#but I decided that wasn't all that funny so I'm only describing the fact that I thought about it which is different

[roanniom]

being bold and deciding to make the first move by kissing his rings before you push his hand up your skirt 🤭

Distracted

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

You're a friend of Robin's whose been in his world peripherally for a while. Like you've gone to the same parties and you've hung out at Family Video and seen him when he brought the teens in to see Steve after Hellfire sessions. You've only hung out in groups and your conversations, though extremely flirty, have been pretty surface level.

But you've got a thing for the quirky metalhead. Not only is he a fucking babe, but he also seems genuinely sweet and is very funny. When you bring this up to Robin, however, you aren't prepared for how she lights up, telling you that Eddie's been asking about you, too. Ever the matchmaker, Robin pushes you into a plot that makes it so that you and Eddie end up alone at his place on a Saturday night (initial group plans are bailed on last minute by all the teens who were threatened within an inch of their life not to actually show up).

Eddie seems unfazed by this turn of events and takes it in stride, cracking open a six pack for the two of you to share and throwing on a horror movie.

"If you want to bail, too, that's cool," he lets you know, even as you plop down beside him on the couch, beer in hand. He's got a self-deprecating smile on his face. "I'm sure hanging out alone with the town freak wasn't exactly on your agenda this week."

"Don't presume to know my agenda, Munson," you tsk, feigning a frown that is already curling around the edges into the smile you can't suppress. "You know how type A I am. I won't have you questioning my to-do list."

You apply the innuendo lightly, but the way his eyebrow quirks lets you know that it lands as you'd intended. Eddie runs his tongue over his teeth while appraising you.

"I wouldn't dare get in the way of your efficiency, sweetheart." There's a dare in his eyes, but you lean back against the couch and watch him over the top of your bottle as you take a sip. You've got time.

As the night goes on, the two of you drink and laugh and tease one another. One movie ends and he puts on the sequel immediately. Some slasher where kids are running around screaming in the woods. The two of you discuss what your own strategy would be if you found yourselves in a similar situation. At this point, you're feeling loose and floaty - combination of the alcohol and the sound of Eddie's laughter. It's got bubbles fizzing in your bloodstream. Your bodies have shifted closer on the couch as time has gone on, and as he emphatically describes something, his hand comes down to press onto your knee. Seemingly just as a matter of emphasis and to ground your attention in his point, but you notice that his hand doesn't lift up when he finishes his monologue.

A thrill of possessive pleasure runs through your body at the realization.

"You know, you'd probably die somewhere around the halfway point of the movie," you challenge suddenly and Eddie's eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"I'm sorry, princess, but what?!"

"You know because you're all..." you gesture to his body. The denim vest he's still wearing over his band tee even though he's relaxing at home. The tattoos. The heavy rings on the hand that's still resting on your knee. His fingers flex against your skin when you point at them.

"I'm a badass, you mean? What about my badassery makes you think I'm dying at all?"

"The cool guys always die at the midpoint," you argue. "They get distracted having sex with the hot girls and that's when the killer guts them." Exactly as you say this, as if the universe is trying to bolster your argument, a young man on screen is stabbed through the back mid-thrust, falling down bloody upon his shrieking lover. You glance away from the screen and back at Eddie with a satisfied smirk. "Case in point."

"All I got from that is the fact you think I'm cool," Eddie says with a smug smirk. You roll your eyes at him but shift a bit closer.

"I also said you'd die fucking a bimbo."

"No, you said I'd die fucking a hot girl," he corrects, also shifting infinitesimally closer.

"Oh, so you were listening," you tease. Your hand rests on top of his hand on your knee and you start fiddling with his rings.

"Yeah, and I guess that means you should be concerned," he says flippantly, his fingers splaying out on your knee so that yours have more space to move between them. You're now distracted by the attention you're focusing on his hand.

"Why should I be concerned?"

"Because the hot girl getting fucked by the cool guy dies next," he says, nodding his head towards the tv you had all but forgotten about just as a young woman running topless through the woods, her breasts swinging and covered in her dead boyfriend's blood, is cut down by the killer. You both laugh.

"All I got from that is the fact you think I'm hot," you say turning back to him and mimicking his prior comment. His face lights up with a grin.

"Guilty as charged, sweetheart."

The moment feels right. The electricity between the two of you is palpable and you lift his hand up off your knee and towards your lips.

"They only get got, though, because they get distracted," you posit, pressing a kiss to each of Eddie's rings. His eyes are trained on your lips, his own parted to let his suddenly shallow breathing pass through. "Do you think you could keep from getting distracted?"

"Uh...yeah," Eddie says, running his tongue over his bottom lip. "Yeah I'm sure I could stay focused. Vigilant."

"Oh yeah?" you ask, smiling at how he's already so distracted. Suddenly you're lowering his hand and bringing it to the top of your thigh, right at the hem of your skirt. He takes a sharp inhale. "What's that? Losing focus?"

"No. Never, sweetheart," he says with a laugh, though it's shaky. Without even losing a beat his fingers flex in your hand, the pad of his thumb caressing at the skin of your thigh that he's never touched till now.

"What about now?" you ask, abruptly pushing his hand up your skirt to rest on your clothed pussy.

Before you can even process the next heartbeat, Eddie is on you. His mouth is capturing yours in a soul searing kiss and you can't help but gasp into him. Taking in his taste and scent all at the same heady time. Your hand abandons his on your mound and you bring your arms up around his neck to pull him as close to you as possible.

"If I die, I fucking die,” Eddie practically growls against your lips. “Distract me, baby.”

You laugh but he dips his head down to nips at your collar bone and it turns into a moan. Eddie’s hand starts rubbing blindly at your slit through your panties and you find your hips moving against his fingers of their own accord.

“Do horror movies turn you on?” Eddie teases. You bite your lip and shake your head, looking him dead in the eye.

“No, you turn me on, Eddie Munson.”

Suddenly you’re being pushed back down against the couch. The abruptness of his manhandling has you squealing and you lock your arms around his neck, being sure to keep him close and bringing him down with you.

His kiss arrests your lips again, his tongue invading your mouth. It’s everything you ever wanted. It’s what you’d imagined each time you’d watched him from the other side of a party or listened to him joking around with your mutual friends.

All of his attention. All of his focus on you.

What you don’t realize is that it’s always been on you. At those parties and those hang outs, as much as you’d watched him, he’d been watching you. Learned to love your smile and how quick you were to laugh. Catalogued your stories in the back of his mind as you told them to a riveted audience of all the teens.

He’s finally getting to touch you the way he’s always wanted. And it’s working him up faster than he’d like to admit.

You shift on the couch and it gives him more room to slot his body between your opened thighs. When his hard, denim-covered bulge presses against your thigh, your hips buck, pushing up into the palm which has been applying pressure to your pussy.

“Remember that agenda?” You ask with a tremor in your voice. His hand slips under the elastic of your panties, fingers making direct contacted with your slick core for the first time. You both groan.

“Um…yeah.” He says, shaking his head as if to clear it in order to comprehend your words. The tip of a finger circles your clit before sliding down to push into your hole. You gasp. “Your to-do list.”

“You’re at the top,” you gasp out.

There’s a moment where a Eddie doesn’t react. He’s so focused on pumping his finger in and out of your tight pussy, feeling you around him. Watching your chest rise and fall. But when your words make sense he throws back his head and let’s out a bellowing laugh. His laugh makes you laugh and then you’re shaking in one another’s arms. Trying to calm down. The shared vibrations of your joint hysteria seeming to wreak havoc on all of your nerve endings.

Eddie lunges forward and begins sucking at your neck and the tops of your breasts exposed by your low neckline. Just as he adds another finger to your pussy.

“I can be efficient, too, you know,” he says before worrying your skin between his lips.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you be efficient with your shirt off?” You ask, fingers scrabbling at the hem of the garment. Eddie sits up quickly and yanks the shirt off with unnecessary, theatrical aggression, tossing it away as if it’s offended him. You reach out and trace the tattoos on his chest and he moves to lower himself back over you.

“Mmm, cool guy,” you hum, your fingers passing delicately over his inked skin. Eddie quickly unbuttons your blouse and pulls it open, gazing hungry down at your bra-clad breasts.

“Hot girl,” he responds, pressing his face juvenilely between your tits. You grasp at the hair at the back of his neck and laugh until you feel him beginning to suck on you. Then your hips are rolling into his hand. The hand that’s started to fuck you in earnest. “You look like you’re more distracted than me right now, sweetheart. Maybe you’ll be dying before me after all. That petite mort, huh?”

You’re laughing and gasping all at once. His French accent is atrocious but he’s referencing a conversation you’d had with him and Robin about orgasms the week prior. You hadn’t thought he’d been paying attention since he’d been half in argument with Steve at the time, but now you know otherwise.

“You we’re listening to that? Was - fuck - pretty sure you were focused on whatever Harrington was saying.”

“I’m always focused on you, sweetheart.”

You feel heat creeping through your body as fondness mixes with arousal. You’re impatient and you both push and pull at him all at once.

“Ok I just need you to fuck me, ok? Can we jump to that?”

“Nuh uh, I’m making you cum first.” His thumb presses harder circles into your clit and you cry out. But you shake your head dramatically side to side.

“No I want you inside me now.”

“That’s a bit pushy of you, isn’t it?” Eddie teases, but as he does so he eases his fingers out of you and brings them up to lick off your slick. You’re already unbuckling his belt and pushing down his jeans.

“No, I’m efficient. Type A, remember?” His cock springs free of his boxers and you’re ready to drool. He’s practically edible, and if you weren’t so fucking on the edge right now you’d swallow him while immediately.

“How could I forget,” he responds, voice full of gravel as he grabs his cock and pumps one twice. You lay back against the couch, legs splayed and waiting for him, divesting yourself of your bra and cupping your breasts to keep yourself worked up. “Fuck you’re a pretty picture.”

“Gonna just stare or are you gonna do something, Munson?”

“See? Pushy,” he says, even as he lowers himself on top of you and pushes his tip right into your entrance.

The teasing stops as you both come together with rolling hips and gasping breaths. His thrusts are hard and definitive and you find yourself holding on for dear life. He feels so good and right and heavy and strong and you’re so close so soon.

“Eddie…Jesus Christ I’m…” your eyes are squeezed shut and he kisses your eye lids, paradoxically sweet when juxtaposed with the harsh way he’s pounding into you.

“You gonna cum, baby?” He asks, and there’s playful mocking in his tone. If you couldn’t feel his muscles shaking, proving he is equally close, you would have felt more shame.

“Y-yeah…gonna cum.” You admit it on a whine. He feels so good and then suddenly his finger is between you, swirling over your clit again.

“Already? I guess that’s efficient of you,” he says and you clench hard when you laugh, making him let out a loud moan.

“Stop - fuck! You can’t clench like that,” he admonishes.

“Stop making me laugh then, asshole,” you say with no bite. He, however, bites your neck and laves his tongue over the skin.

“Mmmm, you’re sexy when you’re mean.”

You’re not sure what does it - his thrusts, his finger on your clit, his teasing - but one moment you’re rolling your hips into his and the next you’re writhing beneath him, cumming harder than you ever have before. You practically black out calling his name, so much so that you don’t even notice when he cums along right after you.

You come back to your senses to find him still inside you, trailing kisses up and down your throat and chest. You take a deep shuddering breath and grip weakly at his back.

“You gotta get up,” you say, pushing weakly at him with not intent behind the motion. Eddie shakes his head and buries it into your neck.

“Never.”

“I gotta get up and cross you off my checklist.” You tease with a breathless laugh which he returns.

“You can’t. We were so distracted the killer got us. We’re dead, remember?” His grin is so wide one of your trembling hands lifts automatically to trace his dimples.

“Fuck. The downside to being cool and hot is pretty disproportionate to the upside.”

“Speak for yourself,” he snorts, letting his hand come up to cup your jaw. “I’m staring at a pretty big upside.”

~*~

Tiny tag list (will come back later and add more people): @sacklerscumrag @theoncrayjoy @millenialcatlady @xxcatrenxx @cowboy-kylo

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson Drabble #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #fem!reader

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I have an odd request… perhaps a captain price fic where the reader is much younger and edgy- likeee covered in tats and stuff,, and price isn’t rly used to that but finds it hot as hell… idk maybe they work together ?? Smut ensues …

IDK I have tatts and wonder what he’d think of that 👹👹

Just an idea 💡❤️😫

Fire it Up (John Price x F!Reader)

Word count: 7.8 k

Tags/warnings: Smut 🔞 mutual pining, flirting, swearing, older man/younger woman dynamic, forbidden love, smoking & drinking, voice kink, a tiny brat taming kink squeezed itself in here too. Reader has tattoos and works as a coder at the base. Rough ~10yrs age gap described, reader is of age I hope to god it goes without saying (Price is canonically 37) Also: no use of 'daddy' in this fic

A/N: I'm so glad for this request anon and I hope you like what I made! Also people please be gentle, this is my first Price fic 🥹 God I wish I could attach the fat scent of cigar here to give you the full experience. 

You don't know what caught your attention first.

The cigar, perhaps. Or the beard? Might be his hips, the ass that tells you this man can fuck a woman for hours.

Or maybe it's the fact that he's too old for you.

No, not too old…

Just older than you. A decade, perhaps, if you were being gentle with him and lenient with yourself.

He certainly isn't old enough to be your father, but he wasn't the type of man your eyes usually drifted on either.

He looks like someone who's supposed to be fishing in Alaska, sucking that fat cigar while taking in the view of mountains while trying to catch wild fish in some wide, free stream. 

He's supposed to come home to a remote cabin: to his little wife who pours him a scotch after he has shown her what he caught today. Make sweet love to her while stars shoot and speckle the indigo night.

He looks like someone who makes love to women.

You, on the other hand, want to ride with him to the sunset on the back of a Harley, clutch his jacket as he drives you to some bizarre highway motel. You want to watch him drink that scotch from your navel. 

You'd do all kinds of crazy shit with him, keep his head between your legs with both hands, grind all over that mustache, and see how wet it gets. You want him to pound you with those narrow hips, take you from behind while you look back with parted, swollen lips and relish the sight of what must be a grown man's hardened body, covered with hair and scars and–

"The bug's still there."

You return to reality, look at the code on your screen, and then at your colleague, a 20-something bloke who looks at you with the lethargic stare that only belongs to techies. You've just been caught daydreaming your eyes off in the middle of a lazy afternoon. Coffee doesn't do shit after 2 PM…

"Yeah I know. I'm working on it," you say. But when the dude leaves, you decide it's time for a creative break. You tell yourself it's only because the code jumps on the screen, not because you hope to catch a certain someone smoking outside. 

The leather jacket is a little too much these days, but you throw it on out of pure habit. You realize the weight of your mistake when you go outside from the ventilated building and notice the sweltering heat. Spring has finally turned into summer.

Coffee doesn’t do shit, but it’s time for another kind of wakey-wakey. And butterflies are a funny term for something that mainly feels like it’s eating your insides out of pure excitement. 

Because he's here too.

Jonathan Price, although no one calls him Jonathan. Few call him John, either. 

Mostly, he goes by the title Captain.

He's stressed; you can tell. But his eyes soften immediately when they fall on you, a brief look to the side, just to know who else comes out to have a breath of fresh air or a smoke. He looks like he's been expecting you, but that might only be a silly girl's daydream. You two share a vice, and you've never been more grateful for your bad habit before this place and him.

And you wouldn't call it necessarily a bad habit. It's simply stress relief if you do it once or twice every few weeks. It's not like you smoke two packs a day. It's not like you even smoke one cig per day. 

Although ever since you started this odd little job in this odd little place, you've smoked one or two nearly every day… And it's not because of the stress.

It's because of Price. 

John. You’d like to see his reaction to you moaning that word in his ear…

"How long have you been here?"

His eyes are still on you, mouth covered by a hand as he makes love to his cigar. And that bedroom voice always gets you. It's better than the upcoming slow drag of nicotine. You're not here for tobacco at all.

"Two weeks." You reach for your excuse and try to prevent your hands from trembling as you light the cig. Usually, you're not this shy with people. Not with men, anyway. But with him, your wits and words disappear. 

You blow the smoke through the air with a quick, lively wisp where he lets it roll out his tongue in a heavy cloud. He's still watching you as if to weigh what kind of woman you are exactly.

"How about you?" You continue the small talk with nervous ease.

He chuckles; the little smile even shows a flash of teeth as he steals a look at the clouds, calculating years with those surprisingly lively eyebrows curled up toward the sky.

"Ages."

He's not that old. Perhaps well over his thirties, might be knocking his forties. The statement is merely an underline of his stress today. You can only wonder what kind of pressure the captain of Task Force 141 is under when you get sleepless nights from a stupid source code. There are a few wrinkles around his eyes, but they only tell you that this man smiles a lot. He might be the only one in this compound who smiles a lot.

"Have you ever tried a cigar?"

There's a glint in his eyes as he offers the thick roll of tobacco to you. It's suddenly difficult to breathe, difficult to even keep your thoughts together.

"No," you shake your head as if your answer wasn't enough to tell him he's the first person ever to offer you such a thing. Then you realize the word does not precisely deliver your eagerness to try that stout cigar.

"Would love to," you hurry to add with a soft smile. "Can I have a taste?"

He walks to you slowly, and your eyes drop to those hips, which sway like he's purposely trying to seduce you.

Fu–ck…

Then your eyes sink even lower, between his legs, to his fucking junk, and it's too fucking late–

Jesus–get your shit together…

You force your eyes back to his and see the little glimmer in them gain a surprised spark – you're totally caught red-handed on checking him out.

Fuck. How can you be so stu–

"Gently then, kid."

You swallow your heart and thoughts down and take the offered cigar; of course, your first thought is how thick and heavy it is. And somehow, you decide right then and there that you will no longer be the nervous, hot-cheeked woman on the corner.

It's time to make him flustered.

So you take a hollow-cheeked, slow suck on the fat cigar. A chaste, savory taste, more like, but there's nothing chaste in the way you raise your eyes to his, putting every ounce of soft seduction in that stare.

He draws breath slowly – his face is full of expression for an allegedly cold-hearted elite soldier. You don't know how often women flirt with this hunk of a man, but he sure looks taken aback by your sudden play. Probably thinks you're too young for him – and you curse the second time you put that jacket on. You want to see his reaction to your sleeves.

"Mm. It's thicker than I thought," you weigh the cigar between your fingertips and let the smoke roll out your mouth. The man switches his weight from one foot to another, speechless, and you suppress a big beam of a smile.

"The taste," you emphasize as if innocent, as if you didn't see that shocked little shift. "Round, and… god, it's almost sweet."

You smile as you give it back, and he chuffs an approving laugh through his nose – those eyes are bear-warm playful now, his mouth curves into an easy smile.

"Nice," you look him up and down as if you're talking about the man and not the cigar.

"Beats those little sticks." 

His voice drops down a few notes; it's almost a husky growl. You barely make out the words he's saying. The tension in the air could form little balls of lightning around you, the flirt is over the roof, and there's even no roof because you're outside – and you take your jacket off, slowly, to make it clear it's summer and not spring.

His eyes fall on the ink immediately, and he blinks a few times, draws some more breath – you tweet your thanks accompanied by another smile and go back inside.

