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awfcspencer · 2 months

Note

reader feels ugly and just upset and leah comforts? pure fluff I beg xx

Don’t Listen To Them || leah williamson x reader

prompt: requested! Social media can be a cruel, cruel place.

warnings: self confidence issues

a/n: hope you enjoy it! happy v-day to those who celebrate <33

Inside your shared home, you and Leah decided to stay in and build a charcuterie board as a snack before you both cuddle up together and watch a film. For dinner, Leah had lit some candles and put on some slow music while she watched you cook her favorite chicken alfredo pasta recipe. The both of you decided to pop a bottle of red wine as a nice way to end the jampacked week. Dinner was relaxing, enjoying one another’s company and talking about miscellaneous topics. Leah cleaned up the reminiscent of dinner as you began on the board. Organizing the charcuterie board was pretty simple, you had found a Pinterest photo to recreate, and Leah had accompanied you to the grocery store to collect the items you would need.

Placing the finishing touches on the board, you grabbed your phone located on the other side of the kitchen island. The board had taken you a lot longer than you assumed it would, but you wanted it to be perfect, so you found yourself examining the picture intricately and making sure everything was placed exactly.

Leah had become bored roughly about 10 minutes into creating the board, she paced back and forth around the kitchen and occasionally sighed loudly to really get the point across that she was bored.

“Wait let me take a photo first Lee,” As you swat her hand away for what felt like the hundredth time tonight from the perfectly aligned board that she had been secretly picking at each time you would set a row of crackers or stack of pepperonis in place. Each time she would eat off the board, you would have to replace the food and scold her. It was like baking a cake with a toddler who would lick frosting off the spoon when you weren’t looking.

“Oh silly me how could I forget Instagram eats first.” Rolling her eyes and grabbing the remote in the living room to put on a movie. “Mamma Mia tonight?” It was always a go-to in the home. You loved the cute little plot and Leah liked singing the ABBA songs loudly in your ear.

“Perfect idea baby,” nodding your head towards the blonde. Carefully balancing the food in your left hand as you make your way towards the couch after you took the perfect photo. Then remembering that you have to get back up and grab the two red wine glasses the two of you had been nursing before. Placing yourself between the defender’s long legs on the L-shaped couch, leaning backwards into her as she placed her head on your shoulder, placing a few kisses in the crook of your neck.

“Don’t start what you can’t finish Williamson.” Whispering as you kissed her now reddened cheeks.

You grabbed a few of the pepperoni’s and tossed them into your mouth, reaching your hand back and allowing Leah to have a few after she made a toddler-like gesture and a huff indicating that she wanted one.

“I sometimes think you are a 26-year-old stuck in a toddler’s body.” All night Leah had managed to find some way to annoy or antagonize you, all in fun though.

Pretending to be offended, “Well toddlers don’t cuddle so maybe I should get up.” Making a move to get up and sit on the opposite side of the couch.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t get up, I am comfy, and you are warm.” You plead out in a joking manner, turning towards her placing a kiss on the tip of her nose as you forced her back down to her original position.

“So nice to me now but less than 30 seconds ago you were mean.” Folding her arms across her body and a stern look on her face. You wanted to make a comment about the state of which is looked right now, how it was so toddler-like, but you refrained, settling with a loud laugh.

“Momentary lapse of character” Reaching out to grab a peace treaty as an apology, “Olive?”

“You know the way to my heart, apology accepted.” As she takes it from your grasp and plops it into her mouth, pulling you back closer to her from her previous fake exit as you leaned into her chest.

Opening Instagram to post the pictures you had taken throughout the night. “Do you want me to tag you?” Organizing the selected photos on the screen and applying final touches on the photos. Ending it by adding a song in the background that had been playing when Leah grabbed you away from the masterpiece you had been creating and pulled you in for a quick salsa twirl and leaned you backwards and placed a kiss on your lips.

“Yeah so I can repost it” as she watched you create the post. You and Leah had been seeing each other for a few months, baking in the privacy for a bit before you let the whole world know. Each week that had passed, you and Leah got less and less subtle, performing a ‘soft launch’ through similar locations but different angles or the way she would repost your stories. This specific collection of photos was new though as it featured a slide of a side profile of Leah looking down at the board. It also had only 2 dinner plates, 2 sets of silverware, and 2 wine glasses in one of the photos, indicating it was in fact a date.

The fans had started to catch on and for the most part, the reactions had been mostly positive. Opposite of your life, Leah’s life was in the spotlight. Everything she did, everything she said, and everywhere she went was documented on some sort of social media outlet. Your account had maybe a few thousand followers, most of them you had gained from when Leah first started reposting your posts. So this post would set in stone that you and Leah were officially an item.

Clicking upload and then facing your phone downward on the table, cuddling backwards more into Leah with your back into her chest. Baking in her warm body, strong arms, and vanilla scent. “Omg who is this beautiful blonde in the third slide?” Gushing over herself as she quickly reposts your photos and places her phone next to yours, pulling you in tighter. “Always so humble Lee” gently swatting her on the thigh as she clicked play.

Every few minutes throughout the movie, your phone would go off, a little buzz that at first you just assumed was a few Instagram likes but after what felt like your phone was vibrating every second, you untangle slightly from Leah and grab your phone.

Your post had over 100,000 likes and several comments from people who you definitely did not know. You scroll casually through the notifications on your device. A few negative comments stuck out to you and when you opened the app, you were greeted with hundreds more.

‘Can’t believe she is dating THE Leah Williamson.’

‘Leah definitely downgraded.’

Several comments simply just said, ‘ugly’. The hurtful comments went on and on.

Private accounts and faceless profiles, people would say anything they desired behind a screen when there were no direct consequences. Harsh words that initially you were able to push to the side, but each one that you read dug a little deeper. The response was overwhelming, there were new comments each minute, and almost none of them were nice. It hurt and each one you read felt more real. You could feel the tears coming, the emotions coming out, so you briefly excused herself saying you needed to use the restroom, desperately hoping that the way your voice cracked was unnoticeable.

The words felt true as you locked eyes in the mirror with yourself. Where you enough to be with someone like Leah? I mean she was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous, and what were you? Staring at yourself in the mirror you noticed each and every blemish, freckle, or pore on your face, and the tears began to fall. The grey sweatsuit that you had initially put on for the chill date now felt ugly on your frame, you wanted to rip the clothes off. Someone who was dating Leah Williamson wouldn’t wear such an ugly outfit.

Back on the couch, Leah was beginning to get worried at the amount of time you had been gone. The part Leah knew was your favorite was coming up so she reached for the remote on the coffee table to pause it so you could enjoy it when you returned. In attempting to pause the movie, she noticed your phone open on your Instagram comment section. The vulgar comments made her sick. They were piling in with each minute that passed, and she felt angry, but then she felt sad. She quickly left the couch and rushed to the bathroom, desperately hoping that maybe the pasta didn’t sit right, or you were busy washing your hands.

A soft knock on the door took your eyes off the mirror. “Hey babe, you all good in there?” the blonde questioned. Leah’s heart was beating out of her chest because she had heard the soft sniffles from outside the door as she walked up to it. She knew you had read the comments. She wanted to run in and immediately convince you that not a single one of those comments were true, but she didn’t want to overwhelm you.

“Don’t come in.” You didn’t mean to scream at her, you weren’t angry with her, but you did not want her to see you like this, your makeup now smeared and tears freely falling from your eyes. You quickly locked the door and rushed to the opposite side of the bathroom. She would break up with you, she would realize the comments were true, you were ugly. You were fidgeting with your hair, a trait you’ve had since primary school when you got overwhelmed or nervous, it was a way to calm down.

“Baby please let me in, nothing any of those comments said is true. Nothing.” She pleaded, hoping she could convince you to let her in. She wanted to pull you into a big hug and say anything and everything she could to help you see that nothing they said was true or how she felt.

“You don’t mean that.” Your head was clouded, only being able to replay each and every comment in your brain. Your eyes continued to shift uncontrollably across different sections of your face or body that you felt ashamed of in the mirror.

“I love the way your baby hairs stand out even though you try and try to brush them down in the morning. I love the little crinkle in your nose when you get annoyed or confused about something. I love the way your tongue pokes out of the corner of your mouth when you are trying to focus really hard on something. I love your freckles, every single one, especially when you get some sun and they especially become vibrant. I love the way you lick your lips before you speak. I love the way each time you laugh or smile I can see the indent on your cheeks of your dimples even though you try and claim you don’t have them. I love the way you twirl your hair into curls when you get stressed. I love your eyes, it is like I can see a sparkle in them when you look at something you love. I love the way you close your eyes sometimes because you say it helps you think more clearly. I love you baby, every single inch of you. Those comments do not know you like I know you. They do not see how truly beautiful you are to me,” the compliments gushing out of Leah like it was second nature, truly meaning each and every word.

There was silence on your side of the door, taking in what Leah said. A click of the door as you unlocked it and Leah rushed in and to your side immediately. You sobbed into the defender’s chest as she rubbed large circles on your back.

“Thank you, Lee, really.” Your breathing had returned to normal and your heart no longer felt like it was racing. You felt safe and loved in the blonde's embrace.

“It is only you baby, you are my love. Don’t listen to them,” pulling you in tighter and placing a soft kiss on your temple as she forced you to look her in the eyes. She took her thumb and brushed over the final tears that escaped your eye.

“I can’t believe I let social media get to me, this is so stupid. I’m sorry for crying and for ruining our date,” your voice no louder than a whisper as you look down at the bathroom tile.

She forces your head back up with a finger under your chin, “It’s not stupid baby. I get it, it can be a lot. But anytime you feel like it all gets too much, I want you to talk to me. I want to know. And you never need to apologize to me, and certainly not for crying baby.”

Another wave of silence fell over the bathroom. The two of you are still huddled in each other's arms, swaying slightly left and right as you come down from the major wave of emotions previously.

"I'm pretty sure we still have mint chocolate ice cream from last week," she quietly whispered, a small upward quirk of her lip that turned into a soft smile. She knew it was your favorite and that you rarely let yourself keep it inside the household because you would easily eat a whole pint. You matched her grin, locking her fingers with yours, and pulled her towards the kitchen.

Two spoons and one large bowl of ice cream was shared between the two of you. Leah had made the final touches by adding chocolate syrup and way too much whipped cream. You took your pointer finger to swipe the white cream and tapped Leah on the nose.

"Who is acting like a toddler now?" wiping her nose with a nearby napkin as you shrugged and placed another large bite into your mouth.

#woso x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso #woso soccer #woso blurbs #womens soccer #leah williamson x you #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #arsenal wfc #awfc #arsenal women

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cheriladycl01 · 2 months

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Fast Cars on the Island - Oscar Piastri x LoveIslandContestant! Reader Part 1

Plot: Your an engineer for Mclaren and you were asked as a PR stunt to go onto Love Island. You would keep your job of course but Mclaren wanted some more media traction.

A/N: I know they would never do this, and that's why its fiction!

Credit to brawn-gp for the GIF

You'd basically been an intern during your placement year at McLaren as an engineering university student. They then kept you on as an employee to work with them while you completed your final year of university.

That was in 2023, it was now 2025 and you were 23 years old and had worked for McLaren for the last few years.

In recent years PR for the teams was all getting the same. They made the funny and treading tiktoks, they did the 0.5 pics, and they made the memes which never got old. But all the teams were looking for something new... something refreshing. So when the team came forward with the idea for someone to go on Love Island, Zac Brown hated the idea.

He thought it was ridiculous.

It was ridiculous.

But after some thought of how Lando and Oscar, the stellar boys of his team... young and energetic brought like likeability and youth too McLaren that everyone loved. He then realized that this would give someone in McLaren a larger platform to open up too and show the ins and outs of McLaren and it would gain way more viewers from a different group of people.

So once the car for 2025 had been created he went through a long list of all the potential candidates he'd ask to apply. Maybe he could even see if he could sway ITV in anyway.

Obviously he looked at the social media girls and then any of the mechanics that they could let loose for the potential of 10 weeks. But the one that struck him the most was you. Y/N Y/L/N.

You were the perfect candidate, you were an engineer and travelled with McLaren from race to race working on the car's performance and helping the strategists when it came to optimizing car performance with driver ability.

So that's why you were currently sat in the ITV studio doing your little interview for your introduction.

You were a little gutted they told you they wanted you in on this project as you had a massive crush on driver number 81 Oscar Piastri and you knew both him and Lando would be watching you.

The Love Island Intro:

"My love life is non-apparent I think I've had a closer relationship with my car than a man!" you joked halfway through the interview when they'd asked you about your love-life.

"My name is Y/N Y/L/N, I'm 23 years old from London! I work for a Formula 1 Team, McLaren Racing as an Engineer" you smile looking at the camera shuffling on your seat a little bit adjusting you dress.

"The lights a really bright in this studio I think my makeup's running!" you say as a makeup technician comes out fixing your under eye a little.

"I think my last relationship was my first year of University and it lasted for about a year" you answer with a thoughtful look up.

