, i had so many problems in my manifest journey. but until 2023, i said to myself, "i don't want to live like this anymore. i deserve the life I want.” i made a promise. and every time I felt like quitting, i remembered my promise to myself. and now i have revised my whole life, i live in dubai🤭. if you're going to ask how i did this, i started to listen to my inner voice, i almost stopped entering tumblr. i stopped affirming and wrote down the things that i was gonna revise one by one, and added them to the notes app on my phone. i made a note at the bottom that I already have these in my life. when “what if I can't manifest the life I want?” if such thoughts came to my mind, i told myself that the creation was already finished. in this process, i focused only on myself and was developing my self concept. before I went to bed at night, i was constantly imagining the life I wanted and I was staying in that state and saying I already had the life I wanted, I didn't affirm anything extra. and even those who made life difficult for me started to apologize to me. (i manifested their karma life lol) anyway I don't want to talk more about those bitches but I want to mention this. please take a break. relax. stay away from things like void, loa for a few days. I noticed that some of you are obsessed with void on this blog. but i must say void is just a method. if i manifested the life i wanted when i was only 12-13 years old, you can do it too. take a break and do what feels good to you. love yourself. loa blogs can help you up to a point. they can't spare all their days for you. start taking responsibility. find manifest methods that work well for you. love yourself. meditate. i’ve talked a lot but I would like to add that, if someone tells you that you are the cause of the circumstances you are experiencing right now, that you created the conditions in which you live, please tell them to shut their fucking mouths. no such thing. i was blaming myself again, thinking what a disgusting monster i am just because this “you create ur reality” thingy. but the truth is that creation is already over. good luck!

MY FAV SUCCESS STORY TO EXIST!!!! 😭

I literally cried when this girl texted me saying she is living her dream life, I was so pround, I am pround 💗

Backstory, she first texted me 12/15/2022

She told me everything about her circumstances, they were really bad ones, and she was 12 at time and this made my heart so broken (she revised her age) since her parents were really toxic and disgusting ( I am not going to say much about her old story).

So I told her all about the toxic home I lived and how I manifested it away too (my success, my failures).

So, time passed and 01/feb I got this text!

I literally cried because I was so happy for herrrr 💗😭😭

"How she did it?"

She focused in her inner Self being the only reality and ignored all circumstances!

"and i would love to you to add those youtubers and blogs" insta: - kriston jackson youtube: - lana blakely tumblr: - @becomingthatgirl111 — other sources abt loa: - joe dispenza, edward art"

I literally cried so much and I am so happy for you my angel, look how you did it! You were 12 and revised your whole life! 💗💗💗

And that are people out there who don't believe that it is possible to manifest things. Look at this girl 💓

You did it amazing love, I am so pround of you. You are deserving of all the best things in the world. I wish you all the fun in life. Thank you sm for sending me this, I feel so appreciated that I had helped you, but who did all of this was YOU! 💗💗💗

✉️You all, everything is possible!

#neville goddard #law of assumption #loa tumblr #loa advice #loa blog #manifesting #success story #living in the end #loatumblr #Lotuses success

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ruskaroma · 9 months

Text

Absolutely fucking adore the idea of Constantine having a very talkative and energetic little human around that he calls “bunny” and treats you like one, treats you like a pet.

You really think that you’re Constantine’s sidekick because you follow him around everywhere he goes and you’re basically living in his apartment because you just – never – fucking – leave. No matter what Constantine does, no matter how mean he treats you, you just can’t bring yourself to hate him because he just might be the only light you have in your life – which is a weird thing to say considering Constantine probably possesses the most darkest mind in the world and you haven’t even seen half of it.

When he’s in a good mood, he’d treat you out for a dinner and actually conversates with you like a normal human being (even though nothing about him – or you – is normal) and tell demon and angel stories you’d always find yourself drawn into, chin on your palm, wide doe eyes while listening to his deep voice talk.

Most of the time you’d get very excited about something and very eager to learn that you’re practically vibrating in your seat. It’s such a normal occurrence to Constantine that he knows how to deal with you when you’re in that state of mind.

“Wait so – if demons and angels exist, is there a possibility that vampires are also true? Are they real? Please, tell me they’re real – I mean, have you ever met one before, John? God, that would be so freaking cool. I always wanted to be a vampire –”

Constantine lets you talk. Even though he wouldn’t quite grasp the other words that you’re saying because he really feels like you’re rapping instead of talking. Not to mention the hand movements you’d do while you spew random little facts out of nowhere, or when you’d remember a memory from childhood that you’ll end up telling him; Constantine really does find you quite adorable.

And you’re a bit energetic too. Well, a bit wouldn’t really cover it. You’re full blown energetic who sometimes acts like you drank five cans of caffeine the moment you open your eyes, but Constantine knows all your energy is natural and comes from your heart.

You wouldn’t be able to sit down next to him at a diner without your hands fiddling with something or when you just really… couldn’t keep your mouth shut. It’s a hard thing to do, really.

Then there’s Constantine, who likes to take advantage of your behavior by saying something really perverted and inappropriate.

“Hey, bunny.”

“What?”

“Would my cock be enough to get you to stop talking?”

“Good one. But that would only make it a lot worse.”

“I know. I’ve heard it,” he’d snicker, then would press a kiss on your cheeks that would make you flutter and scoff in annoyance. He always smelled like cigarettes and something minty. “I’m joking, bun.”

“Yeah, it would be a joke if it wasn’t true,” you rolled your eyes. “You’ve witnessed my mouth doing a lot more work than usual when I’m sucking your dick.”

“Well, you should be proud of yourself, bun. Looks like your mouth got more talent other than talking.”

“Haha, very funny.”

His comments like that don’t really offend you or anything because you know he’s joking. You know he secretly loves your rambles despite being mean about it, because that’s just how he is.

But during sex, it’s a whole different story.

Constantine has a habit of making you cry on the bed by making your rambles even worse. He knows that you ramble when you’re either feeling flustered, nervous, or horny, and most of the time you get all those feelings at once when you’re in front of his cock, which means a sudden flip of the switch inside your brain just goes off and you start saying these deliciously filthy words that never fails to make Constantine hard.

“What’s that, little bun? I didn’t hear you,” Constantine smirked, voice teasing as his hand gripped the base of his thick cock, smearing the dripping tip all over your lips as you struggled to catch your breath after he fucked your throat. “Where did my little talkative bunny go, hm? Why is she not talking?”

“J–John–”

“Oh? What’s that? Is the little bunny speaking?” Constantine mocked, pulled his dick away from your mouth as he gripped your chin with one hand. “If my bunny wants my attention, that’s not the right name she should be addressing me, yeah? Already forgot our rules around here, bun? I let you get a taste of my cock and you’re already defying me?”

“No–no, no, d-daddy, that’s not–that’s not what I mean,” you sniffled, your eyes getting teary from your kneeling position as well as when you heard Constantine’s mocking voice above you. “Daddy, please–just want–just want your cock in my pussy again, p-please–”

“Oh, you do? Poor little bunny is so wet and horny now, hm? My little bunny is feeling so empty?”

“Y-yes, daddy, I–I feel so empty–”

“Look at you crying. You look so pathetic,” he grinned, grabbing you by the hair and throwing you on the bed. You were already naked, already covered in bruises from the makeout session earlier and the handprint on your ass was starting to become more evident and red as minutes went by. “Where does my bunny want daddy’s cock, huh? Where do you want it, bun, tell me.”

“I–In my–In my pussy, daddy, want it in my–my cunny–” you sniffled again, pawing at his shoulders as your tears were starting to blur your vision. “Daddy, please–please, I want you so bad–miss your cock so much, feel so empty and wet and I just wanna–”

“Shhh, bun, I know. I know what you want,” he petted your hair with one hand while his other was guiding his cock in your cunt, the fat tip circling teasingly on your already puffy pussy lips and not quite going in. “Wish I could record you like this and make you watch it after. Fucking show you how filthy you are while begging for my cock. All the dirty shit you say when you’re so desperate for me.”

You keened, nodding absentmindedly even though you didn’t understand a single word he said. Your mind was only focusing on the delicious feeling of his cock rubbing against your sloppy cunt.

“Yes–yes, please, daddy, d-do what you want–do want you want, I’m yours–bunny is all yours–”

“That’s right. That’s my little bunny, knowing her place and where she rightfully belongs,” Constantine grinned, and it was only then he slammed his cock all the way inside you, stretching your walls wide as you bite onto his shoulders to keep yourself from waking up the entire building. “I would choose this tight little pussy over entering the fucking gates of heaven.”

#john constantine #john constantine x reader #john constantine x you #john constantine x y/n #john constantine imagine #john constantine smut #john constantine fanfic #john constantine fanfiction #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves smut #keanu reeves imagine #my works #constantine

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thewritetofreespeech · 13 days

Text

Tressym can be Fickle

WORDS: 692 RATING: G PAIRING: Gale x Tav SUMMARY: based on a very real arguement between my husband & I on who our cat likes more.

It had been a long, arduous, grueling day at the academy.

Though Gale loved his new role as a professor and educator, teaching the young minds of witches & wizards all across Faerun to harness their magic, induction week was the worst. He felt his life was in less peril fighting the Elder Brain or any of their other enemies & cohorts along the Sword Coast than he was now. Testing the new inductees to file them accordingly to their skill. ‘Skill’ being a very loose word tossed around this week.

He returned home that evening with a heavy sigh through the door, an even heavier thud of his satchel filled with books, and a desperate need to be tended to by his spouse. The whole day had been about soothing the egos, feelings, and on occasion literal wounds of new students that Gale thought he deserved some tending to now.

“Tav?” He called out as he put his cloak away. Usually, they greeted him at the door. Or at least acknowledged him when he came home. Curious, Gale walked through the house to try and find them. His search not long as he came upon Tav in the living room. On the couch by a low fire, with Tara on their lap. “Well….don’t you two look cozy.”

“Hmm, we rather are Mr. Dekarios.” Tara agreed. “Or at least we were, until someone started shouting.”

“Apologies for shouting in my own house.” Gale snipped at Tara. Taking his own plush armchair across from them. “Since when did you become a lap cat? And, before you get too ruffled under the feathers, it’s a figure of speech.”

Tara hummed. Seeming to debate about not letting it go but was perhaps indeed to comfortable to make a fuss. “Very recently I suppose. I never had an interest until now.” The tressym purred with her eyes closed as she tilted her head up towards Tav and her head scratches.

“You never took an interest with me.” Gale said with a deep frown.

“You do not have nails, Mr. Dekarios.”

The wizard growled and stood up. Unable to watch his dearest friend and lover betray him like this in front of his own eyes. It was still early for dinner but he stalked off towards the kitchen to focus his frustrations on what to eat.

A few moments later, Tav came in. Looking confused on why he was so upset. “Sorry.” He apologized quickly. “It’s just been a long day. And I am glad that you and Tara are getting along now. Guess I’m being….overly sensitive at being shut out. Tressym can be fickle, but I’ve never known Tara to change her mind about anyone. Again, not that I’m not pleased you two are getting along. I just never thought I would suddenly be second in her estimation.”

“Suddenly second? Please Mr. Dekarios.” The couple turned to see Tara trot in. Seeming interested in their conversation. “I wouldn’t say that you were suddenly second. Not given my high esteem of your mother. A better estimate is which one of you is second on the day, and who is third.”

“Really Tara? Kick a man while he’s down??”

“But, I’m a reasonable creature. Perhaps my estimations can be over swayed. Perhaps with a bit of chicken? Fried pigeons if you have any?”

“So a creature of reason but not honor, eh?” Gale stated, with a wave of his hand as if he wish to brush away this whole conversation.

Before he could leave, Tav wrapped their arms around his waist. Pulling him close. The smell of their hair in his nose. Something like ‘you’ll always be number 1 to me’ muffled into his chest, which causes him to smile and hold them back.

They tell Gale to go upstairs and relax. Take a bath if he liked, while they made dinner. That sounded heavenly, so he did just that.

When he came back down, he was not amused by the roast chicken on his plate. Nor the grinning little tressym in the corner, licking her chops like she’d just swallowed a canary. Or, perhaps, her bribery chicken.

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lexsssu · 5 months

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NGL, you mentioning Leon Kennedy is now making me think he's clingy af to everyone who loves him, 'cause I've been getting the urge to replay RE2R/RE4 recently just because of him.