You know he's checking your ass in those black jeans as you walk away.

….....

It doesn't end there.

You see him again and again and again, and at some point you realize he has to walk almost 100 meters from the other end of the base to get to the little corner where the two of you smoke. 

He's intrigued but decent. Holds a distance, never says anything that could be taken in the wrong way – or even in the right way. But he's fucking you with his eyes. 

No… making love to you.

And it drives you crazy.

You don't want that. You don't need that. To be that little wife in the cabin. Pouring him a drink, climbing in his lap, ghosting a finger down the stubble on his chin, see how wide and proud it makes him smile to hold you like you're his and his alone...

God. When did it come to this?

You suck on his fat cigar every now and then. Look him in the eyes while you do it. Once, it makes his tongue dart out, it wets his bottom lip, and then he does that thing with his mouth... the thing where he kind of purses his lips and it makes the mustache dip, and you realize, you learn it's a sign that he's restless, he's flustered.

You make the big, burly captain of Task Force 141 flustered.

And he doesn't smell like the people inside smell. Of stale coder sweat and Joy Division and soft drinks and mommy's home-cooked meals. He smells of rich forest and fine bourbon and half-burnt gasoline. Maybe Saxon on vinyl. Definitely beats those little sticks that are your nerdy co-workers at the hacker department, as you call it.

He may have a flask somewhere; perhaps he takes a sip or two every now and then, whether at work or not. And you don't blame him. Even with those laugh lines and that brown bear benevolence, you can tell he's seen things. 

You wonder what he's like out there in the field. Brutal? Or just efficient?

He never asks about your tattoos, but he eyes them often. There's a certain admiring esteem in his stare. He's checking you out, scratches his chin, and rips his eyes off when they start to drift down. He forces his eyes to stay above your neckline no matter the cost. You mourn that you got rid of the septum a few years ago: you're pretty sure he would've liked that, too. After all, it's a piercing that screams 'warrior' the most. Break after break, you return to your desk, aroused and giddy and surrounded by the rich, masculine aroma of his cigar.

One night, he drives by when you're walking home after what was supposed to be one or two pints.

The car is a big, black pick-up, and when it slows down and starts to inch by your side, your first reaction is a silent curse of why the fuck don't you carry some pepper spray in your pocket.

"Hey, you ok?"

Your head rises from the asphalt the second you recognize that smooth, pleasant voice of a man you had compared every guy to at the pub that evening. The whole man is brimming with burnt sienna, he's hard alcohol with no ice…

You stop and turn, a little wobbly from the pint turned to two or three. Or four.

"Yeah. Had a little girl's night out."

The car rumbles softly, not two meters away, and the sound reminds you of his voice. A soft purr that can turn into a growl, even a roar if he wants to. 

He looks like he's going fishing, even without the boonie hat. The dark hair is cut short, so you won't have anything to tug if he ever ends up between your legs. But you don't really mourn that fact, because he looks so damn good.

He looks you up and down, and you notice the briefest blob of his Adam's apple before he gives you another offer.

"Want me to give you a ride?"

Would love a ride.

Would fucking love to ride you.

"Sure. That's kind of you." 

Your eyes must be sparkling like the fucking stars.

"No problem at all," he leans his elbow on the open window and waits while you round the car and get in. You try to tone down your drunken state, but your moves are a little too brash for a calm and collected coder lady this man has usually caught leaning against the wall of the workplace you two share.

"Did you have fun?"

He sounds like a dad picking up his girl from a school disco, and you purse your lips in slight distaste and amusement.

"Yeah. You know how it is when someone asks you for a pint."

He gives a short laugh and starts to drive. "That never ends well."

You smile and turn to look at him.

"Mm… This one kinda did."

You enjoy the brief look out the window, the sight of someone so formidable and robust and experienced trying to find his way out by feigning something caught his attention in the black, empty distance of a quiet city.

"Glad I could be of service," he brushes off your flirt like it's nothing more than a speckle of dust on his coat.

The rest of the ride is silent, too silent. He turns the music off in case it "bothers you," and it turns into an awkward, overly polite fight about whether to keep it on or not. 

It's a minor shock to notice he was listening to some classical. Not 80's rock, not country, not even BBC. He was just soothing his nerves.

You can't put your finger on what makes you feel so sheepish around this man – usually, you put men on a leash with a few dry jokes and a hearty laugh or two. Now, your flirting is shy and does nothing: there's a wall built up, and from behind that wall, only a few stolen looks…

The pick-up is humming, the engine is running at idle next to your place far too soon, and it's time you get off the car – but you have vehemently decided you will knock down that fucking wall even if you have to drag him to your bed. 

"You wanna come up and have a nightcap?"

Another look out the window as he raises his hand over his mouth, fiddles with his mustache, and avoids the rising heat between you two.

"Thanks, kid. But you need to sleep."

Your heart is pumping, and you feel like a harasser as you place your hand on his thigh.

He doesn't move, but you can hear the audible swallow this time. He doesn't move a single finger even when you slide your palm down that leg, then drag it over to the inner thigh, and start to drift back up slowly, slowly, to give him the time and space to stop you before you reach….

….the visible bulge between those legs, the absolutely gorgeous, ample bump pulling at those pants, something so delicious that you must fight tooth and nail not to race your hand up there and give it a fond grope.

His hand falls over yours just before you reach it.

"Kid. Let's leave it here and call it a night."

His voice is strained and tight, and he's still looking out the window. You don't move your hand away because he doesn't move it away. His warmth stays there, keeping you against him, and you feel like shit for thinking it's not a no… That it's a yes when he seems to hold your hand as a prisoner, wanting to feel your dainty little palm against him.

Your fingers curl slightly, a hopeful gesture to imagine how it would feel to curl and claw at his hips and that ass while he's fucking you.

"Listen. You're a nice girl. A very nice–"

You give a heavy, demonstrative sigh and finally draw your hand away.

"Come on Cap… You're seriously going to give me the "you're a nice girl" talk?"

Finally, he turns. His nostrils quiver as he tries to keep his breaths calm. Your lips part like it's a whole caress he just gave you – and his gaze drops to your mouth instantly. You start to see where the problem is.

You're too young. 

You're forbidden.

"I offered you a nightcap," you tilt your head slightly. "You can come up or you can go home."

You wet your lips, give the bottom lip a tiny little bite, and offer him the last, inviting, soft smile. It must hold an equal amount of sorrow because you can't drown the bitter feeling of rejection, no matter how many drinks you've had that night. No matter how much he seems to want you, it doesn't change the fact that he's apparently decided to stay strong and keep his hands off the cookie jar.

You turn and get out of the car, lean on the door for the final fucking time...

"Didn't know I'd only get to suck your cigar... You're all smoke and no fire, Price."

The door flies closed with a louder slam than you originally meant. 

Now that was a little bit passive-aggressive, you have to admit. But you're drunk, and he's being a pain in the ass, calling you a kid, looking at you like that, having a fucking hard-on and giving you nothing.

…But it does the trick. 

You smile like an idiot when you walk to your place and hear the purr of the engine stop. Another car door opens, then closes, wide footsteps follow you…

A nightcap it is, then.

He looks even bigger when inside a place with walls and a roof. He stands inside your apartment tall and wide as if he's waiting to call attention. Those large hands are over his crotch, concealing the swell of erection you already saw in the car. 

You know the tank top you wear reveals even more skin covered in tats as you throw your jacket away and go get him that drink. The glasses glide on your table, slide nearly to the floor, and the bottle of Jim Beam meets the counter with a devastating clank. You look at the excuse to get him into your place and sigh. 

"You know what… Fuck this."

Offering cheap bourbon to someone like him seems a bit ridiculous. So you offer him something he might actually like. Something he actually came here for. 

You walk to him and throw your hands around him – he stiffens from the middle but looks down at you with a heated glimmer in those eyes. You could've sworn they were charred brown, the same color as his cigar, but up close you see they're actually molten iron. Mercurial.

"You sure about this?" He asks softly.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He unclasps those hands from over his groin, and the warmest weight falls to rest on your waist, even steals a caress to your hip. You want to hurl yourself at him, press yourself against his crotch and grind until you bleed from just that tiny touch he finally gives you.

"You've had one too many, love."

Love…

Shit.

The warmth spreads from his eyes, from that hand, from the word that rolls out of his mouth like a beautiful puff of smoke. It unfurls inside your heart, swells inside your throat, plummets to your groin, and you switch the weight to your other leg to feel how that hand gains more weight as it gets pressed more firmly against you.

"Doesn't change the fact that I want you."

Your voice is nothing short of a purr. When have you ever purred like that to a man? You sound like a housecat, tame and adoring, waiting for a gourmet meal.

"You really want an old man?"

He still has that reserve in his eyes, decent and distant, but underneath, you sense a terrible heat, like the glow of a cigar lit in darkness, an adamant smolder that never dies out.

"You're not that old." 

Your purr turns into a deprived meow. You dangle from his neck, and the smoke, the fire that surrounds him, blends into the gentle scent of a man, the musk of a mature beast. You know he's hairy under those clothes; he fucking has to be. The vision of how his cock must look, surrounded by untame, coarse fur, has tormented you night after night.

And now he's finally here. In your apartment.

You skate your hands over his chest while slowly dropping into a squat, then languidly kneeling in front of his crotch.

He doesn't stop you, not even when you open his belt and the zipper and crawl your fingers down the waistband of his underwear. You have to stifle a delighted gasp upon seeing how his cock springs free and stands proud in front of you in all its glory. And fuck yes he's hairy – the hairiest man you've ever had. 

Cigars feel like tiny little sticks when you wrap one hand around him and lick the weeping slit like it's your favorite ice cream. The groan that follows is a husky eruption above you and gets stuck in his throat as you take him in your mouth.

"Fucking hell, kid…"

He's thick, broad, and the musk fills your nostrils, but what he just said makes you pull back and whisper on the bulbous tip–

"Don't call me a kid," you breathe on his cock, swirl your tongue around him, and his thighs bunch. "Old man."

You finally manage to push some buttons.

The back of his hand brushes your cheek, then slides over to your throat. He's gentle but firm as he forces a thumb under your chin, curls fingers around your neck as if you're a cat who's about to be force-fed some medicine that's only good for her.

"Is that how you wanna play it?"

His thumb brushes down the ridge of your throat. Tentative, promising.

"Perhaps," your lips quiver with anticipation as you smile; your voice is a pitched vibrato before it drops, just to give him a reason to put you in your place... "Old gum–"

The hand pulls up, the grip tightens just enough to guide you back to your feet and up to meet his face.

"Didn't know you asked me here to tame a brat."

Fuck…

You almost moan. 

The hand doesn't choke you; it makes love to you. Claims you as his. 

"Really…?" You sigh. Flash him a filthy, guiltless smile.

The fire surges forth and nearly buckles your knees. His eyes flash in rhythm with your grin, like a sudden flicker of a campfire in the middle of a dark, parched forest.

"This what you want? Hmm?"

The rumble reminds you of the engine of a Harley roaring to life. His throat is burned from the fire of his cigars, the hand on your throat is used to squeezing dead metal and pulling pins from frigid grenades. But even they can't stand a chance against his woodland fire and sycamore smoke. He could bring a cold, inanimate rock back to life with all that fire.

"Yes. I want it. John."

His name on your tongue is a cat's meow. It has the exact effect you hoped for.

"Let's get the brat tamed, then."

"Hah," you finally moan. "Promises, prom–"

The fingers around your throat pull you to his mouth with a python strength. His lips spread yours with soft devouring as he coats you in fire. The coarse beard smells of sweet tobacco – nothing like a pungent cigarette. It's like an old memory: safe and sturdy and strong. Male.

You moan in his mouth – god, what will it be like when he's inside you? – and he capes both arms around you and crushes you against him. Broad shoulders envelop you like a shroud of thick smoke, the cock gets trapped between you like a hot spear, and you mewl like a slut.

Your pussy clenches, just from his warm mouth, the rich velvet of his lips. He takes everything with that kiss, and you're weak in his arms as he bends and molds you against him just the way he wants, opens your mouth with his own and breathes you, samples you like those puffs of smoke he sucks from his cigar.

Your brain short-circuits, you barely notice how your top slides up as his hands go under it. It's dragged up, up, over your breasts and then over your head as he detaches just enough to rip that piece of clothing away. 

You look at him like he's Christmas, then reach for your bra while he opens his pants more to get them down. Your jeans are accursedly tight, and he's breathless, too: the whole room is dark and filled with heavy breathing and rustle of clothes as you claw your socks off, slide your strings down and away, watch him get out of his shirt and throw it on the floor too, all propriety gone.

And then…

Jesusfuck–

He picks you up, lifts you from the ground like you're nothing but a leaf, and strides with you in his lap until your back meets a wall.

The barrel-like chest presses the air out of your lungs while your back travels up – you don't know if his arms or chest do the lifting, but you're being positioned for his cock to enter. Your hands try to grasp something solid before it's too late – his back and neck – your legs wrap around him, feet hooking over his ass as the thick of his tip pokes your soaked folds, and after a few seconds of probing, slides in. 

"F–uck…" you gasp, sounding so needy that it could be a voiceline from a bad porno movie. His lips find the place between your ear and neck immediately.

"Be good for me now," he gruffs, dark and round like the sweetest bourbon, although you know he's the finest single malt in the world. "Be good…"

"Ah–John…"

I'll be good… 

Just for you, I'll be so, so good.

He pants heavy on your neck, grunts as he starts to fuck you against that wall. You knew he might be intense, but apparently, you had no idea. The man is needy as fuck, and has concealed it up until this point. 

You could cry, scream from joy from the thickness that spreads you, fills you with every fat glide of a thrust. The sex borders on rough but is so incredibly tender too, so needy it makes your heart collapse, compress into a taut knot in your chest. It's the softest rocking, the gentlest fucking as he retreats, then ruts into you again and again with sharp, rusty moans. You're in a slow but steady rodeo with this man, your breasts pressed against a solid chest covered with hair, and it tickles, even if his pecs threaten to crush your ribcage.

"You're one hell of a girl," he gruffs in your ear, beard grazing up and down your neck. "Taking me so– Fucking hell, look at you…"

His eyes are embers as they sweep over you: your abundant ink, the helpless, adoring look in your eyes, the little mouth that opens with a gasp, the trickle of sweat that forms between your breasts and meets the hair on his chest. 

He doesn't have to look down to see how greedy your cunt is for him. He can feel it.

"This is what you wanted the whole time? Huh?"

He's all smoke. All fire.

"Yes…"

"Wanted me to take you against a fucking wall? Eh?"

"Yes…just, just take me," you moan and purr some more, giving him everything he wants. "Fuh–fuck me good…"

"Ahh shit..."

You know you're a drug to certain decent men. But to him, you're a forbidden fruit in all its aspects. 

A calm, collected captain who enjoys wide respect, eyeing an edgy, younger woman from the tech department? That's not how this was supposed to go. Thirsting for someone who did what they wanted, looked just the way they wanted, walked this earth like a dark fairy – that's not his usual go, surely. He was supposed to settle down with a proper lady. If he were to settle down at all.

"I've dreamed of this," you whisper in his ear, lips moving just enough to deliver your secret to him.

"Yeah..? Me too," he gives your throat more love with a velvet growl. "Know I shouldn't, but–"

"Shh. Don't–don't…" You grip him tighter, taste the spruce and salt as you breathe his neck. "It's good. It's all good."

He rumbles in approval. Your skin is raw from his beard; even the coarse hair dusting his thighs feels too rough on your skin. And your skin is used to being needled, shot full of ink right inside the dermis. But this… This is branding.

You're silk in his rough embrace, and plundered with no remorse. You sigh and moan, hug him... And then he dares to stop, panting and throbbing inside you.

"Darlin'. Where's the bed?"

The soft question makes you panic. If you go to bed and let him push inside you while you're lying on your back, if you brave a look into those eyes while he takes you, you'll develop more than just a horrid lust for this man. If he collapses on top of you, spent and spoiled while you're at your most vulnerable, you'll tie a string from your heart to his, and you can't, you just can't allow that to happen.

Because he's untamed too. He's not a man who settles down, he's not up for domestication; he's a wandering fire.

"No–no bed," you pant on his muscles, the shoulder that keeps you safely pinned on the wall. "John…? Please."

He's breathing wild too, disguises his surprise well.

"Alright."

He sounds disappointed, and it's not because he doesn't have the strength to maul you against that wall. The rejection stings him too. It makes you want to offer a truce, a little something. When he rocks you again, you graze your fingers up the back of his neck, knowing he will feel ripples across his scalp from your caress.

"We can smoke a cigar after," you propose, not knowing why your voice still comes out as an airy whisper. "Together. I'll pour you that drink…"

His chest swells with a deep breath, he huffs fire on the hollow trench between your collarbones.

"Fuck, woman…" 

It's dense syrup that surrounds you much like those shoulders and arms, that coarse hair, that bold male want.

"And after that I want you to…" You catch your breath and sound like a mouse with your next shy question. "Would you go down on me, John?"

It's like you're under a bear attack, but he stills; his head tilts a little to the side and meets your temple. 

"You wouldn't tease a man like this," he says. A soft warning, brimstone coated in velour, but the core of it is despair. So much need, so much forbidden, distant want… 

"Right? No more teasing."

He's still thinking that you're teasing him… That it's some kind of a joke that you want him.

"I'm serious... I want your mouth on me. I need your–"

"I'll put my mouth on you as soon as we're done here, love."

You have to bite your lips, suck them between your teeth to prevent another deprived moan from escaping.

"Want you to fuck me all night," you continue to whisper on his neck. You should shut the fuck up because it doesn't take a bed to tie that string from your heart to his. After all, they're right there, beating against each other through bone and skin and chest.

"Yeah? That's what you want?"

"Want you to… F-fuck me slow and good from behind and–"

You sniff. Whimper.

You should be ashamed: mewling for more when he's already buried inside you. What kind of a brat are you, wrapping your thighs around that narrow waist like you never want him to pull out?

And you're not crying. 

It's just that the cock inside you is throbbing against your walls as if he's making a home there, his hands dig into your ass cheeks like you're his already, the breath upon your sweat and skin feels far too affectionate. When exactly did a raw wall-fuck turn into such an affectionate, gentle taste of love?

And it's not enough. You want to climb on top of him every morning, ride him slowly and watch him unravel as the sun climbs the sky and coats that fur in gold.

"Could you do that? Please… John, please," you whimper and whine, beg like you're tame already. 

"I'll fuck you all night if that's what you want. Fill this pretty, tight cunt up every way you like."

It's coarse smoke. It caresses you until your legs start to shake. He adjusts his grip, drags the pull-outs like he drags those pulls from his tobacco. Keeps you nicely in place for him to drive back in–

"I'll fuck you 'till you cry, love. Yeah?"

He punctuates that promise with another good, fat thrust. You moan all tame now – a rippling stream, laughing and crying in his molten hold.

His cock fills you while your thighs quiver and tremble in his hands. Your pussy throbs; it sucks him already, the orgasm is seconds away, and your fingertips search for support but only slip over sweaty, hard muscle.

John. John.