"I think he got fed up with me! At that point i was very career focused and I still am." you answer the prompted 'and why was that' question asked to you.

"I'm not fussy when it comes to looks, but I tend to go for sporty guys that are taller than me and treat me well! My dad always told me, find yourself a man that will treat you how they treat their Vintage Pontaic and I've lived by that ever since!" you admit with a little laugh.

"Where I work in such a fast paced and big industry I'm very much a socialite and people person so i can imagine I'll make friends quickly in the villa" you answer again the question they asked you.

Walking into the Villa:

You step into the Villa, you of course were wearing a Papaya Bikini with a matching coverup in the form of a cardigan but sheer.

You walk through thanking the driver before walking into the villa looking around in awe.

Maybe it wasn't the worst thing spending your entire summer here. The only thing was you were gutted you wouldn't be updated on how your team was doing at any point! This year the villa was in Greece, it had been completely reformed with the pool being more like the one from season 1 where it had the beach sort of style to it.

You round the corner seeing two gorgeous girls sipping on champagne.

"Oh, look its another girl!!! OMG HEY!!!!" the first girl shouts beckoning you over.

"Hey!" you exclaim walking over as quickly as you could in the heels you were wearing.

The first girl pulls you into a hug kissing either one of your cheeks while gripping both your arms, she was pretty tall as well around 5'11, whereas you were around 5'7 in the heels you were sporting.

The next girl hands you a drink before kissing your cheek.

"So girl! What's your name, how old are you?" the first girl asks.

"Y/N! And I'm 23! What's your names?" you ask politely before taking a sip of your champagne.

"I'm Millie, and this is Auriela!" she smiles pointing to the other girl.

Seconds later another female enters the Villa with a shrilly sort of shriek, looking around at the place.

"Omggggggg! Heyy girls whats going on!" she says in a strong Scottish Accent.

Your then introduced to Zavi before you all get chatting about what you like in boys.

Oscar and Lando's Reaction:

"Damn, who knew she looked like that under team gear!" Lando compliments shamelessly checking her out as they slow-mowed her walk out on screen before showing her intro video.

"Yeah, she's pretty" Oscar says quietly while respectfully looking her over.

Oscar had a crush on you from when he was a reserve driver for Alpine and he saw you on work experience in McLaren from the end of the 2022 season and before he joined all the way through till the September of 2023. You then were in the MTC a lot between Uni, so he saw you a lot during the winter break before you were off for your finals.

You rejoined McLaren in May of 2024 for the Monaco GP where you cam with revolutionary upgrades for Zac Brown to oversee.

And you'd been with them ever since, always in Oscar's mind as the pretty engineer who not only made his cars race fast but made his heart race just as fast too.

He watched as she said she liked sporty guys, maybe he had a chance if she didn't fall in love while in there.

"That other girls pretty fit! Mille is that her name?" Lando comments but it goes straight over Oscar's head where he's so honed in on you.

Meeting the Boys:

The presenter had you all stood in the pool, and she explained how she was about to bring the boys out one by one.

"Okay first boy. Please come out and introduce yourself!"

"Hey ladies, all looking beautiful today, my name is Jai I'm 25 and I'm a training Surgeon!" he smiles holding both hands together as he looks at all of you.

"Okay ladies, step forward if you like the look of Jai!" she says and both Millie and Zavi step forward. You don't step forward as you can imagine he's pretty busy as a doctor and your schedules would clash too much.

"Oh woah, you've got too girls that have stepped forward for you Jai, what are your first thought, we feeling good?" she asks and he nods.

"Yeah, I mean they are both gorgeous ladies!"

"Okay lets find out more. Zavi, why did you step forward?" the presenter asks and she smiles.

"We're both doctors, so i think we'd make a pretty good match, we'd have lots to talk about. Yeah and your very handsome!" she says shyly and the presenter nods.

"Awesome and Y/N you didn't step forward, just keeping you options open?" she asks and you shake your head.

"You of course are very attractive and seem like a really funny and kind guy, but I travel a lot for work and I think with you being a doctor our schedules would result in a major clash unfortunately!" you explain, with a guilty look.

He nods in understanding before he goes and stands next to Zavi in her white bathing suit.

"Our first couple, Jai and Zavi!" she says and you all clap as Jai walks next to her placing a quick kiss on her cheek.

"Okay, our second boy everyone say hello to Chris!" she introduces and another man comes walking through the double glass doors.

"Hey, I'm Chris I'm 22 and I'm a Celebrity Hairdresser" he smiles waving shyly before tucking his arms behind his back.

"Okay girls you know what to do!"

This time only Auriela steps forward. You stay in your position along with Millie.

"Okay, so Auriela has stepped forward for you Chris! Aurelia why did you step forward!" she asks and Auriela laughs.

"Holy hell have you seen him? Hi I'm Aurelia" she smiles playfully at him, he looks down a small blush on his cheeks.

"Millie, you didn't step forward this time. Any reason?" she asks.

"Little disheartened after Jai, but I'm sure my times coming. Just not with Chris, sorry my ex is a hairdresser!" she laughs off her reasoning before he ends up choosing Aurelia.

"Our second couple Chris and Aurelia!"

"Okay, Boy 3 please make yourself known!" she exclaims and another very handsome man comes strolling out. He immediately sends a wink your guys' way and pulls the presenter in to kiss her cheek in a friendly manner.

"Hi, my names Daniel, I'm 25 and I'm a footballer" he smiles crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"Okay, ladies please step forward if you like the look of Daniel" the presenter smiles. You, Millie and Aurelia all step forward.

"Sorry" Aureila says turning round to look at Chris.

"Woah, that's the most we've had step forward! And this is in fact that first time we've had Y/N step forward" the presenter says and he looks between you and Millie trying to determine who it was.

"The one in Orange!" she exclaims and he looks at you, small smirk on his face.

"Hello beautiful" he compliments and you smile at him.

Eventually after she asks Millie who pleads her case heavily, he goes with her. You step back a little sadly and he looks over to you in apology but you just nod with a smile understanding his choice.

"Okay our next couple Millie and Daniel!" she says and you all clap happily.

"Okay boy number 4 please step out and make yourself known" the presenter asks again.

"Hiya, all looking really beautiful ladies. I'm Aaron I'm 26 and I'm a freelance photographer" he introduces before making a little side joke.

You, and Zavi step forward.

"So you've got Y/N who only stepped forward for one other boy stepping forward for you in Orange and isn't currently coupled up. Then you've got Zavi's who currently with Jai" she explains and he nods.

"But of course you can choose any girl even if she's not coupled up! Y/N why did you step forward?" she asks looking at you.

"You are very handsome obviously, has that sky book guy vibe about him. But I think your photography career would go wild if you came travelling with me for my job!" you smile looking at him.

She asks Zavi why she changed her mind from Jai giving a generic answer about keeping her options open before she questions Millie and why she didn't step forward.

"Aaron, please go stand next to the girl you'd like to couple up with" the presenter says and he walks standing next to you. He places a kiss on your cheek.

"You look stunning by the way" he smiles looking down at you making you blush and elbow him to shut up. So you could see what the presenter was about to say.

"Now, all of you are happily coupled up, we have Y/N and Aaron, we have Millie and Daniel, Aureila and Chris and Zavi and Jai. However, please say hello to our final male contestant Charlie" she says and a blonde guy walks out full of confidence.

"£10 that he's out by week 2" you whisper to Aaron making him snicker a little before covering it up with a cough.

"Hi ladies, I'm Charlie I'm 28 and I'm a Physician" he smiles.

"Okay, so obviously all these ladies are currently coupled up, however you are able to choose any of them and break the couple they are currently in!" the presenter exclaims.

"Oooooof the whole lot!" he says flicking his hand looking over all of you.

"I'm going to make it easier for you and ask if the girls like the look of you for them to step forward. Please do so ladies on the count of three" she says and counts to 3.

When no-one steps forward he awkwardly shuffles.

"Come on ladies lets not be shy" he laughs, until the presenter deems no-one to step forward.

"Okay, I'll go with her in the Orange Bikini" he says pointing at you. You look away from Aaron in shock.

"Okay, Aaron please come stand here with me and Charlie please go stand next to Y/N" she says and you keep your eyes on Aaron as he walks away. He gives a nod to you and you nod back.

An understanding.

"Okay, these are our current couples, no more couplings will happen today!" she exclaims before she explains that you have time to explore the villa and get to know each other.

Oscar and Lando Reaction:

"Okay, no I understand that, good for her" Lando says shoving some plain popcorn into his mouth as he watched Y/N not step forward for Jai.

"I bet Y/N would step forward for me" Lando says as she rejects the second guy to come out Chris.

"Do you recon she'd step out for me?" Oscar asks looking over to his friend.

"Yeah mate. Your a catch. I even heard her say to Emma, the girl in marketing once that her fav accent is aussie!" Lando admits eyes glued to the screen as she steps forward for Daniel.

"She does!" Oscar exclaims looking at Lando making his pause the TV.

"Yeah, mate. Now lets watch coz this may be the future Mr Y/N in the paddock!" Lando says gesturing to the TV.

"Nah, that's foul. How you out there rejecting my girl Y/N Y/LN!" Lando screams at the TV in horror that Daniel had just gone with Millie.

They watch as the next guy walks out and Lando and Oscar raise eyebrows. It was a brown haired, brown eyed guy that did the beluga smile as he came out.

"She's so stepping forward for him!" Lando says pointing at Aaron.

"I'm already putting my money on them as winners" he comments again. And she does in fact step forward. He of course chooses her, no seconds thoughts needed. They watch as he compliments her and kisses her cheek.

"Dude, she defo had school girl crushes on us!" Lando admits seeing the similar attributes and mannerisms the mail had to the McLaren driver duo.

They wait until they see Charlie walking in.

“Nah man, he keeps eyeing her up! He’s gonna take her away from Aaron!” Lando explains, but Oscar is just unhappy that she’s coupled up with anyone in general.

He should have admitted to her ages ago that he was madly in love with her.

They then watched on as the girls all parted ways walking into the bedroom and makeup area where all their clothes were in the wardrobes with their names on!

The boys all sat around the campfire talking to each other. Not fully getting to know each other wanting to save that for dinner later on.

But Oscar didn’t know how much longer he could watch this if you were going to be flirting with people the whole time.

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cominy-kiwami · 2 years

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thinking of becoming a guy who knows the entire resident evil timeline. my friend made me play re8 and im taken aback. its a great game

#i possibly like the game more than my beloved re2 #the villains are really good. like REALLY good. even when they arent fleshed out like beneviento and moreau #theres such a strong emotional core to the games plot that it glides over all the bullshit effortlessly #i didnt play re7 and at one point i felt that the story was going on without me but i managed #the one thing i hated was chris's little call of duty ass section #when they flooded you with enemies at the beginning it was to demonstrate that you are screwed #and in numbers they are stupid strong #and the gameplay supports that. so when chris has his little sequence its out of place #but that aside i dont really have any complaints aside from the resident evil regulars #that being a lack of fleshing out some areas and of course the trademark strange pacing #the more i think about it the more i think the perfect resident evil game is the first one #each area gets its fair share of focus and it has room to breathe. and the atmosphere is unmatched #at the beginning of a chris playthrough when you are so so vulnerable and screwed #thats a lot of fun.#and of course they did dial back the ham after that game. re2 is more 'respectable'#the same friend who made me play 8 would not play 1 because the archaic control scheme and graphical style is not for him #i respect that he would not have fun playing it but i wish he would reconsider.#that game is incredible

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sauvhffp · 3 months

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★ | glass box

drabble w/@sooniebby 's original character!

sypnosis: you come home drunk from a team celebration with your co-workers. your boyfriend doesn't like it, he doesn't like that others has seen you like this; a mess. to ease his worries, he makes an even bigger mess of you.

𝅄 ༊࿐⠀ִ⠀this is my first time writing for a character that doesn't belong to me, haha. this drabble is all over the place, goes from point a to point b really quickly. still, i hope you enjoy this self-indulgence as much as i did 𖦹 ´ ᵕ ` 𖦹

ily soonie for lending me moon jae! i'm looking to even more fics of him and for more of your works! i love every bit of your works <33 !!

cw: mdni. reader is mentioned to have a dick. spanking (mentioned once), overstimulation, dick squirting, dumbification, inserting plot in porn is not my best suit.

"...ngh." you choke on your moans. saliva coated the necktie that's stuffed in your mouth. you think you're going to throw up. you sure drank a lot tonight together with your co-workers and your team manager. you were drunk enough to forget you had a boyfriend at home, waiting for your return. "jae—hnghh... m' gohnna—"

slap!

you whimpered at the harsh slap of his thick, veiny palm on your round ass cheek. you cried, sobbing in humiliation as your dick squirts cum.

your boyfriend’s resounding chuckle made your hips twitch, and your thighs quiver. he rested his palm on your redden ass cheek, caressing it softly with a pinch. his other hand's three digits deep inside your tight hole, pressing against the bundle of nerves as you twitch in overstimulation. "that quick?"

you pant, the pillow under your dick was soaked in your cum. your dress shirt's drenched in sweat, and your underwear's hanging on your ankle. you were a perfect mess; a mess only meant for moon jae. his alone.

seeing you walk inside the house, face flushed, hair messy, and your collar button undone made him feel irritated. you let others see this side of you—the side that was only meant for him, not anyone else.