To, uh, gaze at him respectfully. Very respectfully. 👀👀👀

Bro yesssssssssssss

I swear that bby boi is so affection-starved after everything that happened to him that the moment he finds real love, there's no way he's holding back <3

And with that, here's what I came up for Leon so far because he decided to invade my dreams-- HAHAHAHA

TAGS: Older!Leon (late 30s-early 40s)/F!reader(early-mid 20s), age gap, pervy thoughts, affection-starved!Leon, headcanons

Older!Leon who'd all but given up any semblance of a normal relationship after everything he's gone through. He lazes about in the coach of the cheap apartment he sentenced himself into living in (despite the swanky and secure government housing freely provided as one of the top agents) with a cold beer while some random series was playing on low volume on the TV

Older!Leon who hears knocking on his door and begrudgingly answers it only to be met with the prettiestcutestmostgorgeousmouthwatering person he'd ever seen in his life

Older!Leon gets a full whiff of your strawberries & cream scent even before you opened your mouth and has him thinking of everything that is innocent, good, and worth protecting in this world. He then realizes that you'd already introduced yourself and that he'd been staring at you like a creep this whole time

“Kennedy…Uhhh…Leon S. Kennedy,” he half mumbles and states as he tries not to look too deeply into your eyes lest he finds himself lost in their depths. He doesn’t need to look more of a creep than you might have already thought he was

And when you don’t immediately run for the hills, he internally sighs in relief. It’s a foreign feeling to him, because after all the horrors he’d witnessed and experienced, the last thing he ever worried about was how other people perceived him

That he was actually worried about what you thought about him despite having only met is both alarming and yet somehow…comforting? It tells him that despite how broken he thinks he is, he’s not so broken as to no longer care at all about anything

…It also helps that you’re such a cutie that it’s impossible for him not to care about you. Especially when you keep bringing him your homemade food all the time

The animal part of his brain rumbles with pleasure at how you were already being such a good mate by making sure he’s well-fed when he’d yet to properly bond you to him. It reinforces the idea that some part of you unconsciously knew that he was the one for you

“It’s the first time I’ve lived on my own, and I guess I’m just not used to making only food for one. I don’t like letting food go to waste either, so I thought maybe one of the neighbors might appreciate it. Safe to say that I never get to any of the other neighbors since you’re always gratefully accepting my cooking, Mr. Kennedy”

Had he been a lesser man, your playful teasing would have resulted in you pinned to the floor as he loomed over you, covering your naughty little mouth with his. He could already imagine the tiny squeak you’d let out in surprise or the delicious whimpers he’d coax from your plush lips that he’d only swallow up

“I think we’re more than acquainted enough to get past our surnames, don’t you think? Just Leon is fine with me, doll.”

The first time he hears his given name spoken from your lips, his traitorous brain conjures up an image of you with your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head as he fucks your pretty pussy open with his cock

Was he getting too attached because you were the first person outside of the dangerous world he lived in who showed genuine care without expecting anything in return?

…Perhaps

But did he really care?

Honestly, no

If anything, it’s only a matter of time until he no longer had to imagine waking up next to you in the morning or getting back home from a mission or the office and having you wrapped in a pretty little apron without anything underneath waiting patiently for him

#lexsssu writes #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon s. kennedy #leon s. kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #resident evil x reader #resident evil headcanons

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hero-israel · 6 months

Note

I’ve been thinking about this for some time now and I was hesitant to post about it because I don’t want my voice muddying actual protests and testaments from people actually affected because I am not Jewish or Palestinian. And I don’t know if this is the right medium for this remark but I didn’t know where else to put it.

But as someone from South Africa, who grew up listening to first hand accounts of people, black and white, who lived through Apartheid, as someone who had to learn the horrific history of Apartheid and how sick and twisted that regime was. And even then I cannot claim to be an expert because even my school didn’t teach us every detail (which is sad because while it’s painful, it’s part of history and we must learn about it to never repeat it).

But knowing what I do know about Apartheid and seeing the after effects of it where I live… it really disturbs me to see the word Apartheid thrown around so carelessly to describe Israel. It’s not only untrue but trying to apply to Israel what the white minority government did in South Africa to harm and have power over people of colour in every aspect of life, feels like it only does a massive disservice to actual Apartheid victims. Real people were killed and tortured and suppressed in terms of marriage, to where they could live, who they could love, what they could learn in schools, having the right to vote, having curfews and time restrictions or else risk persecution and brutality…. It just leaves me speechless that people so easily want to wash away the real tragedy of Apartheid because it’s a big sounding buzzword. Calling Israel an Apartheid state, in my mind, does nothing except invalidate the real victims of that horrific regime and it makes me sick.

I’m sorry for ranting like that but I just cannot wrap my head around it at all. It shouldn’t take a rocket scientist to see that the Apartheid regime and Israel’s government are in no way the same.

This is an extremely important perspective, and it would be a great help if you would be willing to share it openly.

There have been many voices from South Africa rejecting the "apartheid" comparison. It is important to show would-be activists that they are appropriating and disrespecting other peoples' suffering.

#apartheid #israel #palestine #south africa #jumblr

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doll-elvis · 6 months

Text

PRISCILLA (2023)

~ my thoughts as an elvis fan

(credit to @urpinkstargirl for the photo)

WARNING SPOILERS AHEAD:

so I saw it last night and I’ve been stewing on it ever since as I wanted to be 100% sure in myself before saying this publicly

**brace yourselves**

After just one viewing… I feel confident in saying that I preferred this film over “Elvis” 2022 🤧. It was just so immersive and so deeply intimate that I walked away from the theater feeling like I had just lived a life with Elvis, and experienced all the ugly and wonderful things that came with it

I am seeing it again tonight and possibly tomorrow just to recapture that feeling (which made me cry… three times…)

And although I’m not the biggest fan of Sofia Coppola, there is simply no denying that she has perfected showing “girlhood” in film, and making the most unique experiences, like being Marie Antoinette and being Priscilla Presley, somehow universal to everybody. I haven’t felt being “14” since I was 14, which was a whole 5 years ago, but WHEW… I most definitely felt 14 again when watching Priscilla navigate life in Germany

Also- we all saw how Austin Butler was completely cheated out of an Oscar and so I’m begging that we do not do that again. Give the Oscar to Cailee Spaeny (who played Priscilla) right now 😤 There are no words besides “immaculate” to describe her performance. Her future is so bright as an actress, I just cannot wait to follow her career + she just seems like the sweetest person ever??

And I know it might seem insane to say that I preferred “Priscilla” over “Elvis” and some of y’all might crucify me for that take but my preference solely comes down to the fact that I appreciate Priscilla’s perspective much more so than the Colonel’s, who to me, has always been the least interesting aspect of Elvis’ story

My biggest gripe with having the Colonel narrative/tell Elvis’ life in the 2022 film is the fact that it made the film feel rather impersonal to Elvis as I don’t think the script or the storytelling ever fully allowed for Austin Butler to explore what he was like beyond the stage

And personally speaking, I have a much deeper love for Elvis the person as opposed to Elvis the performer, and I think that “Priscilla” showed the human side of him far more than “Elvis” ever did (like y’all we actually get to hear and see him reading his philosophy books in this!!!)

But before I get into what was actually depicted in film, and all my praises, I thought I would briefly state what I thought could have been done better. Don’t get me wrong, this movie was beyond amazing, however, it was definitely not without its’ faults:

1. If you have seen a lot of reviewers talk negatively about the pacing in this film- just know that they are unfortunately, completely right in that assessment. The whole timeline of Germany felt literally five minutes long, and the 70s also, felt maybe 10 minutes long which just made both the beginning and end feel rather rushed. Also there were at least 5 scenes that just faded to black before going onto the next one, and some very abrupt cuts in scenes which felt a bit awkward

2. Because this is a biopic, and because it’s based on a real life, there is no climax like you would be accustomed to normally in a film and so I think that the average viewer, like someone who may not really care about Priscilla or Elvis, will probably walk away from the film feeling unsatisfied- possibly bored. I saw it with my mom and my sister, and my mom was asleep in like 45 minutes 😭. The movie definitely got repetitive at some points but I acknowledge the fact that life is repetitive, especially for Priscilla in the 60s while Elvis was off making movies

3. While Priscilla (played by Cailee Spaeny) aged realistically and seamlessly, Elvis (played by Jacob Elordi) was essentially the same person (physically) for 95% percent of the film. For some reason, his hair was already dyed black in the Germany scenes, although we know it was brown at that time, and so there was no real transformation for him until Lisa Marie is born. The height of the actor was definitely jarring at first but eventually I got used to it…however…I damn near busted out laughing when they showed him in the Comeback special outfit 💀 His performance was nothing but incredible (ESPECIALLY THE VOICE) and so I learned to get over the physical disparities rather quickly

4. The ending of this film, particularly the song, was overwhelmingly sad and impactful but I was really disappointed that we didn’t get to see Priscilla’s and Elvis’ relationship after the divorce. This film ends with Priscilla leaving Graceland, starting her “new life”, which didn’t make much sense to me considering this movie was adapted from her book, which very much explores that part of her life, especially with Elvis

I would have really love to seen moments like this from Priscilla’s perspective ⬇️

excerpt from “Priscilla, Elvis and me” (avoid this book)

5. NO CIRCLE G RANCH!!! It is borderline criminal to make a film about Priscilla and Elvis and to not include their time spent at Circle G ranch ** which Priscilla has always said were their happiest times together **. I assume that this was likely an issue because of the budget and the fact that they only had 30 days to film but god… I would have really appreciated some of the domestic bliss that Priscilla and Elvis shared while living in the trailer on the ranch. There were many happy moments/sequences (y’all are going to die when you see the rollerblading/go cart scenes) in this movie, but I think their gradual separation/withdrawal from one another (post marriage) would have hit harder if we saw how happy they were together during their ranch phase

6. For those who have read “Elvis and Me”, we all know about the famed LSD scene that takes place and unfortunately, Coppola heavily missed the mark on it. We don’t see Lamar Fike making out with a tree, we don’t see Jerry Schilling in a closet- instead we see Priscilla and Elvis just kind of rolling around, laughing amongst themselves while the room around them turns different colors

There were definitely many key moments/stories like that missing from the film, and I honestly wish that the movie was an hour longer so that we could have seen the book more fully fleshed out

Lastly, here’s just a general synopsis of the scenes in Germany… I was going to do the whole movie but I don’t have the stamina to type it all out 😭. If y’all want to know something specific please feel free to comment below and I will let you know <3!!

After the beginning credits are shown, the film starts with Currie Grant (who was renamed as Terry West) approaching Priscilla in a diner, inviting her to a party at Elvis’ house. After talking with her parents and assuring them that Priscilla will be looked after by him and his wife, it cuts to her in the back of a car, on her way to meet Elvis. The scene is exactly like how it is in the book, Elvis asks her how old she is, he remarks that she is “just a baby” and so on- Elvis then plays “a Whole lotta shakin” at the piano and that is one of three musical performances we see from him

Priscilla is then re-invited by Currie aka Terry via Elvis to comeback to the house again. Elvis invites Priscilla up to his room, she looks around and sees letters from Anita Wood, and a poster of Bridgette Bardot just like in the book. After Elvis talks about Gladys and how he is still reeling over her death, and how lonely he has felt since then, they share their first kiss to the song “Crimson and Clovers”

There are some scenes of Priscilla at school and some scenes of her sort of convincing her parents to let her continue to see Elvis. And they do agree, but just like in the book, they want to meet him first. Elvis is questioned by Priscilla’s father on why he wants to be with her to which Elvis replies that she is very mature for her age and that he likes talking to her since she is from home aka the United States. He then assures Priscilla’s father that she will be taken care of. After that we see them going to the movies where Elvis expresses how much he wants to be a serious actor, and then they share another kiss on the car ride home. It then cuts to Christmas time where we see Elvis giving Priscilla a watch and then BOOM- Elvis and her are on the way to the airport where they say their final goodbyes as he leaves for the United States

The film really does follow closely to the book (at least from 59’ when they meet to 69’- again the 70s were really rushed) and so I really recommended to read that prior to watching the movie

As for the more sensitive scenes-

There is no explicit sex, no graphic nudity, and no scene where Elvis forces himself upon Priscilla. He does say “this is how a real man makes love to his woman” but all he does is kiss her before she pushes him off. There is a rather long “polaroid-taking” sequence where it shows all the outfits that Elvis would Priscilla dress up in but other than that, we only see Elvis and Priscilla make out

And it did show when Elvis accidentally hit Priscilla in the eye during the pillow fight scene in her book, along with the scene of him throwing a chair in her general direction after she expressed she didn’t like a demo of one his songs, and the scene where he grabs all her clothes from the closet and tells her that she should go visit her parents. I don’t think that the scenes made Elvis look abusive: Coppola was surprisingly nuanced in showing that he had reasons for his sometimes bad temperament i.e the pills he took along with the fact that he was frustrated with his film career

It also shows Elvis’ infidelities but really only through movie magazines that Priscilla sees. So it’s never explicitly shown, I would say it’s more hinted at than anything

And there are two scenes of Priscilla with Mike Stone but again, nothing that is explicitly shown, it’s just hinted at

Finally, to finish this up, this is what I wrote on my Instagram account which I very much stand by ⬇️

Just please give this movie a chance y’all, it was so beautiful and so sensitively done… I cannot wait to watch it again <3

#I was not prepared for this movie #cailee and jacob completely floored me #I’m sorry I ever doubted y’all #give everyone an award #wow #priscilla presley #priscilla movie #priscilla 2023 #elvis and priscilla #elvis presley #elvisaaronpresley #elvis #elvis fans #elvis fandom #sofia Coppola #cailee spaeny #jacob elordi #Spotify

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harryforvogue · 1 month

Note

Maybe something for Harry and Yasmine where she takes care of Harry? Like he gets super sick or something. I feel like she would love the chance to look after him bc he is always so caring towards her

Harry leans on the counter, his eyes heavy but open enough to watch Yasmine pour some medicine into a tablespoon. She brings it over to his mouth, hovering it in the air with another hand under the spoon to catch any drops.

He smiles, leaning in with his mouth open. The medicine goes down his throat smoothly, but he can’t help but pull a grimace. “You know,” Harry says after a cough, “the medicine comes with a measuring cup.”