"Fuh-…"

He spreads you a little. Those arms are pure iron as they mold you for him to plow. You know he can feel the waves, the way your cunt grips him with longer, deeper pulls as you start to sound downright pathetic.

"Just like that, just like… hah…"

"M-hm. Yeah," he bends the vowels, daubs them with smoke. "That's it. You're doing good. Doing so well my love."

He huffs between the thrusts that have turned into slow, intense love-making. He's making love to you – god, why does he have to be like this…

"Cum for me. Nice and pretty, yeah? Come on."

He encourages you with words, but you can't hear them anymore.

Heat coils in the pit of your core just before you burst with a heady scream.

The spasm is so sudden you almost hit your head on the wall. He's at your throat the minute it's exposed, and your scream turns into a weak wail when his tongue grazes your skin. It's blazing, and dips into the hollow between your collarbones like it's a shot glass full of scotch. Next thing you feel is fire, even some teeth on your neck.

And you thought Price might, just might be intense…

Your head drops as the blunt of the orgasm leaves you. Your feet unclasp, and next up would be some soft waves, but the man continues to fuck your shattered cunt and marshmallow soul with a good, intense pace. The words that pour out of your mouth are those of a brainless person.

"Ah–hah, God–"

"Where's that cheek now, mm..? Pretty little thing."

"John–h…"

The thrusts rub you against that wall like he wants to staple you there.

"So nice and good for me now, ain't ya? Cummin' on command…" An amused chuff right on your poor, chafed skin… "Begging for my mouth and cock."

You travel up and down in a limp heap, trying to hold on to him with weak limbs as he drives into you with a tight series of half-thrusts. Your legs hang loosely on the side, but he has no trouble carrying the full weight of you.

"Slow–slowly, Cap…" 

"Ahh fuck–"

He swears on your ink, right on the trotting pulse on your neck. Through the vapor of man sweat and rich smoke and a whiff of cedar trees bending in the wind, you feel him tense and thicken.

"The fucking things you do to me…" he pants with a low growl, hushed but intense. Your pussy answers with a good, demanding pull. 

"Fuck… fuck–!"

You're a limp doll between him and the wall when he comes. Pressed between a rock and a hard place, literally. His chest being the rock, an entire boulder that whips the oxygen from your lungs as he drives deep, his balls giving a few taut pulls against your ass as he empties himself into you with a satisfied, dry moan. A dark, ripe blossom, shooting straight to your core while you're sealed tight around him.

The world goes still after that; the only thing that moves is your breath and his, a refreshing hot breeze coursing through the stale air. The darkness of the room isn't half as snug as the safety of his arms.

Your fingers find his neck, the short-cut hair and the skin pounding with a rush of blood. He lets you go reluctantly, bends a little to set your feet back to the solid ground. He doesn't pull out, keeps huffing all over you even when you're returned back to the earth. 

And you never want to come back. Your cunt still throbs around him and cries a tiny, thick stream down your thigh. His upper body still pins you against that wall, his breaths still mist your skin, caress the red burns of his beard.

He feels so good. Too good…

When he pulls out, he does so with intense care. He gives you some space to catch your breath, and you finally notice he has fucked your legs into splinters.

"I'm…" You break the hush of heavy breathing with a soft laugh. More viscous load pushes out of you with it. "I don't think I can stand."

"Yeah? Tried to take you to bed," he muses softly, sounding annoyingly content with his achievements.

"Gotta admit it was a good idea."

"As was the nightcap," he rasps, voice drenched in soft smoke.

"We'll get there eventually."

"I have no doubt about that."

You give him a soft, warm chuckle as you cast your eyes between the crest of his pecs. Rough, tight muscle meets your soft breasts with heaving breaths, and teases your nipples to taut little points. The wet hair on his chest looks good paired with your inked, smooth skin… You two look so goddamn fine together.

"I hope I didn't make you deaf with that scream."

He stands at his full height, but tilts his head down and slightly to the side as if you were a new, interesting species he's just found on his travels.

"Wouldn't complain, love," he says. More wet syrup, just for you. He weighs you with his stare, curious and appeased, and you feel shy. For fuck's sake, you still feel shy even though this man was inside you just a moment ago. 

"The bed. Now be a good girl and tell me where it is."

"Down the…hallway." 

A delicate little whisper, again.

It's laughable, how the veteran of Task Force 141 turns you into something so dainty and meek. Captain John Price takes you against a wall like you're nothing but a doll, makes you purr and beg, reassembles you into a weak-willed woman who gets carried to bed. 

This is not how it was supposed to go...

He lifts you back in his lap while you continue to hold onto him like he's your prince Charming. A laugh spills on your lips when he tries to lay you gently on the bed and you manage to pull him down with you. You end up tumbling there in a sweaty, messy heap. 

"Knew you were trouble," he's smiling too as he settles beside you. You curl and wrap yourself around him, your bodies mold and curve together like they're made for each other.

He's so solid, so warm, the kind of man you'd love to fall asleep on every night. No more cold sides of the pillow, no more tossing and turning and trying to get the code out of your head. Just… this chest, those ember eyes burning in the night. Some soft breathing, a roaring engine standing still, waiting for you, just for you…

"I hope this wasn't a one time only occasion," you test the waters.

"No." He shifts a little, disentangles from you slightly. "Unless you–"

"No."

You bend in his arms like a young willow, cut his doubts off with a kiss. It's passionate, and so sloppy it threatens to make the same sounds as your cunt and his cock a while ago.

The hand on your hip tows you closer, then steals its way down your leg. You hike your thigh up, perfectly willing. You're a sticky mess, but so is he: his rock-hard thigh meets your still soaked pussy like these two have always belonged together. And this man's full fire has escaped you until now. There are so many hidden, wild things in him too. 

He would look so good on a Harley… He would look good on a motel bed after riding for days and days with you attached to him like an eloped dark bride. The nights would be smeared with hot sex and cinder and smoke, a dash of scotch on top, he could drink it from your lips. You would serve it to him from your mouth, round the taste a bit so that it wouldn't burn so much…

"Have you ever been to Alaska?" 

The liquor is leaving you, but you don't feel any more sober. The lava in your veins has only been replaced by another kind of fire.

"No."

"Would you like to go?"

"What'ya mean," he murmurs on your tongue, and you know he's hard again just from the thick lust coating his voice. "What kind of question is that?"

"I was just thinking."

"What were you thinkin', kid..?"

"Don't… call me that," you laugh. In truth, you're growing quite fond of it. It reminds you of old movies. "Here's looking at you, kid" and all that.

His laugh is a charred roll in his chest. To him, you're a brat – an unruly kitten – no matter what you say. 

"Kid. Why Alaska?"

He's curious. Borderline hooked. You steal a peek into those vulcan eyes. 

"You'd look good in Alaska. Old man."

"Really," he rumbles a soft purr against your heart. 

Another soft kiss follows. Affectionate… He plays time, but he's also a probing, scanning. You bloom in his embrace, unfurl on his lips like he just wrenched you wide. He could haul you to the cabin right now and you would only cook him dinner.

It's too late, even if you try to shift after such a kiss. Escape to press your cheek against that place between his pecs, the spot where the hair is darkest and thickest. You want to lick that valley where his heart meets his musk. That scent must be born from a good, stout heart.

"Would you take me with you…? If you ever decide to go."

It's a fragile question. A baring of the heart. It holds so much more than an inquiry about whether he would whisk you away on a secret leave. It's strings, pulling from your heart to his, taking root.

"Sure. But you're quite a handful, love."

"Is that so…?" 

You crawl over him as gracefully as you can. He allows you to straddle him, and of course he does. You're no threat; you're only a one woman show. The only thing he's probably missing right now is a glass of scotch and a thick roll of tobacco. 

He takes in the view with hunger: not satiated by that pent-up fuck, just like you're not... 

But then his hands come to rest on your thighs to check if they're still shaking. The touch bleeds possessiveness: it's a thoroughly absent-minded, instinctual attempt to reach for you. It tells you you're exactly where you belong. 

"You seem like the kind of woman who's not for the faint of heart," he says like you didn't just mewl in his arms like the tamest fucking housecat.

And perhaps that's what intrigues him. Contrasts. And even more than that, the odd place where black fuses into white, the gray area where everything is possible. The split-second moment when the skin accepts the ink and traps it in. 

Everyone always says you get buried with your tattoos. That you should think twice before staining your skin with such permanent hookups.

But the thing is, you get addicted to it. It's like standing on the edge of a cliff before a bungee jump. You know you'll never be the same person after you jump, and you know you can't leave that cliff without jumping. It's a stalemate until you clear your mind of doubt and just plunge.

And you don't want to leave this earth without getting stained and sweaty, without dipping your soul into the full experience. You're supposed to get a little dirty. This is Earth, after all.

Your fingers disappear somewhere in his slick fur. Sunrise is hours away, but his eyes spark aflame. They're always, always smoldering like the butt of his cigar. He's a man who causes wildfires at the end of the world – he's a reckoning, a flicker in the dark forest, roaring into a bonfire as soon as the wind passes through the trees.

And you've always loved fire. Wild, and free. The only thing that competes with such freedom is a wide, wild stream. 

"But you can handle me. Right?" Your fingers curl softly around the hair surrounding his navel. "Tame me and everything?" 

It's an offering that causes even fire to tilt its head in curiosity. In the end, you're not sure who tamed who.

"Someone has to," he grabs your hips with rich promise. 

You'll pour him that drink. Light him a cigar after his mouth is full of your taste, see how well it pairs with fire and smoke. You'll toast to the Harley, the crazy motel… 

And Alaska. 

#john price x you #john price x reader #john price x female reader #captain price x you #price x reader #captain price smut #captain price x reader #john price smut #john price #mw2 smut #captain john price #john price fanfic #cod fanfic

[misshoneyimhome]

All good boys go to heaven - But bad boys bring heaven to you (the one after the All-Star) I William Nylander & Auston Matthews 🖋️⚡️

Alrighty, babes! So, based on the poll results and the fact that I've been considering this for some time, I've decided to go for this part 🙈

However, please bear in mind that if you're not keen on delving into anything involving 34 with his funny head shape, you're under no obligation to do so 😉 This side chapter will not impact the main storyline 🤍

And for those of you who secretly crave a 34 x 88 sandwich, I genuinely hope you enjoy this 🤍 💦 BTW this is pure smut!

Warnings; smut 18+, William Nylander x reader x Auston Matthews, oral sex (f receiving), masturbation, voyeurism, protected sex (p in v) missionary, doggy/spit roast, oral sex (m receiving), just a lot of Dom!Willy;

Word count; 3.1K

・✶ ｡ﾟ

“I'm not ashamed that he wasn't the one Had no idea what we would become There's no regrets I just thought it was fun”

The dimmed lights from the bedside lamps filled the room with golden hue, the shadows of your bodies outlining the act on the walls, as you and William were tangled up in your bedsheets. 

Still high on the thrills and excitement of the All-star game, you were passionately sharing kisses and deep moans, as your warm bodies were connected. 

It was almost unbelievable how much passion the room oozed as yours and William’s tongues danced with each other, while your hands left no skin untouched. Then slowly, William let his pink lips wander from yours, exploring more skin as he traced down your jawline and finding the sensitive spots on your neck. 

Lightly he nipped and bit down to mark his spot, before he let his mouth explore your collarbone, and continuing the journey down to your breasts. Each nipple getting the sensual attention it deserved, while his palm took care of the other. 

William’s touch had you enchanted, completely under his spell, as his lips travelled further south, eventually reaching your needy core, eager to be touched. As you felt your walls pulsating in mere anticipation, you let out a small breath and gently let your fingers trace through William’s blonde locks. 

“Please Willy,” you whimpered softly, and soon you were granted his skilful mouth. 

Moans were unable to be restrained from your lips, as William indulged in your sweet honey, using his tongue to offer pleasure to your bud of nerves, coupled with how he let it explore every part of your sensitive flesh. 

His arms held a firm grip onto your thighs, making sure you didn’t move your hips against him, yet it was hard not to try. 

Feeling your orgasm slowly take form, you let out louder sensual noises, making sure William understood how good he was making you feel. Which only encouraged him to dive in further, enjoying every drop of your aroused juices, as he let himself get completely pussy drunk by you. 

It was hot, to say the least, as you felt the thrilling rush of pleasure course through every vein, blurring your mind, as you closed your eyes and let yourself sink into William’s magical touch. Your hand gripped firmly onto the sheets, emphasising you nearing the peak of a climax, while the other took a hold of William’s hair. 

“Oh yes,” you let out under your breaths, your chest heavily rising and lowering with very desperate need for air. And with the love of your life skilfully pleasuring you with his talented mouth, you surrendered to the high, letting your mind go completely hazy and your body numb from pleasure. 

It was a feeling no words could describe. The way your boyfriend could so easily have to under his power, and make you feel so incredible, had your mind go crazy. He didn’t even have to do much, except for letting his sweet lips touch and lick you at your sensitive spot. 

Then as he withdrew from your, his eyes darkly looking up to meet yours in a lustful and intense meet, he slowly came to hover you and let you taste yourself on his lips. It was sweet, yet slightly salty taste, but you enjoyed how you shared this intimacy. 

And with a final kiss, William slowly leaned back, looking you deeply in the eyes as he studied your beautiful features. 

“So skön,” he whispered softly, your eyes connected in the depth of the ocean his blue colour provided. “And you’re sure you want to do this?” 

His whisper was almost rough, yet it held a deep tone of sincere desire. 

And as you nodded gently, both of you turned your heads to face the man sitting in the chair next to bed. His hand firmly resting in is lap, as his member had grown fully hard by watching how William had provided you pleasure to reach an orgasm. 

“He’ll only get to do as I instruct,” William spoke firmly, as his eyes again met yours. “If he does anything, that you don’t want to, say it.” 

It was the ultimate game of power William had as Auston had joined the two of you for a night in the bedroom. Only this once, would your boyfriend let another man set his hands on you, touch you and please you, solely under his instructions. 

And you had to admit it was indeed fascinating. To see how your William would dominate not only you but also his teammate, all while you were brought to pleasure. 

Gently William rolled away from you, yet not too far, just to rest by your side on the bed while he silently invited Auston to join the two of you on the bed. 

You couldn’t help but glance at the Arizona man who approached you, studying his naked and toned physique, in the soft glow. His face spoke nothing but lust and anticipation, and with William’s permission Auston came to kneel on the bed. And for an intense moment of silent male dominance, William’s eyes were settled on his teammate as he vocalised his rules. 

“Condom, Aus?” his deep voice secured the safety, and Auston merely nodded, his eyes fixated on you. “And no kissing on the lips,” William added, his tone still steady and rough. And again, Auston nodded, showing he understood the clear instructions set by the Swede. 

Then with William again offering his permission, Auston lined his throbbing member with your tight entrance, ready to be filled as William had already made sure you were beyond aroused. Leaning over you, Auston connected his lips with the sweet spots on your neck, where William had just marked you up, as he slowly pressed his member into your core, stretching your walls. Your hand swiftly found his dark hair, while the other sought the back of his shoulder to hold on to. 

It felt different from William. Everything from Auston’s lips to his hard cock was different, yet you couldn’t deny it brought you pleasure. His cock did make you feel good, though it was thick it wasn’t as long as William’s. Nor did it have the slight curve that always made sure to hit your sensitive spot just right. 

And as Auston gently rocked his hips, letting his length stimulate your inside and hit your sensitive spots, you felt the pleasure once more building up within you. Moans were slipping of your tongue, your breaths slowly growing incoherent, as the teammate increased the intensity of his thrust. 

You almost couldn’t keep your eyes open, yet you forced yourself to keep your eyes locked with your boyfriend’s, feeling the need to have him intimate with you and Auston. 

William’s eyes stared intensely as you while you were being fucked by his teammate, his hand gently stroking his hard member. This was very much better than porn. Here he could watch the girl he loved in nothing but pleasure, all while he could control the scene as he liked. 

“Does he make you feel good baby?” William inquired huskily under his breaths, feeling his own climax slowly forming with every stroke, your moans sounding like sweet music to his ears. 

“Yes,” you managed to speak lightly in between moans of pleasure, as you felt the orgasm about to come closer. 

“Good, baby.”

It was important for William that you felt nothing but good. It was a boundary that had been crossed for all of you, but given Auston’s desire to touch you, William had given it to give. With the condition that he made sure to make you come first. 

And feeling how good you felt around his length, Auston was coming closer to the edge sooner than he’d expected. 

Your cunt was like a paradise for his member. The tightness of your walls hugged him so gracefully, providing him warmth and comfort, enough to get him close to the brim. 

“Fuck Willy, she feels so good,” Auston let out deep breath, as he felt his cock twitching. 

But the instructions were clear. He had to make you come first. 

But as he too felt his own climax slowly approaching, Auston increased the force of his thrusts, trying to send you closer to your peak. 

“Mmm, yes,” you moaned, signalling that you were feeling the rush gradually come closer, yet you just couldn’t quite reach it. 

Sending your distress, your boyfriend had an idea on how to handle it.

“How bout you ride Auston a little?” He suggested with a low seductive voice, to which you nodded. 

Gently Auston then withdrew himself from you, feeling a small sense of relief that he could have some time to manage his arousal and make sure you’d reach your peak before he did. 

Moving around the mattress he rested in his back and you fluently came to straddle him, slowly and seductively sinking yourself on his member. 

Auston tried his best to control himself, letting you take charge, his hands resting in your things as you began slowly rocking your hips, letting his length stimulate shout walls.

“Does that feel good älskling?” William inquired a she studied how you pleased yourself using his teammate. 

“Yeah, he feels good…” you breathed out in between moans. Supporting your hands on his muscular chest, you increased you speed a little, letting the air be filled with sexual harmonies. 

Yet William knew you needed more to reach your much needed orgasm, so carefully, he moved to straddle Auston’s legs behind you, pressing his torso against your back, and began placing kisses on your neck. You feel his hard cock hard and proud against your lower back, as his arms embraced you gently, one palm finding your breast, while the other slowly traced down your belly and let itself settle on your craving core. 

“Tell me what you want,” William roughly spoke, as he bit down your neck, while his eyes locked with his teammate underneath you, though you all knew he was talking to you. 

“I want you to touch me…” you whimpered softly, aching for his fingers to move closer to your pea of nerves, as you enjoyed Auston’s cock inside you. 

“That’s all?”

“Mmm, make me cum, Willy…” Though it was worded as a command, it was spoken as a plea. 

And William was more than happy to obliged. Still remaining his eyes on Auston who was showing nothing much pleasure by your amazing cunt wrapped around him, William slowly began curling your clit, stimulating the 8.000 nerves connecting that send your mind, body and soul closer to the edge.

You felt yourself squirming under his touch, your breaths out of sync and your hips moving faster, eager and determined to make it to the finish line. And with Auston’s cock inside you, massaging your walls and hitting your deep spot, coupled with William’s fingers you were just about to reach it.

“That’s it baby,” William whispered sensually in your ear, yet loud enough for Auston to hear it. “Come for us, show Auston what a good girl you are.” 

And with his magical voice, William send you into the high, letting your arch your back against him, as you closed your eyes, lean your head on his shoulder and moaned out in mere pleasure. 