"i came..." you let your tie fall down as you swallow your saliva, gulping oxygen. "for... five times—"

"let's make it six?" the condescending tone in his voice paired with the sudden thrust of his fingers inside you made your stomach tingle, your insides tighten around his fingers. your soften dick twitched to life as you cried on his lap. god, you loved his fingers. so thick, so big, and soft. he took great care of his hands despite his nonchalance for important things.

"... can't anym'..." you sobbed, bound hands tied together by the cuffs jae bought a while back for you, a congratulatory present for your promotion. you thought back then, if he had the money to buy such an expensive, mundane item, then why is he relying on you for expenses?

he shushed you, hissing through his teeth as he pats your head, slowly picking up the pace of his fingers. "you can, doll. you will." he promises you with his fingers entangled in your hair. "lift your hips for me."

his whispered promise did wonders to your almost stupefied brain. it's times like these that you forget all rationale thought and give in to his whims, bending your joins and going along to his rhythm like a doll. you forget that this man has not only been freeloading off of you, but he has constantly wronged you in the past. still, instead of kicking him our of your house and your life for good, you suddenly are on your hands and knees, taking his length like a good whore. he'll whisper apologies, whisper unfulfilled promises into your ear as he cums in you, filling up every crevice he can and will reach.

he imprints himself in you, making sure that the claws of his talons will put you in your place. make you stay in the nest you built, never letting you go.

"ffuuuckkk—" your tounge lols out of your mouth, the tip of it peeking out as your eyes gradually lose focus. you grip the cushion of the couch beneath your fingertips, trying to find purchase in the unbearable waves of pleasure that came crashing down on you, pulling you in with utter ecstasy. "shoo ghoood... ah—sho fucking good—"

"yeah? you like it?" he leans down, towering over your quivering upper half on his lap. there was a satisfied smile on his face, a grin stretched wide enough for it to look unsettling. he pistons his fingers inside you, lube and the cum he shoved in you from your previous orgasms sloshed and squirts out from your hole. you can't think of anything else but the fingers inside you, messing you up no other people could ever do. he makes sure of that.

"'ove it s'much..." you whimpered, fucked out dumb. your mutters were almost incoherent, the slapping of his fingers in you and your juices squelching were louder than your hoarse voice. "don'wan you ... hng—'t stop..."

"you don't want to?" you shake your head as he tuts, gripping your jaw and shoving two of his fingers inside, playing with your lax tounge. "use your words, doll. you know i like it when you're vocal."

"dohn'wann ... shtap–" you suck on his fingers, toes curling as both of his fingers fuck you in unison. your eyes roll back, your insides spasms in pure bliss. your body goes lax, too tired to fight off the pleasure that's being instilled in your bones.

you barely register the laugh moon jae released. for him, this was the best version of you. you were uptight, organized, prim, and proper. he remembered the day he met you. it was at a highschool reunion get-together party. you were like any other corporate slave, you were dull in every way possible. you were bland and boring, you didn't catch his eye.

he went out of the party to smoke, and he saw you squatting down on the smoking area, puffing a cigarette. he didn't pay you any mind. you were no one to him. but that night, if he hadn't forgotten his lighter; if he hadn't teased you back then; if you hadn't reacted that way to a light-hearted question back then...

"you kept staring at me." he remembers the slightest widening of your eyes, your mouth parting a little big bigger than it was supposed to. "do you like me?"

oh. jae thought as the tips of your ears flush, your lips in a weird wobbly shape as you stare at him wide-eyed, like a deer caught in the headlights. like a doll you caught suddenly moving to life. oh.

"—ae! hnngg!" your little squeal snapped him out of his reverie. he had four fingers up in you now, fingers pressing against your sweet spot as you tremble on his lap. your hips moving on their own as you beg him to keep moving, to give you another deliciously painful release.

he blinked, drinking the sight of you in. he was right. you looked best when you're like this. you looked absolutely ethereal, being ruined by him.

"nghh—jaeeee..." you whined his name, lifting your head up, using your arms to support you as your flushed face greets him. the tear streaks on your chin with the shine of your unshed tears made his heart skip a beat, his dick already angry and hardened on his pants. god, he wants to ruin you over, and over, and over again. "hurry up... 'm sorry for getting drunk ... please let me cum ..."

how can he deny you when you're this gorgeous?

moon jae stares at you a little longer, grinning at your confused, fucked out, expression before resuming his assault on your body. you squeal in shock, your moans could rival church choirs with how angelic they sound. he sighs in content, feeling you squirt again. but instead of halting, he kept going. he kept caressing your walls, kept drilling into you even as you wet the couch with your lust.

"that's right. that's a good boy." he says it in such a gentle tone, your body quivers. he smiles, satisfied. "i'm the only one who gets to see you like this. okay?"

and just like that, you find yourself stuck inside a glass box of obsession made by your dollkeeper. only showing what he wants others to show and keeping you for himself when people leave. you will always be stuck in this glass box, lest he gets tired of you.

you let the pleasure take off your thoughts, tears falling down your cheeks like water droplets from leaf dews. you will never be free from your glass box.

#🐰ྀི@sauv.hffp #oc x reader #orignal character smut #bottom male reader #god i hope i did him enough justice #i love loser manipulative men so much

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hxt1b · 3 months

Text

good girl's don't beg

-> geto x reader

-> WC: 1.2k

-> CW: swearing, pwp, edging, protected sex, penetration, choking, some titty slapping, a bit of rough sex, some overstimulation, soft dom geto, sub reader. This is literally just sex my dudes.

Masterlist

Requests Open

Rules for requests | prompt list

A/N: The grammar may not be perfect but I tried my best.

Thank you for reading this, that’s what I’ll start with. I’m not a stranger to writing, however this is my first jjk fic, and I also have not written for a couple months. I try to consistently write but that’s an ideal, and isn’t always reality. Anyway, that’s not the point, the point is I hope you like this. I have more ideas for fics with jjk men, and my requests are currently open. Feedback is always welcome as long as its in some form constructive being a hater isn’t helpful to anyone.

I'll probably have longer fic's with plot soon too, but for obvious reasons, shorter scenes like this will come out faster.

The kitchen table was cold on your back. Your fingers digging into the edges of the wood.

"Please," You begged. Your fingers itching to trail in his hair.

"Good girls listen," Geto said, his thumb ghosting over your clit, "they don't beg."

His breath was hot against your already heated centre, your mind was numbing slowly from the number of times he'd taken you to the edge only to pull back and leave you whining on the table.

You couldn't touch him.

You couldn't come.

You couldn't think.

You whined his name again your grip on the table tightening as he leaned in, letting his tongue graze your clit.

"You want more?" He asked. His hands move to roughly holding your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin.

"Yes." Your voice was unsteady and you focused on keeping your hips still. He licked slowly applying more pressure than before but not enough.

You bit your lip to keep from whining but it was no use, a whimper left your lips anyway.

He laughed at you, a soft chuckle that moved through you. He brought his hand to you again sinking two long fingers into your wetness and pumping once.

"Move your hips, babe," He said and kept his hand still. You sighed and shifted your hips, moving on his fingers as he rose above you lining his face up with your tits, he caught a nipple in his mouth biting down on it.

"That's it, baby girl," he mumbled around your nipple as you found your rhythm. Your moans got louder as you got closer to the lip of the familiar cliff again. His teeth moved to nipping your sensitive skin as you got closer and closer.

You prayed he wouldn't pull away from you again. You were there, just a few seconds more. One foot was off the cliff, any second now you'd fall. A heavy heat clawed at the pit of your stomach, your hips were moving at a frantic pace.

"You close baby?" Geto asked his words coasting over your heated skin.

"Yes." You breathed, and his fingers were gone. A heavy hand pressed into your lower stomach holding you against the table. You groaned loudly, your eyes closing as your orgasm receded.

"Not yet." He smirked.

You breathed heavily as Geto leaned over you, his lips moving over your skin, tugging and nipping. His hands coasting over skin trying to soothe your frustration.

Your hands still white-knuckled the table. You felt like you were going to die from this, you wanted to beg, but you knew if you did it would prolong his tormenting.

You stayed still, breathing, eyes closed tightly as he moved slowly caressing your body with soft touches and softer kisses.

"Let's try that again." He muttered his lips hovering just above you. "But keep your hips still this time." Your breath shuttered at his words.

"Okay."

He sank two fingers into you again, you could hear how wet you were as he pumped them. He was going so slow, but you were so sensitive that the knot in your stomach built again fast. He added another finger drawing a breathy moan from you. His pace increased and the sounds of him fucking you with his fingers vibrated in your ears as you began to drown in the heat all over again.

"Open your eyes, baby," Geto spoke softly his lips still hovering over yours. "Do you want to come?"

"Yes." You whispered, the word barely leaving your mouth.

He pressed a heavy wet kiss to your lips, his tongue pushing in. But his fingers slowed again, his free hand threading into your hair. He kissed you like that, his tongue moving with the same rhythm as his fingers.

"Then come around my cock," He said pulling away from you completely.

You kept your eyes from fluttering shut again at the loss of him. Instead, you watched him as he pulled a condom out of his pocket and pulled his cock out of his sweats. It only took him seconds to glide the condom on and line up with you, but it felt like forever to you.

Geto settled on his elbows over you as he pushed into you slowly.

"Fuck," he cursed as he sank into you, his hips pressing into yours as he bottomed out. He stayed like that for a minute, his face buried into your neck, his teeth pulling at your skin.

Finally, he thrusted up, but it was slow still. Painfully slow.

"Geto," You stretched out his name.

He pushed off his elbows, his hands moving to your hips as he stood up. He pulled you with him, your hips hovering above the table. Geto moved for your hands next grabbing them both, bringing them to your belly button and pushing down. He held them tightly in one hand. The other hand digging into your waist.

He looked down at you unmoving for another second before pulling his hips back and thrusting into you.

"Keep your eyes on me." He demanded as his hips snapped into you again, and again, and again. His pace picked up with each thrust.

"I love watching your tits bounce like this." He said, letting your hip go to quickly smack your boob.

You whined at the sting, your eyes shutting for a second.

In that second Geto dropped you back to the table his body coming down over yours again as he moved your hands over your head.

You groaned as the angle changed. His cock hit your g-spot as his thrusts got angrier.

"Eyes open." He snapped. His other hand moves from your hip to your throat.

"Fuck," You mutter around the pressure at your throat.

"Take it." He muttered, his pace picking up again. Your body slid up the table an inch and Geto cursed his hips snapping into you harder.

The knot in your stomach was at its end, the heat crawling over you was oppressive. Geto's hand at your throat was almost bruising and it all came crashing down on you in a rough wave.

You cried out, your hands fighting against his, and he let you go. Finally getting to touch him. Your arms instantly went around his head and your body arched up into his. Your chest crushing into his as you came.

He cursed as your walls spasmed around him, your body writhing and shaking under his. His fingers stayed around your throat as he fucked you through your high. His thrusts didn't slow, instead, he became rougher milking your orgasm.

"Dammit, baby." He moved his head down to yours pressing his forehead to yours, and letting his fingers drift down your chest so that he was holding your tit, his thumb rubbing at your nipple.

You mewled at the ministration, overwhelmed by him. It was almost too much, his cock was still hitting your g-spot as he worked himself up to his orgasm. You were gasping under him.

"Geto please." You begged, looking up into his eyes. Your hand twisted into his hair as you tilted your head up to kiss him.

Geto's hands dropped to the table beside you as he finally came, his hips stuttering through his orgasm. He moaned into your mouth as the condom filled with his cum.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck" He repeated as he worked through his orgasm your hips lightly rocking against him as he slowed.

He stilled against you, his cock still buried inside you. His lips still moved with yours in a lazy kiss. You didn't want him to move. Honestly, you felt like you could stay like this forever with Geto pressed against you, in you.

A/N: again thank you for reading! send in a request if you'd like!

~ hxt1b, feb 5 2024

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lila-went-missing · 3 months

Note

Can I have a whipped!Clarisse x sunshine!reader headcannons or one shot idk (could reader be either a Hecate daughter or just unspecified?) :3

Have a nice day/night

Ugh, I love Grumpy X Sunshine.

Clarisse x Sunshine!Reader Headcannons

Okay, literally no one expected you two to start dating.

Plot-twist of the century vibes.

You're so sweet and kind to everyone, offering your magical insight to anyone who asks you.

And she's so tough and brutal all the time, always picking fights with people over the smallest things.

Literal polar opposites, but opposites attract.

I feel like she would be pining over you from the moment you met.

Something about you drew her in. Maybe the way you carried yourself, maybe it was your natural talent for magic.

