#i think about them a lot everyday its maddening | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cherrysha · 3 years

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Trust

hey ya’ll! Ive decided to answer asks in a new post, instead of continuing off of the asks. this is mostly because i answered like two seperate Uvo asks in one go. ALSO wanted to mention that i refer to the reader as ‘small’ in this one, and i by no means am small myself, its just that Uvo is 8 feet tall. Everyone is small to him, and everyone is capable of being manhandled by him. (also im going to use this gif of Uvo until the day i die)

@nav-chamberlain asked:

when you’re ready girl feel free to reply but nsfw scenario with uvo that has a breeding kink. y/n working her everyday tiring job as a babysitter/daycare worker & uvo being the kind himbo he is offers her a night out at the bar with them ending up drunk. y/n expresses her interest in possibly wanting a kid & uvo doesnt seem to decline. periodt.

@sug4r-ru5h asked:

hii!! i just found ur account and i really like ur writing🥺🥺maybe we could get some Uvo with a really twitchy reader after getting absolutely pounded??? im unsure if you write aftercare but if you do that'd be litty titty B)

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: Dubcon, drinking, breeding, overstimulation, a little blood, slight manipulation

“It’s not that I don’t want kids...I’m single, and younger.. ya know? I can’t think of trusting someone enough to have kids with them.” You pause, taking a sip of your drink before you whisper out a half hearted “if that makes sense.” Its not like you got to see your friend often, actually it was fairly uncommon to see him around. Whatever he did for a living, you still didn’t truly know, made him travel a lot. And you weren’t pressed on spending the majority of this evening debating about children. Uvo pushes the irritation simmering in his mind away. “You trust me, don’t you?” “That’s a dumb question Uvo” you finally peek up at his enormous figure, the scoff you had intended to let out, dying in your throat. Something Is brewing in his mind. He was never one to school his features, to hide the emotions he felt about truly anything. You're met with a glare, something akin to a smirk as well if it weren’t on Uvo’s menacing face. On him it looked more like a grimace “Then humor me.” His jaw is set tight as he lowers his head to speak directly into your ear “Do you trust me?” His lips brush against your neck, raising goosebumps in their wake and you can’t help the whimper that escapes you. This wasn't at all what you were expecting. You can’t help but to close your eyes and lean into his touch, and you can’t help but to acknowledge how warm his lips are when they finally press against your own. You know in part it’s the alcohol lowering your inhibitions and making you less inclined to think of the repercussions of kissing your long time friend. You know under normal circumstances you’d never be so brazen as to make out like a teenager in a packed bar full of scoundrels. But you know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you don’t care. You want this. His hands snake around your waist, a low chuckle rumbling his chest at the startled way you jump when he finally pulls you onto his lap. “You gunna answer me sweetheart?” Uvo whispers into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine and you instinctively try to wrap your arms up to loop around his neck, pouting when you realize he’s far too tall As if reading your mind, he pulls you up further along the expanse of his chest until your arms can finally settle around his neck, grinning at your content smile. “I do, Uvo, you know that.” There’s a pause, a beat in which he uses the silence in his favor to pull back and ask “Hm.. do I?” with a wry smirk on his face. Of course, You nod ‘yes’ and you're rewarded with his nose brushing against the hollow of your throat, taking a deep inhale there before asking “what do I know?” The edge of the bar is digging into your back as Uvo presses himself around you. The smell of pine and a hint of his sweat all-encompassing until it feels like you’re breathing him in. Breathily, you answer him “I trust you Uv-“ Before you can finish his mouth is on yours again, nudging against yours so excitedly that your head is forced backwards. ”Good girl” its grunted out in between kisses, and in no time his tongue is invading your mouth, clouding your senses in a way that could never compare to the alcohol in your veins. When you let out a whine at his praise, at his hands, his mouth, his scent surrounding you, the bartender finally decides he’s had enough “Hey! Hate to break it to you both, but people are paying for drinks not a show” Uvo only growls, eyes still closed he parts from you to growl out a “Fuck off” before moving to place open mouthed kisses along your jaw. “C-can we leave, Uvo? ” its whisper quiet, but he still understand the message loud and clear. “Sure, doll.” He smiles, easily lifting you up as he rises to leave.

How easily he could break you. Hurt you in ways that are unthinkable, but the concept of that alone shakes him to his very core. He’s wanted this for so long, has had to deal with a deep ache in his chest at even the mere thought of you being so far away from him when he’d gone on missions with the troupe. When he rips your bottoms off, all you manage to do is whine and shyly try to cover yourself underneath him. With a gruff “stop” he pushes your hands to the side to finally see what he’s wanted for so long. You beneath him, desperate for him and him alone. His smile is almost manic as his hands roam your body. Uvos never had to have patience, has always taken what he wanted regardless of anything else. But your lust filled gaze, your body so warm underneath his wide palms is enough proof that this was worth waiting for. And god, does he want to take his time with you. Wants to taste and savor every little moan you give to him, but he’s a man on a mission. So, he hopes that he’s worked you up enough at the bar and the way back to make this go smoothly. with little effort he flips you onto your stomach, grabbing harshly at your hips before lining himself up and slowly pushing in. Soft and tight, he fucks into you like it’s his duty. Hips coming to slam against your ass with so much vigor, if it weren’t for his hands gripping your soft flesh he would’ve pounded you into the mattress a long time ago.

He lets out a low growl as he pictures you swollen, your hands rubbing over your pregnant stomach, it isn’t a want at this point. It’s a desperate need that punches the air out of his lungs with every mental image. Uvo lets out a groan as he takes time to truly think about it, to savor the idea of claiming you, even if it isn’t something you truly wanted. Even if it was never your intention to be with him, this rough coupling only sourced from your lowered inhibitions due to the alcohol. He pictures you being filled by someone other than him. Someone claiming you for the rest of your life when it was obvious that you belonged to him. The thought alone so maddening that he almost doesn’t hear the high-pitched yip that you let out. His grip on you had become a little too strong, a little too painful. Cooing, Uvo wraps an arm around your middle, slowing his pace down a bit as his other hand comes to pull you to his chest by your throat. Your body knocks against him a little harder than he intended, but the mewl that you reward him with at the change in position is enough to clear his mind from any troubled thoughts. It’s delicious, the sweat that beads down the column of your throat, so enticing that Uvo has half a mind to bite down. His only distraction being the little soft sighs and whimpers and chants of his name falling from your lips as he rubs against that spot inside of you. Its unintentional, the onslaught of stimulation he so dutifully sends you with every sharp press of his body to yours. His cock so big that he has no choice but to rub against every part of you. To fill you so completely that you can only think of him. “You trust me?” he asks again, teeth nipping the soft skin of your neck. He was trying to hold back, truly he was, but the prospect of marking up what was rightfully his was becoming a little too enticing. You release a series of whines, too fucked out to even begin to form a proper sentence. Uvo laughs at that. Something carefree and gentle, unlike the way he’s still holding you to his chest by the tight grip on your throat. “C’mon little one,” he urges, free hand coming down to settle on your clit. “Tell me you trust me so I can give you what you want, hm?” And with the words numbly falling from your spit slick lips Uvo gives in to the urge to breed your sopping pussy completely. To fuck and fill and keep until the day he fucking dies. With a euphoric laugh his hips once again move against you, your cries falling on deaf ears at the brutal new pace he’s set for you. Its dizzying, maddening, so fucking disorienting you don’t comprehend the sound of your own voice as the orgasm that rips from your body catches in your throat. You thrash against his iron hold, eyes rolled into the back of your skull as Uvo’s pace doesn’t falter. “You cryin for me sweetheart?” he asks incredulously. Surely you couldn’t be overwhelmed after cumming just once, right? In all honesty, he doesn’t know, but he hushes you with a kiss to the forehead, grunting out an “It’s alright” before slowly maneuvering your body down to the bed again, strong hands ensnaring your waist and holding your pliant body against his hips. Too tired to even pretend to hold yourself up any longer, he takes joy in the knowledge that this fuck will be the one that binds you to him forever. It should be downright infuriating how quickly he cums just after you. His hips stutter of their own accord, hulking body dropping to cover yours completely, he finally gives in to the urge to sink his teeth down. Your body jolts, a cry falling from your lips as Uvo mars the flesh of your shoulder, drawing blood that mixes with his spit to form a pink hue that drips down onto the bedsheets. Its enough to make his entire body tense in pleasure, wave after wave of pure bliss rocking through him as he releases inside of you. If he wasn't so drunk off of the feeling, he’d probably chuckle at the way your little body squirms beneath him, as if trying to simultaneously get away from the feeling and scoot your weakened form closer. But he can't. all he can do is focus on not crushing you as he ever so gently rolls onto his side, making sure to keep himself pressed snugly inside of you. His hand idly travels down your side, lost in the feeling of your soft skin underneath his coarse palm. The contrast is enough to make you shiver, whining his name as he gently fondles the plump flesh of your ass. Its enough to remind you of his cock still buried deep within you, its girth the only thing holding back the fluids that surely aren’t supposed to be inside. You try to scoot away, a slurred “Gotta clean up” ungracefully leaving your mouth, but Uvo doesn’t allow it. His arm is still wrapped snugly around your middle, and there’s no give as you try to wriggle out of his hold. he offers no reasoning, just a gruff “lay back down.” And you do. You do because the heat of his body curled around you is too enticing. The feeling of his lips pressed softly against the top of your head, and the even breaths that escape his throat are, ultimately, too comforting to leave. With a sigh you listen, relaxing into Uvo’s warm chest even further.

#uvo #Uvogin #uvogin x reader #hunterxhunter #reader insert

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patchofsunlight · 3 years

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Stand You | Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Bakugou insists he can’t stand stupid Y/N, even while he changes his entire routine to fit her in it.

WORD COUNT: 5.1k

WARNINGS: if this doesn’t show up on tags for the fifth time i will simply give up on it, cursing, bakugou is a lil bitch but he’s also a softie, there’s a nosebleed at one point but nothing concerning tbh, aizawa and recovery girl find young love amusing, shouto is baby

Y/N wasn’t sure of exactly when she started thinking of Bakugou Katsuki as a friend. Maybe it had been during their first year, after the first time he allowed her to join his study group alongside Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, and Mina; or maybe it had been a bit later, when she hugged him tight in the middle of a crowd, almost as if she could squeeze the pain being kidnapped by the League of Villains had brought him, and he let her — while All Might fought his last battle and all of Japan feared for its future, Bakugou let her hold him.

She was deeply aware of the fact he tolerated her at best, as he made that abundantly clear every chance he got. He didn’t exactly hate her presence, but she was on thin fucking ice, and, even though Y/N knew this, she still managed to somehow develop a crush on the angry ash blond, like the stupid idiot she was.

It was ridiculous, to be honest, especially considering how there was no way he would ever feel the same. She would go as far as saying he didn’t even know her name — “Stupid,” he called her (how enchanting!) —, so, yeah, there was absolutely no possibility of her feelings being reciprocated in any way, and the dumb hug they shared was nothing but a coincidence. He was a bit shaken, a bit shocked, and those few warm minutes didn’t really mean anything.

Y/N didn’t mind. She was okay being Bakugou’s friend, satisfied with study group meetings and the occasional sparring. That way, at least, she could be sort of close to him, and that was pretty much enough.