It wasn’t the most intense orgasm you’d reached, yet it was still amazing and wonderful, causing your mind to go hazy and your vision to blur. 

William then gently withdrew his hand, allowing you to calm from the ecstasy and refill your lungs with air. 

It was so hot. Not just the warm, steamy air in your bedroom, but also the feeling of being in between two large hockey bodies. Never would you have imagined such a scenario, not even believing William would have agreed to it. Yet here you were. 

And equally in disbelief Auston was amazed by your body. Naturally he’d imagined you naked a few times, but he’d been sure it would only ever extend to a fantasy. However with William’s permission he was now buried inside you, feeling himself getting closer to a climax as you clenched around his throbbing member. 

“Seems like he’s been making you feel good baby, should we let him come as well?” William then asked, his eyes still focused on Auston as he was suggesting to grant him the relief he was craving. 

Turning your head a little to find William’s features in the corner of your eye in the dimmed light, you nodded. “Yes, let him come - but I also want to taste you.” 

And your wishes were their commands. With a light smirk on his face, William then moved from his position, gently guiding you off Auston while you all again repositioned. 

“On your hands and knees,” William instructed darkly, and naturally you did as he said. 

Then with Auston kneeling behind you, you felt his cock once more slowly enter your core, yet this time his thick member hit you just right, causing louder moans to escape you.

“Fuck,” Auston moaned deeply as he felt your walls again hugging tightly. “You feel so amazing baby girl.” 

It wasn’t intentionally Auston let the nick name slip, but with the way you felt around him as he began to slowly thrust in you again, his mind was going wild. He knew he wouldn’t last long in the position, yet he intended to enjoy every single second of it. 

Meanwhile, William knelt in front of you, his hard cock just in high and angle with your mouth. As he softly stroked his fingers through your hair, he intensely met your gaze, his lips parting a little as you slowly wrapped your moist lips around his cock. 

“Mmm, fuck yes…” he cursed under his breath, feeling the heat form your warmth embrace him as you covered his length with saliva and took him further down your throat like he knew you could. He couldn’t help but gulp as he looked at how gorgeous you were before him, looking up through your lashes as he gently rocked his hips against your mouth. You’d become so skilled with your mouth, and William had to restrain himself from not choking you out of mere pleasure.

You knew you did him well, though it wasn’t easy with Auston pounding into you from behind, his motions slowly increasing in force and speed, as you sensed he was getting closer to his peak. His firm grip on your hips spoke his signals loud and clear, and as you too could feel another pending orgasm approach, you knew it could bring you both to the brim. 

The softened glow of the bedside lamps cast a golden hue throughout the room, with the silhouettes of your bodies etched upon the walls as you and William were entwined in the bedsheets.

Still buzzing with the excitement of the All-star game, you both fervently exchanged kisses and deep moans, your warm bodies intimately connected.

The intensity of passion in the room was almost surreal as your tongues danced together, and your hands explored every inch of each other's skin. Gradually, William allowed his lips to wander from yours, tracing down your jawline to discover the sensitive spots on your neck.

Gently nipping and biting to leave his mark, he then explored your collarbone before continuing his journey down to your breasts. Each nipple received the tender attention it deserved, while his hand attended to the other.

Enchanted by William's touch, you found yourself completely under his spell as his lips moved further south, eventually reaching your eager core, craving his touch. Feeling your anticipation build, you released a soft breath and delicately ran your fingers through William's blonde locks.

"Please, Willy," you whispered softly, and soon you were met with his skilled mouth.

Moans escaped your lips uncontrollably as William savoured your sweet honey, using his tongue to lavish pleasure upon your sensitive nerves, exploring every inch of your delicate flesh.

With a firm grip on your thighs, he prevented you from moving your hips, though the urge was undeniable.

As your orgasm built, you emitted louder, more sensual sounds, ensuring William knew just how exquisite he was making you feel. And his eagerness only spurred him on, relishing every drop of your arousal as he allowed himself to become utterly intoxicated by your essence.

The intensity was staggering as waves of pleasure surged through your veins, clouding your mind. And with eyes closed, you surrendered to William's enchanting touch, one hand gripping the sheets tightly as you approached the peak of ecstasy, while the other grasped his hair.

"Oh, yes," you murmured breathlessly, your chest rising and falling rapidly, desperate for air. With the love of your life skilfully pleasuring you with his adept mouth, you succumbed to the euphoria, letting your mind drift into a blissful haze as your body tingled with pleasure.

It was an indescribable sensation. The way your boyfriend effortlessly wielded power over you, leaving you feeling utterly incredible, sent your mind into a frenzy. He hardly had to do much, merely letting his tender lips touch and tease your most sensitive spot.

Then as he withdrew from you, his eyes darkly locking onto yours with a lustful intensity, he slowly positioned himself above you, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips. The taste was sweet yet slightly salty, but you relished in the intimacy of the moment.

With a final kiss, William leaned back, gazing deeply into your eyes as he admired your beautiful features.

"So skön," he whispered softly, his eyes capturing yours with the depth of the ocean. "And are you sure you want to do this?"

His whisper held a hint of roughness, yet it carried a sincere desire.

And as you nodded gently, both of you turned your heads to face the man sitting in the chair next to the bed. His hand rested firmly in his lap; his member fully hard from witnessing William bring you to orgasmic pleasure.

"He'll only do as I tell," William stated firmly, his gaze once again meeting yours. "If there's anything you don't want, speak up."

It was the ultimate display of power as Auston joined you and William for a night in the bedroom. This was a rare occasion where your boyfriend allowed another man to touch and please you, but strictly under his guidance.

Admittedly, it was a fascinating dynamic to witness. Watching William assert his dominance not only over you but also over his teammate, all while ensuring your pleasure.

William gently rolled away from you, not too far, just enough to lie beside you on the bed as he silently beckoned Auston to join you both.

You couldn't help but steal glances at the Arizona man as he approached, observing his naked, toned physique illuminated by the soft glow of the room. His expression betrayed nothing but desire and anticipation, and with William's approval, Auston knelt on the bed. In a moment of intense silent dominance, William's gaze remained fixed on his teammate as he outlined the rules.

"Got a condom, Aus?" his deep voice ensured safety, and Auston simply nodded, his eyes locked on you. "And no kissing on the lips," William added, his tone still firm and unwavering. Once again, Auston nodded, acknowledging the clear instructions laid out by the Swede.

Then with William's approval once more granted, Auston positioned his pulsating member at your tight entrance, primed to enter as William had already ensured you were thoroughly wet. Leaning over you, Auston's lips found the sweet spots on your neck where William had just left his marks, as he gradually eased his member into your core, stretching your walls. Your hand instinctively found its way into his dark hair, while the other gripped the back of his shoulder for support.

It was a different sensation from William. Everything from Auston's lips to his firm cock felt distinct, yet undeniably pleasurable. Though not as lengthy as William's, Auston's girth brought its own form of satisfaction. And yet, without the slight curve that always ensured William hit your sensitive spot just right, Auston's thrusts still managed to stimulate you deeply.

And while Auston gently rocked his hips, his length stimulating your innermost desires and targeting your most sensitive areas, the pleasure once again surged within you. Moans slipped from your lips, your breaths growing increasingly erratic as he intensified his thrusts.

You struggled to keep your eyes open, but you forced yourself to maintain eye contact with your boyfriend, craving the intimacy shared between the three of you.

William's eyes bore into you with intense focus as his teammate pleasured you, his own hand gently stroking his hardened member. This experience surpassed any pornography; here, he could witness the woman he loved immersed in pure pleasure, all while maintaining control over the scene as he desired.

"Does he make you feel good?" William huskily inquired, his own climax slowly building with each stroke, your moans serving as sweet melodies to his ears.

"Yes," you managed to utter amidst the waves of pleasure, feeling the orgasm drawing near.

"Good, baby."

Ensuring your pleasure was paramount to William. Although boundaries had been pushed for all involved, given Auston's desire to engage with you, William had consented under the condition that he prioritised your satisfaction first.

And feeling the exquisite sensation of your warmth surrounding him, Auston found himself nearing the edge sooner than expected.

Your cunt enveloped his member like a paradise. The gentle embrace of your walls provided him with both warmth and ecstasy, bringing him closer to climax with each passing moment.

"Fuck, Willy, she feels incredible," Auston exclaimed, his breaths deepening as he felt his member pulsating with anticipation.

But the instructions were crystal clear: he had to ensure you reached climax first.

And sensing his own climax drawing near, Auston intensified the force of his thrusts, aiming to push you closer to your peak.

"Mmm, yes," you moaned, indicating that you were on the brink of ecstasy, yet just unable to quite reach it. Recognising your frustration, your boyfriend devised a solution.

"How about you ride Auston for a bit?" he suggested in a seductive whisper, to which you eagerly nodded.

Almost with a sense of relief, Auston withdrew from you, taking a moment to regain control of his arousal, ensuring you’d come before he’d reach his own.

Shifting positions on the mattress, he then lay back as you smoothly straddled him, slowly sinking down onto his member with seductive grace.

Auston concentrated on maintaining restraint, allowing you to take charge as his hands rested on your thighs while you began to rhythmically rock your hips, allowing his length to stimulate your walls.

"Does that feel good, älskling?" William inquired as he observed you pleasing yourself with his teammate.

"Yeah, he feels good..." you breathed out between moans, your hands finding purchase on Auston’s muscular chest as you increased your pace, filling the air with the symphony of your shared moans.

Yet, sensing your need for more to reach climax, William carefully shifted to straddle Auston's legs behind you, pressing his torso against your back and peppering kisses along your neck. You could feel his proud, hardened member against your lower back, his arms enveloping you tenderly, one hand finding your breast while the other trailed down your belly, settling on your eager core.

"Tell me what you want," he demanded roughly, nipping at your neck as his gaze locked with his teammate’s beneath you, though it was clear he was addressing you.

"I want you to touch me..." you whimpered softly, longing for his fingers to draw nearer to your sensitive nerves, even as you relished Auston's cock inside you.

"Is that all?" William pressed; his tone suggestive.

"Mmm, make me cum, Willy..." Though it was stated as a command, it carried the weight of a plea.

And William was more than willing to comply. Keeping his eyes fixed on Auston, who displayed evident pleasure at the sensation of your incredible warmth around him, William slowly began to caress your clit, stimulating the 8,000 nerves that connected and propelled your mind, body, and soul ever closer to the edge.

You found yourself squirming under his touch, your breaths erratic and your hips moving faster, driven by a fervent determination to reach the peak. With Auston's member inside you, tantalising your walls and targeting your deepest spots, coupled with William's skilled fingers, you were on the verge of reaching the pinnacle of ecstasy.

"That's it, baby," William whispered sensually in your ear, his voice carrying enough volume for Auston to hear. "Come for us, show Auston what a good girl you are."

And with his enchanting words, William pushed you into over the edge, causing you to arch your back against him, closing your eyes and resting your head on his shoulder as you moaned in pure pleasure.

While it may not have been the most intense orgasm you'd ever experienced, it was still extraordinary and delightful, leaving your mind foggy and blurred.

William then gently withdrew his hand, allowing you to gradually return from the euphoria and fill your lungs with air.

The atmosphere was electric, not just due to the warm, steamy air in the bedroom, but also the sensation of being surrounded by two formidable hockey players. Never would you have imagined such a scenario, nor would you have believed William would agree to it. Yet here you were.

And equally astonished, Auston found himself marvelling at your body. While he had undoubtedly fantasised about you naked before, he had always considered it nothing more than a fantasy. However, with William's permission, he was now intimately connected with you, feeling himself drawing closer to climax as you clenched around his throbbing member.

"Seems like he's been treating you well, baby. Should we allow him to come as well?" William inquired, his gaze still fixed on Auston as he proposed granting him the relief he sought.

Turning your head slightly to catch sight of William's features in the dim light, you nodded. "Yes, let him come - but I also want to taste you."

And your wishes were their commands. With a faint smirk playing on his lips, William shifted from his position, gently guiding you off Auston as you all repositioned.

"On your hands and knees," William instructed with a dark tone, and obediently, you complied.

With Auston kneeling behind you, you felt his member once again slowly entering your core. This time, however, his thick member hit all the right spots, eliciting louder moans from you.

"Fuck," Auston groaned deeply as he felt your walls embracing him tightly once more. "You feel incredible, baby girl."

Unintentionally, Auston let the nickname slip, but the sensation of being enveloped by you as he began to thrust slowly drove his mind wild. He knew he wouldn't last long in this position, but he was determined to savour every single moment of it.

Meanwhile, William knelt before you, his hardened member positioned just inches from your mouth. As he tenderly ran his fingers through your hair, his gaze locked intensely with yours, his lips parting slightly as you slowly enveloped his cock with your moist lips.

"Mmm, fuck yes..." he muttered under his breath, feeling the warmth of your mouth taking him in as you coated his length with saliva and took him deeper down your throat with practiced ease. He couldn't help but gasp as he admired your beauty before him, gazing up at him through your lashes as he gently rocked his hips against your mouth. You had become incredibly skilled with your oral technique, and William had to exert self-control to prevent himself from choking you, succumbing entirely to the overwhelming pleasure.

You knew you were pleasuring him well, despite the challenge of Auston's powerful thrusts from behind. 

Signalling his approach to climax, Auston’s movements gradually intensified in force and speed. His firm grip on your hips conveyed his intentions clearly, and as you felt another orgasm building within you, you sensed that it could push both of you over the edge.

Then observing a small tear trickling from the corner of your eye amidst the sounds of your sweet gagging noises, William understood that you were on the brink of climax again. And so gently, he withdrew his member, allowing you to gasp for air as you were unable to suppress the moans elicited by Auston's fervent thrusts.

"Is Tony making you come, baby?" William inquired seductively, softly caressing your cheek and lower lip as you looked up at him.

"Yes..." you whimpered, feeling your needy core clenching and pulsating, dripping with juices as Auston intensified his thrusts.

"Oh, fuck yes," you heard him breathe out behind you, eager to release himself. Yet, he also desired to prove that he could bring you pleasure, driving his shaft deeper and harder into you while steadying himself with his hands. "Come for me, my baby girl... yes..."

"Oh yes, Aus... I'm coming," you moaned almost embarrassingly loudly, closing your eyes once more as you surrendered to the overwhelming sensations.

And with you clenching firmly around his cock, it only took a few more thrusts before Auston let out a deep grunt, emptying himself into the condom.

Secretly, he wished he could have released directly inside you, but he obediently followed William's clear instructions in order to experience the pleasure of being with you. He was just more than satisfied that he had agreed to the terms. And as he calmed from his climax, Auston couldn't help but appreciate the sight before him: your exposed ass with his cock still buried inside you.

But then, slowly regaining control of your breath and body, your attention shifted to the man before you. Still riding the high of raw passion, you yearned to reciprocate the pleasure your boyfriend, and now Auston, had bestowed upon you.

"Willy... let me make you come," you whimpered, and naturally, he couldn't resist your seductive offer.

"Do you want Auston to watch?" he inquired.

"Yes..."

Although Auston preferred to be directly involved in the act, he couldn't deny the incredible allure of watching you on your knees before William.

The ease with which you took him into your throat, working his shaft with your hand while emitting the sexiest gagging sounds, ignited a fire within him that he hadn't known existed.

Seated once again in the chair, Auston found himself frustrated yet enthralled as he observed his Swedish teammate close his eyes, tilt his head back, and surrender to the waves of pleasure coursing through his body.

In this position, William allowed you to have ultimate control. The way you willingly took him in, allowing yourself to choke on his cock, drooling and gagging, was something he would gladly surrender to any time.

Your beautiful eyes shimmered as you tried to watch him through your lashes, savouring every sound elicited by your actions.

"Shit, baby, I'm gonna come..."

And it was only a matter of seconds before William released his cum down your throat, accompanied by deep moans and grunts.

You relished in every drop he offered, the mix of sweet and salty stickiness coating your tongue as you swallowed with grace. And while taking your time to suck William empty and clean, you offered Auston a quick glance. Then releasing his member from your mouth, you flashed William a satisfied smirk, pleased with how you had pleased your man while showcasing to his teammate just how skilled you could be.

The intensity of the moment was almost overwhelming for all three of you.

Auston had fulfilled his deepest desires by being close to you, you had reached three orgasms through the touch of two men, and William had asserted his ultimate dominance. Yet, there was something he couldn't let go entirely.

As he stroked your lower lip after you swallowed his load, he offered you a content smirk. "Du är min prinsessa..." And then, glancing over at Auston, he adopted a more serious tone. "Don't ever call her your baby girl again."

Auston simply nodded immediately, understanding that you belonged to William, and it had been a privilege for him to have touched you.

And after Auston had left the condo, you swiftly snuggled up in your boyfriend's arms. Despite the excitement and heat of having Auston join you in bed, you knew that William's embrace was where you truly belonged.

"Was it good, baby?" he asked softly, his gaze gentle as he studied your face.

"Absolutely, Willy," you replied with a content smile, getting lost in the depths of his blue eyes. "Auston was amazing."

"Good, otherwise I'd have to punch him," he chuckled lightly.

"No need, babe, he did so well."

As exhaustion washed over you, you felt your body relaxing and your mind drifting off. And a smile lingered on your lips as you welcomed the embrace of sleep.

**

Suddenly, you gasped sharply and jolted awake. Your body felt hot and covered in pearls of sweat, your core tingling and pulsating with arousal. Sitting up straight, you briefly glanced at your sleeping boyfriend, attempting to control your heavy breathing and shake off the lingering effects of the very real and very intense dream of Auston Matthews.

#18+ smut #inexperienced!reader x willy #wn88 imagine #auston matthews imagine #auston matthews x reader #auston matthews smut #william nylander smut #william nylander imagine

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 6: Batter Up

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter six of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 3.1K

Warnings: References to Sex, Sexual Innuendo, Cursing (a few times), Drinking, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

****************************

Philadelphia 1935

"Only you would bring a sketchpad to a baseball game." Ben shouts over the screaming fans in Shibe Park Stadium. The sun catches his hair turning it into a honeyed brown that drips down into his gorgeous green eyes that shine with charm. 

"I want to capture the devastation on your face when the Phillies lose." You snark back, tracing the curve of his mouth as it pulls down in a frown with the tip of your pencil on your sketchpad, and wishing that you could do the same with your fingertip. It was not the first time that you'd drawn him and by now you didn't need to look up at him to capture the angular structure of his face, but you couldn't help it.

"Funny." Ben taps the ridiculous white and red pinstriped baseball cap on your head that he bought you before the game.

It was a few days after your party, one day before Ben had to go to boarding school number seven, and Ben, being the person he was, decided to drown his sorrows in cheap beer and the electric atmosphere of a baseball game. Before his mother died Ben's father had taken him to a single baseball game, but Ben never forgot. He didn't have to tell you for you to know that it was one of the only happy memories from his childhood, despite his father getting so drunk that he forgot Ben was with him. You figured that Ben liked going because it reminded him of one day that his father didn’t tell him what a disappointment he was. Your heart ached at the thought. Ben didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve the constant disapproval of his father. Yes he got kicked out of numerous boarding schools, he swore like a sailor,  ran after whatever caught his eye, and he drank so much alcohol you wondered how he wasn't flammable. But Ben deserved more. And you wished that he would let you give it to him all the time, not just on the days you were out together or the times he snuck into your room.