Either way, she's so whipped for you.

You have her wrapped around your finger without even trying.

I feel like she's the kind of person to practice what she's going to say to you before she actually asks you out.

I can just imagine her pacing around her cabin when no one is around whispering the script she made in preparation.

Because of her dad constantly ignoring her, and what little attention she does get being him telling her that she'll never be good enough, or never as good as her brothers, she has a MASSIVE fear of rejection.

That really plays a role in how she asks you out.

She'd literally be so nervous it's not even funny.

When she does eventually ask you out there is a lot of stuttering and stumbling over words.

You would probably be in your cabin, just finishing brewing a potion when she comes to you.

You can't help but laugh at how nervous she is, finding it rather adorable.

Obviously she gets really offended and tries to leave, telling you to forget she said anything in the first place.

You pull her back to you and kiss her.

"I wasn't laughing to make fun of you, I was laughing because you're cute."

From that moment on, her protectiveness SKYROCKETS.

Someone looks at you wrong? They're in the infirmary getting stitches.

Someone calls you a freak because of your mom being Hecate? She's lost dessert privileges for the next five months.

Eventually you do have to talk to her and tell her to tone it down.

But that just ends in y'all making out on her bed.

How is she supposed to be serious when her girlfriend is sitting there looking so pretty and perfect, and her lips are just so kissable.

SPEAKING OF, you can't tell me this girl isn't obsessed with kissing you.

Doesn't matter where you are or who you're with, she will kiss you at any point in time.

Lips, forehead, nose, cheek, neck, shoulder, you name it.

She could literally be about to break someones bones until you come up.

The mood switch is IMMEDIATE.

From "I will literally murder you." to "Oh hey baby, how was your day." and just kissing all over your face.

It gives everyone whiplash.

But they get used to it eventually.

She's just so in love with you.

You're literally the first person to ever show her what it's like to genuinely be loved and not just wanted as a weapon.

You're the first and only person she says "I love you" to.

You're especially the first person and only person she means it to.

It takes her a while to open up because she hates being perceived as weak or soft. After a while though, she will start coming to you with her problems.

She'll occasionally come to your cabin in the middle of the night after having a nightmare, usually about you dying.

She never wants to talk about it, she just wants you to hold her until she falls back asleep.

Everyone in both of your cabins comes to love y'all.

I like to think that Ares cabin is sworn to a mutual secrecy because almost all of them have someone they sneak in at night to cuddle.

But they all have a reputation to uphold no one talks about it.

If you think regular Clarisse likes to cuddle, Whipped!Clarisse is 10x worse.

She'll never admit it, but cuddling you is one of her favorite things ever.

Her guilty pleasure is laying on your chest or being the little spoon.

She just likes the feeling of being held by the only person she's ever loved.

This ended up being A LOT longer than expected. Sorry (not really) y'all, went on a tangent.

#dior goodjohn #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #x reader #percy series #clarisse is bae #clarisse pjo #percy jackson disney+#clarisse x reader #pjo series #percy jackson show

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nostalgebraist · 2 months

Text

the light, and the glass

So there's this particular quality I have, as a fiction writer, and I have very little sense of how common or rare it is.

The quality is closely related to that famous Michaelangelo quip, about his sculptures being "already complete within the marble block":

The sculpture is already complete within the marble block, before I start my work. It is already there, I just have to chisel away the superfluous material.

This is how I feel, too, about my works of fiction. They feel like "real things" that "already exist," in some important sense, before I write them down -- or, indeed, before I even fully know what they contain.

So, for instance, if I haven't yet thought of an ending for a story I'm playing with in my mind, I nonetheless have a vivid sense that this particular story has an ending, and that this ending already is whatever it happens to be. It's only that I haven't managed to "see" it yet.

To clarify the point, consider the contrast between this thing, and two relatively familiar ways of thinking about how fiction gets made:

Conscious, goal-directed craft/artifice. Intending to write a Satisfying Plot in which each character has an Arc, the Story Beats follow logically from one another and are arranged with what is called Good Pacing, the proverbial Cat is Saved, etc., and "solving for" these desiderata in a conscious manner. Or, intending to create something much more outré and unsettling than all that -- but having some specific set of (outre, unsettling) intentions in mind, at the outset, and concocting/arranging the elements of your work in a conscious way guided by these intentions.

Free-wheeling, self-expressive "creativity." Just do whatever, man! Follow your bliss. The canvas is blank and anything is possible. Whatever you feel like putting into that empty space, go ahead and put it there. (The key thing being that, after "putting something there," you'll look and recognize something with origins in you, and your own whims and feelings at a particular moment.)

For me, though, the process of writing, and even of "ideating" (plotting, etc.), feels like a kind of transcription or channeling, as opposed to either of the above.

When I say "channeling," here, I don't mean that I have some actual, mystical belief in a supernatural object revealing itself through me. Not in the woo-woo sense anyway; whatever is really going on here, I am sure it "merely" involves the mechanics of the human mind, as implemented in the physical human brain and body.

But I do mean that it feels a lot like that. Like the story -- and not just the story part of the stories, but the whole thing, the "art object" -- has some real prior existence outside of me, first.

Like I am merely doing my best to "get it right," to be a perfect transmitter for the radio signal. To "do justice" to the "real thing," in the secondary act of writing words onto a page.

To be a courier who transports a valuable object from some originary otherworld into a place which happens to be called "existence" -- and to ensure, as much as possible, that it suffers no disfiguring scrapes during the journey.

----

I should say, though, that there's a lot of the "#1" above in my process too, the conscious-artifice thing.

Except... when I do that kind of thing, the intentions all come from the "real object," and my goal is to fill in whatever I can't see of that object so that everything I can see is preserved.

So: I will come to know, surely and indefeasibly, that the story must have some particular feature. (An event, a little moment, a character feeling a certain way at a certain time, even a specific turn of phrase.) Better to say: I know the story does have this feature. I see it in the marble.

But I can't see everything that's there, already, in the marble. And sometimes these glimpses-from-the-beyond are strange, inconvenient, difficult to "fit" into the current story (or perhaps into any story) in a natural-seeming manner.

And that's my task, when I'm doing the conscious-artifice thing: to take this collection of axiomatically-present glimpses, and build a structure around them into which they can "fit," naturally and even logically, just as if they were ordinary story-building-blocks like their neighbors, being placed here and there for ordinary story-reasons.

----

This has various implications. For one, it determines which kinds of writerly anxieties I suffer from, and which types leave me alone.

Like, I have virtually no self-doubt about my "ideas." About the overall, large-scale goodness-or-badness of the thing I'm creating. At least, not when considered "in principle," in an idealized sense that abstracts away from my actual capabilities as a guy who puts words on pages.

"Was this story, as a whole, a good idea?" is a question I find difficult to ask myself. Even when applied to smaller units, like specific plot points, this kind of question simply goes nowhere when I attempt to think about it. Insofar as my mind can cough up any answer, that answer looks like:

Yes

(after a moment, with mounting bewilderment) Yes, obviously -- how strange even to ask!

(after another moment, and as an afterthought) ...but if it weren't any good, is that really my business? It's not like I came up with it. I was asked to keep it safe and bring it into reality, and I take that duty seriously, but once it has reached its destination I wipe my hands of the matter. Don't shoot the messenger!

It's not, just, that I feel like the "real thing" "already exists." I also feel, always, that the real thing is... really good.

I deeply, thoroughly trust the Muse / Higher Power responsible for originally "making" this stuff. (To speak in relatively woo-woo terms, for ease and clarity.)

The Muse / Higher Power is a seriously skilled artist, much more so than little-old-me; if She makes any errors at all, they are not really mistakes, but "are volitional and are the portals of discovery."

And what's more, there is a sacred, unearthly gleam to the artifacts She makes, perhaps having something to do with that Fairyland, that place-other-than-"existence," in which they are originally made.

It feels like an honor to be designated as a courier for these enchanted things. Perhaps not a deserved honor -- on which more below -- but it's never the nature and value of the transported goods that I doubt.

(There is a definite sense of ritual to the thing that I do, here; a sense of connecting with some other place, definitively apart from our mundane here-and-now, and likewise more important/primary/etc. than the latter. Hence, perhaps, my tendency to not-write for long stretches, and then write in long sustained bursts for many hours at a time, which need a good deal of preliminary building-up-steam before they fully get going; it takes time to pierce, and then fully cross, the veil between worlds. And the various imprints of this stuff on the works themselves are not hard to see, once you're looking for them; they are of course especially transparent in TNC.)

All that being said, I do suffer persistently from a different anxiety.

When Michaelangelo said the thing about the sculpture "already complete within the marble block," he said it as... Michaelangelo.

As a famous, incontrovertibly masterful craftsman. Not a guy likely to suffer from doubts about his ability to put the chisel to the marble block, and reveal precisely that shape which was already there, inside.

But I'm not Michaelangelo. I'm not even sure I'm a good craftsman, much less a great one.

Certainly I've never conceived of myself in this way, even aspirationally. (Well, maybe I did in childhood and adolescence, but that was a very different thing from what I'm talking about now.)

I don't do what a person would do, if they wanted to be a Writer, and strove to be the best one they could. I don't, for the most part, practice my craft. I write because there's a Real Thing that only I can see, and it's not going to make into Existence any other way.

And since I don't write by habit or as practice -- since I only write at times when a Real Thing is in need of some incarnating-work, and I'm the only one around to do it -- I'm not exactly an ideal candidate for the job.

I am like a man who never especially wanted to be a sculptor, never practiced the trade, and was never more-than-ordinarily good with his hands, even... who is then, suddenly, struck with a very literal version of the experience Michaelangelo described.

Who, suddenly and inexplicably, begins to actually see a sculptural masterpiece lurking inside, whenever he looks at a faceless marble block.

What is our protagonist to do? Naturally, he will find a chisel, and begin chipping away. He will feel that these things need to be freed from their prisons, released and revealed to all the world, so that all the world can delight in them as he already does.

But he will be very aware of the unfamiliar way the chisel sits in his hand; of the way that hand trembles, and fails to meet the mark, and sometimes shaves off precious bits of what was really and originally a beautifully formed hand -- so that the hand, in the realized artwork, forever bears some oddity of shape which was not a part of what he saw inside the block, but only a consequence of his own shameful incompetence.

He will feel that his works, such as they are, are an odd mixture of amateurish craft and direct, divine inspiration. Insofar as he is Great, it will be because he has had Greatness thrust upon him, from without. He will feel, sometimes, that his successes have been obtained through a kind of cheating, not won fair-and-square.

And he will feel, always, a particular kind of (justified) impostor syndrome: an awareness that what he is doing, when he sits down before the marble block with the chisel in hand, is a very different sort of thing than what is usually called "sculpting," and what is being practiced by careful, hard-working aspirants just down the road, at the local workshop. The students there call themselves "sculptors," and our protagonist supposes he must call himself a "sculptor" too -- but he knows that behind this coincidence of language, a vast and strange chasm is hidden.

(I worry that this metaphor sounds flattering to me -- I am divinely inspired, they are merely toiling away and following the rules -- when I don't mean it that way at all.

In particular, note that there is nothing in our story to rule out some of the "real" sculptors down the road from also being visionaries who see the finished work in the block. Indeed, I got the metaphor from Michaelangelo, who was precisely this way.

I am only saying that all the conceivable configurations of craft/inspiration are in fact possible: just as it is possible to be skilled but uninspired, it's possible for inspiration to strike someone who lacks the capacity to fully realize its content. And that is how I feel, about my own attempts to create.)

----

When I was getting near the end of Almost Nowhere, and struggling with this kind of feeling, Esther would often reassure me by saying: "you are the light, and you are the glass it shines through."

In other words: you are a transmitter, and you are the source of the transmitted signal. Remember that in actual fact, the "real thing in the marble" came from your own little brain, just as much as the rest of it did. In actual fact, if there is a Muse and a Higher Power, it is really just an additional part of the same creature that holds the chisel, and worries over its trembling hand.

I did, indeed, find this very reassuring. And that's a funny thought, in a way! I imagine that for some people -- and indeed for me, in many other endeavours -- the same sentiment could easily have the opposite effect.

"It's all on you. It's all your responsibility. If any of it is bad, there's no one else to blame. If there is any 'Higher Power' at all, it is only the one inside you at all times, and not able to save you through unexpected intervention, from some true outside."

But I already believed, thoroughly, in the magical potency of the goods I was charged with transporting. If I was (somehow!) their maker, too, then (somehow!) the root of that glimpsed, alien magic was in me.

And so, perhaps, I could trust myself to ferry them into Existence without ruining, without even much dimming, the fairy-gleam from elsewhere that made them what they were.