Katsuki wasn’t sure of exactly when he had stopped thinking of Y/N L/N as another stupid extra. Maybe it had been when he found himself walking a little slower while she accompanied him towards class, or maybe it had been a bit earlier, when she hugged him tight in the middle of a crowd, almost as if she could squeeze the pain being kidnapped by the League of Villains had brought him, and he let her — while All Might fought his last battle and all of Japan feared for its future, Bakugou let her hold him.

He didn’t particularly like her. She talked too much, too fast, too loud; she insisted on walking him to and from the dorms everyday; and she was weak, stupid, useless. To be completely fair, Bakugou would say he despised her.

And yet, he found himself around her way more often than necessary.

“Hey, Bakugou, wait up! Let’s walk together!”

He groaned loudly at the sound of her voice, having been hopelessly hoping she wouldn’t be able to catch up.

“Fuck, no. Get out of my way, Stupid!”

He slowed down nonetheless, soon walking by her side. Her smile was bright and excited as she kept on blabbering about something Kirishima had done when they were paired up on training that day.

He couldn’t fucking stand her.

“— and then he threw me off the training mat so easily! Who taught him how to do that? I wanna do that!”

“I don’t give a fuck, Stupid.”

“— but I won the second time we sparred, so I guess we’re even. It was fun.”

Y/N never seemed bothered by his harsh words. In fact, she usually either ignored them altogether, unfaltering and patient, or laughed and added some opinion of her own to his rage. It was maddening — she couldn’t take a hint.

Moments like this were common, almost routine. If Bakugou didn’t know better, he would’ve thought the girl had taken quite a liking to him. It was an obvious conclusion, considering she was always around him in some way or another, trying to spark up friendly conversation and letting him know how her day went.

(It was so, so calming to have her here like this. He would never admit it, but hearing Y/N’s endless rants brought him a sense of security he had never really felt before. She talked too much, that was for sure, yet he didn’t really care. It was okay if it was her.)

He couldn’t fucking stand her.

“Come on, try again. We’ve gone through this already.”

“I can’t, Bakugou. I—I’m sorry.”

The ash blond sighed, running a hand through his hair. The bite to his tone had disappeared after a couple of hours, red gaze intensely attentive to the frustrated tears gathering in the girl’s eyes. Every other student had gone back to their dorms, and the librarian seemed very intent on shooting the duo angry looks as if to tell them to hurry up and leave already, finally allowing their long afternoon shift to end.

“Yes, you can. I know you can. Try again, you’re almost fucking there.”

Katsuki had never been good at positive reinforcement. He was better at screaming and cursing and insulting, and, yes, he had tried that with Y/N a thousand times before, but he could see how hard she was trying. He noticed how disappointed and tired she was, and he couldn’t find it in himself to be anything less than what he recognized as incredibly soft. He was glad they were the only ones in the library — he wouldn’t know how to explain himself if anyone saw him like this, watching this random girl who he refused to call a friend mess up her homework in various different ways, talking quietly to stop her from crying.

“We don’t have all fucking day, Stupid. You can do this, go on.”

Yeah, definitely not good at positive reinforcement.

“Okay,” she inhaled deeply, pencil moving slowly through the paper, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

There was a slight crease between her brows as she worked, and Bakugou felt the sudden urge to rub it away, which he rejected immediately. That was ridiculous! There was no reason for things like this to plague his mind — L/N Y/N was an idiot, and he didn’t deliberately think about her in any way, form, or universe. She wasn’t worthy of his thoughts.

“Is this it?”

His attention immediately returned to the equations and messy notes on her notebook while he looked it over, a surprised glint taking his eyes.

“Yeah, that’s basically it. It could be better, but you got it right.”

“I did?”

“You did. I told you you could do it, Stupid.”

Katsuki choked on his own air when the girl jumped towards his place on the table, hugging him tightly by the neck while spouting a great variety of thank you’s and praise, disrupting the angry librarian. Bakugou could feel his cheeks heat up under the worker’s glare, both with irritation born from their silent attitude and from the weird warmth growing in his chest at Y/N’s attention.

It was the first time she hugged him since the kidnapping accident, and it felt different. It wasn’t a comfort hug like last time, no — it was almost like she had been so happy she couldn’t stop herself from touching him, and that thought alone was enough to send sirens flaring inside his head. Every single inch where her skin touched his seemed to tingle, a calming sensation flowing through his body.

He instantly decided he hated the feeling, pushing her off harshly but still a tad more carefully than he would’ve if it was anyone else.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, no need to freak out. Let’s just get done with this already and go back to the dorms.”

She smiled widely as she picked her things up, shoving them inside her backpack and patiently waiting for him to do the same. Strangely, the explosion boy couldn’t find it in himself to meet her eyes, avoiding the light blush he feared would coat his features when he saw her staring at him like that, with that pretty — no, not pretty, no, he didn’t think she was pretty in anyway — with that stupid smile on her face.

“I’m glad we can walk back together,” the girl declared cheerfully the moment they left the big and lonely library, strolling through the empty path side by side, the sun nowhere to be seen. “It’s late already.”

“Whatever,” he groaned back, refusing to look at her yet still maintaining a pace he was sure she could keep up with.

He couldn’t fucking stand her.

Bakugou felt hyper-aware of every movement beside him. For a few days now, his heart would pump a bit faster whenever she smiled, and his skin would crawl with what he could only describe as the craving to have her hold him again.

It made him weak, and he wouldn’t have it. Bakugou Katsuki was a lot of things, but he refused to be weak.

Specially because of someone like Stupid.

“What grade did you guys get on last week’s math test?”

They always sat next to each other during lunch. It wouldn’t be that bad if it wasn’t for how her knee touched his ever so softly, her body too close for comfort because of Kaminari’s presence on her other side, pressing onto her enthusiastically each time he spoke. Kirishima had asked her once if she wanted him to exchange places with the electric boy, but she simply laughed it off — Kaminari’s manners were endearing, in a way. For some reason, those words gave Katsuki the urge to break Kaminari’s nose.

“I got an 87,” Y/N declared, delight dripping from her words while she played with the food on her plate.

“Y/N!” Mina’s smile was so big it almost didn’t fit on her face. “That’s almost 30 marks higher than you got on our last test!”

“I know!” Bakugou scowled at her excitement before she turned her head to look at him, a sunny grin directed entirely to him, stealing all the air from his lungs. “Bakugou is an amazing tutor!”

“Damn right I am,” he managed to rasp out, clearing his throat loudly before shoving a bunch of spicy noodles in his mouth. Kirishima and Sero exchanged a look.

He would never admit it, the raw pride that consumed his chest at her happiness. He knew how hard she had worked for that test, and was glad to see it went even better than she expected.

“Maybe now you could tutor me, Y/N,” Kaminari wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, causing a laugh to escape the girl’s lips while she turned away from Katsuki to stare at him.

“I would love to, but I’m pretty sure I would make your grades even worse.”

“Hey,” Bakugou barked angrily, fighting off the blush creeping up his ears, “don’t sell yourself short, Stupid. You’re not that much of a dumbass.”

A heavy silence fell down on the group, surprised stares pointed to the ash blond. He could feel his stomach twist in anger at the unwanted attention, yet something about the way her smile widened at his words caused his irritation to decrease exponentially.

“What are you idiots staring at?” he lashed out despite the calm settling inside his heart at the sight of her, rolling his eyes at the bunch of morons he called his friends.

“No, nothing,” Kaminari’s voice was high-pitched in obvious lying that brought out snickers from everyone else on the table but Bakugou himself. “Nothing.”

“It better be nothing, Dunce Face, or I’ll kill you.”

“Of course,” Kirishima bit down on his lip to contain his laughter, “don’t worry about it, Bakubro.”

The day went by slowly and way more often than not Bakugou found himself stealing glances towards where he knew Y/N’s seat was. There was a weird whispering in the back of his head, reminding him of how her arms felt around him when they hugged in the library the week before, reminding him of the warmth that invaded his skin and implanted itself in his brain, reminding him of how bright her smiles were and how nice her laughter sounded.

Oh, there was something wrong. Did she have some sort of secondary quirk guilty of making him feel like this? Never before had he ever given her much thought, even though he had to admit his mind wandered to her sometimes and he did try to somehow be nicer to her, but it wasn’t because he cared for her or anything, right? Of course not! He just thought she wouldn’t be able to take his usual self and he didn’t want to deal with her crying or whatever. It wasn’t because he cared about what she thought of him, hell no! Bakugou didn’t waste his time worrying about others, that wasn’t like him at all.

Bakugou Katsuki didn’t think about L/N Y/N, he didn’t, he wouldn’t.

The ash blond forced his gaze away from her once more, trying to make sense of what should’ve been neat notes instead of the mess of scribbles staring right back at him. He snarled to himself, immediately considering his disorganization as entirely her fault. How dare she play with him like this? How dare she think herself worthy of his time like this?

He couldn’t stand her.

And yet, less than two hours later, there he was, listening to her rant about this one movie she desperately wanted to watch while they walked beside each other after class. It would be so easy for Bakugou to pick up his pace and leave her alone, but his body refused to obey his mind’s wishes, and so he kept himself slow enough for her to stay with him.

He couldn’t fucking stand her.

His whole body was sore, barely able to move his arms after overusing his quirk all evening. Bakugou knew he shouldn’t push himself this hard, but he refused to falter, refused to stay behind and risk being weak again. He needed to get stronger, smarter, and, for better or for worse, that involved long training hours.

The path back to the dorms was strangely lonely without a certain girl keeping him company — not that Katsuki minded, he obviously didn’t. Some loneliness was very much appreciated after the last couple of weeks, which were filled with study group sessions and stupid walks.

He sighed heavily when the 2-A dorm finally came into his range of vision, causing his tired figure to relax. He was almost there — he would soon be able to eat something, take a nice shower, and then fall straight into bed. He would soon be able to rest, and that was the only thing in his mind.

The ash blond kicked his shoes away the moment he reached the door, tossing them aside without a second thought.

He would’ve liked to say he bee-lined to the kitchen.

He didn’t.

“Stupid, what the fuck are you doing?”

Y/N looked up from the common room coffee table, startled by the sudden interruption. She studied him for a second before answering, “I’m just looking over some homework. Why? Did something happen?”

He grunted in distaste, unable to stop himself from sitting down next to her on the couch. Every single one of his muscles felt like it was on fire from overexertion.

“It’s fucking late. Didn’t we study yesterday? Did you even have dinner yet?”

She tensed slightly at his angry questions, returning her stare towards the papers in front of them. “Yeah, but I just thought it’d be good to go over everything once more. I’ll just eat some crackers for dinner, it’s fine,” she shrugged nonchalantly, missing the way his eyebrows furrowed at her words, “where were you anyway?”

Katsuki simply rolled his eyes, arms crossed. “It’s none of your fucking business, Stupid. And you can’t have crackers for dinner, that’s not a proper meal.”

“What are you gonna do about it, Bakugou? Will you cook me dinner?” Her tone was teasing, joking, but he stood up immediately, snatching all the papers and notes from her and walking to the kitchen without a second of hesitation. “Hey, what the fuck!”

“Come with me already, you dumbass,” he snarled angrily, a tint of red covering his cheeks, “what do you want to eat?”

Her voice suddenly went soft, “Bakugou, I was kidding. You don’t need to get me dinner, I can just heat up some ramen or—”

“Shut the fuck up, Stupid. I was already going to cook dinner for myself anyway.”