Your thoughts drift back to the numerous boarding schools. Although you wanted to defend him, you couldn't come up with an excuse for that, especially since Ben didn’t just flunk out, he made an effort to get kicked out. Ben had a different story that resulted in his expulsion for each that never ceased to amuse you. Boarding school number one was vacated when Ben was only thirteen years old because he glued the history instructor to his chair. Boarding school number two was evacuated due to an “accidental fire” in the science lab, which Ben insisted he didn’t start. And then complained that he didn’t think that his lab partner's coat would catch fire quite that fast. Boarding schools three and four were within months of each other and both due to the fact that Ben got caught with a girl in the dorm. Something you wished he hadn’t told you. Boarding school number five you were the most proud of. Only because Ben used some of the minimal art skills you showed him to draw a naughty doodle of the English teacher on the chalkboard before class. Ben replicated the doodle in one of the sketchpads that you hid under you bed just in case someone were to find it. Finally, Ben left boarding school number six because he drove the dean's car into the swimming pool. When you asked him why, he said that he thought it "needed a wash."

"So is it everything you ever dreamed of?" Ben asks with a smirk.

"What?" You look up from the sketchpad at him in confusion.

"Your first baseball game." He emphasizes the word suggestively.

"It's certainly loud-" You begin to say, leaning towards him so he can hear you over the roar of the crowd.

"Yes, well lots of screaming is expected your first time." Ben wiggles his eyebrows. "Though I'd say that there should be screaming all the time-"

"Ben."

"But I told you that I'd be gentle-" He taunts.

"BEN."

"What? I like that I'm your first." His smirk widens and your cheeks flare bright red, prompting you to punch him in the shoulder.

"Shut up." Your mind can't help, but drift back to the other day when he trailed his fingers down the back of your corset and loosened the ties, which makes you flush a brighter red as a shiver goes down your spine.

The boos around Ben and you get louder as the bottom of the eighth inning begins and as one of the New York Giants' infielders steps up to the plate. Despite Ben's teasing it was your first official baseball game. He was outraged when you told him that you'd never been to one a few days before your birthday and he believed that it was his responsibility to take you to one before he went back to boarding school.

And as much as you pretended to hate it, you were having a lot of fun.

The roar of the crowd is electric and surges up over the trumpet blasts that fill the loud speakers, broken up by the sound of the vendors selling cracker jacks and other food items where they wander up and down the concrete steps of the stadium. The smell of beer, hotdogs, sweat, and peanuts swells over the crowd, while the golden glow of the noon day sun flashes against the metal overhang that shields the crowds from its rays.

"Are you hungry?" Ben asks, nudging your shoulder to grab your attention again.

"A little."

Ben waves down one of the vendors and buys you both hotdogs and a beer to share. And as you sit there and begin to eat, you realize that something about today feels different.

You can't put your finger on it, but him buying you a  baseball hat and food kinda feels like a… date. Ben had bought you things before from street vendors as you walked through Philadelphia, ice cream, pretzels, but being here, sitting so close that your shoulders brushed every few minutes was different. You briefly circle back again  to the other night when he helped you out of your dress. Neither of you had brought up what happened, but you wanted to. You wanted to know if he did that to help you or if he did that because he wanted to go further.

But at the same time you wondered if it happened because Ben was drunk. When he got drunk Ben tended to be a bit more clingy, well at least around you he was more clingy, but he’d never admit that. 

The crack of a baseball against a bat pulls you from your memory of the other night and Ben groans as the ball soars over the wall at the back of the stadium.

“That’s another 5 bucks.” He mutters.

“Told you not to make that bet with Adam.” You sing-song.

“You made a bet too.”

“A winning bet I might add.” You poke his muscular bicep with your pencil.

Adam Winthrop was one of Ben's drinking buddies and someone you had run into at the ticket booth before the game. Ben bet him that by the eighth inning the Phillies would pull ahead, whereas you bet Adam that the Phillies would be down exactly four points. Adam laughed at you, but agreed, while Ben stated that the Phillies were better than the New York Giants and you would lose.

You were eager to make him eat his words. And one look at the scoreboard meant that Ben was suffering through a four course meal.

"I have no idea how you did that. You don't even know what baseball is! How could you know that the Phillies would be down four points in the bottom of the eighth?"

"I've meant to tell you, I'm secretly psychic."

"Oh really?" Ben smirks, eyes darkening as they lock with yours. "What am I thinking right now?"

"That you're happy you didn't bring Missy Callahan." You smirk back at him to stop the butterflies that have erupted in the pit of your stomach.

"I am." He cocks his head to the side in a way that makes his dark hair fall into his eyes.

"Good." You turn back to watch the game so you won't focus too much on how good he looks and to resist the urge to run your fingers through his hair. "And I am getting it a little. My teacher is very good at explaining things."

"I'm good at explaining lots of things doll." You don't need to look at Ben to hear the smirk in his voice.

Damn it. The blush that creeps into your cheeks with his words feels like fire.

"Trollop." You snort, taking the beer from his hand so you can have a sip.

“You should be nicer to me, I got you food.”

“And a ridiculous hat-“

“You look cute.” Ben rolls his eyes and turns away, but his words stick to your chest like fly paper.

He thinks I look cute?

“I don’t think you look too bad yourself.” You respond, turning your eyes back on the field, but watching him in your peripheral vision.

“I know.” He grins.

“Keep being all cocky and I won’t buy you cotton candy with all the cash I’m about to make on this game.”

“What happened to gambling being unladylike?”

“We both know I’m far from a lady, darling.”

“Well the Dawson School for Girls will clear you right up.” Ben sighs, but you can hear the disappointment in his tone.

Oh yes, the wonderful news my mother dropped in my lap, how exciting!

When your mother had come into your room the other night she told you she had a big birthday surprise, which was that she was sending you to the Dawson School for Girls in Boston. You don’t know what prompted her to send you to a boarding school, only that she said it would be good for you.

Which probably meant she was doing it to keep you far away from Ben.

Maybe it won't be so bad. New city, new exciting people-

But no matter how hard you thought about it, you weren't excited and it was because of Ben. Not only would you miss him, you really didn't know what he would do without you. You weren't sure how long that Ben would be at his boarding school in New Jersey, and you didn't know where he would go when he got back.

If I was gone, who would be there for him when he got back? Who would he go to when he didn't want to go home? Would he end up at Missy's?

The thought that he would sleep over at her house makes an ice pick of jealousy stab you in the chest. You still weren't over what happened the other night at your birthday party, but you were getting through the best you could. Being here with Ben was helping you forget how mad you were.

"Y/n?"

"Hmm?" You look up at him.

"Don't focus too much on what they teach you there." Ben says, his eyes are still on the game tracing the pathway of the ball as it soars into right field.

"Why?"

"Because you don't need to change." He glances over at you with a frown as if the thought hurts. "And all those boarding schools are the same, they try to make you like everyone else. Strip you of everything that makes you different.��

"Is that such a bad thing? I've been the odd one out for a while-"

You think about all the other girls that you'd met over the years and of course Missy pops up. She was popular, pretty, and she'd caught Ben's attention. You'd never been that popular, Ben was the only close friend you had. Plus most of the people you interacted with were Ben's friends/drinking buddies who seemed to like you as much as he did. That always made you feel better, that Ben's friends liked you enough to let you come out with them sometimes, even if it was to the bar on the corner and even if it was completely unladylike when you staggered home drunk. It was usually Adam's fault when he bet you that he could drink you under the table and you weren't one to walk away from a challenge. Ben was always there to help you down the street and make sure that you got home okay, laughing when you tried to go into the wrong house or sang off-key. Of course when you arrived home those nights your mother practically locked you in your room, making you feel like Rapunzel, but never dissuaded Ben from coming in through the window.

"For you it is."

"Why?"

"Because you're different."

"I can't tell if that's a compliment or not." Your brow wrinkles and Ben presses a fingertip to the scrunch between your eyebrows under your hat, surprising you.

"I like that you're different." Ben shrugs.

Your cheeks flush bright red with his confession. It's the first time that Ben's ever said anything remotely like that before.

He turns back to the game as if he hasn't said anything.

“I like that you’re different too.” You whisper, barely audible over the crowd.

“Good.” Ben shoots you a sideways grin that makes you warm from head to toe. 

“So is that why you don’t stay?" You look back at your sketchpad, shading along the bottom of Ben’s strong jawline, reveling in the familiar scratch of the pencil against the paper.

“Huh?”

“At the boarding schools? Because you don’t want to change?”

Ben frowns for a minute before reaching for the beer between you. “I don’t like being there.”

“Because?”

Ben shrugs. “It’s not home.”

You didn’t understand that. Ben hated being at his own house with his father. Well, hated being anywhere with his father. The only place that he spent enough time sleeping was in your bedroom and you doubted that’s what he meant.

You wait for him to clarify, but he doesn’t. “Well I'm pretty sure I'm going to hate being in Boston because I'm just going to worry about you the whole time." It slipped out before you could stop it.

"You worry about me?" The corner of his lip twitches.

"Of course I do. You're my friend."

"And what do you worry about happening to me?"

"The usual: barroom brawls, alcohol poisoning..." You smile. "That or sleeping with someone's girl and having the guy come after you."

"I hope you know that you're my alibi if anyone tries to catch me."

"After all these years I'd expect it. And everyone believes me, because I'm trustworthy-"

"I'm not so sure about trustworthy, when we first met you lied for me." Ben's fingertips trace against the back of your hand where it is on the armrest between you.

"Yes I did." You swallow the lump in your throat, trying not to focus on how electricity seems to follow his touch, mildly surprised at the boldness of Ben's touch.

You remembered that night. When you ran into your father's study to hide from your mother and Ben was behind the couch hiding from his father. He had looked so cute with a scowl on his face, when he peered at you from over the back of the couch when you came through the door. You remember asking him what he was doing, but he hadn't said anything, just stared back at you. His father had been enough of an answer when he practically crashed through the door of the study, stumbling around the room and slurring his words together as he demanded you tell him where his son was. You had held his gaze and insisted that you hadn't seen Ben, and his father had left cursing under his breath. It was hard not be friends after that.

"Why?" Ben asks.

You pause considering. Ben's face is impassive, but you see a glint of curiosity in his eyes. His fingers are still resting on the back of your hand.  “Do you really want me to tell you? Or do you want me to lie?”

“I don’t think you’ve ever lied to me before.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know your tell.” He replies smugly.

“I don’t have a tell.”

“You do.”

“What is it?”

“It’s no fun if I tell you.” Ben smirks, tapping the brim of your hat. “But why?”

You didn't want to admit it to him, because you thought that he would mock you. The truth was you'd helped him for two reasons, one because he'd looked scared. Ben wasn't afraid of anything and you hadn't seen the look in his eyes since the day you met, but you know that you did not imagine it when you locked eyes in the study. The other reason was because you thought that your problems with your mother and his problems with his father made you two the same or at least connected in some way. You were happy to meet someone that understood you. None of the other people you met understood what it was like to have a parent that never thought you were enough for them. And as you grew up together, Ben was someone that you could depend on no matter what, just as he depended on you. Even if he couldn't admit it to you or to himself.

“It might have also been because I was also in the study hiding from my mother and it kinda felt like we were sharing a secret.” You press your lips together. “I know that sounds stupid.”

“It’s not.” Ben breathes, holding your gaze with a sincerity that makes your heart warm. “I never said thank you.”

"You’re right. And I’ll hold that against you for as long as we live.” You smile up into his handsome face again admiring how the sun reflects off the perfect angles and rests in his green eyes.

“I wouldn’t have expected anything less sweetheart.” He holds your gaze for another few seconds before turning back to watch the final inning, his forearm pressed firmly against yours where your arms rest between you. And instead of moving back you allow yourself to lean into him, so close that your shoulders are touching, continuing to sketch through the final parts of the game and ignoring the urge to look up at him.

It really was a wonderful day, but that's the thing about wonderful days, they always have to end.

**************************

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series, let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy/ben #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #jensen ackles #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys series #the boys tv #soldier boy fic #the boys season 3

[themagnusbane]

GAP The Series Episode 8 Thoughts

I was out of my house for an engagement all of yesterday, and wasn't able to watch and react to this, when it dropped. Which is why y'all are getting my thoughts quite late. BUT, LET IT NOT BE SAID THAT I DIDN'T HAVE MY SAPPHICS KISSING IN THE BACK OF MY MIND THROUGHOUT THE ENTIRE EVENT!!! Why do I have to be a functioning human, when I can just spend all day, lazing in bed and imagining that I was in this show and Tee was mine?????????????????

Anyway, on to my reaction.

Awwwww. And we're starting with that, hands-shaking-knees-knocking-breath-catching nervousness when you're in bed with your crush and your brain is scrambling with all the emotions!!!!! I really love how that nervous excitement is portrayed differently on both Sam and Mon. I AM SQUEALING like a fucking pig!!!

2. Wait hold up. So when she meant "let's go to bed" she really meant "let's go to bed?" Sam. Honey. There's a big bed. Right there? And you're with your crush!! She's lying right there! Soft and clean and wrapped in your sheets... BEDS ARE NOT ONLY MEANT FOR SLEEPING!!!!!

3. Sam inhaling Mon's scent is the most sensual thing I have ever seen. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

4. Wait. Wait. WAIT!!!!!! What in the edging nonsense is this??? Sam, what do you mean by you're going to bed. That can't be all. YOU BETTER COME FINISH WHAT YOU STARTED! Jesus. This woman. WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO MON AND ME???? You can'y have us hot and bothered and just stop. What the fuck?????

5. I am Mon's frustrated "tch" sound. I feel you Mon. I feel you. The audacity of her sexy ass. And the fact that she actually slept? THE NERVE!

6. Okay. That squeak at the screen is funny af. But also, I'm just noticing her nails. Sam, girl. I hope you weren't planning on putting those nails, with all 'dem stones inside my baby girl Mon. Cuz, hell to the NO! Where is your lesbian etiquette??? Get your nails in order!!! Santana taught you better than that!

7. Of all the things to be watching right now... Lions fucking? Seriously? THIS SHOW IS A FUCKING RIOT!!!!

8. Hehehehehehe. Mon is totally fucking with her. She KNEW what "Do it" meant, and totally decided to misunderstand it as wanting to pray instead. And you know what? Girl, I support you. Sam left you all hot and bothered, all night long. Let your inner brat shine!!!!!

9. Mon is giving you so many chances to just say it. Tell her you want to fuck her Sam. She wants it. You want it. WE ALL WANT IT!!!

10. Urgh! Kirk's back with his heterosexual bullshit. Boy, she's not going through with firing Mon, not because of your ass. But because that's her girl, and of course she wasn't going to fire her anyway. Sam is NOT interested in marrying you. EVERYONE can see it. Except maybe you. And her witch of a grandmother. Urgh! Future bride my ass.

11. Gghghghhjghjghjghjg. Chin and Yha are TOTALLY acting suspicious. Why do I get the feeling that both of them are dating as well. Rofl.

12. The hilarity of everyone assuming that Kirk and Mon are secretly dating behind Sam's back, and not realizing that it's Sam and Mon that are secretly dating behind Kirk's back. The drama of this whole scene is sending me!!!

13. Sam's coworkers: Ooooh Kirk must be messaging her to flirt with her.

Me, who knows it's Sam sending Mon all the kissing emojis and begging her not to be angry anymore:

14. Sam's friends are me! I am Sam's friends!!! See their excitement as Mon starts to describe their night together. I'm waiting for the "THAT's IT?????!" screech that would rightfully follow when she's done, cuz THAT IS HOW I FELT TOO!!!!

15. Jim's "OMG. I'm about to go crazy here" is making me feel so seen! Girl, you are about to go crazy, from just hearing about it. Imagine how I felt! I was watching the stupidity in real time!! Sam and her sexually frustrating ass!!

16. Give her ALL the advice Tee. Look at my queen Tee. She's holding court and laying down the law. "You don't have to top her, but be receptive." A FUCKING QUEEN!!! Tee. Mommy. Goddess. Top me. Please. I'm begging you. I'm begging you. I'm on my knees!!!!

17. Did Sam just tell Mon "to eat with you"? Cuz, it looks more "to eat you", if you ask me. And with Sam's smirk, and Mon's gulp, I think I'm right. Hehehehehe. I swear, if there isn't at the very least, some heavy petting in this office, I will riot!

18. Sam's "girl I was about to do a lady and the tramp re-enactment of the spaghetti scene, and you blew me off" frustrated huffs are sending me!!! And you can't even complain about that Khun Sam. Now you know how it feels!!!

19. She's adorable!!! She actually watched movies as research!! Sam my beloved queen.

20. The kisses. All that tongue. ALL THAT TONGUE!!! The hands on Mon's thigh. The "let me do it". The touching and kissing, and walking backwards, and kissing more against the stairs.... I am dead. Deceased. Dead and buried!!! Ghhjgjhghjghjghjghjghjghjghjghjghjhjg.

21. Did they just include a nosebleed in this??? I'm dead! I'm fucking dead! OMG!!!! Gghjghjgjhgjhgjhgjhjhg. This show is the best!!!! Rofl!!!

22. I love LOVE how they both called their individual friends to ask them about sex, when we both know their respective friends are actually already in their very own relationship. Hell, I won't be surprised if Tee and Yuki have already had sex. Tee's too smooth to keep a girl horny and frustrated. You know what? Good on Sam for asking Tee for advice. She and I KNOW THAT TEE'S GOT GAME!!!

23. Also, shout out to Yuki for knowing all about women having sex with other women!! Aaaaaaaand this totally confirms that she's been having sex with Tee. I can feel it in my bones!!!

24. Sam and Mon being oblivious to Jim bringing them whiskey to help them get out of their own heads and on to fucking each other, is making me laugh so hard. Jim, beloved. You are a service to sapphics EVERYWHERE!!! I am so sorry that your friend is a dumbass and her girlfriend is just as clueless.

25. FINALLY!!! SOMEONE SAID IT! Shout out to Jim, the patron saint of the lesbians!!! She finally mentioned the nails!!! I was wondering when Sam was going to realize it! Thank the fuck!!!

26. The way I was screaming in frustration at Mon stopping Sam from continuing. Like girl!!! We have been waiting FOREVER!!! But her asking that all important question makes so much sense. Sam is still engage to Kirk the heterosexual ideal, and it isn't fair to him or Mon for Sam to basically be playing them both. Now I know Sam has promised to break up with Kirk after she and Mon have sex, but you know what? I'm not holding my breath. Between Kirk and her grandmother, I don't see Sam being able to successfully end it, and that is going to cause my baby girl Mon, so much pain.

27. Baby's first orgasm. I am so proud. I'm crying. That was so hot. And so beautiful. Freen and Becky really did that. THEY DID THAT! You both did so good!!!

28. Yooooo!!! They actually finished the entire bottle of scotch. Wow! Just wow!!

29. Mon's satisfied "I got ate out for hours" smile is making me so damn happy. You go girlfriend!! You got the girl, the orgasms and that glow!!! Here is hoping we get many more of these before we are hit with the pain!