#blah blah blah

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rubyreduji · 8 months

Text

ahegao and arousal — ljh

summary: jihoon just wanted to have a nice night watching anime with you, how was he supposed to know the show he picked was a hentai?

tags: smut (minors dni!) warnings: explicit unprotected sex, hentai, ji is kind of a perv, creampies, spanking, scratching, finger sucking, pinning, multiple orgasms wc: 3.6k an: ANON I SCREAMED WHEN I READ THIS LIKE AHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU i made up my own anime plot for this hehe but watched wotakoi while writing bc office romance

orignal request: woozi and reader are at a sleepover and are both anime geeks but what’s playing is not anime and more hentai

Akira, long time secretary at Hayashi Corp, spends her days doing errands for her boss, Hiroshi, and keeping the office running. The mundane pace of her life is suddenly thrown for a loop when the new data analyst, Kaito, is hired.

That’s what the description of the show Jihoon picked said. It sounded like a cute little work place, slice of life romance anime at the time of Jihoon scrolling through what show to watch with you tonight. Oh how wrong he was.

Last week you hunted Jihoon down and insisted that it has been far too long since you two had a day to spend hanging out just you two, so Jihoon invited you over for an all night anime marathon. It’s no secret that you two are giant anime buffs, and so it was difficult for Jihoon to find something that both of you have yet to see. So when he came across this new anime he thought it was the perfect pick. It had an 8.7 review and tropes that Jihoon knows you enjoy, making it the perfect show to watch with you.

The show started out fine, a bit cliche but overall carrying the same cute aesthetic of all romance animes. Sure there were a few throw away fanservice bits, but Jihoon didn’t think anything of it. Until he did.

Jihoon’s ears burn as he tries to figure out where to look. He can’t look at you, that would just make him even more flustered, but staring at the TV is out of the option. Even as Jihoon stares at the wall, he can’t escape the lewd sounds playing out of the speakers. He can’t exactly tell what the characters are saying due to it being in Japanese, but from the excessive moaning and slick sounds, he can interpret it.

The show was going so well, to the point where the two of you were starting to root for a male lead, and then all of a sudden Akira is being cornered in an empty meeting room by Hiroshi (who is the wrong male lead, by the way) and their clothes are flying off and then Jihoon had to stop watching.

His curiosity gets the best of him though and Jihoon glances at the TV, just to take a quick peak, only to get a full view of an animated cock being slid into an exaggeratingly wet pussy (why is it uncensored!?). She cries out as the subtitles read, “He’s so big!~”. The image changes to the bouncing of Akira’s unnaturally large tits as Hiroshi starts to thrust into her. Above her tits is the image of her face, screwed up into a classic hentai ahegao.

Now, Jihoon is well…a man, and men have certain urges that need to be taken care of every once in a while, and Jihoon often finds himself looking to certain content to help out those urges. He of course carries shame for it and would never actually admit that he watches hentai (a lot), but it's a fact that’s hard to hide when his body is reacting to the scene the way it normally would if he was watching it alone.

You haven’t spoken a single word since the scene started, and Jihoon just prays to god that you’re not looking at him or his lap.

Now in theory, Jihoon could just turn the TV off but then that would force both of you to face the reality that you have now consumed porn together and Jihoon doesn’t think he can handle that. Just thinking about it makes Jihoon’s dick twitch even harder.

Jihoon takes a shallow breath and finally risks a glance over at you. He’s shocked at the sight. Your bottom lip is placed between your teeth, being chewed up as you stare intently at the screen. Your knees are pulled to your chest and there’s a slight gleam in your eye as you watch the scene. Is it possible that you’re…enjoying this?

Jihoon allows himself to get a better look at you, as it’s clear you’re solely focused on the show. He watches as you take a shaky breath, your thighs squeezing together as well. The sight drives Jihoon just slightly insane, and it doesn’t help you’re in the skimpiest pair of sleep shorts and a tank top, sans a bra.

You and Jihoon have been friends for a while. You two met coincidentally at an anime convention, You were cosplaying as one of his favorite characters and Jihoon made sure to get your socials. You were interested in his own socials though, noticing the OST covers he uploaded occasionally. When it was revealed you two are from the same area, you two quickly became close. Now, nearly six years later, you’re one of Jihoon’s closest friends.

The only thing is, Jihoon has a fat, massive crush on you. He has for years now. It doesn’t help that the characters you cosplay the most are either some of Jihoon’s favorites or characters who are the biggest victims of fanservice behaviors. One time you cosplayed a character who fell under both categories and that night Jihoon shamefully jerked off to the pictures you sent to him.

And now you’re here, dressed in revealing clothes, sitting on Jihoon’s couch, invested in the porn scene playing on the TV.

Jihoon eyes travel down from your face to your chest, where your tank top does a poor job of hiding your cleavage. He can see the way your chest swells with each shuddered breath. It’s clear now that you’re very into this, and Jihoon wonders for a brief second how wet your panties are.

Jihoon then quickly chides himself, looking back at the wall and away from you. That’s where his gaze stays until the scene ends. Once the show goes back to being a seemingly innocent romance anime, Jihoon finally allows himself to glance over at you. To his surprise you’re staring back at him.

“I, uh, can’t believe she’d hook up with Hiroshi,” you say, breaking the silence between you two. “Clearly Kaito is the better choice.”

Jihoon coughs, clearing his throat. “Y-yeah. It’s also kinda weird since he’s her boss…”

The conversation fizzles out quickly after that and you and Jihoon go back to watching the TV in awkward silence. Jihoon can still feel the ache in his cock as he watches the characters fumble around each other.

Jihoon can barely even focus on the show, too busy trying to think about anything that will get his boner to go down. He’s not sure what’s happening on screen when all of a sudden you start squealing.

“Oh my god Jihoon, it's happening!” You launch yourself across the couch to grab at Jihoon’s arm. He’s startled for a moment, his skin burning where your fingers dig into his flesh. He glances at the TV to see Kaito walking Akira back to her home.

You don’t let go of Jihoon as you settle down next to him, your body now pressed up against him rather than across the couch. God Jihoon swears his cock has never been so hard in his life. He’s sure the pillow placed over his lap is anything but subtle.

You’re not looking at Jihoon though, too invested in the conversation the two characters are having. Jihoon glances down at you, only to realize that was a bad choice as he’s now staring straight down your shirt at your cleavage. For a moment Jihoon thinks about how he wouldn’t mind seeing how your boobs bounce while he fucks you.

Jihoon’s still focused on you solely, when you gasp. He glances at you and then the screen to see the two characters posed in a kabedon. It doesn’t take long for the two to start making out and Jihoon can already anticipate what’s going to happen next. Your fingers dig into Jihoon’s arm before you realize what you’re actually doing. You go to pull your hand back, but you stop halfway through, your fingers just barely ghosting Jihoon’s arm.

“We can just skip this scene,” Jihoon finally says, seeing the internal conflict going on in your mind. He moves to reach for the remote but you stop him.

“N-no, it’s okay,” you tell him, in a voice that’s smaller than normal. “U-unless you don’t want to!”

“No, it’s uh, it’s fine,” Jihoon says. You give a slight nod, not moving your hand away.

You and Jihoon quiet down once more, staring at the TV, both of your cheeks warm. On screen Kaito is bending Akira over the counter, his cock pulled out and rubbing against her slit. Jihoon hears the labored breath you take, as your fingers slightly tighten on his arm.

Jihoon flits his eyes to glance at you, noticing the intrigued look back on your face. His fingers twitch on his lap as he stares down at your thighs, pushed together. The lewd sounds of moans and squelches fill the living room and Jihoon is five seconds away from getting up to go relieve himself in his bathroom.

Jihoon knows you. If something goes wrong you’ll both just brush it off and forgive and forget it. Fuck it.

Jihoon reaches out and slides his hand over your thigh. You jump a bit and Jihoon goes to pull back, but you stop him.

“No! You’re uh-, you’re fine.”

Jihoon just nods, trying to pretend like his mind isn’t reeling right now. His thumb brushes over your bare thigh, caressing the skin.

Your thighs are soft and he does his best not to full on grope the fat there. Just touching you like this has Jihoon’s cock leaking desperately in his boxers and he thinks about how good it would feel to touch in other ways as well. The swell of your breasts under his palms, his plump lips against your tender neck, his hard cock nestled inside of you.

Jihoon lets his mind wander too much, and the last image makes him squeeze your thigh hard, causing you to let out a moan.

“Fuck, Jihoon,” you mutter.

“I’m so sorry!” Jihoon shouts, quickly pulling his hand away. You’re quicker though, grabbing his hand and placing it on your upper thigh, his fingers just barely brushing against your crotch. Jihoon’s mouth goes dry.

“F-finish what you started, Ji,” you tell him, your voice thick with lust.

Jihoon gulps and nods. He moves his fingers to press against you harder and you automatically spread your thighs to give him more room. Jihoon can already feel how wet you are and he stifles a groan. You let out broken gasps as Jihoon continues to rub at your clit through your shorts.

Jihoon can’t take his eyes off you, staring at you the way the swell of your breasts heaves with each breath. Jihoon shifts his position to face you so he can reach out his free hand. It hovers over your chest for a moment before he finally pushes forward, grasping your boob in his palm. Your breath stutters before you release a low moan. Jihoon can feel the clench of your thighs around his hand.

Your pussy is dripping now, soaking straight through your panties and shorts. Jihoon’s cock is also leaking, begging to be slid into your warm walls. His cock strains against his shorts, like it’s trying to break free from the confines itself.

Jihoon groans and pulls his hands off of you and you whine. You’re not left untouched for too long though as Jihoon hooks his fingers into your waistband and starts to pull your shorts down. You lift your hips to help him out, pulling your top off your body as well. Even though your clothes did little to cover you up, seeing you fully naked drives Jihoon insane.

He stares at your slick pussy and he nearly drops to his knees then, thinking about how heavenly it would be to be in between your thighs, but his dick twitches a little too hard and he knows he has to get inside of you now. Jihoon pushes his shorts down his legs and his cock finally springs free.

“Jihoon please,” you whine and Jihoon groans. He sits back down on the couch and grabs you, pulling you onto his lap. You look pretty, perched on Jihoon’s thick, pale thighs. Your pussy rubs up against his cock and Jihoon can feel your arousal spread across his length, lubing it up.

“S-shit,” Jihoon curses. Your fingers grasp his shoulders tightly, your fingernails just starting to dig in, and the slight sting goes straight to Jihoon’s cock.

“C’mon Hoonie,” you mumble. “Just fuck me.”

That’s all Jihoon needs to properly line himself up and slam right into you. You whine loudly at the feeling as Jihoon slides right into you, your cunt already so need that there’s no resistance. Just as Jihoon expected, your walls are soft and warm as you clench down around him.

Jihoon grasps your waists, slowly guiding you up his length before pulling you back down. Jihoon can see you biting down on your lip as you roll your hips against him. He reaches up and gently pulls your lip out from between your teeth with his thumb. Before Jihoon can tell you he wants to hear your moans, your tongue darts out and licks at the pad of his thumb before you lean down and take his whole thumb into your mouth.

Jihoon’s hips buck up into you as you suck on his thumb, your tongue swirling around it. You look down at him with your sultry eyes and for a moment Jihoon wonders if you’ve wanted him just a long as he’s wanted you.

You gradually speed up your pace until you’re fully fucking yourself on Jihoon’s cock, fast and hard. You pop your mouth off of Jihoon’s thumb, finally letting your moans flow free. To Jihoon, you sound like an angel singing. As you bounce in his lap Jihoon can’t help but stare at your tits as they bounce in front of his face. He realizes that if he stares for too much longer, he’s going to cum too soon.

He leans forward and starts to pepper kissings along your neck and chest. His fingers trail up your torso until they come to your tits. He palms at your chest, hard and mean, desperate to feel you up as much as he can.

Your fingernails dig into Jihoon’s shoulders even harder, slightly dragging up and scratching him. Jihoon would never consider himself a masochist but the pain burns delightfully and suddenly he wants you to tear up his whole back.

“F-fuck, Ji~” you whine. “Your cock feels suh’good.”

Your cunt squeezes Jihoon’s cock, so close to milking him for all that he’s worth. Jihoon doesn’t bother taking his mouth off of you, just humming against your collarbone. Jihoon’s body feels like it’s burning up, the feel of your soft skin pressed against him, your warm cunt wrapped around his aching cock. If he doesn’t cum soon he’s sure that he’ll implode.

Jihoon reaches between your body and snags his finger on your clit, rubbing at the bud rapidly to get you closer to your orgasm. You gasp and whine as your hips get more frantic, breaking your steady pace.

“G-gonna cum,” you say between broken breaths. You lean down and capture Jihoon in a kiss. The feeling of your lips against his is new and Jihoon already can’t get enough of it. Jihoon pushes his tongue between your lips, licking into your mouth to taste you better.

You move your hands up to cup his face, tugging him into you even harder as your body trembles in his grip. Jihoon can feel your walls fluttering around him as you reach your high. That’s all the signal Jihoon needs to let go as well, finally letting himself spill right into your cunt. Your hips soon come to a stop and lift up off of him as your body slumps down onto his.

“You know,” you mumble into his neck, your fingers now playing with the hair on his nape, “I’ve always kind of fantasized about this happening.”

“W-what?” Jihoon asks, his mind already dizzy from his orgasm and now your words aren’t helping.