“My mom always would pour it into a tablespoon. It was the perfect measurement. You’ll just have to take it a little more frequently, but that’s better than waiting six hours. You wouldn’t want me waking you up in the middle of the night right?”

She turns away to the sink to wash the spoon. Harry slinks forward, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, putting his burning cheek against her cold one. He groans appreciatively. “I never mind you waking me up.”

Yasmine’s hands falter briefly before finishing up. She puts the spoon aside and leans back against him. “You’re too warm, Harry. You need to rest.”

“Why are you avoiding saying I’m hot?” he grumbles back playfully against her neck.

Yasmine shivers, running her hands over his strong forearms. “I’m serious, Harry. Come.”

She manages to wrestle out of his hold (despite his state, he’s still got a mean hold), taking his burning hand. She leads him to the living room, shaking him off when he latches himself back on her frame. He lands on the sofa, tilting his head back with a congested sigh. “I’m not tired,” he says, sounding both nasally and childish.

“I’m not telling you to sleep.” She takes a nearby blanket, wrapping him up in it, tucking the ends under his chin. His green eyes watch her movement carefully. “I need you to sweat this out.”

Harry wrinkles his nose. “Can you not talk so sexy to me?”

Yasmine rolls her eyes and sits beside him, grabbing a pillow. She puts it on her thighs and then pats it. “Come.”

Harry doesn’t need to be told twice. He all but flies closer to her, lifting his legs to lay horizontally, resting his head on her leg. Instead of facing away, however, he presses his nose to her stomach and sighs again.

“What hurts?” Yasmine says, running her fingers through his hair. The sweat has made it go slightly greasy, but she doesn’t care.

“My head.”

So Yasmine gently starts rubbing his temples. He hums with relief, closing his eyes.

“I’ve still got to cancel class.”

She says, “I’ll handle that.”

“Mm. My email is open on my laptop. Be nice to them.”

“I am nice,” she scowls.

“Mhm.”

Yasmine continues to rub his head, dipping down to his neck and shoulders to hear that groan of relief. He sneezes once, and then spends the next several minutes shivering.

“When I was younger,” Yasmine says softly, thumbing through his eyelashes, “and I had a terrible fever, my mom would wet some paper towels and put them on my forehead and under my arms. If you continue to get sicker, I’ll have to do that.”

“Mmmm.”

“It always felt really good, but I think that was only effective to bring my body temperature down. I was still sick afterwards.” When her hand rubs his back, he breathes deeply. “Maybe you have strep. Let’s go to the clinic tomorrow.”

Harry opens his eyes tiredly, going against all his big talk from moments ago. “I’m perfectly satisfied with my hot girlfriend nursing me back to life.”

Despite herself, Yasmine smiles, cupping his warm cheek. “I can only do so much, you know?”

He takes her hand, kisses it, and tucks it under his chin for safe keeping. “You do more than enough for me on any given day,” he says hoarsely, turning his head in to cough. “Just seeing your face is so…so–” he coughs and coughs and coughs, “nice.”

“It was real hard to say that huh?” Yasmine laughs quietly, and at the sound of her laugh, Harry looks back up at her.

“My throat hurts so bad.”

She can’t help it, so she says, “My poor big baby.”

“You act as if you’re on your deathbed when you have a cold, Yasmine.”

“I don’t need to be coddled though.”

Harry gives her a meaningful look. “Yasmine, I have to block off my calendar when you get sick. It’s like there’s a tornado in my house. You are so incredibly clingy and annoying, it’s like an alter ego or something.”

Yasmine says, “All right, that’s enough.”

Some quiet moments pass by with Yasmine just caressing Harry’s face. Then he says, “I want an ice cold coke right now.”

“Keep dreaming,” she answers.

“I want those cold spicy noodles you make.”

“Nope.”

“And an ice cube to munch on.”

“Nope.”

“I want to pinch your cheek so hard.”

That startles Yasmine, but she recovers quickly with her signature frown. “I hate when you do that. It hurts.”

“Good.” He smiles slightly.

She goes back to massaging his head. At some point, her legs go numb, but that’s around the time Harry’s breathing evens out, signaling he’s asleep. She lets him stay there, admiring his face and curls as she scratches at his scalp, wishing she could bend down far enough to kiss him.

“I love you,” she murmurs to his sleeping form, giving his curls a gentle tug. He shivers, as if the message has reached him even in his sleep.

#you ask and i shall give #harry and yasmine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff

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sorrowsofsilence · 2 months

Text

Burning out • VI

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Fem!Reader

I was lost, but now I'm found Under the lights and in the sounds So let us sing and sing it loud That we're not perfect, but we're proud of who we are.

Noah Sebastian is lost. His crime-filled lifestyle is anything but perfect; but everything changes once he meets you.

Words: 5.4k

Warnings: 18+, explicit language, mentions of drugs and alcohol/drinking

Authors note: Chapter Six - Moral Antimatter. Hey lovelies, I am so sorry it took so long for this chapter to come out. I've been so overwhelmed with school this month, and it'll only get worse once I begin my practicum in a couple weeks- but I'll aim to have the next chapter out way sooner than this one was. Enjoy xx

THIS IS A FANFICTION USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THESE PEOPLE WOULD DO THE THINGS IN THE STORY OR ACT THE WAY THEY DO IN THE STORY IN REAL LIFE! IT IS FICTION! IT IS JUST FOR FUN! <3

Tags: @crimson-calligraphyx @lma1986 @spicywhenspeaking @sammyjoeee @shilohrosechicken @princessmarshmallowx @laurpartyprogram @cookiesupplier @nojoyontheburn @lacktoesandtoddlerant @veronicaphoenix @er3nslovergirl @cncohshit @thescarlettvvitch @scrumptiousfestivalpost @melcchs @flowery-mess @mentallynot-here @darkmxgician @judging-from-afar

“I- the whole reason I did this robbery in specific,” I stated, opening the glovebox in front of her, revealing the plastic bottles, “was to get back your meds. That’s why I’ve been so distant.”

She stared at the orange bottles, detached.

“I have felt so fucking guilty, that I have barely been able to look at you knowing what I did,” my voice began to raise, “Like how fucked up am I? That I could do that to you, knowing, that they’re supposed to be helping you?”

I scoffed at myself as I slammed the glovebox, making Y/N jump in the process.

The more I fool myself The more I feel it creeping in I think I lost my mind again

“Y/N,” I whispered now, “I am so sorry I did this to you. I am so sorry I dragged you into this.”

The more I start to fall The more I don't see me at all I think I lost my mind again”

+++++

Y/N

I pulled my knees to my chest beneath the sheets of my bed as soft sobs escaped my chest. I breathed in and out heavily, lips parted as I coughed, congested from the tears that stained my cheeks.

So much happened, and my overwhelmed mind began to spiral. I wanted to blame myself for Noah’s decision, but at the same time how could I blame him? He needed the money, and I let him into my life without looking at the consequences. I shouldn’t look past his actions, and if I was a normal person I’d kick him out of my life… but I was already wrapped around his finger.

I really was so naive, huh?

I wanted to trust Noah. I still trust Noah.

So in the end it was all my fault, because why did I trust someone who had just come into my life so deeply?

When will that trust wear thin till the point it breaks and crumbles, shattering into an unfixable mess?

As I cried my tears for Noah, my chest heaved from the anxiety of my past. I swore to myself that I wouldn't go back to that fucking mask; that I wouldn’t let them find me. Yet, here I was, completely exposed again and traceable.

That dealer in the alleyway. He knew the mask, and he knew the code.

“We live in a twilight world: And there are no friends at dusk.”

I didn’t recognize him, but I knew that he could link me back to those I ran from. They haven’t worn the masquerade masks since I left.

I squeezed my eyes shut, the heat of my breath beginning to suffocate my body that lay beneath the covers of my duvet, shielding me from the world and all the problems within it.

"I'll See You At The Beginning, Friend."

I was going to be found, and it was going to be a mess.

If Kiean and Kade were about to be back in my life, I would need a saving grace.

As much as I didn’t want to talk to Noah about anything, or forgive him, I needed him.

I told him that I would risk it all for him, and I’ve proven it; but would he risk it all for me?

You think that I can’t see through it all? Who would walk back and risk it all for me now? Is this how breaking point sounds?

In the end, Noah isn’t the bad guy. If anything, once he finds out everything, I am.

I let the tears fall for a moment longer as I anxiously lived within my mind before the soft creak of my door opening snapped me away from my wading.

“Go away,” I mumbled, curling closer to my knees before the bed dipped gently. A soft purr came from behind the blanket and I sniffed, opening the covers to reveal Juice who waddled towards me. His head pushed into my hand, the soft orange fur of his coat instantly soothing me as my fingers ran through it.

“I thought you’d need a furry friend right now.” I heard from behind the door and I turned my head, noticing Nicholas peaking in.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, sitting up as I held Juice in my arms. He purred harder at the touch, closing his eyes in contentment.

Nicholas pushed the door open more and he held out a mug in offering, “I brought you some tea?”

I sniffed, rubbing my eyes with my free hands in an attempt to erase the tears.

Nicholas entered, placing the mug on my nightstand as he looked down at me in worry, his brows narrowed with sorrow, “I’m here to talk if you need someone to vent to.”

I nodded and Nicholas sad on the edge of my bed politely, as if afraid he was overstepping. Juice squirmed in my grasp and I let him go, and he immediately walked over to Nicholas, rubbing along his arm.

I scoffed, smiling gently, “Seems he has a new favourite.”

“What can I say, I guess I’m a cat whisperer.” Nicholas laughed, petting the cat.

I laughed lowly, rubbing my eyes again before glancing at the man before me.

As if he read my mind, he spoke first.

“I knew.” He said, and although I had a suspicion, my heart still clenched at his words.

“How long?” I whispered, picking at the fabric of my sheets.

Nicholas sighed, “The day it happened. I caught him replacing your pills.”

I nodded, unsure what to say. Not only did he steal them, he replaced them with lies. He didn’t want me to know.

“Was he ever going to tell me?” I asked, tears welling up in my eyes again.

Nicholas sucked in a breath, “Yes. I tried to get him to do it right away, but he wanted to wait until he paid everything off and could buy you more.”

I was quiet, my mind racing.

“He fucked up Y/N, and he knows that. But Noah cares about you so much.”

I laughed bitterly, “Yeah, he cares so much he went behind my back to purposefully deceit me. I probably would’ve given him the pills anyway if he asked, considering they were doing fuck all.”

Nicholas turned to face me on the bed, watching me carefully as another tear fell from my eyes.

“Why do I still want to trust him?” My voice strained as my vision blurred.

“Because you care about him too.”

I let out a frustrated groan as I pressed my palms into my eyes, “I see so much of myself in him. So much of who I was; and If I got out, so can he.”

“Who were you?” Nicholas asked now, curiously staring. I knew he had questions too. He knew that I had a bigger role within their world than initially presented; that was evident after he saw my involvement last night. The two of us have grown closer, and I knew that I’d have to trust him, and the other boys.

But It was hard to admit the shit I’ve done wrong.

“I’ll tell you guys soon,” I said as I turned away, afraid to look a him, “Once I get over the fear of you guys knowing who I used to be.”

Nicholas reached over, placing a hand on top of my own. He gave me a warm smile, “We of all people can’t judge you Y/N.”

My breath hitched in my throat as shame coated my throat, “Maybe, but there’s a reason I ran from who I used to be.”

+++++

NOAH

I sucked in a breath as my padded fist collided with the covered fabric, the punching bag swinging back towards me before throwing another punch at it again, sending the bag spiralling.

And you know that we’re racing sand But we’re stronger than we were before And their forked tongues won’t lead the way You’re not pure anymore

My forehead beaded with sweat as my headphones blared, chest heaved with the adrenaline.

I bounced back and forth as I threw more punches, letting the anger seep through me.

The sins run red, but they won’t live forever You’ll be forever fake Will the marks I lay out there come back to me?

I needed to apologize properly to Y/N, even if she didn’t want to talk to me. My heart also ached because I wanted her to see our first live show tonight; but I was worried she would request to take the night off, just as she did at the cafe this morning.

I punched the bag a few more times before stepping back and grabbing my water bottle that lay against the wall. I threw the boxing glove off of my hand before I took a few sips of water, letting the cool liquid coat my throat.

Going to the gym was a way I could let out my frustration; an escape to physically release the pent-up energy that began to suffocate me. Thankfully no one else was in the gym, leaving me alone to my thoughts.

All of this was my fault, and I was ashamed- but if Y/N and I were going to have any form of relationship moving forward, we needed to be honest with each other; no more secrets.

I was going to make an effort to earn her trust back, but I also needed to know more about her past.

I wiped my forehead with the bottom of my shirt, sighing heaving as the lyrics rang through my mind.

Together we’re trapped inside of the scales Under the greed, and the ego’s weight I won’t be slipping when we all fall into Into moral decay

I slid the glove back on, amping myself up to continue throwing punches. As I heaved I swung my arms, connecting with the bag a few more times, before the lights inside the gym turned off, leaving me in complete darkness.

Pulling out an earbud I spun around, staring at the vacant area. The windows were small, barely leading any light into the room. My chest tightened as I furrowed my brows. Was there a power outage?

I breathed heavily for a moment as I stood still, analyzing the room in confusion before walking towards the light switch. I flicked up the knob and the lights turned on, leaving me even more perplexed. They had just been shut off.