He wasn’t, actually. He planned on eating leftovers from lunch, but he knew there wouldn’t be enough leftovers for both of them, and it was good to prepare some lunch for the next day, anyway. It wasn’t like he was doing it for her, of course not! It was just… Mutually beneficial. Yeah, it was mutually beneficial, not—not special treatment. He didn’t care about Stupid, he didn’t.

“Can I help with anything?” she asked nervously, face flushed from bashfulness and hands fidgety. Katsuki shook his head, ignoring the twitching pain on his forearms as he stirred the pot.

“Just sit down and wait.”

“Are you sure?” Y/N bit her lower lip with furrowed brows. “You seem tired, I don’t want you to do everything by yourself.”

An angry remark sat on the top of his tongue, but the ash blond hesitated. Well, if she helped with the simpler things this would be done faster, and he could go back to his room and rest earlier. Besides, the idea of cooking and spending time with Y/N in the kitchen caused some type of warmth to take over his chest — a warmth that wasn’t exactly insufferable.

It felt strangely soothing, hearing her hum while slicing vegetables and waiting for the noodles to cook through. It felt even more strangely soothing to sit before her on the kitchen table, staring anxiously while she took the first bite of his food. The worst, however, was the way her smile brightened up the room when she started rambling about how good it tasted and how much of a good cook he was and how he now had to cook for her more often. He disagreed loudly, the tip of his ears burning with embarrassment, saying he didn’t cook for her — he cooked for him, and she just happened to be there too. She cackled, and his heart seemed to burn.

He couldn’t fucking stand her.

Seventeen minutes. Y/N was seventeen minutes late.

Had she forgotten about it? God, she was the one who brought it up in the first place, and now she was the one making him wait. Katsuki felt incredibly stupid sitting in his dorm floor, a bunch of her favorite snacks neatly organized next to the nightstand and pillows on the ground for them to sit on. It was supposed to be a study date or whatever, even though he repeatedly refused to call it that (“it’s not a date, Stupid, it’s just one of our homework sessions like always!”).

They had been spending a lot of time together between studying at the library, walking to the dorms, and cooking and eating dinner, and Bakugou had to admit he didn’t absolutely hate it. Don’t get him wrong, Y/N was still annoying and stupid and insufferable but—but something about her made him come back every single time, ignoring the knowing looks from his friends and the snickers from his classmates.

Despite his anger, a bit of worry started to blossom inside the boy’s chest. Stupid Y/N (and he hated how affectionate the mean nickname sounded to himself at this point) was rarely late — he had been seeing her after school hours enough to know. The girl was always on time and, when she wasn’t, she made sure to let others know why.

There was no text from her, though, and it made his fingers twitch uncomfortably with the urge to make a phone call and check if everything was alright.

Not that he cared if she was alright or not, because he didn’t. She was just—just some girl who decided to invade his life with no permission whatsoever and then stayed. He didn’t care about her.

And yet—

“Hello?”

“IcyHot? What are you doing with Y/N’s phone? Where the fuck is she?”

Bakugou couldn’t muster any reason for why Todoroki would’ve been the one to pick up the call instead of her. They weren’t even friends! Yes, they knew each other and he was vaguely aware of the fact the two had sparring sessions every once in a while, but not enough so for Todoroki to feel comfortable using her phone or for Y/N to bail on their study date.

“Oh, Bakugou,” Shouto’s tone was as casual as always, almost as if this was a common occurrence (which it wasn’t), “hey. Y/N is with Recovery Girl right now. She got into a fight, but she is okay, just a few cuts and bruises. I was the one to stop the fight, so Aizawa asked me to wait around while she gets checked up on. Do you want me to tell her anything?”

Bakugou had been out the door when he heard the words “Recovery Girl”, speed walking to the nurse’s office while Todoroki rambled. He could feel his heart picking up its pace. Why would Y/N get into a fight? God, this wasn’t like her, and the prospect of someone purposely picking a fight with her filled him with the most raw type of anger possible.

“What the fuck did she get into a fight for?” he voiced his concerns, and he was pretty sure Todoroki just shrugged.

“These two boys were saying things about—”

“Todoroki? Who are you talking to?”

“Miss L/N, I’m still not done with you—”

Katsuki furrowed his brows at the commotion heard from the other end. He could easily recognize her voice, even though it sounded raspy and tired, but the next bit of conversation was too muffled for him to understand. The future hero could already see Recovery Girl’s office a few meters away, and it made him walk a bit faster.

“Give me the phone, Todoroki.”

“Miss L/N, you are still bleeding—”

The door opened violently. Y/N met Bakugou’s glare and felt a bad shiver go down her spine.

Shit, they were supposed to have that study date today. God, did he come all the way over there just to scold her?

Heavy silence fell over the small group of people. Aizawa and Recovery Girl exchanged a quick look, the small lady’s arm still extended towards the girl in a failed attempt to grab her and drag her back to the hospital bed, even though she was definitely not as hurt as they made her out to be. Yes, she had a bunch of nasty bruises after throwing hands with two random guys from the year above her, and, yes, her nose hadn’t stopped bleeding yet, but she was mainly okay. Todoroki had gotten there pretty quickly and stopped her from making things worse, so she was fine.

“What the fuck did you do, Stupid?”

Yeah, he definitely went all the way there to scold her.

“Uh. Now, that’s a good question!” She consciously chose to ignore the smirk on Aizawa’s face, pulling her phone from Todoroki’s grip a bit more violently than necessary. “You see, I’m sorry for my tardiness, I know we had plans, we still can—”

“I asked you what the fuck you did, Stupid. I’m waiting for my answer.”

“Miss L/N picked a fight with two third years after hearing them talk about one of her colleagues in public. Thankfully, Mr. Todoroki intervened,” their teacher cut in, crossing his arms and staring as the girl cleaned up a stray drop of blood on her lips with the back of her hand. “She’ll be getting a written warning and will hopefully stay out of trouble.”

“Yes, sir,” she muttered, frowning when Recovery Girl started fussing over her again, sticking band-aids all over the small cuts on her face. Y/N had refused to accept Recovery Girl’s quirk treatment, aware that she was very busy and that it wasn’t necessary for the school nurse to tire herself out for just a few bruises. She was so intent on glaring at her elders that she didn’t notice the worry swimming in Bakugou’s red gaze.

“Good. Can you two get her back to the dorms?”

“Yes, I—”

“Fuck off, IcyHot, I’m taking her back by myself. Find something to freeze or whatever.”

Katsuki grabbed her by the arm, dragging her out of Recovery Girl’s office without a second’s worth of hesitation. He wouldn’t even look at her, fuming the whole way to the dorms. Still, he walked slow enough for her to not struggle to keep up.

“Are you mad?”

He snickered humorlessly, “of course I am, Stupid. How the fuck did you get yourself into this? And you fucking left me waiting, too, you idiot.”

Usually, Y/N didn’t care about his harsh words. Y/N didn’t mind his angry remarks. This time, however, she felt tired, and she had just gotten into a fight because of him, so she refused to take it. She had tried so hard to get close to him, to make him like her. The girl could feel tears gathering in her eyes from fury and sadness — how stupid was she to actually believe he would ever like her, be it as a friend or more? She should’ve known better. Dinner and studying and walking together meant nothing to him. She was just a bother, and she should’ve noticed earlier.

Y/N halted, pulling her arm away from his hand with rage and deception coating her every feature, “shut the fuck up, Bakugou. I don’t have to give you any explanations, you piece of shit. If you’re so pissed about it, why don’t you just leave me alone, huh? I’m done keeping up with your bullshit. I always try to be a good friend to you and you just keep doing this! You keep pushing me away and treating me like an idiot, and I deserve more than that!”

The explosion boy had a crease on his forehead, a cold feeling going through his body. The angry look in her eyes was something he didn’t recognize, and suddenly she felt so unreachable, so far away. He quickly decided he hated it.

Why did he hate it, though? They had nothing to do with each other. They were barely friends. Wasn’t this what he wanted? He couldn’t fucking stand her, he didn’t care about her. This was what he had wanted for months now — for her to tell him to leave, for her to not stand him too. Why did it feel so wrong, then? Why did he feel the urge to collect her in his arms like she loved to do with him? Why did he just want to hold her and tell her he was worried and that he couldn’t wait to spend more time with her, that he couldn’t wait for their stupid study date? And, yeah, it could be a date if she wanted it to. God, he’d accept any name or title she gave their meetings if only they could go on forever.

How long had this been going on? When did she make him so attached to her? Why hadn’t he noticed it before?

“Fuck you, Bakugou,” she muttered, slightly out of breath after her short outburst, face dark with frustration, “those idiots were talking about you and about how you should be a villain or whatever, and I got mad. That’s how I fucking got myself into this, because I care about you. Thanks for caring, asshole.”

The girl turned to walk away, and panic bloomed in the boy’s chest. He didn’t know why exactly, but he knew he couldn’t let her leave. He couldn’t let her leave him, couldn’t let her think he didn’t care, because he was just now seeing he did — so, so much. Of course he cared about her and all her silly manners that made their way into his heart and stayed there, on the edge of conditioning him to feel better whenever she was around. Of course he cared about her and the study dates and the sparring sessions and all the stories she loved to tell, of course he fucking did. Of course.

Katsuki was quick to grab her arm again, pulling her so close to him their chests bumped. Y/N furrowed her brows in confusion.

“Bakugou, what the fuck are you—”

“I like you. I really—I really do,” he shook his head, trying to gather his own feelings. “A lot. I was worried. I’m sorry.”

Y/N blinked.

“You were worried? About me?”

“Yes,” he scratched the back of his neck, looking away to hide his blushed cheeks, which didn’t go unnoticed by her attentive eyes. A smile played on the corners of her mouth, and Y/N let herself enjoy the rapid bumping of her heart, the flustered sight of the one boy she had fallen for. Flustered because of her. She could feel a rush of confidence building inside her chest. “I guess… I guess I care about you, too. Even if you’re absolutely insufferable,” he added clumsily, causing her smile to widen considerably, “I can’t fucking stand you, to be honest. You annoy me to no end.”

“Now do I?” she took a step closer, so close that he could feel her breath on his face and it made his head spin. “You don’t seem very annoyed to me, Bakugou.”

“Katsuki,” he corrected thoughtlessly, feeling his face warm up even more when he took notice of his own words.

“Right,” Y/N nodded, smirk on her face, “Katsuki, then.”

He opened his mouth to make a mean remark that would push her away enough to give him space to breathe, but he was suddenly interrupted by her lips on his. Before he could register it, she was gone, speed walking back to the dorms. After a few shocked seconds, he started running after her, calling her name angrily and trying to conceal the dark red on his face, neck, and ears.

“Hey, come back here, Stupid! What the fuck was that?”

Bakugou couldn’t have ignored the way his heart fluttered at the sound of her laugh even if he tried, a lazy smile taking over his lips immediately.

“I can’t stand you either, Katsuki.”

“Oh, shut up.”

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bnha #bakugou katsuki #mha x reader #mha

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phoneybeatlemania-bit-the-dust · 3 years

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I think the love was off the charts its just they couldnt give that one thing the other needed. Paul really craved a stable family but John was too wild. John really craved someone who can take care of his emotional needs but Paul was kinda shy expressing emotions.

Yeah I mean, regardless of their sexualities and the exact nature of their relationship, they did clearly love each other a lot (platonic, romantic, whatever: they loved one another).