“You’re hot Ji. Like, I’ve never met an anime nerd as buff as you. You’re also just like…really nice and caring? I don’t know, ever since we met a small part of me has always wanted to fuck you.”

“Shit,” Jihoon groans. “You’re saying that we could have been fucking for years now? Baby I don’t think you know how badly your cosplays turn me on.”

“You’re gonna turn me on again,” you murmur.

“Good,” Jihoon responds. “Because I still have one more round in me.” Even after cumming, Jihoon’s cock is still hard and he easily flips you around and presses you down against the couch. Your face is now buried in the cushions as Jihoon pulls your hips up to meet his.

“S-shit,” you gasp.

Jihoon pushes his thumb against your folds, rubbing at them for a moment before pulling one to the side. Your cunt is shiny from your arousal and as Jihoon forced your entrance open, some of his cum from earlier starts to spill out. Jihoon is tempted to finger fuck it back into you, but it’s not too much of a loss when he can just give you fresh load.

Jihoon’s tip rubs up against your slit, teasing you. You wiggle your hips slightly, begging for him to put it in. Luckily, Jihoon is just as desperate as you are and pushes his hips forward, his tip easily sliding into you.

You just had Jihoon inside of you and yet the feeling of his cock rubbing up against your walls as you moaning and drooling on the couch cushions.

“So good for me,” Jihoon mutters to himself. “Fuck how do you feel ever better the second time.”

Jihoon’s hips slam into yours, rough and slow, making each stroke intentional. His grip on your hips is tight, making sure you stay in place as he fucks into you.

As much as Jihoon loves staring at your tits bouncing in his face, the view from the back is just as good. He can’t help himself as he lifts his hand up, letting his palm smack against your ass as he brings his hand back down. He watches satisfied as your ass recoils, the fat jiggling deliciously. He repeats this action a few more times until he’s sure your ass is warm and stinging from the hits.

“H-hoonie, faster, please,” you beg. You push your hips back, trying to force Jihoon to pick up his speed.

“You need more, baby?” Jihoon coos teasingly. “Want my cock to pound your little pussy?”

“Yes,” you sob out. “Need you to fuck me hard.”

“Okay baby, your wish is my command.” Like a switch flipped, Jihoon starts to plow into you, the head of his cock ramming into your g-spot with each thrust.

Jihoon slides his hand up your spine, his fingers coming up to cup around the back of your neck, and he pushes down, holding you against the couch. It’s dirty, your ass sticking up in the air as your face is squished against the cushion, but that just gets Jihoon going even more.

“You look so pretty like this,” Jihoon tells you. “Back arched just for me.”

You can’t even respond, just letting out a spew of babbles and moans. Your fingers grip onto the edge of the cushion and Jihoon wonders if it’s second nature for you to dig your nails into something when being fucked. He’ll have to test that another time, your nails raking over his back as he fucks the life out you.

For now he’ll stick to railing you into tomorrow.

“S’close,” you slur. “P-please. Need to cum.”

“Aww, you need to come? Okay baby, cream all over my cock.”

Jihoon continues to abuse your sweet spot with his cock as your body tense under him. Your cunt clenches down tight into a vice grip as you whine high pitched and loud. Jihoon rubs at your hip as you orgasm. It isn’t until you fall spineless to the couch that Jihoon allows himself to fill you up once more. He milks himself dry inside of you, making sure you’re stuffed full. Jihoon knows you’re on birth control (you’ve complained about the change in hormones to him before) but the knowledge that Jihoon pumped you full with two loads still drives him slightly insane.

Jihoon slides out of you and slumps down on the couch as well. You shuffle around so you can cuddle up into his side and press a soft kiss to his jaw.

“This was fun,” you mumble and Jihoon laughs.

“Yeah…we should do it again.”

You grin. “We should.”

Before Jihoon can say anything else, you’re both caught off guard by a loud shout coming from the TV. You both whip your heads back to the screen, it seems in the midst of your own fun you both forgot what started it all.

A smirk crosses your face as you look at Jihoon. “You know, for my next convention maybe I should dress as Akira. I think I have a blazer sitting around in my closet somewhere…”

The thought alone sends Jihoon’s mind reeling. The thought of you dressed up in a tight blazer and short skirt, knowing that the character is from a hentai. He’s not sure he would be able to keep his hands off of you.

“And who knows, maybe you could dress up as Kaito with me.” You send a wink Jihoon’s way and it’s enough to have Jihoon’s dick twitching to life a third time.

Oh yeah. He definitely won’t be able to keep his hands off of you, but something in Jihoon tells him you won’t mind too much.

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changetyre · 4 months

Note

Don’t know if you take requests but I really want a fic with Pierre where y/n is a presenter for Sky Sports or something and they start having an affair. Maybe they sleep together after his podium when his gf isn’t in the paddock and then it starts to become and regular occurrence

Dirty Little Secret II Pierre Gasly x Reader ⒽⓌ

SUMMARY: Sometimes all it takes to break your morals is a French accent and ocean-blue eyes.

WARNINGS: **18+** ,cheating (Not proofread)

A/N: I do not condone cheating but I would lie if I said I didn't enjoy a fic with this plot every once in a while...strictly fictional cheating though...enjoy xx

You watched proudly as Pierre stood up in the third step of the podium his smile bigger than Daniel Riccirdo's at this point with how good his race was after struggling for so long.

You'd be lying if you said that you felt nothing for this man, not even when he looked down at you sending a wink your way as if his girlfriend wasn't watching this at home right now.

This was wrong, so wrong on so many levels yet still it'd be dumber if you tried to deny that he didn't make you feel all sorts of ways.

He was so flirty, so incredibly flirty, and the way his eyes just penetrated deep into your soul whenever he looked at you was torture. Pierre knew exactly what he was doing when he played his games with you.

He knew it was wrong, he knew he was a taken man but he didn't seem to give a fuck as he continually spoke suggestively to you, also trying to get you to fall for him, to make the first move.

And yes he might've been successful in making you flustered, and he might've ALMOST been successful in getting you to go home with him multiple late nights but you were stubborn as well, there was a lot on the line for you and it would take more than a few pickup lines and sly smirks.

You were certainly an idiot for thinking so as all it took that night was for Pierre to whisper a few dirty thoughts into your head at the club for you to currently be riding him right now.

"Fuck you're so gorgeous." Pierre panted as he squeezed your breasts enjoying the sight on top of him.

"Shush." Your hands were planted on his chest for balance as you'd found the perfect pace bouncing up and down on him.

"This is better than I ever imagined." Pierre continued speaking only reminding you more and more about how wrong this was.

But he was right. It was so fucking good and you didn't have the willpower to stop.

"Fuck." The high was coming quickly and it was setting you off pace so Pierre took the liberty to flip you over before pounding into you.

"You gonna cum with me baby?" Pierre asked you, his lips right above yours as he set the perfect pace this time.

"Agh." You moaned, unable to properly think with the amount of pleasure coursing through your body right now. "Faster, faster, please" You begged Pierre as you could feel your orgasm coming.

"You're such a perfect little slut." Pierre smirked as he quickened his pace, capturing his lips in yours and muffling your cries of pleasure as your orgasm finally washed over you.

"Sh*t." You sighed, your body twitching as Pierre slowly decreased his pace but remained in you.

"I'll give you a few seconds." Pierre laughed as he turned you around with him, making sure you stayed connected.

Did this man want to go again? Your mind was screaming inside. You were spent but surprisingly not opposed to the idea. It would be the last time anyway so why not enjoy it?

3 months later

"Good Morning Pierre how are we feeling today?" You asked the man in front of you who immediately took the time to scan you from head to toe.

This didn't fail to set off butterflies in your stomach thanking the heavens that you remained strictly behind the camera so no one could see the way your cheeks suddenly tinted.

Pierre eyed you as if he hadn't completely railed you this very morning making you rush to work with shaky legs while trying to cover the multiple marks he'd left across your body.

"Excellent, I must say it's been a great morning...good workout and feeling ready to take on the weekend," Pierre smirked proudly his eyebrows raising at the insinuation.

The public was used to Pierre's flirty behavior, his dirty comments, and the way he liked to play around in interviews and it was all fun and games to him, he loved the thrill of it but for you, it was like walking on a very slim tight rope and every little comment just set you off balance a little making you almost slip into the abyss.

Maybe Pierre didn't give a shit if the world found out about the situation between the both of you, the one that should've never started in the first place, because it sure as hell seemed like it but for you it was different. You'd worked night and day to get to the position you had right now, having to face all sorts of sexist comments about how you got your job and constantly getting hate.

So something like this could cost you everything. Yet somehow every weekend you seemed willing to risk it all for a man?

It was crazy, you knew it was crazy. It simply didn't make sense. Anyone who knew you would never believe that the y/n that had sworn time and time again never to risk anything for a man, never be the person to possibly come between a relationship was now doing both for this guy.

Through the week these thoughts swirled in your head long enough to convince you that you had to put an end to it but as soon as Pierre showed up at your door, flashing those gorgeous blue eyes and speaking with that beautiful accent he had you down on your knees again and again...literally.

That and paired with the fact that this man fucked like a literal god seemed like reason enough for you to keep doing this...doing him.

"I'm glad to hear you're feeling so well Pierre, what can we expect from you this weekend?" You cleared your throat before asking hoping any nerves in your voice wouldn't be picked up by the public.

"Well, you can definitely expect a lot more from me." Pierre bit his lip as he maintained firm eye contact with you. "I hope I can go faster, push harder, I'll give my all as usual...all the way to the finish line," Pierre smirked.

Fuck Pierre Gasly. He knew exactly what he was doing and you hated how much it turned you on.

"Well, good luck to you Pierre." You quickly finished up knowing that you literally wouldn't be able to ask him anything else without sounding off.

"Alright, See you later." Pierre winked before walking to his next interview.

This really had to end this time.

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 #f1 one shot #f1fic #smut #f1smut #changetyre #f1 smut #formula 1 #pierre gasly #pierre gasly smut #gasly smut #pierre gasly fic

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luvs4jhutch · 3 months

Text

I had a vision...

Fanfic type: Blurb, smut. Pairing: afab fem!reader x Mike Schmidt Word count: 882 words A/N: I had some problems while writing this, I hope y'all like it. Please repost if u liked it, it would be very nice 🫶

Warnings: Creampie, p in v, smut with no plot, teasing, praising, overstimulation.

And I shouldn't cry, but I love it...

✧ "Oh... oh fuck... Mike!" you called his name, rolling your eyes back. You were on your tiptoes, leaning as best you could on the kitchen counter. He had had you bareback for about 30 minutes and he didn't seem to want to stop.

You hugged his neck with your right arm, your back arched against his chest as his hands moved your hips against him to his own liking.

"Y' doing so fucking good for me..." he groaned to your ear. You bit your lip. Your mascara was ruined by crying from pleasure. You were so dumb on his cock and he knew it.

One of his hands caught your breast, while the other increased the pace of the thrusts. "You like to have me stretching out this tight, little pussy of yours, don't ya'?" he teased.

You leaned your whole body on the counter 'cause you didn't have enough strength to stand up straight, and Mike saw his chance. The hand that was on your boob earlier now grabbed your hair into a makeshift ponytail, while his other hand, the one doing the work, gave you a couple of playful smacks on the butt and dished out some sweet caresses on your butt, thigh, and lower back.

He was messing up your mind and your body and you could not do anything about it.

With each thrust, you felt your body melting. Mike brought his hand to your swollen clit, massaging in circles, practically embracing you from behind, which simply made you roll your eyes back and bite your own arm in an attempt to control the desperate sounds coming from your mouth, a melody for your lover's ears.

Your tights were slightly trembling at the point, but the overstimulation was so good to even say something about it.

In a couple more thrusts, you felt your third wave of intense pleasure with a loud moan accompanying it. Mike eased up to help you come down from the high, but you couldn't help moving your hips frantically and unconsciously against his.

"Js' look at you… so desperate for my cock," he said while observing your eagerness. You whimpered something incomprehensible (since you couldn't really think straight at this point) and Mike saw it as a signal to go back to the pace he'd set earlier.

He groaned in pleasure as he felt you tightening around him once more, your juices coating his length. He thrust into you harder and you couldn't help but feel your insides clenching around his cock, a sensation you never wanted to end. Every thrust sent electric shocks through your system, making you see stars and feel like you were flying.

It felt so good. So fucking perfect. You moaned as he began to move faster, pushing your body up against the kitchen counter for leverage.

The sensation of his hands gripping your hips tightly and pulling you back towards him sent shivers down your spine. You bit your lip, trying to keep quiet but unable to suppress the sounds of pleasure that escaped from your throat.

"You're so fucking tight," he groaned, slamming his hips into yours. He picked up the pace tightening the grip on your hips.

"I'm close," he warned. You could feel the head of his cock brushing against your sensitive areas with each powerful thrust.

Mike leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "You want me to cum inside you?" he asked, his voice thick with desire.