As I turned around I came face to face with a man and I jumped back in surprise, audibly yelling as my stomach dropped.

“What the fuck!”

He stared at me for a moment, and my eyes gazed over all his tattoos.

“Sebastian,” He smiled, the grillz shining amongst his teeth.

It was Vincent, unmasked. Thick brows laid above sunken blue eyes and a hollow jaw. He was bonier than I thought, with slight facial hair scruffed around his features.

“The fuck are you doing?” I held a hand on my chest as I stepped back from him.

“Theatrics?” He shrugged as he began running his fingers along the metal bars of the machinery. His hair lay until his shoulders was brunette and curly.

I watched him cautiously, “uh- how did you find me?”

Vincent chuckled, “a little birdie.”

My eyebrows furrowed at his response, “What do you want?”

The shine of his grillz taunted me as he glanced between me and the equipment. My stomach began to churn with uneasiness. He didn’t know what I looked like unmasked. How would he know I was here, of all places?

Vincent reached into his pocket, pulling out a silver quarter. He began twirling it between his fingers, watching it spin, “How about this…”

I eyed him, taking another step back.

“Heads, you tell me about your little friend Y/N.”

My gaze narrowed and my fists clenched at the mention of her name. What did he want with Y/N?

“Tails, you tell me about your masked friend.”

I chewed my cheek as I glared. So he didn’t know they were the same person, but I didn’t know why the mask was relevant, or Y/N for that matter. “Why do you need to know about either?”

Vincent smirked as he held up the coin, ignoring my question, “What do you think it’ll be? Heads or tails?”

He then flipped the coin with his thumb, the both is us watching it spin in the air before landing in his palm. He glanced at me in excitement before flipping it onto the back of his palm. He removed his hand, revealing tails.

“ah, I was hoping for this one.”

I frowned, “I have nothing to tell you about it.”

“You know who wears the mask.”

I shook my head, “I don’t.”

Vincent’s eyes gleamed in knowing, “but you do.”

“I just hired someone to help,” I said, walking back towards my backpack and water bottle. The man followed behind.

“But how did you come in contact with a member of Fidelio. Specifically the volto mask.”

“Fidelio?” I raised a brow, “I have no fucking idea what you’re on about.”

Vincent grabbed my arm, pulling me back toward him.

“Fuck off!” I yelled, riping from his grasp, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. So can you back off?”

“That member has been missing for months,” He said hastily.

I stared at him in incredulity. This guy was nuts.

He paused, watching me for a moment, eyes darting across my lost expression, “you seriously have no idea?”

“No!” I yelled, grabbing my backpack from the ground, and swinging it over my shoulder.

“Have you ever seen the movie Eyes Wide Shut?” Vincent asked. I shook my head again.

“Ok,” He ran a hand over his face, “Well Fidelio is a cult that took inspiration from the movie- minus all the weird sex and orgy stuff.”

I scoffed, “And this is relevant, why?”

“Because that cult is one of the biggest groups of underground drug dealers and crime syndicates in North America, and they’ve stopped business since that mask has disappeared.”

Something clicked once he mentioned crime syndicate; I remember briefly hearing from Jolly about how there were a few heists pulled off by a group with masks… Venetian masquerade masks. I sucked in a quick breath, hoping Vincent didn’t notice.

“Ok, great.” I shrugged, clenching the strap of my bag, “So this person I hired was probably inspired by their work and liked the mask.”

Vincent shook his head rapidly, “They knew the code.”

I watched him, “Well so did you. Are you a member then?”

He laughed at me as if what I had said was hilarious, “Me? Psh I’m flattered you’d assume, but no. My boss has been trying to take them down for years.”

“So you know the code, how?”

Vincent shrugged, “Boss knows that’s how they communicate.”

“Well, then your point of my hire knowing the code is useless if others know it too,” I stated, beginning to walk past him, “Nice chat. I’ll see you at the end of the week with more drugs.”

Vincent yelled after me, “Wait. I need to know more about this Y/N Y/L/N.”

I halted to a stop, refusing to turn around as my jaw tightened. He may not know that Y/N was wearing that mask, but he knew something related to her name.

“You stole the meds from her?” He asked.

I turned my head to the side, body remaining still as I refused to look at him, “Your coin landed on tails.”

Vincent ignored my comment, “My boss wonders where all the drugs I get come from; especially if they’re prescription. Keep track in case anything begins to link back to us.” I wanted to walk out, but curiosity kept me frozen in place.

“I told him her name, and he says he knows her,” Vincent said slowly, “been looking for her for years. So do you know her? Or was it a random theft?”

The pace of my heart picked up, but I didn’t want Vincent to notice my nerves.

“Random theft,” I faced him now, responding without hesitation, “No fucking idea who that bitch is. Do you know how many people I steal from? And have stolen from since then?”

My throat clenched as I insulted Y/N, but I needed to make it believable.

Vincent nodded, eyes analyzing my own as we started each other down. After a brief moment of silence, he spoke again, “Do you remember her address?”

With a hard expression, I bore into his blue orbs, “No.”

He glanced at me, flipping the coin in his hand once again, “Well, if you do, you know who to call.”

His shoulder brushed mine as he walked past me toward the entrance of the gym, “See ya, Noah.”

My eyes slimmed in distaste as I followed his figure before I froze at the realization of what he called me.

Noah.

I’ve never told him my first name.

+++++

Y/N

“You gonna come to the show tonight?” Folio asked as we lay on the couch in the living room, watching TV. I had put on Naturo as a way to calm my nerves, and Ruffilo and Folio had heard the intro, immediately bolting up the stairs in excitement.

I rolled my head to look at him, “I do work tonight, so you couldn’t make me not go even if you wanted to.”

Folio and Ruffilo laughed, and I smiled, turning my attention back to the show.

“How are we gonna celebrate?” Nicholas asked, nudging my side, “We gotta have some drinks together.”

I squirmed at his touch, laughing, “I don’t know. I can ask to be off early since I’m starting at 4 today. You guys play at 11 pm, right?”

Nicholas nodded, “Yeah, 45 min set or something.”

“Noah will be happy you’re coming,” Nick said, and as if Noah heard his name, the front door opened, revealing the long-haired brunette, his face dishevelled.

The three of us looked at him, and I immediately sunk into the couch in an attempt to hide myself, but Noah’s eyes locked onto mine. He kicked off his shoes before standing at the bottom of the stairs.

“We need to talk. Bedroom, now.” He said with haste, grubbing the wooden railing.

“Yeesh,” Folio mumbled, glancing at me before back at Noah, “That’s not how you turn a girl on Noah.”

“Fuck off Nick,” Noah said, waiting for me to get up.

“Y/N.”

His stern tone left my body shivering and so I obliged, standing up and leaving the Nick’s to follow Noah up the stairs.

I trailed behind him and he closed the door to my bedroom once both of us were inside. He turned to look at me with accusation.

“Does Fidelio ring a bell?”

My mouth dried as the word left his lips, my lungs struggling to suck in a much-needed breath. How did he know?

My palms began to sweat as my fingers wrapped around each other, a form of distraction, “Like uh, Beethoven’s Opera?”

Noah rolled his eyes, “Don’t play dumb. The mask.”

My throat warmed in apprehension with the heartbeat that began trailing up the skin, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I should just tell him. What’s stopping me?

“Are you the missing member with the Volto mask?” Noah asked, holding the sides of my arms, his fingers squeezing against the dark blue long sleeve I wore.

Fear.

Tears pricked my eyes as my chest rose quickly, the onset of a panic attack beginning to set in. Noah noticed, his grip loosening as his chestnut eyes softened.

“You need to tell me Y/N,” He whispered as I began shaking. Noah pulled me into his chest, enveloping me against his body.

I whispered into the fabric he wore, “Yes.”

Noah’s hand trailed up my back, cupping my head in a comforting manner as he held me. Our bodies swayed gently in a moment of brief silence.

“Do you know Vincent?” He asked.

I hiccuped as tears fell, shaking my head, “No I don’t think so…but he knows the code.”

You think that I can’t see through it all? Who would walk back and risk it all for me now? Is this how breaking point sounds?

“He found me at the gym,” Noah began, pulling me from his body to look up at him, “He was asking about you. With the mask, and without.”

My eyes widened as I stared at him, shaky breaths on the verge of hyperventilation crawling from my chest, “Does he know it’s me?”

Noah shook his head, “No, but his boss recognizes your name. And of course, he knows about the Fidelio syndicate.”

I swallowed harshly, digesting the information.

“He knows your name because it was on the bottle when I sold your pills; I guess recognized it.” Noah sighed, taking a step back from me, turning on his heel with a hand on his forehead.

“I thought I recognized your mask,” He threw his head back in frustration, “But I couldn’t remember from where… and then I googled after Vincent told me.”

Noah slid his phone out of his pocket, scrolling for a moment before pulling up a news article from a few months ago.

Aftermath Broken promises collapse Bodies lay like shattered glass Hold the pieces, feel how nothing ever lasts

With tunnel vision fading in How I've thirsted for the end Pull me closer till I'm in over my head

My eyes skimmed the news article, and any words I had forming caught in my throat.

Noah’s eyes were hollow, “You came here, to Los Angeles not long after this was released…”

I sucked in a breath, “I told you I was running.”

“That’s why you gave me a chance,” Noah said, pulling the phone from my face, and placing it back into his pocket, “You were no better than I am.”

Were.

Past tense. He knew things had changed.

To have someone understand your mind is a different kind of intimacy, and Noah read every part of me at this moment.

“I escaped,” I whispered, barely audible as my voice cracked, “I didn’t want that life. I was used, angry, and unworthy.”

We are broken bodies bound for еach other In the impact, we become antimatter The dust hasn't settled but we feel the decay

“Your past does not define you,” Noah breathed softly, pulling me into another hug, “You were a result of circumstance…If anything it makes me respect you even more with how far you’ve come.”

Torn limb from limb, I am swearing your name Our hands collide, we brace together In the impact, we become antimatter

“I’m proud of you.”

Noah’s words rang in my ear as I cried, holding myself against his chest. My knuckles whitened through the grip I held on his sweater, my body vibrating through the pain. I’m proud of you. No one has ever said that to me.

I sobbed into his body for a few more moments as he squeezed me with compassion, taking in all the emotions I displayed for him.

“I knew what it was like being in your shoes,” I sniffed, “I’m still lost, but I’m finding my way. You deserve to escape too.”

Noah’s grip tightened before he pulled away, “I see it now.”

My mind was still racing at Vincent and the information Noah brought.

“Do you know who his boss is?” I asked Noah, even more nervous now. I didn’t know many people within the drug ring; I always played on the sidelines.

Was it someone who knew my true identity?

We're waiting in the wreckage for the sun to rise I'm staring at the fractures no one else can see, they're so complete When morning comes, will there be anyone left to find? My vision starts to surrender, as colors subvert the night

“I went by a different name,” I watched Noah carefully, “Y/N Y/L/N is my real name. Only two people back home know it, other than my extended family… that I know of.”

“I mean that’s smart. I don’t know who his boss is,” Noah said, his face contorting, “but maybe he’s tied back to you?”

I sighed anxiously. I had no idea who Vincent’s boss could be, but my stomach churned at the idea of it being one of the members of Fidelio.

“You risked everything coming to help me rob the pharmacy then… why?” Noah grabbed my hands, placing them gently within his, “Especially because you chose to wear the mask.”

I shrugged, hands warming from his touch, “I-I don’t know. I just- I would do anything to help you escape from this life. You asked me for help, how could I say no? Especially when I have enough experience?”

One of Noah’s hands travelled up my arm, resting below my chin. He pushed gently, making me look up into his October eyes.

Stolen by auroras, our bodies re-align Magnetic in the impulse, show me the other side Suspended in the ether, till I felt you in my chest I know we're not alone, but I'm in over my head

“I’m sorry I broke your trust. I’m sorry I didn’t ask you about the pills, and I’m sorry I stole them.” His eyes darted across my face, sincerity radiating from his pupils, “I will never do anything like that again; over my dead body.”

His words burned into my skin through the touch of his fingertips. I knew he was sorry, and I knew he felt bad. He made a mistake, he wasn’t perfect. He was human.

“I forgive you, Noah. You need the money,” I said, “You’re almost free.”

Noah pulled me closer to his chest and I leaned into his touch, our lips brushing against each other gently. My stomach spiralled with nerves as Noah’s warm breath escaped his lips before he placed them delicately against my own. It was a different kind of kiss; my limbs tingled as my mind warmed with admiration. It wasn’t hungry or desperate, it wasn’t filled with haste. It was proof that Noah accepted me as I was- just as had accepted him. It made me feel vulnerable.

We are broken bodies bound for each other In the impact, we become antimatter

+++++

The boys arrived at Sammy’s around 9 pm, sitting along the bar as they waited. They periodically kept trying to talk to me as I waited tables and catered to guests.

“Folio I’m so glad you’re telling me a story about the biggest fish you ever caught,” I began as I poured a few shots, “But you do know I am on the clock, right?”

Nick frowned and I gave him an empathetic smile. I loved having them here since it made work much more entertaining, but at the same time, I couldn’t stop getting distracted by their conversation and by Noah’s presence.

I couldn't help but steal glances at the long-haired gentleman when he would look away, admiring the way his smile lit up his eyes, or the scrunch of his nose when Nicholas made a joke; and I could feel his eyes burning into me every time I walked away, or turned to make a drink.