30. Fggjhghjghjghjghjghj. Sam's friends are the BEST. I repeat. THEY ARE THE BEST!!!!

31. Sam's giddy, "I did it with Mon" Facebook post, and smile. This episode has me giddy with ALL THE JOY!!! SO much joy!!!!

32. Look at them making out in the office. I love it for them! But they are sooooo going to get caught. But damn. Since Sam's gotten a taste of our girl, she just can't stop kissing her!!! And you know what? Valid! Absolutely valid.

33. Mon sweetheart. You're such a good egg. Look at you being so concerned about Kirk. You know he's not going to extend that same concern to you if he was in your shoes, right?

34. I knew it. I knew it. This thing with all three of them being on Facebook, and Sam, posting everything with such glee is going to come and bite them in the ass. Kirk might be a backstabbing twat, but he isn't stupid. He's going to figure it out soon. Best break up with him soon Sam.

35. Damn. Her coworkers really have spun this false narrative about Mon dating Kirk and that being the reason why she was fired. They have no idea that the truth is so much weirder than fiction.

36. Sam. Honey. What are you doing??? How can you even believe that Mon would do that that? You know her! Yes, I know it's your insecurities and fears acting up, but you know her!!! You know better than to do this??? You can't take all this shit that you're saying back. Why are you hurting your girl like this?

37. Aaaaaand of course Kirk is here to make everything worse. Boy, did you not hear her say that people at work saw you talking with her and holding her hands, and now assume that you both together? Why are you STILL talking to her and holding her hands???? Let her go, and go sort out your own problems. Urgh!!!!

38. Sam. Sam. Sam. Why? Just... why? Fuck.

39. Aaaaaand of course. Nop is just right there. Didn't she tell you she's not interested in you? When will you get a fucking clue? She's not interested Nop. Be a friend in this moment. That's all she needs.

40. Look at my baby girl crying. I should have known that all that joy in this episode was lulling me into a false sense of complacency. Now look. Mon and I are both crying. Sam why???????

41. You know, I can't believe I'm saying this, but Sam girl, Nop is right. WHY ARE YOU SO INTENT ON BREAKING YOUR GIRL??? WHAT THE FUCK?!!! Now you're implying that she's hopping from man to man? Mon. Slap her. Slap her. Just hit her straight in the face. WHAT THE FUCK?!!!!!

42. Oh no you don't. You have ZERO right to be crying right now Sam. None. ZERO. NONE!!!

Urgh!! Why??? Why couldn't we just get an entire episode filled with happiness? Don't I deserve good things? Don't we all?!!!! I swear, if episode 9 doesn't start with Sam on her knees begging, I AM GOING TO RIOT!! Y'all have a week to fix this. FIX IT!!!

#gap #gap the series #gap yuri #gap episode thoughts #gap episode 8 #sammon #monsam #sam x mon #mon x sam #beckyfreen #becky armstrong #freen chankimha #freenbecky #noria watches gap

[br-x-ton]

Day 1: "Whose your Digimon?"

Herissmon. I used to be one of those people who saw Digimon as a Pokemon knock-off. So for the longest time I skipped out on it. After seeing and disliking how Pokemon Sword and Shield looked, I decided to be a petty little bastard and look for digimon since the poor quality of the game was a trending topic on Twitter at the time and someone reccomended SC/HM.Of course the designs had gained my interest. Angemon, Beelzemon, and Alphamon are still favorites of mine but I'd be lying if I said i like them mostly for their stories. But that wasn't the case with Herissmon.

Although I got into Digimon with Cyber Sleuth I decided to look at the app store for anything Digimon related and found reArise. I thought it'd be a standard gacha mobile game and for the most part I was right. But man was the story something. I've said it a hundred times before and I'll say it a hundred times more; that story was way too good for a mobile game, especially for a time limited one like ReA. I was actually getting attached to the characters and immersed in the world. Which for me if it isn't like VR and not strapped to my face where I can't see anything that's not the game world, I have a hard time getting that immersed.

I liked how Herissmon was foreign to both the real world and digital world. It made him the perfect tool to get new players to understand how Digimon as a franchise functions while also being very funny and cute at times. The story behind Herissmon was also amazing. Having Herissmon be a tool that the spirals were meant to control so they could live and take over the human and digital worlds end up becoming a digimon himself and casted away just to end up being your partner was too good for me to adequately describe with words. Couple this with all the horrible things they said and did to Herissmon throughout Story 1 and 2, and I hated the spirals. This is a good thing since I'm hating the characters for what they did instead of hating the writers for how they wrote them which I believe was intentional. Herissmon's morals were also amazing, he pitied the spirals since they were basically junk data given sentience and wanted to help them as soon as he was able to understand them. The fact that the story made it so easy to hate them for all the selfish things they did and yet let Herissmon see through it and know that the spirals only did it out of a sense of feeling forgotten and wanting to be apart of the worlds they were forced to live in between.

I also really liked how his dark evo mega was more than just He'S rEaLlY aNgRy or "Drew like a dark, fucked up version of my Digimon haha. Just a glimpse into my dark reality. A full stare into my twisted perspective would make most simply go insane Imao." Rasenmon FM being what the spirals wanted out of Herissmon the entire time was perfect. I actually got sad when Herissmon Vegeta'd himself to save everyone once he was able to take enough control over his own body. The fact that at the time you only saw the real Rasenmon in a CGI render that he gets recollecting on what the player and he did in the year they knew each other (longer if you want to add in some time when Herissmon was Pusurimon on the player's phone as a V-Pet).

#digimonloving last min digiparty #herissmon

[arcielee]

Interview With a Writer

Thank you @theoneeyedprince for giving us some behind the scenes perspective on your brilliant writing 💜 As always, Interview With a Writer is my ongoing series of the talented souls on Tumblr and ao3, and their brilliant writing!

Dividers by @saradika 💜

Name: theoneeyedprince 

Story: A Refined Taste

Paring: modern Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader

Warnings: Explicit/18+, be mindful of chapter warnings!

So, when did you start writing?

I have been interested in story telling and writing since I can remember. My first story that I've ever written was for a class in my third grade tilted "A Tale of a Little Droplet". I don't really remember why I decided to write a story about the journey that water goes through. Perhaps our teacher gave us this topic or I was just funny like that.

The thing is that I think that I've always had a soft spot for fiction. Then as the years went by I wrote everything from prose, to lyrics and poetry. Then I went to university and I started writing scripts, which became my new favourite form of writing, if I have to be honest.

When it comes to fanfiction it was the Harry Potter fandom that introduced me to it a decade ago. I read Dramione, Harry and Hermione and The Marauders fics first in my native language and then switched to writing those in English.

I didn't write at first but after months of being a reader I decided to give it a go and posted my own Dramione fic. Unfortunately, I believe that it got lost in the Internet ether because I didn't save the chapters on my computer-I wrote everything on the fanfiction site I used back then.

My fanfiction experience stopped or rather ended abruptly when I was in my senior year of high school and during four years at uni until my final year of my Masters degree began in October 2022. Funny enough it wasn't only the year when House of the Dragon premiered, but also the month when the older Aemond Targaryen appeared in the show.

The moment I saw this character on screen it was as if an old friend whispered in my ear telling me to come back. So after years and years of absence in the fanfiction community, I was finally back. All thanks to a new ASOIAF universe show and an incredibly intriguing character of Aemond Targaryen, played by Ewan Mitchell who I already knew from his role as Osferth in The Last Kingdom.

I took it slow however, searching fics and getting to know AO3 and the fanfiction side of tumblr. And as I was doing that, an idea for my own HOTD fanfic came to me. At that moment I felt like I was truly back.

What made you decide to start writing in English? Do you have any advice for budding new writers where English is not their native tongue?

I'd talk about bilingualism and literature written in English by non-native speakers for hours on end!

In my country (Poland, for anyone interested) kids start learning English in kindergarten so it became my second language pretty early on in my childhood, a constant since I was 6 years old. Lucky for me, it sunk into my brain with ease so the more I studied it the more comfortable I became with talking and writing in it.

Also, growing up with British and American shows, films and Internet helped me with that. I stopped reading translated books in high school (in English that is) 'cause I thought that if I watched visual media and listened to songs without having them translated, then why not try that with literature.

My journey with writing prose and poetry in English started then too. For some reason, writing in my second language (English) comes easier to me than in my first. I'm not sure how to describe it, it's still a mystery to me. Maybe it's the fact that I've been familiar with English for so long that my brain simply prefers it. Also, I got my degrees in English literature and translation studies so that helped me a lot with understanding this language at a level that feels like my second native tongue.

I'd say that as an author who writes in English I have an advantage because of how much time and space English occupied my life in the past and in the present.

My advice to anyone who wants to write in English but isn't a native speaker would be to simply start. Start writing and reading and get familiar with the language through these activities. The saying 'Practise makes perfect' is one hundred percent accurate!

To those who already write in their second or third language - I applaud you because by doing so you show everyone a skill that you should be proud of! In our modern times English is a global language and so available for everyone to learn that people take it for granted when someone says they read or write in it. How hard could it be, right? Well, the latter takes time and expertise and requires love and devotion for what you do. And doing that in another language is worth praising.

Where did the plot for A Refined Taste come from?

The idea came to me after devouring every modern AU that came my way. Summer was around the corner and I thought 'What if I wrote a modern AU myself? Can I do it?'

I was writing my in-canon Aemond fic at that time but started feeling a little burnt out and needed something else to focus on with hopes that it'll fill me with new inspiration and motivation. I wrote two short scenes but for what turned out to be a completely different fic at the end–the action took place during summer holidays so these scenes ended up in ART's Part 4 and 5.

The inspiration for A Refined Taste particularly came from Pinterest and Lana del Rey. A still from The Talented Mr Ripley showed up on my dash, while I was listening to Lana's Honeymoon album. Soon enough I was adding tens of pictures to my 'old money aesthetics’ board and then it dawned on me. This is perfect–a modern AU about the Targaryens being an old money family who lives in a big mansion by the sea and owns a private vineyard!

I had the title at the ready because it was one of three that I considered for a completely different modern AU but luckily it fit the theme and aesthetics. 'A refined taste' is a reference to the vineyard and their private wine collection, the old money lifestyle (the romanticised one, of course) and as we later find out in the story to the people we choose to spend time with and love.

So, in short the idea started with a desire to write a modern AU fic and old money aesthetics.

Explain your interpretation of Aemond. What drives him? Why is he the way he is in ART?

Aemond from A Refined Taste can be described in two different ways depending on who you ask about him. If you're like the reader at the beginning of the story, so someone who doesn't know him personally, no connection despite shaking hands with him once, he seems distant, so quiet that you might think him pompous and judgmental and there's this cocky attitude that comes to the surface from time to time.

However if you get to know him closer or manage to break down his walls, it turns out that he's more of an observant than a participant that's why he barely talks around strangers. Well, except for when there are his siblings around, then he might join in the conversation or crack a joke (whether it ends up being genuinely funny or mean that's another story 'cause our guy spends more time with books, he's an academic scholar after all, than with people that aren't his family).

When Aemond trusts someone or falls in love with them he lets them see this vulnerable and caring side of him that he keeps locked deep inside due to the trauma and heartbreak he faced in the past. He was raised by his mother because his father was always absent so one might assume that being doted on by Alicent he'd be more in touch with his feelings but unfortunately for him it was the opposite. Especially after losing his eye it became obvious how little Viserys cared for him.

Also, he became a shell of himself, locking himself from the world, in consequence becoming a very lonely boy who later had trouble finding friends outside of his siblings. That is why he focused on his studies.

When it comes to his romantic life, he had crushes but his low self-esteem constantly pulled him back from shooting his shot with those girls. He went through some sort of transformation during the summer before his first year at Oldtown University with the help of Aegon who was finished with his B.A. at KLU at that time. That's when he met Alys, his first serious girlfriend and a cause for the return of his bitterness and insecurities (it was a long, on and off toxic relationship). After that he was with Cass who was only a rebound for him, turning him into a cold and selfish dick in her eyes, which he was at the end. Aemond simply couldn't think of any way to cope with his previous relationship and treated Cass like Alys treated him. And that is one of the reasons why he enjoys sex, because he can be in control of a situation and forget everything just for a moment.

Then, there came the reader who showed him that he doesn't have to be at odds with the world and people in it only because he's hurting so much, that if he gave someone a chance they can surprise him in a good way.

His love language is acts of service (and quality time, at the same time)–he offers to teach the reader how to play tennis, notices what book she's been reading and gives her a first edition he's sure she'd like, shows his attraction to her by providing her pleasure without wanting anything in return (Part 4 and Part 5), takes her on a date on a boat and at the vineyard, chooses the PHD program that is closest to where she lives, shows up with flowers at her work in order to surprise her. Words of affirmation are something new to him though, but seeing how open she is with her feelings, he decided to grand her the same in return.

He's a very contradicting character in canon, so I wanted to convey that in ART too.

Was there anything in specific that inspired your Reader?

I wanted the character of the Reader to be someone who is independent on her own but would benefit from ending up in a relationship with someone who shares her interests and challenges her. I'm not going to lie, her love for literature is the author showing themselves in the fictional character. But that's totally okay because every writer leaves a part of themselves in the characters they create.

I tried to make her as relatable to the person reading as her as I was able. Besides a couple of mentions of the quite big difference in height between her and Aemond, I decided not to describe her physical appearance so you the reader can see yourself in her, act in this role even. In this I got inspired by some amazing modern AUs where a reader can wholly become The Reader.

On the other hand, I needed her to be three-dimensional at the same time. In the process she became a mixture of my favourite characters and the women in my life. Confident in what she wants and needs but not free from self-doubt, realistic but romantic, in touch with her feelings but sometimes too much that it causes her distress, empathetic but prejudiced in some cases (Aemond at the beginning). Indeed it was the women I'm influenced by that inspired to write the Reader in this particular way.

Why do you think your Reader complements Aemond so well?

I think that my Reader and Aemond complement each other because they're interested in literature and relate to each other's love for their siblings, but also because they differ in so many aspects. They naturally challenge each other and not only in a fun way that excites them, but also so they're able to grow as individual people–find and reveal hidden sides they were too afraid to act on.

Was there another characters in your story you enjoyed writing?

I really enjoyed writing the Reader’s sister Argella. She was the only OC in this story–besides the Reader of course if we can consider her to be an OC–that i made from scratch.

Argella and Reader’s relationship was inspired by the one I have with my sister but changed slightly into something even more special, deep in understanding of one another. A truly profound sisterhood. Besides that I loved throwing in these little moments of her and Helaena together and I can’t wait to write a one shot where we’ll get to know Argella as a character and which will delve into the girls’ relationship.

Do you think there be a sequel? Or do you have anything else you are working on next?

I don’t think there’s a need for a sequel. The Epilogue was written in a way that both concludes the story but allows us to imagine their life after it. There might be one shots if anyone requested something that would added to the story.

For now I’d like to focus on the rewriting of my first Aemond fic titled Of Blood and Fire which I’m currently in the middle of and an upcoming Tom Bennet story - As The World Burns. In both cases the romantic interests are original female characters, which are just so fun to create. Also one shots are to be always expected because my mind comes up with too many ideas. It’s just too little time to bring them all to life.

But one will be posted soon as part of your/arcielee’s 1k celebration! All I can say is keep an eye on my blog 🤭

Do you have a personal favorite story you'd like to share?

I thoroughly enjoyed @adragonprinceswhore 's “Warm Me Up” one shot and I see she’s got a series inspired by Fleetwood Mac, which sounds amazing!

"Come Back To Me" by @assortedseaglass has a special place in my heart because it was the very first Billy Washington fic I have ever read. "My Heart Belongs To Daddy" was the first fic of @humanpurposes that I read and in my top 5 of favourite modern AUs.

Also, @endless-ineffabilities series Maroon captured my heart! It’s been months since I read it and I’m still thinking about it.

#iwaw #iwaw17 #interview with a writer #bts #of their brilliant writing #writing community #a refined taste

[eungii]

𝗜 𝗪𝗜𝗦𝗛 𝗜 𝗞𝗡𝗘𝗪 𝗜𝗧 — ft. manjiro sano, ken ryugujin, takashi mitsuya and keisuke baji

sʏɴᴏᴘsɪs: tr characters saying "I hate you" :(

ᴛᴡ: fem! reader || manjiro sano;; angst || ken ryugujin;; angst, mentions of divorce? || takashi mitsuya;; angst, mean tsuya :( || keisuke baji;; angst, mentions of dying.

ɴᴏᴛᴇ: happy birthday to me! Well It was three days ago but who cares? Enjoy <3

꒰ MANJIRO "MIKEY" SANO ꒱

How would you describe mikey? Childish? Hard to read? Maybe it was the fact that he gets bored so easy. "Ken-chin i wanna go now" "ken-chin I'm bored" "ken-chin this is not funny, let's go"

And don't get it wrong, humans usually want to have fun, but the hurtful thing was that he gets bores only with you.

"Why you do this?" Your tired voice make him stopped and facing you.

"Do what?" "Leaving" and in fact, he really love going with his friends but with you it just doesn't feel the same.

"Huh? You scared of me leaving? Seriously? "His tone was getting more louder "HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO BE WITH YOU WHEN YOU CANT EVEN TRUST ME?!" His hand slapped the jar next to him.

The jar you bought for him with your hardworking.

After minutes of silence— he grab his keys and jacket— while walking to the door and before the door could close, his mouth leave 3 hurtful words.

"I hate you"

——

After he came back— as always, after 2 a.m.— he was hopping to see you cooking dinner or just waiting for him.

But he only find the coldness of the apartment you two just to share and called it home.

꒰ KEN DRAKEN RYUGUJIN ꒱

"Emma, you cut your hair right? I Like it"

Emma Sano, the girl that was pretty even with only her name, the girl that is your best friend, the girl that have everyone in her feet

And by everyone includes your boyfriend, Ken.

His smiles are only when she's there, his eyes only focus on her when toman do those usual hangouts, his heart only belongs to her. His first love and last.

His tears are only to her. And nothing to you anymore.

How could you beat her? She's pretty, kind, funny, cute and everyone love her. Even you.

Slowly she was winning his heart so easy, the heart you fought for it more that 4 years. And for looking he was accepting it—accepting the fact of having another woman inside his life,winning his worries, touching his lips, living in his heart — And of course, it wasn't you.

"Seriously? I am the one you marry!" You shouted with tears at the coldness of the house, making the blonde haired more angry.

"Seriously? I am the one you marry!" You shouted with tears at the coldness of the house, making the blonde haired more angry.

"Yeah and I wish it wasn't"

After those 6 words, the house was all on silence. He actually mean it? After all those years you shared bed, house, life.

"What?" You wish it wasn't true—you wanted to think it was a prank— but his eyes filled with anger was enough. "What you hear, I wish it was her the one I married!"

As he walked out the cold room he adds "I hate being married with you and you"

꒰ MITSUYA TAKASHI ꒱

Being a housewife was so difficult, but being Takaahi's housewife was more difficult— with his two sisters, a small department and with no help at all— but today looks like god wasn’t on your side.