You were totally out of it, your eyes half-closed, tears of pleasure welling up. You didn't even hesitate before nodding desperately in agreement. He groaned to your ear while he felt closer and closer to his release.

"Oh fuck," he growled, coming inside you. Your body convulsed around his as you felt the waves of pleasure wash over you.

You felt his warmth fill you up and with a loud moan, you came too, your body shuddering around his. Your juices dripped down onto the floor as he continued to pump his seed deep inside of you.

After a few more moments, Mike pulled out of you, his cock slippery with your juices. He stumbled back a step, panting heavily. You slumped forward, resting your forehead on the kitchen counter.

After a few minutes catching your breaths Mike picked you up gently, cradling you in his arms. He carried you to the bedroom, your head resting on his shoulder as he walked.

Once in the bedroom, Mike laid you down on the bed and cleaned up the mess you've made. Then he helped you put on one of his hoodies so you didn't get cold. He then climbed in next to you, pulling you close.

You both lay there panting heavily, feeling your hearts race against each other's. Mike's arms were wrapped tightly around you, holding you close. He kissed your forehead softly as he looked into your eyes, which were barely open.

"That was amazing," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "You're so beautiful when you let go like that."

You smiled contentedly, whispering back something like "I love you". Feeling safe and loved in his arms, your eyelids grew heavy and you drifted off to sleep, listening to the sound of his heartbeat as it calmed you down.

#Spotify #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt smut #mike fnaf #mike schmidt #fnaf smut #josh futturman x reader #josh futturman #peeta mellark x you #peeta mellark

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thoughtlessthinkythoughts · 9 months

Text

I think the key to understanding show!Aziraphale is in some lines that are in the book but not the show. Because these lines represent a place that our show Aziraphale hasn't hit yet.

Before I get into this, let me explain why I think things that aren't in the show can be so important to understanding where the show will go.

For another example, let's look at the ending of the book/s1. In the book, Adam is not impressed with Aziraphale and Crowley. There is no pep talk. He actually has a pretty stern message to them about "not messing people around."

A lot of s2 might not have worked the same way if they had gotten that message. It would have cut off room for growth. The whole plotline with Nina and Maggie for one would have been much less likely. So by holding off the stop messing with people message to the end of s2 (and then only giving it to Crowley), it provides more room for the characters to change at a pace befitting a multi-season show.

So what else do I think will end up working this way?

Well, there's a scene I love in the book that hasn't made it into the show yet. It happens after Aziraphale is discorporated. In the show, he goes to heaven, then to Madame Tracy. In the book, he bounces around possible hosts first, including a televangelist. The televangelist is going on about the rapture and such, and Aziraphale cuts in with this:

"Well, nice try...only it won't be like that at all. Not really.

"I mean, you're right about the fire and war, all that. but that Rapture stuff well, if you could see them all in Heaven - serried ranks of them as far as the mind can follow and beyond, league after league of us, flaming swords, all that, well, what I'm trying to say is who has time to go round picking people out and popping them up in the air to sneer at the people dying of radiation sickness on the parched and burning earth below them? If that's your idea of a morally acceptable time, I might add.

"And as for that stuff about Heaven inevitably winning...Well, to be honest, if it were that cut and dried, there wouldn't be a Celestial War in the first place, would there? It's propaganda. Pure and simple. We've got no more than a fifty percent chance of coming out on top. You might as well send money to a Satanist hotline to cover your bets, although to be frank when the fire falls and the seas of blood rise you lot are all going to be civilian casualties either way. Between our war and your war, they're going to kill everyone and let God sort it out-right?

"Anyway, sorry to stand here wittering, I've just a quick question-where am I?"

Because even this more cynical version of Aziraphale is adorable, the scene ends with "Gosh," he said, "am I on television?"

We didn't get this in the show, but I can't help feeling that it might be in season 3, assuming we get a season 3. It might even fit in better there, assuming we are going with a "second coming" plot. In the show, Aziraphale hasn't reached this level of cynicism (yet). I can't picture s1 or s2 Aziraphale giving this speech. Sure, he's seen what a mess the archangels are, he was willing to go against heaven to stop them from starting the end of the world, but I'm pretty sure show Aziraphale still believes in the goodness of God if not the goodness of the way heaven is run. It makes sense that show Aziraphale sees heaven as a fixable mess, an organization that isn't living up to what it should be. Because the show is taking Aziraphale's struggle with morally complex situations and questioning God and making it a longer arc.

My guess it that, as his tenure as archangel is likely to go terribly and not give him any more answers (or at least not answers he likes), he will get to the point where he could give this speech in season 3. My guess is that he's likely to also end up in a horrendous mental state once he reaches these conclusions (a perfect opportunity for some hurt/comfort). He's likely to build himself back up after that, but with a clearer look at the world.

End conclusion: if you are telling a longer story, sometimes you need to hold some things back to give your characters room to grow. So, it isn't a sign something is wrong with a story when partway through a character hasn't hit upon an obvious point.

#good omens #good omens spoilers #aziraphale #good omens meta #good omens season 2

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jakescakeislateforourdate · 2 months

Note

hi I am the anon from the other day I was thinking about being in a established relationship w Don and he has a rough day a practise I don’t have your talent at writing lol so do what you please after that ahah

Perfect Form

Don Hume x fem reader

wc: 2,900

tbitb masterlist

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️ : smut, little plot, mdni, minors get out right now, penetration, fingering, cunnilingus, overstimulation, Don denying his own orgasm, aftercare

Enjoy this garbage!

…

Don’s skin glimmers with sweat. His hair is wet and slicked back from his shower not even twenty minutes ago. His pants leaning into his forearms that prop him up over you. His hips roll gently, and he slides in and out of you irritatingly slow.

“Don.” You whisper, reaching up to touch his cheek. He’s burning, face heavily blushed from the bridge of his nose and down his neck and chest, “need you to go harder.”

His eyes blink open, glancing over you agitated features. They travel down your sternum and stomach and catch on the desperate thrust of your hips to meet him. Instead of helping you out, he places a mean hand on your hip bone and pushes you down, holding you still. His pace does not change, arousal soaking the juncture of your bodies and poisoning the air. You whine at him and try to push against him but the only measured strain it takes to keep you down is the new flex in his bicep. “Just lay down and take what I give you—”

“C’mon, Hume!”

“Faster, Hume!”

Bobby wouldn’t let him catch a break. Poor Don had been catching crabs all morning, his oar piercing the water at the wrong angle or the wrong time. Something was always wrong with him.

“Don’t give me that shit, Donny! You can do better!”

“What is that form!”

He just needed to breathe for a second, get his feet under him. He could Joe angrily huffing behind him. Shorty groaning in frustration behind Joe. All Don could feel were their annoyed glares and the sting of their complaints. He was in the stroke seat, he could not afford to be off his game ever and yet there he was, floundering like an idiot.

“Get it together, you’re slowing this boat down!”

“Pull that again and you’re outta that seat!”

He did not get better by the end of practice and the crew would not get off his case. They complained on the way to the locker room, inside the locker room, in the showers, on their way out of the shell house. Coach Ulbrickson couldn’t even give him the time of day, telling him “If you don’t have yourself sorted out by tomorrow, we’re gonna have problems.” As if Don hadn’t been told off enough. He fumbled through his routine, tuned out to half of what everyone was saying. He tugged on his jacket and then his shoes, not even bothering to tie the laces.

At this point the crew was more concerned than they were angry. Don was quieter than usual. His face was long and sullen. His gaze distant.

“What’s wrong with Don?”

“What should we do about Don?”

“How can we help Don?”

On and on and he just wanted everyone to shut up and let him fix whatever problem he’s got. He left the locker room, his hair still dripping with the shower water. He found his way to your room without even thinking about, subconsciously knowing what he needed.

“F-fuck! You feel too good.” His head dips, hair tickling your collarbone. Your hands tangle in the dark strands of hair at the at the back of his head, holding him close. His bare body moves rhythmically. Slow and steady and restrained. He just wants to feel you, prove to himself that he as control. You’d offered to ride him, let him rest his tired body but he flat out refused and shut you up with a kiss. “Just—I just—” As he trails off his pace slows even more.

“Don! Don, please!”

You can’t handle this leisure fucking, you want him faster and harder. The drag of his cock through your drenched walls is lugging you to a harrowing climax. You feel that knot forming in the pit of your stomach. The broiling heat that electrocutes your veins and shocks your muscles.

“Faster, faster, faster…”

But Don just doesn’t listen. His thrusts remain soft, and his pace still relaxed. It frustrates you to no end and the need curls painfully inside of you. You arch off the bed, straining against the hand pinning you to the mattress. Your hands latch onto his shoulders. You actually gain some leverage against him which allows you to buck your hips into his oncoming thrust. The excess force creates the most delicious sensation as his thick cock is stuffed further into your soaked pussy.

“Hn—ngh!” Don’s lashes flutter and his brows draw tight, “Ha’ahfuck! Don’t do that.” The way you squeeze him makes his head spin. Not to mention the fact you’re now grinding back. Don reckons that the only way to keep you still is to drop his full weight onto you.

That glorious feeling of finally getting that mind-tickling pleasure dies away has Don’s sweaty skin presses fully to yours. Chest to chest, you’re effectively trapped between him and the mattress. “No-no. Why won’t you let me,” his lips cover yours in a callous kiss. The taste of that mint gum he likes to chew spreads over your tongue as his licks into your mouth. Your teeth clack, noses knocking as he rips away your precious breath. Your hands rake down his freckled arms. His own rough hands chase them down and fill in the gaps between your fingers and jam them into the pillows. Aside from your legs, folded by his hips, you’re completely stuck.

“Will you jus’ listen to me.” His lips abandon yours and he resumes his cold-hearted pace.

Tears well in your eyes, blurring his facial features and strangling your throat. It softens Don up a little as he watches you begin to cry because it’s how he’s been feeling all day. Finding some sympathy, Don grants you a deeper, harder thrust. He feels your stomach spasm at the newfound sensation. Your insides churn and you toss your head back and moan. Don tucks his knees under you, lifting your pelvis onto his thighs and forcing you to spread your legs wider. You squeeze his hands and sob as he hits deeper. His cock head drags over your g-spot, that rough little patch inside you that makes you twitch, with each of his calculated thrusts. Slick paints your folds, squelching as he pulls out to the tip and then shoves all his length and girth back in. You’re speechless and squirming and totally helpless to his whims.

“Better?” He plants a kiss on your tear-streaked cheekbone and nuzzles.

You choke and moan again, but you don’t try to fight him. Instead, your toe curls and you twist. Your orgasm is building faster than he wanted but he figures he can just give you more. He feels the stress of the day melting away as he watches you slip into the mind-numbing pleasure he gives you. He does that. He does it perfectly and controlled and with excellent form.

“That’s right. You fucking love this, don’t you? Love me and my dick.”

You wail and shudder as your insides uncoil. He delivers one more measured stroke and you cum hard. Your curl into him as your muscles tense. Clutching onto his hands so tight the knuckles crack. He can’t even move his hips once your legs lock together behind him. The waves of your orgasm wash over you and your walls wring out wetness around him. He wants to cum too, so bad, but he forces his way out of your hold and lets his climax fizzle out before it can shred him.

You whimper at the loss of contact. Your eyes peel open to see him not far away, hovering over you and breathing deeply. His thumb finds your clit and draws circles around the under stimulated bud. “Why...” You can’t catch your breath. “Why did you not—”

“Don’t want this to be over just yet.”

Don scoops you up and moves you towards the top of the bed. Your back rests against the headboard, a pillow jammed under your hips. He props your legs open and plants a few kisses on your sternum and ribcage before trailing down your belly. Your spasming, dripping core is fully exposed to him and he ravishes you with a ravenous tongue.

The velvety muscle curls and licks around your clit. It moves fluidly through your folds and prods your clenching entrance. “Hnn, Don!” You’re sensitive and lightheaded and now he’s giving you more than you bargained for.

He mouths at your core for a while, making an even bigger mess of you. Your fingers tug at his hair and grab at his shoulders but he cannot be coaxed away. His lips, bruised from your rough kiss, suck on your clit and drive you insane. He braces his hands on your thighs and dips his tongue into your hole. You shiver and grind against his mouth as he tongue-fucks your sensitive core. Each brush of his tongue along your walls makes your toes curl and your chest heave. You didn’t get a chance to really recover from the last orgasm he gave you and he’s already steadily working you towards another.

His thumbs find the petal-soft labia and spreads your folds. You bawl. His tongue flattens out and draws over your exposed parts. Don is relentless in this, his coarse tastebuds relishing the sweetness at oozes out of your cunt. He licks from your clit to your hole, circles the tip just around the inside, then licks back to your clit. Don suckles at the bundle until your thighs shake before he allows his teeth to graze the swell of nerves. Slick and saliva drip down his chin even as he slurps down what he can.

You chant his name, “Don. Don. Don—” desperate and horny.