“Well,” Nick took a sip of his beer, “if you could fuck Noah in the bathroom at work you can hear about my fish,” He pouted and my eyes widened, along with Noah’s.

Noah and I shared eye contact in a knowing glance. Both of us immediately flushed and looked away in awkwardness. I shot Nick a glare before I turned around, bringing the shots to the customers who ordered.

Nicholas burst out laughing behind me as he doubled over the counter, pulling Jolly down with him.

“Dude that was so out of pocket,” Nicholas wheezed as Jolly’s chortle echoed through the busy room.

The bar was decently packed tonight with people anticipating the first live music showcase. I was just as excited; because I couldn’t wait to hear them perform somewhere outside of the basement.

My mind kept tracing back to the realization that now that the mask was back, I was going to be traceable. My entire shift I felt uneasy, worried that with every turning corner someone who knew could show up; but I pushed away those thoughts, remaining happy and supportive as the boys were going to be on stage soon.

I walked back behind the counter, smiling at them.

“Guys want a shot for some liquid courage?” I asked, holding up a bottle of tequila.

“You know it,” Folio nodded.

“We should probably do a soundcheck, yeah?” Jolly raised a brow at Noah who nodded in agreement.

“That’s what bands do, right?” Noah said, spinning on the bar chair as I placed the shot and a lime wedge in front of each of them.

“To uh-” I raised my empty glass to cheer with them, but I couldn’t finish my sentence, because they hadn’t chosen a name for the band.

“To Glass Houses?” Jolly shrugged, and Noah mimicked him. The four boys took the drink, squinting at the bitterness before sucking on the lime.

“We haven’t chosen a name… but we can go by glass houses for now,” Noah laughed, before standing up.

I smiled up at them, giving the boys a thumbs up, “Good luck gentlemen, you got this!”

“Thanks, Y/N,” Nicholas smiled back, following Jolly and Nick towards the stage.

Noah turned to look at me, “Don’t judge us too hard, ok?”

“I’m not the cool one in a band,” I chuckled as I mixed another drink, “No judgment here, only proud to say I know you personally.”

“Ah yes,” Noah licked his lips before flashing a wide smile, “personally.” His tone insinuated something much more and I couldn’t help but shake my head as my face warmed once again.

“Break a leg, as they say.” I cheered, and Noah nodded at me before meeting the rest of the boys.

Half an hour later it was eleven, and I asked my boss if I could be off early. She didn’t mind, so I grabbed a rum and coke before sitting at the seats that were in front of the stage.

I could tell they were nervous as each of them fiddled with their equipment. A few moments later the stereo died down and Noah tapped the microphone, his hair cascading over his face as he spoke.

“Uh, hey!” He began the feedback echoing slightly through the bar. I smiled encouragingly up at him as his eyes met mine, and he smiled back as if speaking to me.

“So this is our first gig, we don’t have an official name but call us Glass Houses for now!”

The small crowd clapped as Noah looked towards the boys, nodding at them.

“So I guess we’ll start with a cover of Come Undone by Duran Duran!”

Another applause sounded and Jolly began playing the riff before Folio’s drums and Ruffilo’s bass joined.

Noah jumped on the floor as his hair whipped around, feeling the into and the crowd cheered, before he gripped the mic stand, preparing to sing.

“Mine immaculate dream Made breath and skin, I've been waiting for you Signed, with a home tattoo Happy birthday to you was created for you.”

I bobbed my head, proud as guests began singing along. It wasn’t until Noah’s voice became deeper and raspier with the chorus that I smiled wider, heart hammering as he sang, watching me periodically from the stand.

“Who do you need? Who do you love When you come undone? Who do you need? Who do you love When you come undone?”

The evening went on as the boys covered various songs, before getting ready to perform their last song for the night.

“Thank you guys so much for jamming along!” Noah yelled before sipping his water bottle, “It’s about to get heavy, so I want to see you mother fuckers headbang!”

The crowd cheered as Noah introduced Glass Houses, and the song began.

I banged my head with the music as their hair flew in spirals, pulling out my phone to record them.

As I opened my phone I saw a text message from an unknown number. Clicking on it my stomach immediately dropped as my limbs warmed with complete terror.

Los Angeles, hey? It’s about time we booked a vacation anyway. See you soon, my volto x

+++++

Chapter 7

#burning out fanfic #sorrows of silence #bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens cult #bad omens band #noah sebastian davis #metalcore #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #heist #criminals

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kscheibles · 8 months

Text

e la vita ch. 2

~ ch. 1 here ~

content warnings: f! reader, fluff, smut, semi-public sex, oral sex (m receiving), smoking, religious trauma, bisexuality

word count: 7.1 k

When I meet Matty the following Thursday, it’s in the city center. Feeling nervous and awfully out of place, I cover my eyes with my hand as a kind of mock-visor and search briefly for his familiar face in the square that’s packed with older gentlemen gossiping and families blowing bubbles each bigger than the last. I take a seat on a bench near the middle of the piazza when I don’t see him, hoping I’ll be somewhere he can spot but not as awkward-looking as I might be if I stood still watching the scene like some sick, American voyeur.

Matty walks up with the gait of a bad Mick Jagger impersonator. I can see now that he’s all limbs though not in a bad way; in a way that exaggerates his movements and announces his presence to the world around him. He seems comfortable with the reality that people will look at him. I suppose it makes sense, given his choice of career, but it still mesmerizes me.

I watch him as he walks towards me. He’s wearing a fitted t-shirt that exposes his arms to me for the first time. They’re golden and covered with a variety of tattoos in different styles; from his biceps all the way down to his wrists. Eventually, he notices me looking and his face breaks out into a smile. He nods up to the cathedral to my left as he approaches me, giving me a quick, fraternal hug.

“How do you like it, then?” he asks, eyes trained on the holy building.

“Matty, that’s a church,” I state plainly, “I spent my childhood in places like that, and I’m pretty sure I’ve learned that God doesn’t like girls like me.”

“If God exists, I promise you’re one of his favourites,” he laughs as he says it, as if it’s not one of the kindest things anyone has ever said to me in my life.

“What do you know about God?” I ask.

“Oh nothing, really,” he concedes, “Just that he’s the most vicious, generous bastard in the world.”

I eye him as he says the words. I suppose that must be true for him. I resent the idea that our accomplishments and qualms are all consequences of our virtuous or sinful behaviors. It’s asinine. But if God is real, he’s certainly blessed Matty – with beauty, intelligence, love, money.

If God is real, he’s cursed me to be something immutably unlovable. Damned to rot from the inside out for the rest of my life. I don’t believe what Matty says, even for a second. There’s no way I’m one of God’s favorites.

Matty waves his hand in front of my face, snapping me from my thoughts.

“We don’t have to go in if you don’t want to. I didn’t consider that you might have…religious trauma or something,” he assures me.

“It’s okay, I’m fine,” I say, though truthfully I’m less sure than I say. I wonder if entering the cold, marble palace will transport me back to my youth; to standing primly in church as a child, scared to make a wrong move. Scared to think a sinful thought. Considering each older woman around me, their beautiful hair covered by cotton squares in a performance of modesty. I envied them, how easy they made it look to live by the rules. How little they seemed to struggle with keeping their mouths shut and their shoulders covered and denying themselves the indulgence of imagining another woman’s warm, sweet lips on their own.

Matty seems to clock my hesitance. He takes my hand and leads me in and I was so wrong.

It’s not cold inside, it’s breathtaking in a way that makes me feel welcome. On the outside of the central atrium are alcoves, each decorated more elaborately than the last. My senses are overwhelmed by the smell of incense, the sounds of hypnotic Latin chanting, the sight of refracting, colorful light. It feels Heavenly. I suppose it’s meant to.

Matty draws me towards one of the scenes that’s painted on the perimeter of the nave. It depicts a woman washing Jesus’ feet. Her head is bowed in submission, focused completely on the task at hand. In her hands is her long, black hair, which she uses to wipe at the top of Jesus’ feet. The chiaroscuro of the scene illuminates the action; everything else is noise. All that exists is her devotion.

“She was a sinful woman,” I say, “A prostitute, I think.” Matty raises his eyebrows in consideration.

“Was it like a punishment or something? Making her wash his feet?”

“No,” I breathe, “She did it to show him that she knew who he was. Knew he was worthy of being revered.”

“So her taking care of him was a sign that she understood him? Or what? Loved him?”

I shrug. “Isn’t that what we all do for the people we love? If we’re loving them right?”

“I suppose so,” Matty turns his head to look at me. He must see something on my face – a flicker of an emotion or a thought – that he recognizes because he adds, “But it’s no one’s fault if they haven’t been loved right. It doesn’t make you unloveable. It makes the other person a bad lover.”

“Well I suppose we can’t all be as easy to love as Jesus, can we?” I sigh, moving away from him, towards the center of the church.

I sit in one of the pews towards the back. In front of me are tourists and locals; people of all backgrounds, colors, and ages approaching the altar. Some of them have brought candles, hold rosaries. They appeal to God, beseeching his benevolent will. I empathize with them, even though I have serious reservations about the efficacy of their methodology. It’s beautiful how much they care about their fellow man.

When you see a woman wearing sheer tights, gray hairs combed perfectly into an updo, and kneeling on the cold tile floor with her hands pressed together, twins conjoined in supplication, you know that her motive cannot possibly be her own wellbeing. As selfish as we humans can be, it would be blasphemous to come to God’s house and light a prayer candle for yourself.

Matty sits down next to me, close enough that our legs are touching: his corduroy pants to my bare legs, pebbled by the cold air. I remember sitting in church with my crush as a girl, feeling wretched for wanting to inch closer to her. When I finally let our legs touch through layers of wool fabric, the excitement of touching faded instantly, giving way to the all-encompassing shame of the sin I’d committed. I reject the shame now, gently pushing my thigh further into Matty’s to prove to myself that it’s something I’m allowed to do, even in church. I’m allowed to touch him. I’m allowed to look at him and be distracted by his handsomeness. I’m allowed to think about his lips, plump, rosy, and left open wantingly. I’m allowed to think about his hips, how easily they swayed to the music the night I saw him in the club, and how deeply the rhythm seemed to be embedded in him. I’m allowed to think about his sculptural arms and nimble, calloused fingers. I’m even allowed to lust after him, to daydream about how good he could make me feel, if he wanted to. If I wanted him to.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, breaking my train of thought.

“I don’t know,” I shrug, trying desperately not to feel caught, “You?”

“Thinkin’ about the people who made this place. All of the gold light fixtures they had to weld. I mean fuckin’ hell look at this,” he points to a sconce on the wall. It’s carved in the shape of winding vines and inlaid on the front are mother of pearl accents positioned in the shape of a cross. “They did it with much more primitive technologies than we have as well.” I nod along.

“The devotion,” I muse.

“What’s that?”

“Think about the devotion they must have had to God in order to create such a beautiful thing for Him. It would show if the constructors didn’t believe. They would have phoned it in; cut corners on the carvings in the pews and the intricate architecture of the dome,” I tilt my head to get a better view of the dome in question. Inside of it, windows filter perfect yellow light into the building and angelic sculptures stand guard over the heavens.

Matty throws his head back completely, looking up towards the sky like there’s something up there that will save him or give him a more profound understanding of the place where his feet dwell. It’s misguided; I’ve spent enough time looking up to know that. There’s nothing good God can teach us that we can’t learn on our own. It’s nice to imagine sometimes, though: that if you look a little harder or listen to the silence on your knees for a minute longer, all of a sudden the answer to your problems will be revealed.

With his head towards the sky, Matty’s neck is open and vulnerable to me. A strong vein is prominent on the right side of it and his Adam’s apple protrudes, a silhouette that’s so thrillingly masculine. It feels intimate that he would let me see him like this: all awed and curious and unguarded, like a dog that’s rolled over to offer me his belly. I’m flattered that Matty feels safe getting lost in front of me.

I admire how open he is to the beauty of it all. It’s because churches aren’t places that make him instinctively put his guard up. On the other hand, churches for me are places where I was fed lies, Sunday after Sunday. Where old men seized upon my innocence and insecurity and forced poison down my throat until I swallowed every last drop. I’d had to go through withdrawal when I finally got the antidote. It was arduous, sweaty, painful. I learned to question everything a little too well. I don’t believe in any kind of magic anymore; I can no longer believe anything that’s not right in front of my eyes. God took that from me. Matty is lucky God didn’t take it from him, too.

I look up, following his eyes. It’s all so beautiful it almost loses its meaning. Everything is marble or silk or stained glass. It’s too much all at once. I can tell it’s all spectacular but in the flurry of everything, each individual marvel loses its luster. As I tip my head further and further back, I get a little dizzy and the colors that float above me begin to bleed into each other in a kind of kaleidoscopic haze. I snap my head back up; back to reality. I reach out to hold on to Matty’s arm.

“Can we go now?” I whisper to him, still wanting to preserve the sanctity of the place for the other patrons.

He nods in wordless understanding and leads me out.

–

The scorching heat of midday eventually breaks and yields a brisk night. When the sun sets, my skin remains sensitive, showing temporary, pale markings when I press my fingers into it. It hurts a little; a reminder of the fun I had that made me forget to reapply my sunscreen.