But really, John especially needed someone who was prepared to tolerate his emotional needs, which could be arguably suffocating, erratic and abusive. And whilst I think Paul knew how to handle John, for the most part, I just don’t think that he would have enjoyed being tied down emotionally and mentally by someone, the way John needed and required a partner to be. If we consider this interview with Stern (which never fails to break my heart btw) then it appears to me as though Paul could handle the occasional outburst from John, but I can’t imagine him being able to cope with John in an everyday sense. I mean, for all of Yoko’s faults, I do think that she is the type of person who was prepared to handle John - and that doesn’t justify the way she isolated and (arguably) abused him, but I just think that she had a personality that was at least compatible with Johns.

I get the impression that Paul prefers partners who are stable and independent - Linda especially gives that impression to me, and to some degree Nancy does too, although I wouldn’t know enough about her to say so - and John just wasn’t really that. Paul was compelled I think to care for and coddle John, but in the long run, I don’t think that that kind of relationship would have contented him. I think its that Paul was able to maintain some degree of detachment between himself and John that made their working relationship possible for so many years. Paul was there for John, but he didn’t have to always be there, he still preserved the option to pick his battles. If John and Paul had ever lived together*, id imagine the Beatles would have broken up a lot faster, because ultimately I just don’t see them as truly compatible. Kindred, yes - but compatible and practical, not so much.

And then of course theres a whole discussion to be had about Paul not being able to open-up and being perhaps emotionally refined (<< which is a trait id imagine would have really maddened John)

*Ive heard it been said that they basically lived together around “67-ish? But ive never seen hard evidence of that so I wouldn’t really know. I guess though that even if they were practically living together, there would still always be the option to just move out if things got too icy between them; and so there would still be this degree of detachment.

#mclennon #discussion #johns psyche #pauls psyche #asks #anon #complex relationships

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wyofabdoms · 3 years

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Ten Days- Day Three

Characters: Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: Javier is shot and refuses to take his antibiotic while recuperating. You get creative and make him a deal that ensures he will take his medicine everyday: one kiss for one pill. It's gonna be a long 10 days.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Major character injury, slow burn, mutually unrequited, medical inaccuracies, swearing, soft Javi

Word Count: 1917

Note: Javi gets himself into a bit of a situation.

Read the full series on Ao3

Late Sunday afternoon you find yourself glancing at the clock for what feels like the ten thousandth time. You haven't heard a peep from your partner since you left his apartment mid morning yesterday. He knows where you live and has your number...if he needed something surely he would have called you. He’d changed his own bandages yesterday (albeit badly), and could obviously move around his apartment if he needed to. For the better part of your day, you had bandied about the idea of just not showing up at his apartment at all. Why should you serve him up the opportunity to continue this stupid power game; this one pill, one kiss arrangement?

You had expected to make him the deal the first night, then figured he would see reason and be an adult and take the antibiotic on his own to prevent infection like any other normal human healing from a gunshot wound. You had assumed it would just be that first kiss; using his attraction to you to get him to do what you wanted. But, you’d been stupid. You’d let him alter the terms. Now you knew he would never let you hear the end of it if you reneged on your part of the deal. His little stunt yesterday with the chair and his tongue made it clear that he not only enjoyed the prospect of 8 more opportunities to kiss you, but that he would most likely turn up the intensity each day. That particular thought made something deep within you spark and unfurl, tightening in your lower belly and sending a shiver up your spine.

Truthfully, you hadn’t exactly hated those two kisses. You had found yourself wandering aimlessly around your apartment several times today, having started with a destination and goal in mind, but finding your thoughts wandering back to Javier and completely forgetting where you were headed or why by the time you got there. Yesterday you had stormed back into your apartment and taken the longest cold shower of your life. Your body seemed to think for itself as it reacted to the memories of Javi’s tongue, the feel of his mustache, his dark eyes peering at you, the feel of his toned muscles beneath your hand.

If you went back to his apartment and he insisted on continuing with this, you weren’t entirely sure your resolve would be able to convince your body not to give in to more with this maddening man. That absolutely infuriated you....and excited you a little, too.

Finally, you looked at the clock; it read a quarter past 8. You’d just go down quickly and make sure he had at least eaten something. You’d keep your distance from him; there was no way in hell you’d let him catch you off guard today.

As soon as you enter his apartment, you know something isn’t right when you immediately notice his sidearm on the kitchen counter. The apartment is dark; no muted flickers from the television, no lamps or lights streaming from the living room or kitchen. You glance in his bedroom and small office and find them both dark and empty as well. A chill run through you and you feel a small kernel of panic seed its cold shell in the pit of your stomach. He knew better than to not have his weapon on his person or near him. What the fuck, Peña? Where the hell did you go? You are about to race to your own apartment and alert the embassy when you notice the bathroom door ajar at the end of the hall. You carefully nudge it open with your foot, one hand hovering over your own weapon at your hip.

“Jesus, Peña!” Your eyes widen as you take in your shirtless partner sprawled on the tile floor, his back propped against the side of the bathtub and legs stretched haphazardly in front of him, head tilted back against the porcelain and eyes closed. Around him bits and pieces of torn and bloodied bandage and tape littered the floor, along with his shirt, the pill bottle of antibiotics, and what appeared to be the remaining contents of a first aid kit. All of this is barely visible in the dark of the bathroom, the only source of light from the street light shining through the small window illuminating Javier’s face, making him look jaundiced. You quickly paw the wall for the light switch and your cold panic rises as you snap on the overhead light and take in your partner in full light.

His face is grey and covered with a thin sheen of sweat. His eyes come open for a moment and look towards you but then quickly close again against the harsh light and he lets his head thump back against the tub. With the light on you are better able to see that the bandage at his side is merely held in place by his arm clenching against his stomach. He must have been in the middle of changing it out when…

“What happened?!” You kneel next to him, grateful that he’s awake, but trying to piece together what exactly had led him to his present situation. You gingerly move his arm out of the way, removing the untaped gauze and looking closely at his wound. Though his stitches looked fine, the skin around the injury was bright red and swollen. “Why the hell are you trying to change your bandage in the dark?”

“Wasn’t dark when I started.” He bites out. The sun had gone down several hours ago. Your eyes flash up to his drawn face as realization hits you: he’s been here on the bathroom floor for more than three hours. A pang of guilt shoots through your chest and you swallow hard.

You place the back of your hand on his forehead for a moment, then along the side of his face. He sighs, eyes still closed, and leans into your touch like it’s a balm. He doesn’t seem to be running a fever which is a good thing; the sweat must be from the exertion of trying to change the bandage. The doctors had warned that his injury might swell. Assuring him you would be right back and ordering him not to move, you hurry to the kitchen to grab ice. Sweeping the objects on the floor around him out of your way, you sit next to him and gently place the ice against his side. He hisses in a sharp breath at the cold and jolts away, causing another stab of pain to his side and ripping a small groan of pain from his throat. He knocks his head back against the tub three times (a little harder than you were completely comfortable with) and releases a long, growling sigh before stilling once more and taking a deep breath through his nose.

The two of you sit that way in silence for a long while, serenaded by the occasional sound of a passing car on the street, the slow drip of water coming from somewhere, and the sound of each other’s breathing echoing off of the tiles. Silences between the two of you aren’t really new. You have spent hours sometimes sitting in each other’s presence, not speaking but not really needing to as you pored over reports or studied files, content with the long stretches of affable silence. You usually found silences with your partner reassuring. Now, though, the silence that stretched between you was tarnished with your own guilt at having not checked on him sooner.

You check your watch, confirming that enough time has passed to remove the ice. The swelling seems to have gone down slightly, which is a good sign, but it was still more red than you would like. You’d need to be sure he iced it again before the night was over. Making sure the area is dry, you carefully collect the gauze and tape and set to work rebandaging his side. Despite your worry for his well-being, you try not to notice the way the skin of his taut torso feels beneath your fingers or the trail of dark hair that adorns his lower stomach and disappears beneath the waistband of his jeans. You smooth the last piece of tape down and glance up, only to find that his head is no longer tilted back and he’s watching your face, his eyes soft. Those brown eyes seem to seize your own and you can’t bring yourself to look away.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly. His eyes flash with a question.

“What for?” You look down at your hands, folding them on your lap.

“For not coming to check on you sooner.” You force yourself to look back up at him. “ I was...I dunno. I was embarrassed, I guess. Well, maybe not embarrassed...I was just…” You take a deep breath. “I was anxious after….after yesterday…” you let that trail off. He knows what you mean. He looks at you for a few moments longer, his face unreadable. Then he breaks your gaze and reaches for the pill bottle on the floor next to him. Your stomach drops as he spills a pill into his hand quickly and swallows it. Without looking at you, he replaces the lid on the bottle, then reaches to take one of your hands with one of his. He turns your hand palm up and draws it up to place it against his cheek, mirroring your earlier touch to his face. Once again, he leans into your touch and closes his eyes, letting the seconds stretch and widen as he reveles in the feel of your skin against his, then he turns his face and places a soft kiss on the palm of your hand, holding his lips against your skin for several moments. His eyes slip open and meet yours over the edge of your hand. Your breath hitches softly when you see the longing and desire there.

As though in slow motion, he releases and returns your hand to its original spot on your lap, his eyes never leaving yours. You sit stunned for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

“Guess it’s a good thing I was motivated to take my meds, huh? This all could have been a lot worse.” He gestures around at the mess of bandages and paraphernalia around you. He sighs and slowly sits up straighter. “I think I’m probably gonna need some help getting up and to the couch, though.” You know your face shows the confusion you’re feeling. Was that it? He gets one kiss per pill and THAT’S what he uses today’s to do? A tiny voice in the back of your head grumbles in disappointment, but you quickly smash that voice, snapping out of your thoughts and standing up, offering both hands down to help him get to his feet.

When he’s standing in front of you, he grips your hands for a moment, keeping you closer than you know you should be. Your guard goes up, ready to call him out for having already used his daily dose should he try to go in for another kiss. He lifts your hands in his up in a gesture to bring your eyes up to meet his own.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he says in response to your earlier apology. “I knew you’d find me eventually. You always do.”

Day One

Day Two

Day Four

#javier peña x reader #javi #narcos #javier pena x female reader

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the-con-she-called-conscience · 3 years

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your mutuals as aesthetics ?

Hello, Anon. Thank you for this absolutely wonderful ask. If I missed you or you'd like me to do you, just let me now! Let's see:

@biganimeaesthetictree: retro futurism. Game boys of every age, controllers with wires spread around on a fluffy bed. It's not messy but highly precise. Chocolate flavoured milk in coffee cups, spreadsheets of an ever growing YT channel, monitor set against New York Skyline. Unused guitar in a corner of the room, entirety of MHA mangas shelved in order. Edits and edits of his own mangas and comics, working till the sun goes up. Mail chock full with stuff from friends and fans.

@somethingpretentiouss: bitter orange cake with buttercream frosting and topped with crumbs. Clear transparent everyday stuff with cursive quotes. Black bomber jacket set against lavender tulle skirt, multicolored mosaic notebook with a well worn ukelele. Foggy mornings and lazy afternoons. Faint smell of traditional marigold-patchouli-rose mixed with moss and wildberries. Unending blue sky. A person in her own right, lives like that one light blue butterfly you once saw but can never forget.