First you woke up late, Luna and Mana's lunch wasn’t ready on time, the oven decided to not work today as same as the stove and Takashi wasn’t home because he stayed working overtime so you couldn’t feel his embracement.

“Mana! That is disgusting!” Luna's voice break your thoughts and because of her loud screams you cut your finger, spraying blood all over the cutting board.

While you put your finger inside your mouth, the sound of the door opening grab your attention.

Him with his big eye bags, his non brushed hair, his dark look, his tired face.

"Taka-nii" both little girls shouted as they saw their big brother "Where were you? We thought you wouldn't come and have breakfast with us" they big eyes were glowing with happiness and joy.

"Hi mana, hi luna umm— can I talk with Nee-san in private? You know, you go to your room and play movies just for a while, nee-san and me are going there soon—yeah?"

-

"Why they aren't at school?" His cold voice finally release making you confuse "Huh?" "Why they aren't in school? It's 8:37 a.m. and why the fuck they are still here?!" His mad looks were enough to make you nervous

"Gosh you can't even take care of luna and mana, you are useless y/n, really fucking useless. Now after I come home tired I have to even prepare them yp go to school— gosh I hate you."

As he leaves you could only finish breakfast and leave just three plates on the table.

"Luna, Mana" both girls turn their head to you "Where is Takashi?" "In the bathroom" as Mana said you relax yourself "Well tell him that food is ready, and that I need to go and feed my dog so I'm sorry, yeah?"

As the older brother finally go to the living room, Mana give him your message, but when his face showed no expression she adds "Oh, and today starts our vacation,what are we doing?"

And that's when it hit him.

You don't have a dog, as same as you won't come back.

꒰ BAJI KEISUKE ꒱

"You change" after months of not seeing him, that was the first thing he said to you "You got boring, you know?"

Maybe he was right? Maybe you got boring because you were literally dying from the inside? Maybe he would change his mind if he only knew about the sickness that was killing you? Who knows..

"Kei, I'm sorry I can't go and set on fire another car but I just can't.. Please understand me"

"Bullshit, you just got another man right?"

The only though of you leaving him, or him leaving you make you sick. Both of you love each other, respect each other and protects each other. "How can you said that? I love you-"

"I don't"

...what? What was he saying? No, please don't keep going

"I don't love you anymore, is just — agh"

Was this a punishment from god? Why he must be doing this? Why when you are literally trying to explain him that you have less that a week.

"I hate you now."

-

"Hey Chifuyu how have you-" before he could finish his answer the blonde punch him "Ouch, what was that for you idiot?"

"Shut up Baji-san y/n— she's" his sobs were with his words "She's what Chifuyu? And why is she so important now-"

"She's dying"

Oh.

🏷taglist; @medusalovessnakes @tessinia

© this belong to @/eungii. Do not repost, translate, steal or modify my work .

#tokyo rev x you #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x y/n #tokyo rev angst #mikey x reader #mikey x y/n #mikey x you #mikey angst #draken x reader #draken x y/n #draken x you #draken angst #mitsuya x reader #mitsuya x y/n #mitsuya x you #mitsuya angst #baji x reader #baji x y/n #baji x you #baji angst #repost because tumblr is a bitch

[ladyloveandjustice]

So I read the third Magirevo novel (it was a very quick read, especially when you skim the parts that are just repeating things it already said which is uuuuh about half of it! Yeah unfortunately the prose has not gotten better) because I knew the final arc didn't get a lot of of time and I was curious to see what got cut out and honestly...not much of value.

There's an additional conversation with Euphie's mother (she exists in the novels!) and Anis' mother, which does show us Anis' mom is genuinely worried about her daughter and realizes she was wrong to put so much pressure on her and is even hoping she'll continue to work on magicology even after becoming Queen (also that Lainie's figured out how to use her brainwashing powers as an anti anxiety med if the target gives consent, which is interesting) and that Euphie's mom...exists, but it doesn't give us any new information or emotional insight that wasn't covered in the anime.

In fact, I mostly have a list of things I'm glad they changed or left out!

-For some reason this book is super into Tomas the Blacksmith, who's has only just been introduced and also doesn't have any personality traits? The scene where Tilty comforts Anis and suggests they ditch this stupid place and make a living as hot conwomen is entirely anime original, instead we get a very boring scene where the blacksmith who has no reason to care about royal spirit pacts or her gf troubles comforts her. So yes, I think the anime made a very good decision in having a touching scene with a character the audience might actually be fond of instead.

We also get a way too extended scene on how they collaborate with Tomas to make the magic dresses, I cannot imagine why the author thinks I would care about this. I guess it's to show Anis has a genuine bond with people of other classes, but they could have used an actually interesting character for that.

-Euphie's arguing with Anis is super repetitive over the queen vs immortal contractor thing in the novel, and Anis is weirdly childish during their duel, screaming "I hate you" at her several times like she's a five year old yelling at Mom which is just jarring considering the stakes and all.

-The duel also comes off as much more brutal, like Anis literally mentions she's going to hit Euphie with the same attack that seriously injured VampireAl and it could kill her and...why???? That makes no sense you're literally having this fight to protect her. Calm down!!!

-For some reason, when Euphie tells Anis she's not a fake, in the book she straddles her and starts shaking her while she's pinned down to the bed (I guess she's jerking her up and down?) Imagine how incredibly awkward it would have looked if the anime copied this, I'm so glad they didn't. The straddling should come later! It takes away the impact of when she pins her to the bed actually romantically!

-Then Euphie accidentally drains Anis' magical energy when they make out with her new super spirit powers and Anis passes out, which is such a dumb ending to a romantic moment, thank god the anime cut that shit. I don't understand why it was there. Did the author just not know how to fade to black?

-In the novel, Anis is the one who orders the sword and names it, rather than it being a sweet gesture from Euphie. The anime is doing so much work here.

-In the novel, for some reason Euphie and Anis decide to battle it out in the sky instead of just dancing- I'd be neutral on this, they're clearly having fun and this is the shit they're into, you do you girls, and it does have the incredibly funny moment where Anis goes "and then Euphie dropkicked me." Except the light novel takes forever to describe it and I ended up skimming over it. How long were they up there. If I were the townspeople I'd be yelling that I did not consent to being part of this bourgeoisie kink display and want to go home. Also when you remember they're both wearing heels there is such a possibility of one of those falling off and beaning someone in the head and killing them.

Things I thought were interesting/was neutral on:

-The anime does leave out some stuff in Lumi's backstory, namely that her father, the king who made the original spirit contract, did so to save the kingdom but eventually became a cruel, horrific ruler due to his emotions withering away, and Lumi had to kill her own dad to stop him. Lumi also shows more of cruel streak herself. I don't think the anime needed this, the whole immortality and emotions fading thing was enough to show there were consequences to the spirit contract, and it kinda makes Euphie look wildly irresponsible she'd risk becoming a despotic ruler. (However, Lumi does say she knows it won't happen to Euphie because Anis is there.) It is an interesting bit of lore though, and the novel leans more heavily on the theme that magic is pretty dangerous and terrible.

-Anis mentions in the novel that thinking she was fake is part of why she didn't tell Al about the rumors or why she left- she was afraid the nobles were catching on to how she was 'wrong' somehow and thought Al would notice too. I thought that was interesting and gave some more context to her actions.

-Tilty walks in on Anis and Euphie in bed together, and is like 'well well well' which was admittedly pretty funny, though it just became too much when Lumi also hopped in. Give them some privacy.

-This was fairly obvious anyway, but since we get Anis' POV the novel confirms her 'you were just kissing me on the lips out of friendship weren't you' was because she thought it was too good to be true. Also she just seems to like arguing for the sake of it, which Euphie points out to her.

All in all the anime is definitely the best way to experience the story. of the first three novels. The novels have too laden with repetition, unneeded exposition and poor pacing, the manga is also occasionally bogged down my exposition too and overall way skeevier, but the anime knows what's important about the story and what changes to make to make it shine. Though I do believe the anime team would have added some good original content if they'd had some extra room, pretty much everything it cut from the novel was not necessary.

#magirevo #the magical revolution of the reincarnated princess and the genius young lady

[the-haunted-office]

Thursday wasn't doing anything particularly interesting with her phone, just scrolling through social media and looking at funny pictures of animals, when what she could only describe as a globby mass of numbers, letters, and symbols started coming out of the screen.

Understandably this got her attention by way of causing her to drop her phone and take a few steps back from it. Globby masses of numbers, letters, and symbols coming out of your phone usually isn't a good sign, even in the Office, and so she wanted to get a good look at it before deciding what to do with it.

Well it didn't take long for her decide what to do with it because it didn't take long for it to decide what to do with itself. The mass continued to ooze out of her phone, pouring and piling into itself, gradually coalescing and forming into the distinct shape of a person. That didn't necessarily settle down Thursday's nerves, although it did get her thinking that it might be at least a little easier for her to communicate with... whatever this was.

When all was said and done she was faced with what appeared to be an office worker in their late 20's or early 30's, lanky with pale skin, bright ruddy hair, bespectacled dark eyes, and a face decorated with freckles. They were looking at her as though they were seeing a ghost, a strange notion considering they were the one who had just come crawling out of her phone.

Even stranger was the fact that they weren't saying anything. Just staring at her as if shocked to see her there.

Thursday shifted slightly, eyes blinking and looking around momentarily before settling back on the new face. "So-... I couldn't help but notice that you just came out of my phone, and... Well, hi!" she said, deciding to be friendly about this whole ordeal.

A half beat delay was all there was before the stranger suddenly did the last thing Thursday would have ever expected of someone who had just come out of her phone.

They started crying.

And then their arms were around her in an embrace.

"Um-" Thursday just stood there frozen, confused, uncomfortable. "Excuse me- Sorry, it's just- it's just- You know, personal space-"

"Sorry," they said, suddenly letting go and flushing deeply, crossing their arms and looking sheepish and ashamed and just... haunted. "I just haven't seen you in a- long time. Not you, but- another version of you. From my timeline."

It took a few seconds before Thursday understood and when she did: "Hey, you're the one who's been sending me those texts!"

The stranger nodded, wiping at their eyes. "Told you we'd be meeting each other soon."

"You know, Doomsday broke all of our computers because of you."

They rolled their eyes. "Drama queen."

"You wanna tell me why she would do all that?" Thursday queried. Just because this stranger had shown up, started crying, and hugged her, didn't mean they were off the hook.

"A stupid attempt to keep me out," they sighed. It seemed they were through with crying for now as a more exasperated look settled in over their expression. A darker one, even. "But I told her she couldn't. She'll never be able to keep me out, because she has her. My Thursday. And I'm not leaving until I get her back."

#thursday #oleander/432 #writing for days #i don't have a name for this plot yet #because i'm not sure if it's gonna be an actual plot or just a thing :p

[booklover551]

Likely Possibilities for Crowley's Previous Angelic Identity:

I'm sure plenty of people have done this at some point or another... but I'm doing it anyway XD. It's fun to think about, so I decided to give my two cents.

FIRST, let's lay out the clues we've been given:

Crowley worked on the stars

Crowley was a "Throne" or "Dominion" or higher

It's implied that he and Saraqael worked together at some point

So, first let's review the hierarchy of angels:

Hierarchy of Angels (according to Wikipedia anyway):

High:

Seraph

Cherub

Throne

Middle:

Dominion

Virtue

Power

Low:

Principality

Archangel

Angel

Note that this is not the *only* existing hierarchy of angels; I chose this one purely for similarities in terms.

This pretty much confirms what fans of Good Omens guessed: Crowley was somewhere higher up on the social ladder. That limits potential possibilities to anyone who was a Dominion or above. So, keeping that in mind, I looked at all the angels with that ranking (who Wikipedia had info on; admittedly there were entries with no information to go on, which I eliminated).

What I came up with was this:

Pahaliah: Throne

Guardian of Redemption

Truth/Wisdom

Wikipedia describes as "bearing the mystical name of God... "the Ineffable Name."

It feels right for Crowley to be some sort of guardian of truth/wisdom. His main problem with God was in seeking the truth: he asked questions. Not to mention, part of being wise is knowing when to take suggestions from others. I also think the Ineffable thing could be kind of funny. Throughout the series Crowley shows such distaste whenever Aziraphale attributes something to God's Ineffable Plan. It would be interesting if there were something more personal in that distaste.

Agiel: Seraph

Intelligence

Associated with Saturn

I chose this one for kind of similar reasons to Pahaliah: the association with intellectuality, which in turn, lends itself well to Crowley's need for questions. The fact that this angel is associated with Saturn could also be a helpful connection in that we know that Crowley worked in the space department (so to speak). That having been said, I acknowledge that a lot of angels are associated with specific planets, so that doesn't necessarily mean anything.

Gadreel : Cherub

I really only chose this particular angel because they're "responsible for deceiving Eve." As the serpent, that was literally Crowley's job description.

THERE were a couple of other entities I thought were interesting to consider, like Azazel and Raphael, but I ultimately decided that it didn't make sense/there wasn't enough evidence one way or the other.

In terms of Raphael, in particular, since I know that's a popular theory, I personally think the Aziraphale-Raphael connection holds a little more water. But that's just my own personal opinion.

However, all that being said, what we have to consider in the end is that Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett didn't necessarily strictly keep to one particular system/religious ideology.

Take these instances, for example:

Saraqael: There is an angel with that name (also known as Sariel). But the only real connection between the angel in the show and the angel in the source material is space. We know that Saraqael and Crowley worked together. In the original source material, Saraqael taught men about the phases of the moon. Hence, it makes sense that they would have worked together. But that's really the only thing connecting the two.

Muriel - Muriel in the show is the lowest order of angels. But the actual angel Muriel is a Dominion (though I admit, it's likely Muriel wasn't intended to be based on anything in particular).

The hierarchy of angels - Neil Gaiman has actually laid out a fairly specific hierarchy of angels. According to it, Aziraphale is intended to be upper-middle management, basically. However, if we're going off of the hierarchy above, as a Principality Aziraphale should be much lower on the hierarchal ladder.

All of which is to say, this is kind of a moot point without knowing HOW EXACTLY the authors modified the hierarchy. But it's still fun to theorize!

#good omens #crowley #good omens theories #theory

[cthulhubert]

I uh. It's December. You may or may not have noticed.

I did Nanowrimo, spent my "creative projects half hour" slot on that, and completely forgot about posting my fourth year of daily drawings for October. Nevertheless, into my my art tag it goes.

In a fit of petty first world anarchism, I did Inktober's prompts, but digitally.

This year's been busy, so I tried to stick to my half an hour per day drawing time slot. (I say, gritting my teeth, forehead vein bulging as I look at the parts I don't like.)

I am forcing myself to acknowledge that the past year—with its approximately 130 hours of drawing practice—has resulted in some improvements to line control, anatomy, and perspective, but I'm definitely also reaching the point where several of these feel too embarrassing to post.

In fact I only picked nine, instead of the ten I did the last few years.

Please read some of the captions because at least I do think I'm funny.

Dreams was an auspicious start. I like this Bakugirl.

Fortune... exists. I should've been a little bolder with the fairy actually like, interacting with the dragon woman's palm, really being present there, instead of just sort of posed on top. I also should've made the table smaller, dragoness is supposed to be huge.

I immediately decided I was doing some kind of pair for Angel and Demon. Please ignore that the actual prompt was not Devil. It's close enough right? If I had more time and ambition the devil girl's net was going to be made of serpents. I did not really capture her "shouting" expression the way I wanted, but now that I'm looking it's not execrable. Angel's dreads are definitely more half hearted than I wanted. This one did at least convince me that my next batches of studies need to be of clothed figures.

Rise got my favorite concept for the whole month. Cause it's bread. Get it? eh? Please enjoy our little alchemist workshopping her lines for introducing her magnum opus. Tried to lean into cartoonish with her face.

I spent a solid 10 minutes trying to decide what to do for Dagger, and then all of a sudden it was like a voice spoke to me: "Do fan art of one of your favorite games of all time." I wish the Final Fantasy series hadn't abandoned that more stylized, cartoonish vibe. You know, one of the most interesting things about drawing is realizing that I am 100% looking at things that I have previously—apparently!—only kind of glanced at. Like I would not, before drawing this, have described Garnet as having, to be frank, a prodigious bosom, significant badonkerage, or ginormous dobonhonkeros. To be frank. And a really low cut top to boot. But here we are. I like this face. Wish I'd chosen a more dynamic pose.

For Shallow I decided to do a little snippet of something from one of my stories (coincidentally one related to what I was working on in November). The anatomy is a bit iffy. And even though she's literally supposed to have been buried in a shallow hole in the woods, I had to add a gravestone because I wasn't confident how well that showed.

Rush is another one where I was not at all sure what I was going to do until the brain noise intruded, "Firetrucks are red because red's the color of communism and they're always Russian[Rushin'] around." What was I thinking with that background?

Hilariously, I didn't notice the final prompt of Inktober and how well Fire went with my spontaneous choice for the previous day. It's only now that I'm posting that I realized during export I must have turned off the "background" layer that shows a(n attempt at a) continuation of the previous background. I recall being really frustrated trying to get the foreshortening right on this mischievous fire-ninja jill-o-lantern's arms, but it doesn't look so awful now.

It's fascinating feeling myself more fully move into the phase of learning where I can tell that I'm on the cusp of drawing this or that noticeably better, I just have to push, put a bit more time into individual pieces. And of course, practice.

Next I think I'll aim for at least four and up to twelve studies of clothed figures. Might stop to try and find some good hints on drawing a good fire, or something that suggests dirt.

But I also have some writing to do. I got engaged in my Nanowrimo project. I'm finishing something else up that a friend and I have worked on in bits for years. Of course, what I'd really like is to do some writing and drawing practice every day. It hasn't happened yet, but then again, between picking up drawing supplies and actually starting to practice daily, "It hasn't happened yet" was the case for years.

Until it wasn't.

#just watch I'll start writing and drawing every day... right before I finally pick up regular music practice #I have also reached the point where constructive criticism might actually be useful #so go ahead if you like; though I feel like I've got a rough grasp of my main weaknesses #I realize I'm probably not good enough to tell how well I've grasped them :P #my art

[serenity-songbird]

Howdy!!!

It's been quite a while.

I'm sorry for the sudden disappearance with no communication.

Truth is...I've been through a lot...For so long I have been trying to bury my past...to the point it become too much to Handle.

So...I have decided that I will tell you the story of Serenity Songbird.

It's not just for the sake of my mental health. It is also for the hope that you may read this and learn that sometimes...you have to face your fears if you want the pain to stop.

By the trigger warnings, you will most likely know the issues already.

FYI. You don't have to read. This is mainly for me to get out all my frustrations, fears, and sorrows.

Below contain triggering topics like: Rape, Attempted Suicide, Self Harm, Child Abuse & Neglect, Bullying PTSD, Anxiety, and Depression.

If any of these topics bother you. Stop reading.

This is mainly an Autobiography to lift the load of my chest and aid in my recovery.

Beware. This is going to be long...

My name is Serenity Song.

I have been described by people who me know as:

Creative

Kind

Loving

Loyal

Weird (But in a good way)

Funny

Shy/Timid

Happy-Go-lucky

Talented

And definitely a doormat..