I sit at a table with Christina, Nina, and her friends. Some of us indulging in an aged wine from the region and others vying for an Aperol even though the sun is long past set and the orange bittersweet liquid now looks opaque.

“You know the best way to get over someone is to get under someone new,” says Nina, grabbing another glass of the chianti.

“Like I’ve never tried that before,” I answer. It comes out meaner than I’d expected; though how could it not? I’m not a teenager dealing with a first kiss who pied me off for a blonder, more popular girl, I’m an adult who built a life with someone and rearranged my guts to fit her into every place that was important to me. Who introduced her to my parents and friends and was now having to wait for the dust to settle in an explosion that blew the whole thing to pieces.

There are so many life-or-death questions that remain unanswered: Which friends will take my side, and which will take hers? If I have a fling with a toned Italian Adonis this summer, which of our so-called friends will stop inviting me to Dyke Night at Ginger's? Which of them will forget I exist just because I’ve left the city?

No, getting under someone new won’t help any of that, I decide.

“Sometimes we all need a distraction,” remarks Nina. “Look, the truth is that a breakup uproots your whole life. You don’t know which way is up, you don’t know which places are safe from them, especially in New York. I remember when Mason and I broke up, I didn’t go below 16th Street for a whole month, just because I knew I’d be safe from him if I stayed uptown. My point is more that you don’t have to worry about any of that. You’re in fucking Italy and she’s gone back to Michigan while she figures out her next move. So do exactly what you want for once, it’s not as though you can do that when you’re in a relationship.”

Exactly what I want. The words echo in my mind as the savory wine causes my neurons to sing. What exactly do I want?

–

It’s just past ten when I meet Matty at a cafe near our homes. A late night up with the girls means I’m cursing myself for not arriving early enough to order a cappuccino. Matty is leaning up against a chair with his sunglasses on, looking down. He holds his phone in both hands, a cigarette between the index and middle fingers of his right. He exhales some smoke from his lungs and looks up to see me walking towards him.

“Y/n!” he smiles, immediately putting his arm around my shoulders and kissing me on the cheek, “How are you, darlin’?” I can feel my cheeks getting warm due to our proximity and his openness.

He has a European self-assuredness to his movements. I’m not stupid enough to think that all of Europe is the same, but there’s a facility with which he takes my hand. Whereas, if I were to touch somebody, I would pause and hedge and overanalyze before reaching out. Even more so if it was someone I liked—which I’m slowly realizing I do.

“I’m good,” I smile at the dark lenses of his sunglasses. I hate those little pieces of plastic for keeping me from seeing his brown irises in the sun. I bet they would sparkle. I want to steal them from him and hide them so he can never wear them again and I’ll always be able to see the magic that happens in his eyes. Maybe it would hurt him, maybe his crow's feet would become more pronounced but I don’t care even a little bit. I want to know what it feels like to look into his soul again.

“So what’s the plan for today?” I ask.

Matty nods toward a light pole a few meters away. Propped up beside it is a shiny black Vespa.

“Thought we’d take a little day trip to the lake,” he says.

“Oh no, I can’t,” I say out of instinct.

“Oh,” he deflates a little, “why not? Have you got somewhere to be?” I look at him embarrassed.

“My mom would kill me if I got on a motorcycle,” I say. Truthfully, I’m scared more by the feelings that bloom in my stomach at the thought of holding onto his waist than the thought of riding the vehicle itself. He breaks into a toothy smile and crinkles sprout at the edges of his eyes.

“Your mum’s not here. How old are you, again?” he asks. I decide that doesn’t deserve an answer, instead opting to roll my eyes pointedly at him. “Besides,” he continues, “it’s a Vespa, not a motorcycle.”

“Do you have a helmet?” I question, timidly. He reaches out to my tote bag – embroidered with the familiar emblem of Shakespeare and Company – and tugs my silk scarf from it. His hands move tentatively towards my head, face questioning softly if he can touch me. I give an imperceptible ‘yes’, and soon his warm hands are cradling me. He places the scarf lightly on my head and then moves his attention down to my chin, tying it in place delicately. He reaches out to caress my jaw.

“There you go, princess,” he coos. The nickname doesn’t have the sting of taunting it once did. It feels sincere; like Matty really believes I should be treated with the utmost care. As soon as I can begin to smile up at him, he’s gone again, throwing his leg up to straddle the bike. With his Wayfarers covering his eyes, slicked-back hair, and tan skin, he looks every bit the rockstar Nina’s friends say he is.

I find myself skipping to him and straddling the bike behind him. I can’t see his face but I imagine it must be twisted into that ridiculous, self-assured grin I witnessed on the first night I met him. Where it once produced acrid bile that stained my throat with hatred, it now endears me to him. It’s indicative of a boyish playfulness, a thrill-seeking tendency that I so admire. Girls can’t afford to be silly and I’ve been surrounded by them for so long. I want to walk around in Matty’s skin for a day and learn what it feels like.

What does it feel like to him when he walks home alone at night? It must be how I feel when I walk during the day. No– it’s even more free, it must be. Even during the day, I cringe imperceptibly away from every man I pass on the street, no matter what part of town I’m in or whether I have my headphones on.

When Matty meets a girl and chats her up, he must not feel any of the apprehension that I do. No poking and prodding to see if she’s the one straight friend that’s tagged along to the gay bar because she’s just “so tired of men” or the sweet, bi-curious loner who’s looking for her first girl-on-girl action. He can just approach them without pretense and genuinely try to get to know them. He can entrance them with the arcane physics of his adorably curly hair and the spellbinding timbre of his speech.

When he speaks up, people must listen to the deeper, commanding pitch of his voice. They must be piqued by the melody of his Mancunian accent. They must believe him, perhaps even when they shouldn’t.

Do I want him? Or do I envy the ease that seems to come with being him?

Do I want to feel his insides? Or do I want to feel him inside of me?

I snake my arms around his middle, trying not to dwell on the soft cotton and lithe muscle that cover his torso. I clasp my hands together just under his ribs.

“You ready?” he asks. I press my cheek to his back, bracing for impact. I nod against him.

“Yeah,” I whisper. He chuckles at my hesitance and hits the accelerator.

And we’re off, bumping down old cobblestone roads, bathing in daylight, and meditating to the sounds of the city – babies crying, birds chirping, music playing, meat mongers yelling like showmen – and it’s not scary. Matty is solid underneath me, resilient. He runs a hand through his curiously straight hair like it’s nothing to him.

On our way to the lake, Matty slows down at a fruit market packed with old ladies haggling with one another. He puts the kickstand for the Vespa out, twirls the keys around his hand, and pockets them. Then he strides over to the gaggle of nonnas greeting each of them in due course.

“Come stai, Matteo?”

“Come sta l’america?”

“Che rockstar!”

They clamber for his attention like he’s a grandson they haven’t seen in several years.

“Tutto bene, grazie,” he manages, his English tongue contorting around the Italian. He still sounds anglophonic when he pronounces the words, but they cheer and coo all the same. Matty beckons me from the bike over to the fruit stand. “What do you want, darlin’?” he asks when I arrive next to him.

I look down at a ripe selection of fruit that’s bursting at the seams with juice. Apricots the color of the sunrise, jewel-toned berries, and peaches: fuzzy, soft, and yielding – not unlike human flesh, I think. My thoughts wander to Matty’s hands and cheeks and thighs. What would they feel like if I touched them? Would they give? Would they warm me? Could I squeeze him hard enough to make him burst?

“Andiamo a Lago di Garda,” Matty explains. The nonnas grab a paper bag and begin pointing to the selection of fruits. “Albicocca, pesca, frutti di bosco,” they gesture to each in turn. Their voices undulate and vary in pitch as they describe the fruits. It sounds like verse to my ears: romantic, melodic, and exquisitely idyllic.

Matty turns to me, “They want to know what you want.”

I look at them – their pink noses and wiry eyebrows and floral aprons – and smile. I mime how many of each I’d like and they pack our bag to the brim. They pass the fruit to me as Matty pays what he owes, bidding them farewell. He runs up behind me as I approach the Vespa and takes the bag from me, setting it at his feet. Then he reaches into his pocket and fishes out a pack of cigarettes. He grabs one with his teeth and lets it stay there, nestled between his lips. My eyes remain trained on his every movement and he notices, tossing me a lighter as he starts up the bike.

“You light it for me, sweetheart?” he asks. My hands fumble with the lighter, bringing it to the end of the cigarette and idling there while Matty inhales. When it doesn’t light right away, he brings his hands up, cupping them around the end and they graze my fingers on the lighter. We look like two school children telling secrets and the moment feels as intimate if not more. How I’d love to know his secrets, each and every last one.

I release the lighter and Matty lets the cig hang languidly on his bottom lip.

“You want one?” he asks.

“I’m good,” I say.

“Too right you are,” he replies, “hold on tight darlin’.”

–

Matty drives calmly down the motorway as I clasp my hands together as hard as I can. The breeze whips against my face and chaps my lips but I don’t mind. With the sun on my face and Matty underneath me, I feel unreal, unstoppable. As we reach the lake, the trees become more abundant. They flank the roads that lead to the beach and smell like fresh-squeezed lemonade, refreshing and revitalizing.

We finally slow down and sit on the rocky shore. Matty hands me a basket of berries and I immediately pop one in my mouth, enjoying the sweet juice that explodes on my tongue.

Next to me, Matty bites into a peach. The juices run down his chin and he uses the back of his hand to wipe them off.

The sticky juice glistens on his hand as he puts it down on the rocks to support himself. I’m mesmerized by the way the sheen that covers his hand catches the sun. I’m like a magpie drawn to anything shiny and ripe and sweet, not content enough with the fruit that’s bursting in my own mouth. I need to have his too.

“Can I try it?” I ask. Matty turns to me mid-bite and hands the peach to me as he chews the bite in his mouth. With the fruit in my hand, I inspect the marks his teeth have left, the place where his tongue has been. The thought that the tangy, sweet flavor will be laced with the taste of Matty’s mouth is absolutely delirium-inducing. It intoxicates me like a drug: the thought that I want him inside of me, that I could have him inside of me if I only lick the spot in front of me. I take a bite out of the yellow flesh and suck the juice into my mouth before passing it back to Matty.

It’s better than I expected. Warm from being outside, not cold and refrigerated and sterile like the fruit Claire and I used to buy in New York. It’s soft, yielding easily to my teeth and tongue. And it’s sweet, sticky. The surface of the flesh is covered in Matty’s saliva and it seems to make me hungry, truly hungry, for the first time in months. I want to devour the peach and then the berries and then every other perfectly imperfect food I can find. It tastes like vitality. It tastes like desire.

“That’s really fucking good,” I declare.

Matty inspects the dents I’ve left in the fruit. Then he runs his tongue over the fuzzy skin and yellow flesh before biting into it. My skin burns from the sun and the eroticism of the situation. We’ve each been inside of one another now, him in my mouth and me in his. I want to taste him properly, from the source.

“How come your hair is straight today?” I ask, reaching my hand out to touch a strand that’s fallen over his face to partially obscure his eyes. It’s stiff and crunches beneath the pressure of my fingers.

“My natural hair would have fallen in my face and gotten us into an accident, especially given the fact I have to drive on the right side here,” he answers, leaning back on a boulder on the beach. I consider his face, trying to imagine his absent ringlets.

“I wanna see your curls,” I say. I kneel next to him to get a better vantage point. From above, I see each gray strand of hair that invites the light into his mop of curls. I hold his gray streak up to the light and let my hand linger as it falls into his hair and then down to his face, feeling the rough stubble beginning to form on his cheeks.

“Yeah? You like my hair curly?” he teases, a blush gracing the tops of his cheeks as he looks up at my face.

“A lot,” I nod.

“I’ll never wear it straight again,” he says to mollify me.

“Good,” I state. I stand up and take my sundress off so I’m standing before him in a white cotton bra and underwear. Matty’s eyes go wide as I remove my clothing and hold my hand out to him.

“Come on then,” I encourage. He stands up smiling, unbuttons his shirt, and removes his trousers, leaving him more naked than I am.

I thought I was beginning to know Matty, but seeing his bare chest reminds me of how much I have left to discover. It’s littered with poems and phrases, crests and colors. His shoulders are broader than mine and they’re covered in sturdy muscle that continues down to his pectorals and upper abdomen. I’m staring, I’m sure of it. He’s hard in all the places I’m used to softness and wide in the places I’m used to encircling in my warm, small hands. I grab his arm and drag him towards the lake, submerging my head in the cool water as soon as it’s deep enough. When I emerge, I push my hair back and toss some water in Matty’s face.

“Oi! What was that for?” he exclaims.

“You said you’d never wear your hair straight again,” I remind him, “Come on, I’ll help you.”

Matty kneels before me as I scoop handfuls of water onto his head until he’s totally soaked. It feels thrilling, having a man on his knees before me, at my mercy. I’m not used to gentleness from boys; only jeers and catcalls and hands obnoxiously placed at the small of my back in clubs. But I don’t want to use my position for anything other than sweetness. I rub his curls lightly, removing the gel from each strand. Matty looks up at me as I massage his head watching my eyebrows scrunch.

“Your hair is soft,” I tell him. He smiles up at me and moves his arms around my hips to hold me as I continue my ministrations on his hair. He breathes through his nose and I feel the warmth that emanates from him as it seeps into my skin. He’s centimeters away from my core, no doubt feeling my heartbeat wildly in my chest and smelling the faint, musky aroma of the wetness that’s beginning to gather between my thighs.