@chaoticneutralcinnamonroll: Cinnamon and ginger, mixed into bronzed teas. Gold tipped cups, multitude of magazines and newspapers. Air charged with zangy energy, almost blaring punk and rock. Well worn snickers and side sling bags. Goes onto adventures due to intelligence, laughs hard, loves long and fierce. Toes the lines never even touched. Silver jewellery. Loves the sun. Simple yet almost paradoxical. Lives on her own terms. Coconut scented perfume and handful of Doritos.

@weirdkindoflove: reads multiple books at the same time, will mix up words from different languages. Loves Dante and tells everyone how it is the oldest fanfiction, has the nicest gloss and notebooks chock full of equations. A maths whizz, warmest hugs, is the embodiment of sense of security. A determined ally, least person you'd expect to meet in a protest, strongest and most resilient person you ever knew. Multiple neon vintage posters, Spiderman comics, and corded bracelets. Revolution in carbon-based life form.

@screechingnightchild Monster drinks, wears a lot of black. Unflinchingly human and inexplicable. Can beat you in a theology debate, anytime, anywhere. Sometimes feels like a forest god. Long bus rides, some handmade luck charms made by their friends on their backpack. Drinks Coca-cola in the glass bottle itself for aesthetic. Knack for finding sinners in places of worship. Should always be loved and appreciated, as is the most likely to fist fight god and win.

@tuliharja Kind, appreciative soul with the nervous system and skeleton made of steel. Feeds birds from her cookies. Pastel coloured shirts and hair in shades not yet discovered. Has a knitted Halloween pumpkin, loves reading lore. Is the person who gets called to the hospital when her friends get hurt. Changes the world and lives with a flick of her hand and doesn't realize it. Home-made mead and fleshy fruits. Cats, specifically lynx figurines. Freshly baked fruit pies and herbal infusions. Soft classical tunes that you have to strain to hear, canvases filled with color, opened bottles of turpentine. Her existence is what magic is made of.

@narut-oh-shit : fluffiest jackets imaginable. Knows politics down to its woven fibres. Unknown and rare comics, metallic earpods, unbreakable metal bottles. Probably 1.47 GB of memes in their RAM. Wry wit, and a soul made of fire crackles. Has a plethora of diverse acquaintances. Perpetually broke college student with mad editing skills, sends in the most well written essays and analyses. Has sticky, fruit flavoured balms, and an almost definite goal in life. Rice crackers spilled on their lap, and ink spills on their desk. Shades of mahogany, cheap mechanical pencils kept with metal-bodied proper pens. Most likely to dimension hop.

@psycho-mocha : Boba with jaggery, star themed wall papers. Loves the texture of velvet, and owns posters or merchandise of their favourite brand. Has dedicated shelf space for fantasy genre, and is fascinated by sleight of hand. Wraps the string of ballons on their wrist, and feels oddly connected to certain historic monuments. Dreams of cool, refreshing river which tastes like mint, sometimes of midnight with a shovel and dirt under their nails. Feels a sense of longing when they think about their likes. Hits back xenophobes at every chance.

@microwavedsaladisevil : looks for their favorite childhood book in shops, stores and fairs. Lives in a treehouse with iced tea and peaches. Share oranges with friends during bus rides, wants to take a train across countries. Has chains of daisy and lilies, hates capitalism. Knows ocean like it's her hometown, records it's lores long forgotten. Will intern at marine facility on an island, and hates people polluting the water. Feels as if their heart crumbles like paper, and keeps stones as paper weights. Will dive head first into the water and come out surfing at the other end. Something about them screams victorious.

@oscarwildeismyidol jangly bracelets, sits under the tree. Embodiment of hope and positivity. Steadfast, and looks into the void to find secrets. Knows obscure trivia about Wilde, writes the most humorous book reviews. Flavoured drinks hit the back of their throats, idly they wonder the meaning of life. Achieves and achieves but at the cost of no one, presses flowers and leaves into books. Walks barefoot on wooden floors, and loves watching the sun in early mornings. Wears plaid in Autumnal evenings, sips tea and watches the world turn. Fears disenchantment. Has the most compelling smile, and as long as they be, they know it's going to be alright.

@notyouraveragejulie : makes the best potato salads, wears her adventures and achievements as a jacket. Walks into vintage stores chock full of opera memorabilia and assorted knickknacks, always befriends the monsters living upstairs. Sketches down frescoes on the roof of theatre, works part-time and is never disappointed by the night. Pages and pages of music scores and books fluttering with plays, computer idling with a paused opera. Writes down neatly the plans to conquer the world, and she will. Just after finishing this cast's version of her favorite opera. Listens to the magical flute while washing dishes, and feels the nervous flutter and maddening hum of life. Never makes a wrong choice.

#asks

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howwelldoyouknowyourmoon · 3 years

Text

Review: ‘Growing Up Moonie’ Details Life Inside the Unification Church

by Nic Dobija-Nootens April 15, 2019

https://podcastreview.org/review/growing-up-moonie/

When Hideo Higashibaba was 22 years old, he left his family and the cult he was born into. Unlike people who join cults later in life — who we typically think of when we think of cult members — Higashibaba never chose to be part of the Unification Church. The decision was made for him before birth, and it would become a breaking point between him and the community he grew up in.

In his podcast Growing Up Moonie, Higashibaba details his life inside and now outside the Unification Church, a cult with an estimated 1 to 2 million members worldwide. [250,000 is a more realistic maximum.] The show is deeply personal and at times heartbreaking, and it offers a more nuanced view into the complexity of cults than more common stories about captivating leaders or the media frenzies surrounding them.

Although the Unification Church describes itself as a Christian religious movement, the organization’s strict beliefs, autocratic structure, and rigorous ingrouping are telltale signs of a cult.

Founded [in Seoul] in 1954 by Sun Myung Moon, a North Korean defector, the Unification Church would have its members believe Moon was a messiah figure who was free of sin and held sole power to forgive their sins. After Moon moved to the United States in the 1970s and gained attention for holding large rallies and mass wedding ceremonies, in which thousands of couples would be married simultaneously, people both within and outside the group began referring to members as “Moonies” as a reference to the founder.

Like many Moonies, Higashibaba’s parents, who both joined the Unification Church on their own, were matched by Moon and entered into an arranged marriage. Their mass ceremony, along with approximately 2,074 other couples, took place in 1982 at Madison Square Garden, a video of which is available online. Higashibaba, as a “second generation” Moonie or “blessed child,” was told to believe he was born without sin and was superior to other kids, which made fitting in with people outside the Unification Church difficult, even if they were part of his own family.

In the show, Higashibaba recalls relatives mocking him and his parents for being Moonies, calling them “brainwashed” and “weak-minded.” As a kid, Higashibaba was hurt by these remarks. The Unification Church was simply part of his family’s backdrop, and he was too young to see how its members were manipulated into believing that they were the insiders, while everyone else were outsiders. Ultimately, that kind of dichotomy reinforced by the Unification Church drove wedges between Moonies and the non-Moonie world, usually causing members to double down in their faith and engagement.

Higashibaba’s central point with Growing Up Moonie is that he and other “second gens” never had a choice in becoming Moonies. The Unification Church and its members made up much of his life and profoundly shaped his worldview. And because he was discouraged from pursuing non-Moonie friendships, it would be years before he realized leaving was ever a possibility.

▲ The Unification Church blessing ceremony of 777 couples officiated by founder Sun Myung Moon and his wife, Hak Ja Han. The womb-like decoration is similar to others seen at UC mass weddings.

In the course of independently recording and producing the show with editor Quinn Myers, Higashibaba interviewed other “second gens” about growing up in the Unification Church. Their lives and the relationships they navigate with their families are far more complicated than can be conveyed by any news headline, partly because their experiences weren’t all negative.

A woman who Higashibaba calls “Jenn” reminisces over the fun of large church services and playing with other Moonie children at a waterfront retreat. Another woman, Teruko, fondly remembers traveling through Europe and fundraising with Unification missionaries. And despite being shunned for breaking off an arranged marriage or “blessing,” then marrying a non-Moonie, Teruko remains in the Unification Church.

Moonies, like other cult members, can’t easily leave because their lives, identities, and families are so deeply entwined in the Unification Church. The sense that every member is part of one enormous “true family” is a great source of comfort and inspiration for many involved, but it’s also a manipulative tactic to scare people into staying.

Although Higashibaba started questioning his beliefs in high school, he didn’t leave the Unification Church until years later, because it would also entail cutting himself off from his family. When he finally left in college, he relied on support from non-Moonie friends to help him through his depression and self-reckoning.

That same year, Higashibaba also came out as gay, something he found empowering, but that he never could have celebrated within the Unification Church. Moonies do not accept homosexuality, period. The founder Moon, who died in 2012, was once quoted calling gay people “shit-eating dogs.” For most of us, who don’t grow up in a cultish structure, discovering who we are and what makes us happy is a big enough challenge. So needing to disconnect yourself from your family in order to find yourself, as Higashibaba did, is terrifying.

When I spoke with Higashibaba about the show’s personal focus, he said he considered doing more of an investigative approach to covering the Unification Church, but after beginning the project he realized the contributions his story could offer not only other cult survivors, but other people born into restrictive religious groups in general.

“I’m hoping this podcast creates some space for how incredibly complicated it is to turn your back on your family or to turn your back on faith,” Higashibaba said. “There are minute compromises and negotiations that all of us make day in and day out when it comes to whether or not we have to give up our relationships with our families, and I think the less privilege that you have in this world…the more dire and intense those compromises become. Making it normal to have these difficult compromises and negotiations…hopefully will create a more realistic picture of what it feels like to be in a cult, and help de-sensationalize the experience for other people.”

Although there are documentaries, TV specials, and miniseries about cults, they often overlook the everyday individuals living and struggling through them. Instead, they demonstrate the bizarreness of the charismatic leader or emphasize the shocked public perception. By not focusing on Sun Myung Moon, or the Unification Church’s millions of dollars worth of investments and business dealings, the show strikes a brilliantly human connection. Ultimately, that connection is more devastating to bear than any flashy exposé.

Higashibaba grew up seeing the Moonies and other cults made fun of in sitcoms and comedy movies, and he found it maddening. “As somebody who used to be in a cult watching this, I felt very othered, and a lot like a zoo animal,” he said. “Like, ‘Look at these weird people and the weird stuff they believe.’ It’s all quite dehumanizing.” Growing Up Moonie is now one way for those people to be seen, and an honest look at a difficult group for the rest of us.

“Cults are really fun to cover because they seem uncomplicated, but actually they aren’t,” he said. “There’s so many stories of broken hearts because of them, and in other cult media I never got to see the heartbreak that I have experienced in it, and I wanted that to be in the story.”

_______________________________________

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/growing-up-moonie/id1453725149

#Hideo Higashibaba #Moonies #cult #Sun Myung Moon

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misschiuahua · 3 years

Link

Marjorie

Explicit - Part 2 of 3

Marjorie couldn’t complain -much -about life aboard the Covenant. It was boring at times, but at least she was still alive.

Walter had decided to give her tasks around the ship to keep her occupied, and even though they were small and menial, they made her feel like she was doing something other than just waiting for time to pass.

And it turned out that Walter was correct: she did feel better after they had sex. She couldn’t believe she’d really just needed to get laid.

Even though it had been just that one time, it seemed to make her feel better about some other things -and she did get back to masturbating no problem, so thanks again, Walter.