I grew up in the suburbs. Nice neighborhood. Great neighbors and long time friends. I have 2 parents who love me and 2 brothers who, definitely could be annoying at times, but of course we loved each other in our own sibling way.

For the first 12 years..I was happy. Sure it had it's ups and downs with my parents having arguments every other day. Being punished and beat for the stupid things we all do as children.

It wasn't so bad...Except for the fact that I was constantly bullied and told how much of an ugly freak I was. So I definitely didn't have self esteem back then.

But I managed to endure it...After all...

Kids are cruel and if you are being bullied, it's your fault. So. Just. Be. Normal. "It's not a big deal."

...

*Well...there's trauma number 1.*

Because bullying is never okay. It shouldn't be normalized. And yes. It. Is. Traumatic. And it is NOT. Your. Fault.

Then, I turned 13 close to the end of my 8th year in middle school. The bullying stopped. I was so happy. Not only that but was I going to be a high schooler schooler soon! And I was to go into it with a boyfriend!

**Introducing trauma number 2.**

I was excited......But I couldn't enjoy it for long because my life went down into flames.

My very first boyfriend left me for my best friend. He broke up with me over text...on Christmas Eve...the day. Before. My. Birthday.

I found out after winter break. My friends, who were hesitant to tell me, said they were dating.

I felt so insecure and hurt that I confessed not to one but 2 of my closest friends. Not out of love, but desperation. But I didn't know that at the time.

That hurt. He not only got over me so easily, but I found out she confessed to him after we started dating and got together immediately after breaking up. Yet, because of the fact that I had very few friends to begin with, I didn't say anything. I just smiled and congratulated them. Because we are Best Friends...

Yeah right.

The first one, lasted two weeks. I just realized I didn't have feeling for him. We stayed friends, but I felt like a piece of shit.

The second one, lasted two and a half years. It was the biggest mistake I ever made.

Long story short...At 13 years old, I was raped by the boy I thought I loved. And despite the pain and fear, he manipulated me into thinking I wanted it. I didn't. But his snake-like whisper echoed in my mind...

"You are my girlfriend. That means you HAVE TO have sex with me. That's what girlfriends do. Now get dressed. My mom will be here soon."

***Trauma number 3.***

And he left without another word. And it happened again and again...to the point where I felt numb.

He didn't just abuse me sexually, but emotionally. He would constantly belittle me, ridicule me, and he separated me from my friends.

My friends tried to tell me something wasn't right with him...I didn't listen because I thought that I was in love...

How wrong I was...

And if that wasn't enough...at the exact same time, my Mami cheated on my Papi with 5 men. And he moved out to live with my Titi (aunt) until he could get his life back together.

I didn't know at the time what she did, I only found out months later. All I knew was that they got into a fight and got divorced.

******And so trauma number 4, 5, & 6 begin.******

He gave the house...and us....to my mother. Because he loved her and he didn't want to suddenly uproot the lives of his children and take them away from friends...

I wish he took us with him. I'd rather move to a whole other city than to endure the things my mother did to us...And what my boyfriend did to me.

Now...Don't get me wrong. Unlike some divorces, my Papi didn't completely abandon us. He'd visit. We'd sleep over at his temporary home every 2 weeks. We spent holidays and birthdays together still. And he didn't show any negative emotion towards my mother for our sake.

But I knew he was hurting. No matter how hard he tried to hide it.

The problem with my Mami was...she was in a deep depression. She had tried to kill herself. She would lay on her bed crying for hours while my 10 year old brother and I could hear from downstairs.

Then she started leaving us alone.

Everyday she went out to party and got drunk with friends. She would bring strange men home and we could hear them having sex. Which was gross. 🤢🤢🤢

Who the hell were these men?

It got so bad, I told my brother to lock the door everytime he was in there. Unfortunately, my lock didn't work, so I hid a knife under my bed for protection.

Then she would leave for days on end. Never came home. Which means she never went grocery shopping.

My brother and I scavenged for food...But we ran low.

I was now the caretaker of my brother. I bought his food with my birthday money. I did our laundry. I would take him outside with me to play games when my mother was...doing her business. Covered his ears. Said it was okay.

There was this one day that has haunted me for years...it still does.

One day, I went to check up on her. I didn't know what to say or do to make her feel better. How could I? I was just a kid.

"It's YOUR FAULT I am feeling like this. You're my daughter so you have to make me feel better. You're so WORTHLESS. You father is gone because you didn't stop him from leaving."

Worthless? MY fault?

Ever since then...I feel like every problem I encounter IS my fault. Even when it clearly isn't.

At the time I was afraid to tell my Papi..If I said anything Mami would go to jail. They'll take me and my younger brother away. I wished that my older brother didn't go to the army so he could help. He always know what to do. But we didn't have him at the time.

I wish I told my Papi...If I did...I wouldn't be so...messed up.

Then Mami invited a stranger into the house, but this time...he didn't leave. After 6 months of weeping and the finalized divorce papers, my Mami got engaged and married to one of the men she cheated on my Papi with...

I hated them.

I resented them.

Even know...I still can't get over this resentment for all the things that women put us through.

...

But when she married my Step-dad, things got better...

Mami was happy again. And Papi got an apartment and was in a happy relationship. (Though they didn't get married right away like my Mami did. And it took a lot more time for him to move on).

He cooked. He cleaned. He...took care of us and never layed a hand on us. He made us laugh.

At the time, I was quite the poet and singer. He'd listen to all my songs and poems. He was kind and involved himself in our lives and after school activities.

Eventually, I grew to love my Step-dad and now I have 2 Papi's and 2 Mami's. It turned out to be a blessing in disguise.

And then...my boyfriend's mother found out about what me and him were doing behind closed doors and told my parents.

We got in trouble. Grounded for the entire summer and not allowed to see each other. I got yelled at...I blamed myself. It was MY FAULT. I DESERVE THIS.

I told them it was consented. I defended him. Because I loved him.

My step dad marched into his house to yell at him...

That was embarrassing...Especially when he yelled, "HOW DARE YOU F*** MY DAUGHTER IN THE ***!"

I was mortified. He shouldn't have said that.

(I didn't tell them about the abuse until I was 21. I could see the regret, anger, and concern in their eyes...My mom had to hold my step-dad from hurting him...)

I was severely depressed over the summer. My mom gave me her antidepressants to help...I nearly overdosed because she didn't know that while the dosage was perfect for her, it was too much for me. My step-dad was pissed when he found out. She didn't give them to me anymore.

After the summer break, we saw each other again...And we were still together... But he was different...Crueler...Meaner.

Yet...I stayed. Because I loved him.

I was now constantly anxious that I did something wrong. I started to cut my arms. I tried to kill myself with a scarf only to fail.

"I've changed."

His abuse got worse and worse until I couldn't take it anymore. We broke up.

Then got back together a week later after he manipulated me.

He didn't.

I didn't last long. I officially broke up with my abusive boyfriend forever.

I was finally free.

I should be happy...

"Why am I not happy?"

In order to be happy. I had to forget. I'm not suffering anymore.

Just. Forget. About. It.

So I dug down to the deepest, darkest place in my head.

I covered it.

I chained it.

I locked it up and threw away the key.

As the years went by I suffered more bad luck.

From one toxic relationship to the other.

*I lost count of the trauma I endured.*

I was desperate for love. I wanted to feel like my body was mine and nobody else's. So I had to prove it by doing, what I convinced myself, I wanted.

More painful memories were added to the pile...

But soon...there was no more room.

And the past started to leak out.

I woke up, sweating and choking on air. Trying to control my breathing, but my chest felt like it was constricted.

Memories I tried to forget flashed into my mind.

I started to see things...hear things. But nothing was there.

There were moments where I was no longer in my house, but back in my childhood home relieving my worst nightmares.

Than one day...I snapped.

Just 2 months ago, I nearly drove my car off a bridge.

That's when I knew I needed help...Not just for my sake, but my husband's.

I didn't even realize what I was doing until my car hit the curb making the car jump. I snapped out of it and swerved.

I rushed home and I cover the entire top half of my arms with razor scratches and watched the blood drip down into the sink.

I just can't live like this anymore...

Then my husband saw my arms and he cried for me and held me close.

Truthfully, if it wasn't for him...I would have done it. I would not be here now if it wasn't for his support and love for the past 3 and a half years we've been together.

I was admitted into the hospital with constant supervision.

I was diagnosed with PTSD...

Not only that but my body suffers from illness as well. From my brain, to my heart, lungs, liver, immune system, and GI system. All due to weight gain and unhealthy lifestyle from my eating disorder.

It sucks...It really really sucks. I am so fortunate to be blessed with a loving and supportive family as well as an understanding boss and coworkers. Not a lot of people can say that.

I'm still recovering, but I've started seeing Doctors for all my issues. I see my therapist and psychiatrist regularly. The meds help a lot as well.

I'm recovering slowly. But I know it's going to take a long time before I can say that I'm healed. Could be years for all I know. But I'm so tired of feeling like this. I'm trying to help myself.

Thank you all for the messages to check up on me and your kind words of encouragement. I am thankful to have understanding and caring followers. I love each and everyone of you.

If y'all ever need an ear to listen to listen and a shoulder to cry on. You can always shoot me a message.

I'm here for you.

And thank you for reading.

~Here's your daily dose of love~

😘😘😘

#triggering themes

[tuxedo-rabbit]

Estryd Playthrough part 1

I want to talk a little bit about my Estryd playthrough so far, spoilers for Dark Urge will be discussed

Playing an Amnesiac in D&D is always fun. It gives you time to figure out who this character is exactly, because they don't know either.

At first, I was really leaning in to the dark urges with Estryd, you get prompts every once in a while to think violent things, a couple prompts to do violent things, but really, in the very beginning of the game there isn't a whole lot about it that seems too terribly irredeemable. And the big thing is you can also just choose to ignore the prompts, it's not so much an urge as an option.

So, Estryd was a little off-put by these darker thoughts, but altogether she was more bothered by the fact that she couldn't remember who she was and that she suddenly had magic powers and a tadpole in her head. She only mentioned these violent urges to Lae'zel, and only after Lae'zel described the symptoms of ceremorphosis and Estryd realized that the two may not be related after all.

Things Estryd learned about herself as she collected her party and explored the tiefling camp:

She has violent urges

She's a Warlock, but she doesn't know who her patron is and if they're related to her dark urges

She's got a good amount of knowledge when it comes to the arcane and history

She really likes books

She knows things about plants and alchemy

She's good at convincing people to do what she wants, whether that be through lying, intimidating, or simply persuading. She's best at intimidation.

It was all fun and games until it wasn't.

Estryd met Alfira the bard, and initially, refused to help her. The song was bad and Alfira's sweet peronality got on Estryd's nerves. The only reason she went back and helped is because she thought it would be funny to piss off some nearby squirrels who hated the music (Estryd can be a bit of an ass at times, I mean she is a Dark Urge character after all).

This is when it started to feel like the dark urges may be a separate entity from Estryd.

See, when you refuse the narrator implies you are disgusted by Alfira's too-sweet personality. But when you choose to help, the phrasing changes ever so slightly, to imply that something within you, different from the part of you that chose to help Alfira, is disgusted at your own too-sweet behavior. I can't remember the exact phrasing, but it's the first time the urge is described as not coming from your own psyche but something else within you instead.

After helping Alfira, when the party takes a long rest, Alfira joins your camp. I don't know what happens when you are not playing a dark urge character, probably fun things. What happened with Estryd is that she woke up covered in blood with Alfira's corpse at her feet.

I cannot describe how completely unprepared I was for this. There had been no consequences thus far, and now suddenly you feel dangerous. Estryd was horrified. She didn't even try to hide the body (the game gives you that option though), she just waited for everyone to wake up so they could decide whether or not to kill her.

The companion reactions were interesting.

Gale and Lae'zel were squarely in the "You're dangerous and completely at fault" camp,

Shadowheart was the same except with a slight "but you clearly feel guilty and that says something"

Wyll was 100% in denial that it was Estryd. The man truly thought someone else broke into camp and framed her. Like, so sweet my dude, but no. it was her.

And my favorite, Astarion, Mr. "I'm not even bothered but you really should have hidden the body better"

Also you can ask Withers to resurrect her and he will bluntly tell you "No :)"

Love these guys so much. (No Karlach because she was not recruited yet.)

This was a game changer. How do you move forward after discovering you can literally wake up to find out you've killed a potential companion? Estryd was no longer neutral about the situation. She vowed to never let this happen again. She would find a way to stop them whatever caused these dark urges, or die before she let it overtake her.

She also kept Alfira's lute as a reminder, and I had her multiclass as bard for rp flavor. It's maybe a bit...macabre....for Estryd to keep the lute of the girl she murdered and to start studying how to be a bard to honor her memory, but idk, i like it for this character.

I think I'm going to end this here because it's gotten very long, but I want to record more of Estryd's journey later. I'm currently in the Underdark with her and unlocked a specific memory after the game let me do something that felt very D&D-esque. Loving the Dark Urge so far, what a way to tell the player this origin is serious.

#estryd #bg3 spoilers #this is basically just info dumping about my oc and what she's done so far #i will probably write more later #because after this it was just Estryd's no good very bad day for awhile #and it was really fun to playthrough #felt very D&D with the dice rolls fitting the narrative perfectly #i want to talk about it!

[biocheminpics]

I saw a blantent climate change denial post recently. Spouting the usual nonsense. I'm not going to reblog because I dont want to give science deniers a platform if I can avoid it. Also, before I start, here are a couple well-sourced breakdowns of the current state of the forced argument about the climate: [1] [2]

Let's get into it.

No sure who tf this is but this is the user in question. They decided it was appropriate to discuss things they have absolutely no understanding of.

Opening volleyball is a big skeptical red flag. "Other factors at play," as though we are asleep at the wheel when we come up with models and didn't include major factors. There are really only 2 options here for them: breathtaking arrogance or insanity. Either they think the most educated people in the world are unilaterally incompetent or they think all scientists comply with some yet-to-be properly explained conspiracy. There's no other rational explanation for this viewpoint.

See this is how you know its not going to be a good faith, science-centered argument. The good ol', "but China, India, Russia," whataboutism. As though somehow pointing out that, yeah they're all a significant problem and the fact that they're not fixing it is also a problem, absolves us of responsibility. News flash, it doesn't. And furthermore, why would one bring this up if they had genuinely thought about their position and were convinced human pollution wasn't an issue? 🤔 Curious.

Lmfao no. No it is not. It's amazing that no matter how many times it's debunked, deniers keep spewing this.

By, "manipulating data," I assume they are referring to data workup. Saying it with an inflammatory slant is just lying at that point. I could find literally nothing referring to, "filler data," so I assume this is another lie.

We are using data in the years time range to describe a process occurring over decades and you are demanding more granularity. Absurd. The climate trend that we are concerned about is happening over tens of years. Natural warming and cooling cycles should happen over centuries. That means, in the case of data from the last 2 centuries, we have anywhere from 10x to ~3650x the resolution we need to be sure of the signal. This is a baffoonish take.

Oh no. Here come the volcanoes.

The force of a volcano has literally nothing to do with climate change. They're trying to sound impressive and pad their citations but they just look like they don't knownwhat they're talking about (probably because they don't).

This is relevant adjacent. Water is a greenhouse gas released by volcanoes. But the problem isn't the volcano its that the volcano is adding to an already stressed system. Hum... if only we knew how the system got stressed. Also it's funny that the scientific establishment is untrustworthy until they have evidence they can twist to their narrative.

I have to admit, this is a weird way to say, "cherry picking data and thinking I'm better than scientists."

#science #science side of tumblr #sciblr #chemistry #physics #climate denial #climate crisis #climate change #skepticism #skeptical

[brre-som]

THE HALLWAY

It was such a long long time since my last post in this app.

I had a Tumblr in 2012-2014, I totally forgot about it but, my sister came to my place today, and we were searching for our old Skyblog (a french blog platform used by 90's baby's in the early 2000) I couldn't find mine so I decided to search for my Tumblr and I found it.

It was really strange to see it... Especially with the fact that this times was though times for me (I think, for the most of us actually). It was my sad girl/ anorexia/ depress teenager era. I never realized before, how sad I was but I finally did! By scrolling, reading the tags and of course trying to interpret each images that my adult eyes and past photographer and cinema student is now able to read

So I thought it will be a good idea to describe to you how I felt while scrolling down those dark pages.

First thought: I was laughing at my old profile picture, I was light blonde with big round sunglasses and an oversize Boy London shirt that I was wearing as a dress. A real Tumblr sad girl (but a bit hipster). I started scrolling and a picture of an unknown man wearing tattoos appears, in black and white.

I thinked: such a Fuck boy, with this attitude. The exact same than my ex .... Anyway it's kinda funny how immature I was to be attracted to this kind of person. Don't get me wrong, I'm not talking about style I'm really talking about the attitude.

I keeped scrolling and it was almost only this type of posts. It was all black in white. I first thought it was for the overall aesthetic. I was just hyping myself by saying to my sister "I always was addicted to tattoos and body transformation"

Second thought: as I was going down it became quite sadder. black and white pictures are still everywhere, quotes about how our lives make no sense, how wobbly our place on society is. Lot of cigarettes pics and se*x ones... Like if I was trying to make it look edgy. I used to be a heavy smoker since my 14yo (I recently stopped) but I never really liked nude photography. I was raised in a bashful family, we don't trust in any God, it was just our old mindset. I used to see se*x as something dirty, shameful, almost like a sin. This kind of images really make me uncomfortable when I watch them... But now that I'm a grown woman I understand the beauty behind it and even the artistic choices. I can enjoy it even if it's still a bit uncomfortable for me. I feel like am a real stalker watching these vulnerable people.

I thinked: was I matrixed by my nymphomaniac ex or was I just trying to fit somewhere between the rebel mind of a teenager and the beginning of the adulthood. And this nicotine addiction... Disturbing.

Third thoughts: I keep diving deeper and deeper, and all I can see is Anna, everywhere, lost and surrounded by sadness. Heavy sadness. Hashtags were saying "too fat", "too big", "not enough". Between them, the figure of the Joker facing the Batman was everywhere. It was literally the future me watching the tumblr me. Hoping to deliver something with the need to break it before.

I thinked: I was so fascinated by this fictional tandem, but I never understood why it fascinated me before, during those times. But I think that My young brain knew that everything that can rise from demolition always rise stronger and better but I couldn't admit it, so I was sharing it like subliminal messages to my own self: You destroy yourself to the maximum, so you can wash it away easier later. Like a deep spring cleaning.

It wasn't a weakness. I'm sensitive and empathetic but I've never been weak. Those hard time was just the crysalis to the caterpillar. Everyone got their own healing process, some are tough and drowns the most fragile souls into the inferno like an unpassable test. Some are easier but can never bring a real value to your own evolution.

At the end this Tumblr used to show my journey, healing from my relationship with the anorexia and that toxic ex boyfriend (what a wonderful duo) in an abstract way, using images instead of words so only myself could understand the deepest secret that my mind was hiding from my beloved family and friends.

Picture by brre_som

#sliceofshadow #real life #growin’ up #new start #quotes #journal #personal #self analysis #Spotify #diary #spotify #my thougts #thoughts #healing #poetic #thinker