“Thanks,” he says, lips kneading the soft flesh of my tummy as he does. It tickles and my eyes snap to his, gasping. His gaze remains trained on me as he moves his mouth to kiss me there. He uses only his lips at first, pecking and rubbing at me, but soon he grows impatient. He leaves open-mouthed kisses just above the waistband of my panties, sucking the skin below my navel, nipping at it, and smoothing his tongue over to soothe it. He moans into my stomach as he does, letting out a sound muffled by my belly.

I whine in response, grasping tightly at his hair to keep myself steady. He jerks back quickly.

“Ah!” he hisses.

“Oh fuck, sorry,” I duck down to him, holding his face to make sure he’s alright.

“I’m fine, sorry,” he shakes his head. “Didn’t mean to freak you out.”

“It’s okay,” I say, “actually, you’re all good now if you want to, um, rinse off.”

Matty ducks into the water, smiling brilliantly at me when he meets my eyes again. I crouch down, reaching out to him, wringing out his curls, and scrunching them up onto the top of his head.

“Better?” he asks, standing up. Beads of clear, freshwater pool in his collarbones and race across his torso down to his hips. They catch on the sunlight and make him glisten. I want to lick them off his body, trace their path, and make him whimper.

I smile and nod, standing up to more or less even our heights. He wraps his arm around my neck, looking down at my body once we’re close enough that I can’t follow his eyes. I tremble. My arms are decorated with goosebumps, my breasts are peaked from the cold, and my white undergarments are soaked, plainly revealing what lies beneath them.

“You chilly, huh?” he asks. I nod into him. “Let’s get you warmed up.” Matty drags me back to the rocky shore and covers me in his button-down shirt, beckoning me to sit between his legs. He envelops me in his arms like my own personal human-sized blanket and holds me until I stop shivering.

–

“Oh shit, have you ever been in one of these?!” Matty shouts. He doesn’t need to yell to be heard, I’m right behind him on the Vespa. But he’s so excited at the thought of the old 35mm photo booth that stands tall on the side of the road. He leaps off the Vespa and digs around in his pockets for the 10 or 15 cents he needs to get it to work. “This is so fucking sick!” he exclaims. “Y/n! Come over! This is amazing!”

I dismount the bike more methodically than him, taking care not to get my skirt caught on the seat. I push the velvet curtain to the side and am met with a very eager Matty. He grabs my hand and pulls me onto the bench, instantly winding me up in his arms and tickling me. I’m caught off guard as the bulb in the center of the wall flashes, CLICK. I push Matty off playfully, turning back around to him – CLICK. I look at him, chest heaving for a moment – CLICK. It draws his attention and Matty’s eyes flit to my breasts, I notice – CLICK. I launch my body towards his, unable to contain myself anymore. His lips catch mine as I bring my arms up and around his neck – CLICK. Matty’s hands reach around my shoulders, feeling my bare skin, warm from the sun. I move my mouth hard against his, eager to taste the leftover juice from the fruit, tobacco from his cigarette, anything. Anything as long as it’s Matty. I reach into his soft frizzy curls and hang on to them to steady myself and push further toward him until he’s completely up against the wall of the photo booth. Matty’s hands find the smallest bit of my waist and pull me into his lap. His hands fall to my knees and rub all the way up my thighs, caressing the velvety flesh and stopping only when he’s reached the top to grab two handfuls of my ass.

“Fucking hell,” he breathes as he releases me slowly.

Using my newfound leverage, I push his head back onto the wall and attack the exposed skin on his neck and chest. I lick his Adam’s apple and kiss the ink peeking out from under his button-down.

“Fuuuuuuck, y/n,” he moans, lifting his head up to watch me as I unfasten each button on his linen shirt. His abdomen is hard under me and it feels so divine; almost painful but in a way that I deserve, that I revel in. I caress each tattoo on his torso with my tongue and his hands fly to my hair, massaging my scalp. I look up at him when I reach his ‘we are kings’ tattoo, partially concealed by his trousers. My tongue darts out to wet my lips as my eyes question him. “Please, go ahead,” he says, needily. His pupils are blown out and his hair sticks up in places it shouldn’t.

I hook my fingers under the waistband of his trousers and boxers, feeling giddy and nervous with anticipation. It’s hardly my first time – boy or girl – but it’s new in the sense that I’ve been used to one person for so long. How she sounded and tasted. Seeing his cock spring out, hard and red, makes me feel like a schoolgirl. I’m intoxicated by everything I don’t know about him and what I’m about to learn. I move his clothes down below his knees and tentatively kiss his inner thighs. The skin there is thin and warm and it smells musky. I reach my hands up to touch the hair that grows at the base of him. Then I lean my head towards the same spot and kiss the skin there. I run my tongue around the bottom of his cock, wetting him as much as I can and kissing him everywhere as I make my way to his tip. When I get there, I look up at him. His head is backed up against the wall and he’s sat on his hands, surely in some semblance of politeness. I move the left one up to cup my jaw.

“Show me what you like,” I plead, “I wanna make you feel good.”

He groans through his lips as he pushes his thumb into my mouth. I wet it the same way I wet the rest of him and then I suck on it, just a little, moaning as I do.

“That pressure’s good,” he tells me. I nod and he takes his thumb out of my mouth and rubs it against my cheek. “Honestly though I really wasn’t expecting this. I don’t think it’s gonna be an issue for you.”

“Is that your way of saying you’re turned on?”

“Very,” Matty chuckles.

I smile at that: an innocent, sweet, reassured one. His words give me the confidence to cover his tip with my mouth, my right hand falling to the base of his length and encircling it.

Matty’s hand flies to the back of my head, under my hair and grips it like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. My eyes fly up to his face as I take him further in mouth until I meet my hand. I move up and down on him, relishing in every whimper and squeeze and twitch he unleashes.

I begin to feel Matty stirring under me, and I look up at him, surprised at what I see. His eyes are open watching me with religious devotion. His right hand travels down my shoulder, blindly searching for the straps of my dress and bra and pushing them down until my breasts fall out, spilling down my chest. Matty wastes no time grabbing a handful of one as I continue my pace on his dick. He squeezes me gently but soon opts to pinch my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pulling it out teasingly and keeping time with me. It feels fucking delicious and spurs me on. I remove a couple fingers from him and take him down further, hollowing my cheeks and moaning around him as he twists my nipple with sadistically erratic pressure.

“Please,” I groan around him. It’s possible he doesn’t understand what I’ve said, but he gives me what I want anyway, touching me rhythmically and gently fucking my mouth as he chases his orgasm.

“I’m almost there,” he pants, reluctantly bringing his hand to my face and pushing it off of him, “You can stop.”

I keep his tip on my tongue and shake my head side to side.

“Please?” I look up at him begging, “Want it in my mouth.”

“Fucking hell, okay,” he breathes, manouvering himself back inside of me, fucking my face harder than last time but still shallowly enough that I can take it without gagging. I need him. I don’t know why or what I even expect to gain from it but his release is the only thing on my mind. It consumes me. I move my hand from his thigh and squeeze his balls gently, then cradle them in my hand. I taste him not long after, salty, warm, and pooling on my tongue. I can feel him pulse in my mouth, giving me more and more. Though the load gets smaller, and each burst further apart from the last, I find myself hoping it won't end. I feel content, consumed by pride and pleasure.

I hold him in my mouth until I’ve caught every last drop, savoring the feeling of him filling me up and the flavor of him on my tongue. I swallow and lap at his tip and shaft to clean him up, and then I tiredly lay my head on his left thigh. It's been a long time since I let someone drip down my chin and licked them up, desperate to get every last drop. It feels good to need someone like that. Like water. Like medicine.

He leans over just a bit to cradle my head with his hand, pushing the front pieces of my hair behind my ear, dragging his thumb to my lower lip, and lingering there. I breathe heavily while my eyes pierce his, mouth wantonly open.

“Fuck, that felt so good, thank you,” he breaks the silence. I take his thumb in my mouth in answer, sucking at it delicately. I release him and kiss the pad of his finger gingerly. Matty takes hold of my hands and lifts my body back to his, holding me in a hug for what seems like an eternity. Time stops for a moment in the booth – it could be the year 3000 or the 80s, there could be a parade outside or a silent street that echoes with each of our breaths – it’s just the two of us, chests pressed against each other, the air thick with elation and longing.

Eventually, I have to peel myself off of him. Matty stands and stretches his arms above his head, displaying his toned triceps and delts. He bends at the waist to retrieve the strip of photos, fingers over each frame as he admires them. He folds the strip just before the last still, hiding the photo where our lips are meeting. Then he rips it off completely.

“There you go, princess,” he places the film with the first four photos gently in my hand. I look up at him confused and just a little sad. “This one’s for me,” he amends, tucking it into his back pocket. “So that I know I didn’t dream it.” He holds my face between his hands as I gaze up at him.

“Angels usually only visit me in dreams.” I roll my eyes and try to avert my gaze from his. He doesn’t let me, tilting my head up toward his by putting his finger under my chin. His eyes search mine with a fervor that would scare me if it came from anyone else. He closes them as he slowly leans forward to catch my lips in a slow, sweet kiss that tastes like goodbye.

“Don’t make me leave,” I mumble into his mouth.

Matty wraps his arms around my back, pulling me further into him, and rests his head on mine. He’s warm and wet and smells like sex.

“Why did you want to do that?” he whispers into my hair.

“I don’t know,” I say. I don’t really. It wasn’t logical, it was more instinctual than anything, a natural progression of my feelings and of the direction in which I was kissing him. I wanted to kiss him there; it felt natural.

“It wasn’t to, like, get over your ex or something was it?” he pulls away to look at my face as he asks, “I’m fine if it was, but I just want to know if you like me or if you’re just going through something.”

“I try not to make a habit of blowing people I don’t like,” I tell him teasingly. He chuckles, rubbing his nose against my cheek, tickling me with his five-o’clock-shadow. He kisses the edge of my face, right next to my ear.

“I like you, too.”

For a moment, I allow my mind to run free with the knowledge of his admission. To imagine date nights and naps on his bare chest on the sun loungers at the villa. My stomach flutters. I want it so badly.

I reach my arms up around his neck and touch my lips to his.

“Will you take me home, now?”

#matty healy fanfiction #matty Healy fanfic #matty healy x y/n #matty healy x reader #matty healy fluff #matty healy smut #matty Healy

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katareyoudrilling · 10 months

Text

The Sweepstakes: Marcus Pike (Porn Star AU)

Pairing: Porn Star Marcus Pike x Female Reader

Summary: Feeling down about your dating life, you take a chance and enter to win a night with a porn star. Will it be as good as you imagine?

Word count: ~3.5k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only. NO MINORS)

Content Warnings: Unprotected PiV (paperwork is involved), oral sex (m and f receiving)

A/N: This thot invaded my brain over the weekend and wouldn’t let me go, so I sat down this morning and wrote it. I’ve never written this much in one day. I guess I was inspired! The company mentioned is heavily inspired by Bellesa and the nickname comes from one of their videos. This is unbeta’d. I hope you enjoy!

Comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated!

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Taglist – link in my bio and on my Masterlist

You won.

What the fuck?

Your entire body flushes with heat. Adrenaline tingles in your chest and behind your knees. Your hands tremble.

You never expected to win.

You remember the night you filled out the form. You were wine-drunk after another disappointing date with a guy from the apps. You’d had a string of them. One you liked well enough to go home with and have mediocre sex. It takes time, you told yourself. You liked him enough that you’d give him another try, only he went radio silent. So much for him.

No wonder you decided to throw caution to the wind and enter the sweepstakes.

Win a night with a porn star! – sponsored by your favorite site that specializes in porn with a female gaze. They claim all the orgasms are real, and you believe them.

What would it be like to have sex with someone who does it for a living? Someone who really knows what he’s doing?

The temptation was too great, so you had clicked the button.

And now you’d won.

A night with a porn star.

You scroll down the informational email, taking in as much as you can in your shocked state. They reiterate the terms you had agreed to when you first entered, but now they want to know which performer you want to spend your night with.

The choice is easy.

You’ve watched all his videos, even the silly softcore ones where he plays an FBI agent hunting down an art smuggler who is very willing to have sex with him when he catches her.

He’s boyishly handsome. When he smiles, his eyes crinkle and sparkle. He looks so friendly and kind… and wow can he fuck.

The women performers he’s paired with are always excited to work with him. Those who have partnered with him before often tell the off-screen director how much fun they have had with him in the past – how the sex feels so connected with him.

The ones who haven’t worked with him yet talk about his reputation as “the human Hitachi” – a reference to the popular vibrator.

Afterwards, they confirm that it’s an apt nickname.

You check the box next to “Marcus Pike” and click submit.

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

You arrive at the studio office just before your designated time. This first visit is to sign various consent forms, talk to the director, and turn in paperwork verifying your sexual history, STI status, and sexual boundaries. You will come back later for the actual event.

The office is decorated in whites, grays, and pinks. It soothes your jangled nerves. If you think too much about it, you know you’ll run back out the door, so you don’t. You go through each step slightly detached from your body.

The receptionist greets you with a friendly smile and directs you to sit on one of the plush couches while you wait for your appointment.