Having an illicit affair with a synthetic -at least that was how she called it in her fantasies -brought back a sense of desire and yearning.

It strangely made for a fun past-time. It was like having a secret crush on someone out of her reach; she could look at him during the day, then play her fantasies in the safety of her room.

It’d also helped her relationship with him. Before she’d been treating him somewhat like a computer; a tool to spend the infinite amount of time she seemed to have there. It wasn’t the nicest thing to do, but it was how it was. Now she managed to talk to him better and she came to realise he was a pleasant company to have around.

It still sucked to know she was stuck there, wasting years of her life to reach Origae-6, but she’d come to accept it with a sort of resigned conformity.

The next six months passed uneventfully while she maintained the boring routine of everyday: wake up, exercise, work, read, eat, sleep, repeat.

Then, one day, she was taking a shower, when -for what seemed no reason whatsoever- she slipped on the locker room. She was so shocked by it, that she just laid there trying to catch her breath and looking at the ceiling.

“Mother?” Marjorie finally called. “I fell, can you get Walter here?”

“He’s on his way.” The female voice replied.

Marjorie tried to remain still, concerned about broken bones, even though she didn’t feel a lot of pain. Maybe she was just winded, or maybe the adrenaline was still running through her body and she didn’t feel pain because of that.

She heard steps hurrying her way, and Walter finally appeared in the room. “Marjorie.” He advanced towards her, kneeling next to her. “What happened?” He was frowning.

“I slipped.” She told him.

“Don’t move.” He directed. “Did you hit your head on the ground?”

“No.”

He checked her carefully, while she lay there soaking wet and barely wrapped on her towel. He was quick and perfunctory about it, making the occasional question of “Does it hurt here?”

Once he seemed satisfied by her answers, he just picked her up in a bridal carry.

“Walter!” Marjorie squealed in her surprise, trying to clutch at her towel.

“I’ll take you to your room.” He informed her as he started walking.

“Way to sound like a hero from a trash romance.” She teased.

Teasing Walter was always interesting, because he tried to understand the idea first, then he’d smile at it. This time wasn’t different. “Why?”

“You know.” She insisted. “Carrying me off on your arms, declaring you’re taking me to my chambers…” She teased, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

He seemed to think hard about that one. “You are naked.” He conceded.

Marjorie giggled. “That’s the spirit.”

They entered her room and he sat her down on the bed, before kneeling in front of her and carefully holding her left ankle. “You seem mostly fine, but I want to keep an eye on your ankle. It doesn’t seem to be broken, but you said it’s tender.”

“Yes.” She confirmed, clutching the towel to her chest.

Walter remained kneeling in front of her, his hand around her ankle. “You’ll probably feel pain from the fall tomorrow. If it hurts too much, come to me and I’ll give you something for it.”

“Fine. Now get out of here before you start giving me ideas.”

He didn’t let go of her ankle, he just inclined his head to the right. “What ideas?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You are not that innocent, Walter.”

“I do know you’re talking about sex, I was just expecting a clarification.”

Was he messing with her?

Marjorie cleared her throat. “With all your programming and stuff, you can probably figure it out on your own.” It wasn’t the smartest answer out there, but… She was under stress.

Walter nodded, then became quiet, as if he really was making analysis and checking the math in his head. Eventually he focused back on her. “May I present my conclusion?”

He really was messing with her, wasn’t he? That had to be it. “Present?”

Marjorie was shocked. Was he really suggesting… It had been just that one time, right?

Right?

He nodded. “It’s the most efficient way to know if I’m right, correct?” He pointed out as if it was oh-so-obvious and Marjorie wondered if synthetics could also bullshit people.

“Present away.” She said breathlessly.

Walter kept his intense eyes on her as he pushed her legs open, his fingers caressing her thighs as they traveled up. Marjorie had always been cool with pleasuring herself, but she had to admit that nothing was better than someone else touching her.

Walter’s hands found their way under her towel, then around her waist. He used his hold to pull her a bit more to the edge of the bed, but Marjorie only understood his plan when he put her thigh over his shoulder.

Well damn… Since he insisted…

He used his fingers to spread her pussy lips open, then teased her clit with just the tip of his tongue. He gave it quick and slow licks, but most of them were in small proportions.

Marjorie grabbed Walter’s hair. “Don’t tease!” She protested.

He didn’t answer her, because he didn’t take his mouth from its advantage point. But he finally put some energy into it.

By the time he was done with her, there wasn’t a part of her pussy he hadn’t teased with his tongue. He was attentive to parts she’d never thought about before, in ways she hadn’t considered before. There were even some teasing bites in locations that would normally make her nervous, but this time just made her wet.

When he finally put his fingers inside her, she was a wet mess. Marjorie had fallen back to the bed, back arched, fingers grabbing at his hair, his name a constant in her lips.

Since he didn’t breathe, she shamelessly ground her pussy against his face and pulled him closer. She also wasn’t one bit embarrassed of telling him exactly where she wanted him. She’d never been a particularly demanding lover, but with Walter she was discovering a tendency.

When she came she screamed his name so loudly, she thought the people in the pods might wake up because of it.

However, it became clear he didn’t intend to stop just yet, so Marjorie had to push him away.

“Get naked. Now.” She ordered, moving on the bed so she was better positioned on it.

Walter got undressed, and Marjorie found mildly amusing that he actually folded his clothes before climbing on top of her.

She pulled him for a kiss, the taste of her on his lips only making her hotter.

“Come on.” She grabbed his cock.

“You’re impatient today.” He observed, gently pushing her hand away.

“And you’re acting like a tease.” She pointed out. “Not sure why.”

“To my understanding, a tease is someone that does not plan to follow through.” He pushed her legs further apart and rubbed his cock against her. “And I have the intention of following through.”

“Then do it!”

“As you wish.” He guided himself into her and pushed in with a single thrust.

Marjorie lost her breath and sunk her nails on his shoulders. He was thick and it was a stretch, but he had gotten her really wet and prepared for his cock. Besides, she enjoyed it.

Walter hooked her knee on his elbow, pushing her leg higher and started fucking her; but now he was back to going slow, and it was maddening. Marjorie swore she could feel every inch of him moving in and out of her. And once again, his eyes were fixed on her face, as if he was studying her expressions, memorizing the lines of her face.

“Harder, please.” She begged breathlessly, uncaring of how needy she might sound.

The first -and only time -they’d fucked, she had ridden him the way she wanted. She told him where to touch her and she took control of the situation.

This time, since he was on top, it already felt like he was in control. However, once he started fucking her, it became quite clear he held back before.

As he was a synthetic, he didn’t tire, which meant he could fuck her this hard for hours. When she said ‘harder’, he took it seriously -as he normally did -and proceeded to wreck her.

Marjorie could barely hang onto him, as his hips pistoned against hers. The noises around the room were obscene, and so were the words escaping her mouth. She was sobbing so pathetically that Marjorie pulled Walter’s mouth to hers just to cover it up.

He finally let go of her leg so he could play with her clit and Marjorie didn’t even know if this was a good idea. She was worried she might not survive another orgasm.

Walter was doing just whatever he wanted then, without waiting for instructions. He just rubbed her clit until she was coming, harder than the last time, harder than ever before.

Once again Walter got up and took care of cleaning her up. However, instead of leaving, this time he laid back next to her. “My protocols suggest that cuddling might be appreciated.”

Marjorie snorted. She’d have fucking laughed at his face if she had the breath to do it. “Are those the same protocols that suggested I wanted you to eat me out?”

“That was just a logical conclusion based on the evidence presented.” He told her as if it was quite simple.

“Was all of that on your programming?” She just had to ask, because whoever programmed him to act -if necessary -as a sex bot had done a hell of a job.

“Something like that.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you turning into a smart ass?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Marjorie.” He finally stood back up and put his clothes on. “If that’s all I’ll leave you to rest. Tomorrow I’ll check your ankle.”

Marjorie didn’t even remember about it anymore.

Just after Walter left, something occurred to her. She’d never said she wanted sex. Sure, she’d teased him a bit before, but she never came out and asked him for it. She was also pretty sure she wasn’t moody or grumpy as she’d been before.

Walter had offered to eat her out for…

She couldn’t quite figure out why.

How odd.

#My writing #part 2 #posted on AO3 #smut #alien covenant #walter #OFC #Walter x OFC #robot sex #i guess Walter counts as a robot

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mostlysignssomeportents · 4 years

Text

Youtube vs 5G arsonists

There are plenty of things wrong with 5G.

It's incredibly insecure:

https://www.schneier.com/blog/archives/2020/01/china_isnt_the_.html

And easy for law-enforcement to spy on:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/01/5g-protocol-may-still-be-vulnerable-imsi-catchers

It's a smokescreen for underinvestment in fiber by monopolistic, awful telcos, and its promised benefits will not materialized without fiber backhaul:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/10/why-fiber-vastly-superior-cable-and-5g

On the bullshit scale of lies, damned lies, and telcoms lies, 5G represents a kind of peak bullshit:

https://www.lightreading.com/mobile/5g/2019-the-year-telecom-went-doolally-about-5g/a/d-id/756184

But 5G doesn't give you cancer. It won't make you sick. And...god, I am getting stupider just thinking about typing this, coronavirus is not a false-flag op to disguise the illnesses that 5G is secretly creating.

The reason I have to mention that is that the conspiracyverse is full of that specific theory, and it's inspiring people to COMMIT ARSON and torch 5G towers.

No, seriously.

In the wake of multiple attacks on 5G towers, Youtube has announced changes to its moderation guidelines. It will allow 5G conspiracy theories, just not ones that (oh god my fingers are seizing up from the stupid) link 5G with coronavirus.

https://www.theguardian.com/world/2020/apr/05/youtube-to-suppress-content-spreading-coronavirus-5g-conspiracy-theory

Youtube gets blamed for spreading conspiracies but that's not the whole story. Youtube - Big Tech in general - is a machine for finding people, much more than it is a machine for convincing people. Youtube is not a mind-control ray that bypasses viewers' critical faculties.

5G conspiracy theories are new, but Flat Earth conspiracies are not, nor is antivax. These have been around for a long, long time. Even a cursory perusal of the arguments for these conspiracies reveals that they have not gotten better, even as they've gained traction.

If the same arguments are attracting more adherents, then one of two things is going on. Either:

1. Youtube is a mind-control ray that can turn rational people into believers in facially absurd ideas that have failed for decades, or

2. The number of people to whom these ideas seem plausible has grown and/or Youtube has made it more efficient to reach those people.

I think it's 2. I think that the rise of conspiratorial thinking is connected most closely to a rise in actual conspiracies.

Not elaborate flying saucer conspiracies, but everyday ones, like the Sacklers conspiring to get rich by lying about the safety of opioids, or prosecutors and lawmakers covering up for their pals like Jeffrey Epstein and Harvey Weinstein.

Conspiracies to ignore the evidence about Flint's water, or the failures of Universal Credit in the UK, or to pretend that private equity funds are anything but engines for turning productive companies into mangled wreckages while enriching plutes:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/04/04/a-mind-forever-voyaging/#prop-bets

Why do people believe in public health conspiracies, from antivax to 5G? Well, maybe because public health authorities spent two decades ignoring the opioid crisis in order to protect ultrarich opioid profiteers.