His hand leaves your clammy thigh, a rough fingertip pressing on the edge of your hole. His mouth works your clit, a faint slurping filling the breaths between your noises. One long finger pushes in. Then a second. Two rugged digits stroke your pussy and make you squirm. “Fuck Don, fucking—hell!” He can barely hear you cursing he’s so immersed. When you’re not looking at him buried between your thighs or studying the back of your eyelids, you’re watching his hips hump the comforter and sheets.

Freckles like constellations dot his sinuous back. The pointed ridge of his spine divides the expanse of muscle. He’s tense. Still bothered by whatever has gotten into him today. He digs his fingers into that sore spongy g-spot and you writhe. Pleasure radiates from your overwhelmed core. The next high approaches fast as an avalanche. He works a third finger into you and it’s over. You go completely rigid as you cum again, gushing around his fingers.

“That’s it, makin’ such a mess.” Don smirks, lips shining with cum.

You think he’s finished when his mouth leaves your cunt and lunges into a sloppy kiss, but then his fingers drag through your folds and pinch your clit. You jolt and keen, still fighting through the aftershocks of the last orgasm, and now he’s belligerently overstimulating that sensitive bud. You can’t get a word in with his tongue down your throat either, all you can do his clutch at him and whimper.

Once your lungs are exhausted of air, his mouth pops off your lips and he wedges himself between your thighs. “Stop trying to close your legs.”

“Please—it’s so—f-fuck-ing—I can’t!”

“You can take it.”

His fingers rub fast, slicked up by your cum. He catches your clit between his digits and pinches again; it’s just enough pressure to border on pain. He bullies you against the headboard and steals your words away again. You try to kiss him back only to pant into his grin as you begin to wheeze. You don’t know what to do with your hands. Your blood is boiling, body spasming, your mind blank. Your third orgasm hits just as hard as the first two, making you cry out. He eases you down and pulls you back down the bed. He falls into place behind you and lifts one of your tired legs.

“Don, I can’t.”

“Give me one more, one more.” He promises, arm wrapping protectively around you. Your body feels like lead as the arm curled around you props your leg up. The other disappears and then promptly reappears with his cock pinched between his fingers. He pushes the tip through your folds and collects your slick. He’s already drenched in precum, a wet spot on the sheets from where he was grinding. “Can you do that for me?” He rests the tip against your weeping hole, waiting for you to reply. “Need you to talk to me, sweetheart.”

“Fuck, I—yes,”

He nudges the tip in and gently works his way back in. He’s long and thick and well aware that he’s a lot to take whether or not he was just inside you minutes ago. But he’s going too slow, that same stupid pace that drove you nuts earlier.

“Not again, Don, please not a-again!” Fat tears drop across the bridge of your nose as you slump against him.

Don’s free hand soothes you, “Shh, don’t worry, just don’t want to hurt you.” Upon your distressed whines he begins to fuck, hard and fast. He rests his cheek on your temple and rolls his hips as fast as he can while still pushing deep. You go alarmingly silent, and gun grabs ahold of your chin. “Hey, hey, you okay?”

“Hnnn!”

You clench and his pattern falters, he’s painfully hard and hungry for release but you must cum first. You raise up on one elbow; Don follows and slips his arm through the newly formed crevice. His fingers find the pert pink but that is your nipple and trace around it. He flicks it back and forth and eventually pinches it between his index and thumb. A drawn-out cry leaves your drooling lips. Don’s free hand finds lifted knee and he hoists it even higher and rolls his hips harder.

“Oh—” your head falls back, and Don pecks your temple. “I-hah-have to…gonna cum.”

“Yeah?”

Don fucks you so hard the bed creaks and mattress shifts, his skin slaps against yours and leaves behind a sharp sting. His leftover frustration bubbles up and takes over. He’s absolutely savage in giving you your last climax. Broken moans tumble out of his lips as your pussy constricts around him. You suck up empty breaths and Don knows you’re close. He drapes your suspended leg over his hip and reaches for your clit. He musters up enough coordination to find his way through the mess and stroke the aggravated organ. He feels where his cock has stretched you and lets out the most guttural groan as he pinches his throbbing cock between his fingers.

Black spots obscure your vision as you cum. You thrash and collapse into him, “I got you. I got you. I’m right here.” He whispers into your ear as you cream around him. He takes it for as long as he can withstand, wanting to help you ride out your high, but when the dam bursts he has to pull out and roll onto his back. He strokes himself from balls to tip once, twice, before his insides are racked with his delayed orgasm, and he spills creamy white semen all over his stomach. He pulls you close, rubbing your tummy with the hand still tucked under you.

“You alright?” He partially sits up and brushes back your hair. Sweat has beaded on your forehead and your eyes have shut tight. He jostles your shoulder until you nod. “Good, let me clean you up.”

He climbs off the mattress and crosses the room on his shaky legs. He draws a warm bath, adding some bubbles to it before scooping you up setting you in the tub. “Are you okay, Donny?” Your eyes open just a hair and kiss his hand. The blisters and callouses hurt your heart.

“I am now.” He returns the kiss to your nose before turning to analyze the state of your room. The mattress is damn near falling off the bedframe and the sheets have somehow been tugged from the corner. He lugs the mattress back onto the frame and replaces the sheets. He scrubs his cum off his belly then he’s climbing into the bath with you. The hot water eases the soreness in his whole body.

You soak together, billing and cooing about the day. Don lets it slip about practice and you snort. “That’s what this has been about?”

“Hey, now,” A smile plays at his lips as you tease.

You swat him, “Don’t even play innocent. Not after what you just did.”

“Didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“I’m only teasing, Donny, I’m good.”

“Sure?”

“Yes, you worry wart.” You kiss his tender lips. He cleans you with soap and and washes your hair, fingers massaging your scalp. For a while you rest your head on his chest. Until your eyelids become heavy and you’re in danger of falling asleep in the bathtub. Don helps you out of the tub and into some pjs before he’s ushering you into bed. “You should stay.”

“You want me to?”

“You ask too many questions, Don, get in.” He slips in and nestles himself against you. He’s still bare, knowing he’ll get too hot in his sleep and also knowing what he’ll be like in the morning. The only reason her got you dressed was for the soul purpose and privilege of undressing you later. But that’s for the morning and for now he just wants to cuddle up and sleep off a long day.

...

Dear reader,

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this fic please check out my other works on my masterlist. Requests are open if you want to ask . Have a nice day.

-the author

#boys in the boat #don hume x reader #don hume #jack mulhern

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likeabxrdinflight · 2 months

Text

I want to talk more about the way the characters have been adapted for the live action adaptation, because character writing is the thing I care about the most and as a psychologist it's probably the aspect of any story that I'm most invested in. I can get around pretty much any plot contrivance or weird maguffin or even shitty pacing if the characters of a story are engaging enough. This is my bread and butter, so to speak.

And I want to start with Iroh, because I think he is by far the best adapted character from the original. But I suspect I think this for different reasons than other people might, because the beloved Saint Iroh from the animated show this man is not.

See the thing with animated Iroh is that he's just...a bit too perfect. We know he's been complicit in the war in the past. We know he laid siege to Ba Sing Se, we know he had a complicated past. But we never really see it, we only barely hear about it, and more often than not there are other aspects of Iroh's past that serve to further deify him. He was a general in the war, but then he goes on to protect the last dragons and learn the true meaning of firebending. He led a 600-day siege and lost his son but he came out of that experience Enlightened, having journeyed to and from the spirit world. He joins up with the White Lotus (at some point) and becomes the wise old sage we know and love.

Except most of that is revealed in later seasons and is inconsistent with his actions alongside Zuko in season one. Season one animated Iroh is kind of a passive character, largely existing for comic relief and as a support to Zuko. But there's very little to suggest he's disloyal to the Fire Nation or their cause. He says it himself- "I'm no traitor, Zhao!" Now you can certainly interpret that line in several different ways, but I suppose that's the point- there's a lot left up to interpretation with animated Iroh. We get a sense of who he is in relation to Zuko, but his own development largely happens off-screen. And because to Zuko he's a wise, caring uncle and mentor, that's largely how we, the audience, see Iroh. We love him because Zuko loves him. And that's fine for what it is, and clearly it was effective- Uncle Iroh is almost universally beloved. But it does leave a lot of questions about him up in the air.

Live action Iroh is a very different character. This Iroh is a deeply broken man who was been profoundly impacted by the war and what he has lost because of it. I do not get the sense that the loss of Lu Ten has led to any spiritual enlightenment for this Iroh- there's no indication that he can see spirits, for example, or that he has ever traveled to the spirit world himself (he does still oppose the killing the moon thing, though.)

Right out the gate, we get the sense that this Iroh has lost faith in what the Fire Nation is trying to achieve with the war. He explains to Aang fairly early on what the Fire Nation's goal and perspective is, and can rattle off this dogma quite easily. But when questioned by Aang if these beliefs are also his beliefs, he dodges them rather un-deftly. So you know immediately that this Iroh doesn't really support the war. Later you see him somewhat bluntly telling Zuko that the throne may not be all it's cracked up to be, and he's fairly openly critical of Ozai in other moments. So you know from the jump that Iroh's not really on Team Fire Nation.

And yet this is also not a truly repentant man. When he is captured in Omashu, Iroh gets another brief scene with Aang while they are both imprisoned there (this is before Aang meets with Bumi). And in this scene, Aang tries to convince Iroh to help Zuko stop being The Bad Guy. And Iroh defends Zuko to Aang and stresses the point that it is not Zuko who owes him any great debt, but he who owes Zuko. Later, when he is confronted (and hit several times) by an Earth Kingdom soldier who lost his brother during the siege, Iroh does not apologize. He does not flinch at the man's accusations, nor does he deny them. He defends himself, albeit weakly, by stating he was a soldier, and it was a war. He has the audacity to accuse this soldier (somewhat obliquely) of having been made dishonorable by the effects of war. It's kinda messed up, honestly.

But then this man accuses Iroh of knowing nothing of loss. He leaves the shot, and we saw Iroh's face just crumble, and the scene cuts directly to Lu Ten's funeral, where Zuko chooses to sit with his uncle and support him through what must have been the darkest moment of his life. Back in the present, it is only later, after Zuko has come to rescue Iroh, that he speaks more honestly to the Earth Kingdom soldier- he shows mercy and states that they've all "seen enough death."

So what we have here is an Iroh who is deeply disenchanted by the war and does not support it or the goals of the Fire Nation, but who has continued to stand alongside Zuko and support him in his goals. We have a man who doesn't necessarily regret his actions as a soldier in the war but who very much does regret what those actions have cost. We see a man who is profoundly impacted by loss and grief and has become emotionally reliant on his nephew as a source of support. Not that he's parentifying Zuko or anything, he's very much not, but he is rather obviously channeling all the love he once felt for his son into Zuko instead. Zuko is his lifeline, he needs Zuko and you get the sense that without him, Iroh would truly fall apart. I mean the man is on the verge of tears more often than not when Zuko is in even the slightest bit of danger in a way that animated Iroh was not.

This is what I think is different here. Animated Iroh seemed to turn against the war because it was morally wrong, it had thrown the world out of balance, and imperialism is bad. Live action Iroh seems against the war because it wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth the cost, or the death, or the grief. He couldn't see that until he lost Lu Ten, but now he sees it everywhere. I get the sense that this Iroh just wants it all to stop, and I'm not sure he cares how that happens.

The White Lotus is definitely hinted at, but I suspect that was his motivation for joining it. It's not about restoring balance to the world for this Iroh. It's about restoring peace, so that he won't have to lose Zuko like he lost Lu Ten. So that the death and destruction stops. So he can just live a quiet life and put the past behind him.

It's a different take. And it's not that he doesn't still have a lot of wisdom to him, that he's not still a gentle, caring person. But he's a much sadder person, and he's lost that sense of "enlightenment" that his animated counterpart had. There's a selfishness you can read into to this version of his character that's much more apparent than the animated version.

I think a lot of people are gonna hate this, because it's a darker take on a much loved character. But I love it. This Iroh is human, this Iroh is flawed, and this Iroh has a lot more growing left to do. And that's awesome. If we get to actually see more of a character arc for him too, if we get to see him also growing and changing alongside Zuko? Please. It's not like he needs a total redemption arc, per se, but if in his journey with Zuko throughout the Earth Kingdom we can see Iroh gain some of his fortitude back, we can see when he decides he needs to push Zuko down a certain path, to take a side in the war, to see that it's not just the death and destruction that makes it wrong? God there's so much potential with that.

Now, maybe this isn't what will happen with seasons two and three. Maybe they'll back track and try to make him more similar to the animated version. I don't know. But for now? Live action Iroh is fantastic, and Paul Sun-Hyung Lee is giving a hell of a performance. He's warm and tender when he needs to be, fierce when he has to, and just profoundly sad throughout it all. And I love him so much more for that.

I'll be controversial here and say it. So far, live action Iroh is a better character than animated Iroh.

#I never disliked animated Iroh to be clear but perfect can be boring #this Iroh is not perfect and that is so much more interesting to me #natla spoilers #natla #iroh

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