Only a few minutes later, you are called back into the office to talk with the director, Erin. She greets you warmly and you sit down in the chair across from her desk.

“How are you? Nervous?” she asks and chuckles when you nod. “It’s ok, I’m sure I would be too in your shoes, but I promise we are going to take good care of you.”

Your nerves calm slightly as she speaks with you. She’s just a normal woman in an unusual business. Her relaxed and professional demeanor gradually allows you to unclench your jaw and relax your shoulders.

You listen attentively as she talks you through the various consent forms.

“Ok, last one,” Erin places yet another sheet in front of you. “You have the option of being recorded. It’s totally up to you. There won’t be anyone else in the room besides you and Marcus, great choice by the way, but we can set up a few cameras if you think you would like that. The footage would go home with you, and we would never use it without your permission,” she pauses while you take in the information. “Just check the box next to the option you’d like. You can decide afterwards if you’d like our editors to take a pass at it or if you’d prefer to be the only one who ever sees it.”

You stare down at the options on the paper in front of you. Do you want to be recorded? The rush of arousal that just flooded your pussy says yes. You only get one night, why not give yourself the option of reliving it? You check the box indicating you’d like to be recorded and sign your name at the bottom of the form, sliding it back across the desk.

“That’s everything for me,” she places all the papers in a neat stack on her desk and smiles at you. “You are free for the rest of the afternoon. Come back here at 7 for the main event. Wear whatever makes you feel comfortable. You and Marcus will have as much time as you need to talk and get to know each other before you do your scene. There’s no rush. Do you have any questions?”

You should have a million questions, but Erin has been thorough and you’re still not letting yourself think too hard, so you shake your head and stand up from your chair. Erin leads back out to the waiting room.

“We’ll see you later tonight!” she says as she shakes your hand one last time.

- - - - - - - - -

How many videos have you watched that were filmed in this room? You look around the simply furnished bedroom in disbelief. You are actually here. At the center stands a large comfortable bed, dressed in soft white linens and pillows. The padded headboard is situated between two windows, the gauzy curtains let in the soft light of the fading sun. On either side of the bed are nightstands stocked with towels and lube, things that are probably kept out of sight when filming for real, but they are at hand tonight in case you need them.

Cameras have been placed on tripods at a few different places around the room, but no one sits in the chairs beside them. Lights blink on their fronts indicating they have started recording.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Erin says heading back towards the door, “Marcus will be in in a few minutes. I’ll be down the hall if you need anything.”

You nod and she leaves. You take a few calming breaths and sit down on the edge of the bed. You’d chosen to wear a simple sundress over a new underwear set you picked out special for the occasion. You smooth the fabric over your legs, drying your damp palms in the process, as you wait for Marcus.

He doesn’t make you wait long, the large doors open, and he enters with a smile.

He’s wearing a soft gray t-shirt and jeans. He’s barefoot and his short brown hair is casually mussed. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you stand, and he makes his way over to you.

“Hi, I’m Marcus,” he says.

“I know,” you blurt out. He chuckles and looks down sheepishly. “I mean, nice to meet you,” you fumble, embarrassed, then introduce yourself.

“I know,” he responds with a wink and a smile, which you return gratefully. He’s already setting you at ease. He gestures for you to sit back down on the bed, lowering himself to sit next to you.

“Erin says she explained everything to you, I just want to reiterate that there’s no rush. We can talk for a while.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that,” you stammer. “I… uhh… do you like working here?” you ask, grasping at the first coherent thought that flits through your head.

“I do,” he smiles. “I love my job. I love working with beautiful women, like yourself, and making them feel good.” His eyes trail appreciatively up your body.

Your skin warms at the compliment.

“Can I ask,” he continues, “what prompted you to enter the sweepstakes?”

“Oh, well,” you laugh nervously, “I haven’t had the best luck with men lately and the idea of being with someone who really knows what they’re doing really appealed to me.”

“I see. You’re in good hands. Not to brag, but I definitely know what I’m doing.” Marcus’s dark eyes flash. Heat and want flood your body, burning away the nervousness.

“I bet you don’t have trouble dating. That is if you’re not married… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be asking.”

“It’s ok,” he chuckles. “I’m not married, and you’d be surprised.” He runs a hand through his brown hair. It looks soft. Soon, you’ll get to touch him and find out.

“I… uhh… I think I’m ready,” you swallow thickly.

“Ok,” he responds. His deep voice rumbles through your body. “Can I kiss you?”

You nod as he moves closer to you on the bed. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, drawing Marcus’s eye, before he closes the space between you.

His plush lips are soft on yours as he cups your jaw with his large hand. He plies you with gentle languid kisses. Kissing Marcus is like slipping into a warm bath. You feel yourself melting into him as he eases you back onto the bed.

His mouth moves to explore your jawline and down your neck to your collarbone, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He draws his nose along your throat on his way back to your mouth, lips firmer now, more insistent.

You can’t help the whimpers that escape your throat. He responds by delving into your mouth with his tongue. His hands roam down your sides to your legs, fingers inching up under the hem of your dress.

“Is this ok?” he asks, breaking the kiss. You nod. He pulls your dress up and you help him draw it over your head. He pulls his own shirt off at the same time, tossing the garments into a corner.

You’ve watched his videos so many times, but nothing has prepared you for being inches away from this glorious man in the flesh. His golden skin glints in the fading light. You admire the breadth of his shoulders and how his body tapers down to his trim waist. He is not overly muscled, but strong and firm. His jeans hang low on his hips, hiding the apex of the V that disappears into them.

Your fingers itch to touch him and you realize with a start, that you can.

As he bends back down over you, you run your hands over his warm, smooth skin – down his arms and the planes of his back. You explore his neck with your mouth as he settles beside you and opens himself to your curiosity, humming contentedly with approval.

You make your way down his chest, touching and licking every hill and valley along the way, until you get to his jeans. You look up at him, kneeling between his legs, mouth watering.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” he smiles and sits up, abdominal muscles flexing with the effort. “Let’s get you out of this pretty underwear first.” He reaches around your back and unclasps your lacy bra. You allow it to fall down your arms without any hesitation. It feels like the most natural thing in the world to be naked with him.

Marcus’s tongue slips between his lips as he takes in the sight of your bare breasts. He ducks his head down and pulls one nipple into his mouth. You gasp and dig your fingers into his broad shoulders to keep yourself steady.

His mouth works you expertly, tugging and sucking in a way that sends jolts of electricity through your body. His wide palm cups your other breast as he tweaks the nipple between his fingers.

His mouth comes off you with a wet pop. He drags his lips up your neck then pulls you into a fevered kiss, holding you firmly against his front. You can feel his erection against your stomach through his jeans and you whimper.

Marcus eases you down to the bed and draws your underwear down your legs.

“Can I taste you?” he rasps, needily.

“Yes,” you breathe. “But…”

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Marcus pauses his movements, brow furrowed with concern.

“I’m… umm… I’m not as flexible as the women you work with. I don’t think I can… hold myself... the way they do.” You chew your bottom lip.

Marcus concern melts away, “That’s ok. Most of those positions are just for the cameras anyway. You tell me if anything is uncomfortable and we’ll do something else, ok?”

“Ok,” you reply.

Marcus smiles as he lowers himself between your knees. He kisses the inside of your thigh, and you shiver. He works his way down your leg to your center, inhaling deeply as he reaches his target. He moans appreciatively and the sound sends tingles across your skin.

The first swipe of his tongue through your folds nearly lifts you off the bed, you’re so worked up. Marcus wraps his arm around your hip and spreads his large hand across your abdomen to hold you down.

“Your pussy is delicious, sweetheart.”

Your breath comes in shallow pants as you look down at the beautiful man between your legs. He holds your gaze and smirks as he lowers himself back down to your cunt.

He positively devours your pussy. He sucks and flicks at your clit with his tongue in between long, firm strokes from your entrance to your sensitive bud. You are reduced to a puddle of whimpers and whines under his ministrations. You want to watch what he’s doing to you, but the pleasure is overwhelming, and you can’t help but fall back on the bed and bask in it. His nickname is definitely correct.

He slips two fingers inside you, stroking your upper wall. Your body shudders and shakes while Marcus watches you with hooded eyes.

“Do you want to come like this?” he asks, as though he doesn’t already know the answer.

“God, yes. Yes, yes, please yes,” you beg, and he chuckles before sucking your clit into his mouth again.

His warm, wet, firm mouth winds the coil in your belly. You feel yourself approach the edge of your orgasm and let go. You’re falling… gasping… shaking… overcome with the pleasure radiating through you.

Marcus continues to stroke you through your climax, watching intently as you come back to yourself. He draws his fingers out slowly, sucking them into his mouth with a moan, before moving back up the bed next to you.

“Do you need to take a break?”

You shake your head and look over at him, smiling. “I want to see you.” The post-orgasm dopamine rush is making you feel brave.

“Absolutely.” Marcus rolls off the edge of the bed and stands, looking down at you. He unbuttons his jeans and pulls them down, freeing his erection.

You’ve seen his cock so many times, but it’s even better in person.

Thick and slightly curved. Long but not scarily so. In a word…

Gorgeous

“Thank you,” he says smiling, eyes crinkling, apparently you said that out loud.

You scoot to the edge of the bed and look up at him, “Can I?”

“Of course.”

You take him in your hand, reveling in the intake of his breath at your touch. You stroke him from root to tip before dipping your head and retracing your path with your tongue.

“Fuck,” he exhales as you take him in your mouth.

He is heavy and firm on your tongue. He places his hand on your head, not pushing you to take him deeper than you want but reassuring you that he’s there enjoying this as much as you are.

Your need for him grows with every twist of your hand and suck of your mouth. When it becomes too much, you pop off and look up at him.

“Will you fuck me now?”

“Yes, please,” he responds, voice heavy with want. He bends to kiss you again. Moaning into your mouth as your tongues tangle together needily. You scoot back to the middle of the bed, and he follows you.

“Do you have any requests?” he asks between kisses.

“You choose, you’re the expert.”

Marcus laughs as he moves between your legs and lines himself up with your entrance. “Let’s start here.”

He slides his way in slowly, stretching you open. Your eyes flutter closed as he fully sheathes himself in you.

“Fuck, you feel so good, sweetheart.”

“So do you,” you manage to choke out as he starts to thrust into you. Each stroke of his length dragging along your walls and hitting places deep inside you that you didn’t know existed.

He pushes one of your knees up to your chest, opening you up and allowing him to go even deeper. It’s not uncomfortable with his strong hands supporting you.

“Fuck yes,” you cry out as he repeatedly hits something inside you that curls your toes.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you and suddenly you’re spiraling again, pulsing rhythmically around his cock.

Marcus curses, pulling out of you to bury his face in your pussy, fingers gripping your thigh. He laps at your fluttering hole as you writhe underneath him.

You’ve barely come down from your high when he urges you to roll over onto your stomach. He spreads your legs and slides into you as he drapes his long, lean body over yours, pressing you down into the mattress. His strong arms frame your head as you twist to see him.

He nuzzles into your neck as he slowly drags his cock in and out of your wet heat, building up the pressure in your abdomen yet again.

“You gonna come for me again, sweetheart?” Marcus whispers in your ear.

“I… yes… please… so good… don’t stop,” you babble.

Marcus trails his nose down the back of your neck, making you shiver, as he continues his unhurried pace, driving you higher and higher but not giving you enough to break.

He pulls out and lifts himself off you. You whimper at the loss, but he rolls you onto your side and pulls you back into his chest, banding his arm across your ribs.

Wrapped in his embrace, he lifts your top leg and enters you from behind. He reaches between your legs to stroke your throbbing clit.

You reach behind and grip the back of his head, burying your face in his neck as he fucks you, holding on for dear life.

You’ve never tried for three orgasms on your own, let alone with a partner, but Marcus is quickly bringing you to the brink again.

“Where do you want it,” he pants in your ear.

“On my stomach,” you whine, keening as you get closer and closer to the edge.

He presses and holds your clit as he thrusts hard and quick. You come again with a silent scream as the force of your orgasm punches the air from your lungs.

Marcus moves from behind you, laying you on your back, to kneel next to you as he strokes himself to completion. You manage to open your eyes and watch him grit his teeth – tendons standing out in his neck, veins bulging in his forearms – as his spend coats your stomach. You are so glad you agreed to the recording.

He collapses on the bed next to you, breathing hard. After a few moments, he reaches over to the nightstand to get a towel and begins gently wiping you clean.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fucking fantastic,” you answer, beaming at the ceiling, still floating in a post-orgasm haze.

“I’m glad,” he chuckles. “This was really fun.”

“It was. Thank you.” You both roll on your sides facing each other.

You can’t believe this actually just happened. You’re expecting to wake up to discover it was all a dream at any moment, but your dreams are never this good. You smile at Marcus, and he smiles back.

“I’m always hungry after filming, would you like to get something to eat?” Marcus’s question catches you completely off guard.

“Really? You want to have dinner with me?” You search his face for any sign that he doesn’t really mean it, but he looks completely sincere. He has proven to be the kind, open-hearted man you thought – and hoped – he was.

“Yeah, do you like pancakes? There’s a diner I like not too far away.”

“I like pancakes.” You answer tentatively, not sure what his intention is, but open to spending more time with his lovely man in whatever way he is willing.

“Great, it’s a date,” he winks.

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Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Taglist – in reblog

#marcus pike #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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