Maybe they doubt journal articles because major journal publishers have repeatedly published fake journals through their marketing divisions that allowed pharma companies to pay to publish unsubstantiated studies.

https://bibwild.wordpress.com/2009/05/05/shame-on-elsevier/

Maybe they don't believe in their doctors' advice because their doctors accept a continuous stream of payments from pharma companies, and then prescribe in ways that fatten their bottom lines.

https://projects.propublica.org/docdollars/

Maybe they don't trust regulators because they sign off on procedures that kill people, despite a lack of evidence for their safety AND a wealth of evidence about their risks:

https://www.latimes.com/entertainment/movies/la-et-mn-bleeding-edge-review-20180726-story.html

One of the best books I read in 2019 was Anna Merlan's Republic of Lies, a history of conspiratorial thinking in America and a look at the rise of conspiracism in the 21st century:

https://boingboing.net/2019/09/21/from-opioids-to-antivax.html

Merlan describes how conspiracists aren't ignorant, but rather lavishly misinformed. UFO conspiracists can go chapter-and-verse on aerospace conspiracies, of which there are so. many. including, most recently, the 737 Max scandal.

Antivaxers know tons about opioid coverups and other medical malpractice. People who believe that the levees were dynamited during Katrina to drown black neighborhoods and spare white ones know all about when that actually happened in Tupelo, MS.

Susceptibility to conspiratorialism arises when someone is exposed to actual conspiracies, and trauma. And while both have been abundant during the neoliberal era, coronavirus is peak trauma and peak conspiracy.

Just think of the spectacle of official inaction, combined with official calls for all the old people to die, combined with the annihilation of huge swathes of the economy, combined with a stream of revelations about corruption and profiteering in the response.

No wonder so many people are primed to believe in conspiracies at this moment, and so maddened with grief and anxiety that they take rash - and foolish - action.

Which brings me back to what Youtube is doing.

Youtube is not a mind-control ray, it's a people-finding machine. That's because advertisers need people-finding machines. The median person buys <1 fridge/lifetime, so it's really hard to find people thinking of buying fridges.

That's why fridge ads appear on highways near airports: "People who fly have money, people need money to buy fridges." Those ads have 0.00000000000000000001% conversion rates.

Targeting ads to people who've searched for refrigerator reviews can make them thousands of times more effective, and even if the new rate is only 0.000000000001%, that's massive improvement for fridge advertisers. YT is ad-supported so it is good at finding people.

Ad-tech companies make two claims, though: the first is that they know where to find your customers. The second is that they can convince them of things that are otherwise unsupportable.

This was Cambridge Analytica's pitch: not that they would find racists and tell them about Trump, but that they would make decent people into Trump voters.

There's some narrow truth to this Running ads that tell lies (especially harmful ones) is often illegal. At the very least, it can mire you in scandal. Targeting allows you to place secret ads: ads whose content is only seen by people who won't narc you out. That gives targeted ads a persuasive advantage that billboards can't have.

Finding people who want to believe lies and lying to them is not mind-control.

It's fraud.

Because everyone in the entire history of the world who'd claimed to have invented a mind-control ray was a fraud, from NLPers and PUAs, to Mkultra and the Cultural Revolution.

Back to conspiracies, Youtube, secrecy and people-finding.

There are lots of things wrong with Youtube (spying, monopolization, and its hospitality to copyfraud and censorship), but people-finding and spying are both double-edged swords.

People-finding is how fringe ideas accumulate adherents, yes. Some of those are terrible, like "scientific racism." Some are laudable, like the rise of trans identity.

Privacy is how lies are spun, but it's also how truths are whispered before they can be spoken aloud.

Secrets like "I believe interracial marriage should be legal" or "cannabis isn't harmful" or "gender is not a binary."

There are lots of things we should do to fix Youtube and tech, but on balance, finding people who share your ideas is a force for good.

Debunking false conspiratorial beliefs is important, but not as important as ending actual conspiracies among wealthy and powerful people to corrupt our political and economic system to enrich themselves regardless of the consequences to the rest of us.

Fighting conspiracism is like fighting a wildfire. When the town is on fire, you have to put it out. But if you want to keep your town from catching fire again, you have to eliminate the fuel that causes it to burn, clear out the brush.

The problem with locating the problem with Youtube - instead of seeing Youtube and its monopoly as a consequence of policies that promote inequality and monopolism - is that it's just fighting blazes, not preventing them.

#pluralistic

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k-renne · 5 years

Text

SENSELESS

SUMMARY: It was torture, the way you smelled. You had no idea how much he wanted you, the sweet little omega who was so clueless to what you did to him it was maddening. At this rate it wouldn’t be long before he breaks

A/N: In which alpha!Clyde screws you senseless, warning slight dubcon (i’m not really sure but just in case), dom clyde/sub reader - everything under the cut

TAGS: @thecurlycaptain

Ignoring his needs was getting harder everyday, when you graced his bar with your sweet scent and pretty smile it all just called his name to fuck you and make you his. To forget reason and follow his primal instincts. Oh how he dreamed of sinking his teeth into your pretty little neck, let every alpha know that you were his. It was unbearable.

Clyde was good at concealing his desire for you, creating a safe haven for you at his bar not to be bothered by alphas (except for him of course). It was nice for you, a lot of the men in this area would be gross with you. The stereotypes about your nature always brought so many assumptions, but fuck if you just wanted to go out without being hassled for once. You were enough of a regular that everyone knew not to bother you at Duck Tape, that you wouldn’t accept drinks from everyone except the bartender.

It didn’t help that the bartender was a sight to look at, Clyde was a powerhouse behind the bar. Just the broadness of his shoulders and chest, he exuded alpha strength like it was a wet dream.

Your staring didn’t help Clyde, neither did the sweet little smiles you gave him. If only you just asked him, he’d give it to you. He was waiting for his chance really, didn’t wanna come on too strong and scare you away like most alphas did. But fuck he wished you tried to conceal your scent just a little bit more, you probably had no idea the effect it had. He could smell the days you were aroused, scent so thick it made it hard to breathe. He thanked every higher power that he could conceal his crotch behind the bar, lest you see that he was half hard.

His brother teased him on his little crush on one of his regulars, but Clyde’s growl when Jimmy sat next to you showed him that maybe it was a little bit more than a crush if Clyde was getting that protective of you. “I guess he’s in a bad mood?” You shrugged to Jimmy, his eyes widened at your cluelessness.

You enjoyed seeing Clyde, he was a bonus to this bar, but a part of your brain never clicked the whole alpha omega thing together. That maybe his treatment of you was more than just politeness, more than just a respectable alpha.

Clyde enjoyed jerking off during his breaks in the back office, silently challenging you to say something when he came back smelling like sex. You always squirmed a little more after that, and it made him grin. Sometimes he just had to take care of himself.

“Listen sweetheart, I gotta ask why ya haven’t been claimed yet.” Clyde shook his head at you, if he had the chance he’d just snatch you up.

“Oh um I don’t know-I’ve just never well, I’ve only been with betas.” You confess.

Clyde huffs, “Ya mean to tell me, you’ve never-not even during your heat?” He lowers his voice, leaning over the bar counter. His mind was on a roll with the implications, that you’ve never felt the stretch of a knot.

You gulped, his questions were making you feel hot all over. “N-no but I’m sure its not much different.” You lied. You knew what it could be like, you heard from other omegas, you saw it in porn but that didn’t make it any less terrifying. You liked being subversive to your nature, and to some extent it was simpler that way.

Clyde let out a gruff sound, shaking his head. You frowned, it felt like he was disappointed in you. “S’nothing wrong with bein’ with an alpha, I-he would take good care of ya. S’like we’re made to make ya feel good, wouldn’t ever hurt ya.”

You had to cross your legs, to you being with an alpha was like a taboo-a dark desire that you tried to suppress. But you couldn’t seem to deny anymore that given the option, you’d let Clyde have you in any way he wanted to. And maybe that was why you kept coming to his bar.

“Maybe not you Clyde,” You replied to him softly. You trusted him not to hurt you, but not everyone.

He gave you a sweet little smile at that, taking in a deep breath of the spike in arousal in your scent. It was so heady he was getting hard, you were being nice still but it was frustrating. You were clearly fighting with your nature, and you were missing out on so much pleasure. Worse you didn’t know how much you were teasing him.

Later Clyde was mad, you were being kind to Earl as you talked to him on your way out- another alpha, and Clyde knew you didn’t see him like that but still...it was irking him. It was getting harder and harder to see you show off your pretty neck free of any claim, and watch all the other alphas at the bar just fawn over you.

“Earl, I know you didn’t mean to, but ya know how I feel about her.” Clyde sighed.

“I know Clyde, she came up to me. Poor girl has no idea what she’s doing to you. I think she’s just tryin’ to be nice.”

Clyde let out a frustrated groan, “She’s gonna drive me crazy one of these days.”

Earl raised a brow, normally his friend could handle himself a little better. “How long has it been for you? Is it gettin’ to that time...”

Clyde frowned, thinking back to his last rut. “Shit,” He cursed. That explained things, why he was acting more possessive and much less reasonable. Almost letting it slip out how good of an alpha he could be to you.

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t come in if starts to happen, just let me know Clyde.”

He nodded, that would have to do it. He couldn’t have you in the bar on the cusp of his rut, you’d surely bring him to the brink.

A few days later Clyde could feel it, the rush of hormones made him hot all over, he felt more aggressive, and the overwhelming desire to fuck an omega deep in his core. He’d have to close the bar early tonight for a few days at least, luckily it wasn’t the weekend.

It was quiet tonight, the bar was pretty much empty besides for Earl sitting outside.

“Hey Earl, thought I’d stop by and pop in after my shift.”

“Miss, I don’t know if you wanna go in there. Clyde’s about to have his rut, he says he doesn’t want you here. It’ll only mess with him.” Earl stood up, blocking the door.

“Well-” You felt your cheeks get hot. “That’s the thing I sorta needed to talk to him about something.” It was embarrassing. You couldn’t tell Earl what you were gonna ask Clyde to do to you.

“And I’m sure it can wait.” He crossed his arms.

You knew it was probably going to end in one way if you went into Duck Tape tonight, but maybe that’s just what you wanted. “No Earl, it can’t. I’ll be just fine, don’t you worry about me.” You began to push past him.

Earl had the inkling that you knew just what you were doing, so he let you past. It was time for him to leave before the inevitable happened.

His scent hit you like a huge wave, almost had your knees buckling. You had never experienced this before, been around an alpha in his rut. Clyde reeked of dominance, of sex, and it was making you wet. Clyde stared at you from across the bar, chest heaving. If you came over to him, that was it. He was going to have you or he’d have to lock himself out back. Your sweet scent was accelerating his rut, and he growled.

“Sweetheart ya must be a fool to come in here when I’m like this, only askin’ for trouble.” Clyde’s voice was low, warning you. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the bar, his jaw clenching as you sauntered on over to him. He shut his eyes trying to quiet the voices screaming in his mind, fuck her, make her yours, fill her sweet pussy with pups.

He couldn’t pretend anymore.

Clyde was on you in an instant, backing you up into the nearest corner as he pressed his nose against your neck, running it along your skin. “C-Clyde,” You whimpered. His body was so strong and hot against yours, pressing himself firmly against you made your knees feel weak.

Clyde greedily sucked on the skin of your neck, he wanted to make sure you smelled like him-and fuck you tasted so sweet. His kisses were sloppy as his hand gripped your hip, pressing his hard cock against you. “Feel this sweetheart? This is what ya do to me, sweet little omega ya have no idea how fucking hard I get for you.”

You could feel it, he was so big. The thought of your polite alpha bartender having a big cock, big to match the rest of him, sent you arousal straight to your core.

Clyde grinned, “Mmm I can smell your sweet pussy darlin’, smell how fuckin’ wet it’s gettin’.” He slipped his hand between your thighs to cup your pussy, his big paw of a hand rough and hot, stronger than your hands ever could be.

You looked away, feeling embarrassed. You felt such a strong urge to submit, just let Clyde take complete control, show you what he’s been holding back.

Clyde tsked, “Ain’t having none of that sweetheart, now you look at me.” He tilted your face to look at him, touch surprisingly gentle.

You panted as you looked at him, his big brown eyes swallowing you whole. Clyde stroked the side of your face sweetly, thumbing your quivering bottom lip. Even in his rut, he was still sweet with you. “I always take good care of what’s mine.” He assured you, before sliding his tongue in your mouth. His kiss was rough and filthy, made you grab on to him for support because it had you feeling boneless.

Clyde picked you up in his still strong arms and bent you over the corner of the bar counter so your ass was hanging over the edge. “Can’t wait no more,” He growled, and you felt him tugging off your pants. You helped him get them off by lifting your hips, your cheek pressing against the cool surface of the bar.

You were buzzing with arousal, gasping as you were completely exposed to Clyde. Your pussy drooled and Clyde ducked down to catch your sweet wetness in his mouth, his lips meeting your soaking pussy. He moaned in praise of your taste, his beard scratching at your thighs. This sweet fucking pussy is mine!

You couldn’t help but spread your thighs apart for him, Clyde rewarding you by shoving two fingers into your entrance and curling them against your walls. “Fuck you’re so wet sweetheart, ya taste so good, could spend the whole day eatin’ you. But tonight I need-” His chest heaved as he caught his breath. “-Need to fuck this tight little pussy, and I can’t wait no more.” He growled.

You heard Clyde’s pants hit the floor, pulling out his meaty cock to take his fill of you. He teased you enough to make you moan for him, sliding the hot head of his cock against your clit. But soon he was spearing into you, splitting you open with the delicious size of him. Your walls stretched to accommodate him, Clyde’s thumb rubbing your clit to help you along. He didn’t stop till he was fully seated, panting at your tightness. Even now you could feel yourself gushing around him, his scent alighting your senses and the feeling of fullness making you gasp.

Clyde grunted as he began thrusting, using all of his strength as he slammed his hips into yours. You could barely breath, he was fucking you senseless. “Take it sweetheart-take it you’re mine.” Clyde growled. Seeing your pussy swallow his cock, how slick you were getting around him, only spurred him on more.

“Gonna creampie this sweet pussy, fill it with my pups.” Clyde smacked your ass.

“Mmm please!” You whined submissively, the way Clyde was manhandling and fucking you was bringing out your darkest desires. You wanted it, you wanted him to fuck you so hard you couldn’t walk, that he’d have to carry you as his cum dripped down your thighs.

“S’right baby, you’re mine. An every fuckin’ alpha in this bar is gonna know it, know I claimed ya right here on my bar-my omega.” You could only moan at his words.

As he rammed his cock inside your pussy you could feel your orgasm coming, and Clyde could sense it with your walls clenching around him. “Ya gonna come sweetheart? Cum right on my big cock?” He teased you as he rubbed your clit, bringing you over the edge as you cried out his name.

He kept rubbing, rubbing until you were oversensitive and making you cum all over again. Seeing you cum at his hands made Clyde’s knot begin to swell inside you, your walls milking his cock. “Gonna cum in this sweet pussy-mmph,” Clyde grunted as he spilled his load inside of you, hot cum locked inside with his thick knot. You came a second time, making more cum spurt inside you, fill you up.

Clyde’s hand soothingly rubbed the small of your back, pushing back your hair to expose your neck to him. You could feel his teeth against your neck, so close and he could just mark your, truly make you his. You knew he was holding back as you felt his hot breath against your skin. But you didn’t want him to, “Do it,” You said softly.

Clyde snarled as he claimed you as his, his mouth coming down hard on your neck. A wave of pleasure hit you and you felt completely full of him, “Yours,” You sighed happily.

Clyde was doing his best to try and snuggle you right there on the bar counter, his warm body protectively pressing against you as cum began to leak down your thighs with his loosening knot. He nuzzled against his mark affectionately, kissing and licking at it. “I’m takin’ ya home sweetheart, our home.”

#clyde logan x reader #clyde logan #abo #filth

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fatestemptress · 5 years

Text

Overwhelming Alternatives - Part 1 of 3

Summary: Jensen Ackles loves women. The way they smell. The way they taste. The way their hips sway when they walk away from him, looking back with that knowing look in their eyes. Hell, he can’t even look at one of his best friends, Y/N, without picturing her naked.

So can someone please explain to him why he’s fantasizing about his co-worker Jared Padalecki?

Created for @spnkinkbingo

Square Filled: Sexuality Crisis

Warnings: Smut. Lots and lots of smut. Masturbation. Porn watching. MMF. 18+ only!

Pairings: Jensen Ackles x Jared Padalecki; Eventually Jensen x Y/N X Jared

Word Count On this Chapter: 5,300 or so

A/N: Hiiiiii! Its been sooo long and I have missed so many wonderful fics out there. I am dying to catch up! I’ve had this fic sitting in my drafts and it’s finally ready to post. This will eventually be a threesome, so if that’s not your thing please be forewarned. The other two chapters of this will fill some of my other kink bingo squares.

Please note, this is unbeta’d. Any and all grammatical errors are mine. (And I’m sure there are PLENTY. :))

"Fuck Jen! Hold still would ya'?!"

"I'm trying but your big sausage fingers keep pinching me!"

Jensen Ackles could practically hear the smirk coming from behind him as his co-star and best friend Jared Padalecki rubbed at the fake blood caught under the collar of his shirt behind his neck.

And he desperately hoped one of his favorite people in the world couldn't feel the shudder of his body as his fingers dipped into the sensitive top part of his spine. The tingles quickly spread out into the wide set of his shoulders and down into his fingertips making them itch with the need to reach behind him and grab Jared by the hip and bring his full body against his back.

FUCK.

He needed to stop this nonsense. He wasn't gay. He didn't like guys. In fact, he LOVED women. The way they smelled. They way they tasted. They way they whined into his ear when he was balls deep with their ankles around his neck.

Annnnnnnd he needed to stop that freight train of thought as his already half hard dick started filling out into a full blown, humiliating, hard on, in front of the remaining crew on set.

"Allright, allright Jay. The rest'll come out when I get in the shower back in my trailer. I just didn't want it dripping down my back."

And damned if that didn't just bring unwanted (cause they were UNWANTED...right?) images of something alot more pleasant and alot more white dripping down his back........

Jared let out a high pitched laugh as he playfully massaged his fingers into Jensen's neck, "Wasn't it nice and warm though, Jen?"

With a deep clearing of his throat, side eye and a conspicuous adjustment of his jeans, Jensen reached for his jacket and slung it on, "I won't even dignify that with an answer. So uh, I'll see you in a little while? We still on for Madden?"

Jared flipped his hair out of his eyes as he also reached for his coat, seemingly oblivious to his friends discomfort,"Yeah, sure thing. Gotta shower and then I'll meet you at your trailer in about an hour."

With a quick fist pound and a wave to the few people on set, Jensen and Jared parted ways as they made their way to their respective trailers. It had been a long day with an early 4:00 AM call but production issues had them calling it quits at 5:00 PM.

But despite the hectic schedule, two and a half seasons into the show "Supernatural", Jensen was still pumped to come to work everyday. It definitely helped that everyone on set truly did get along and it was a blessing that he and his co-star had gotten so close, so fast.

What didn't help was the increasing drive to see Jared's cock that had somehow, someway meandered into his every waking moment. A drive that he had never, not once, had from another man. And he had been hit on pretty frequently over his career being an actor and having, what he'd been told, were the sweetest dick-sucking lips some of them had ever seen.

But regardless of all that, the only thing he had wanted to eat was a nice, wet pussy. He loved that shit. Savored it. And never, not once, had he ever tried to replace it with a dick.

Until Jared.

Jensen sighed in frustration as he dressed in a pair of black sweats, sans underwear, and a white t-shirt, after his long, hot shower, where he had deliberately denied himself even a quick, rub and tug.

He wasn't gay dammit. And he wasn't going to start giving into these dark emotions that had been slowly increasing over the past two and half years.

Fucking Jared.

And his big shoulders.

And solid abs.

And his goofy hair.

And his fucking dimples.

And those ridiculous yellow-green eyes.....

.....that practically sparkled at him whenever he laughed at some sarcastic comment Jensen threw his way.

Fuck but he needed to get laid.

And fast.

It had been three long months since he last sunk his dick into a warm willing body and that had been from a one night stand at a random bar in Downtown Vancouver. Despite the success of the show, they were still relatively unknown enough that it was easy to go out without getting bombarded by fans. But both of them were still careful with who they took home.

Crazy sometimes wore a pretty face and a hot body.

Just as Jensen had settled into his deep, fluffy couch with the remote in his hand, his phone rang and a sweet smile and sexy eyes looked up at him from the picture on his cell.

With a smile of his own, Jensen picked up the phone, "Hey Gorgeous. Whats doin'?"

"Hey, Ackles," Y/N chirped into his ear, "What's cookin'?"

Y/N Y/L/N was the Production Coordinator on the show and sometimes Jensen thought her job was the hardest of them all, practically running the ship behind the scenes, managing all the Production Assistants and dealing with all the whining that comes with it. Even though they had a good crew, people were still human and lord knows they needed someone to bitch to when they felt they weren't being appreciated. But Y/N handled it all with grace and a firm hand. She was respected by everyone on set and, if Jensen was being honest with himself, everyone, male and females included, were already half in love with her.

Jensen was lucky to call her one of his closest friends......and if he sometimes pictured her naked, well, it was only natural. She was beautiful, intelligent and sarcastic as hell and he was by no means a saint.

"Waitin' on Jared to finish conditioning his hair. He's gonna come over and get his ass kicked in Madden."

Y/N let out a husky laugh in his ear and Jensen shifted as his dick twitched at the sexy sound. Maybe he should have considered underwear.

"So another two hours then?" She deadpanned.

"Nah. I think deep conditioning was yesterday. He should be here soon."

"Ha! Okay," Y/N let out a slight sigh in his ear and it sounded almost melancholy.

"Hey, whats wrong? You okay?"

"Yeah....I mean....yeah I'm fine. It's just....I broke up with Chad."

Jensen's ears perked up at the name of Y/N's, now, ex-boyfriend, "Wow, I'm, uh, really sorry to hear that, Honey."

Y/N let out a snort, "No, you're fucking not. I know you hated him. You made it pretty clear every time you saw him."

With a chuckle, Jensen shrugged, "You're right. I did fucking hate him. He didn't deserve you. He was a jerk who was starting to become a possessive asshole. And his name was Chad. It's almost a pre-requisite that douche bags are named Chad. But, uh, why did you finally see the light?"

There was silence on the other end for a a bit before she answered, "He, um, tried to tell me that I was getting too close to you and Jared and that I needed to stop being friends with you outside of work. So I told him to fuck off and take a hike."

Jensen let out a snort of his own, "That's my girl," At the continued silence, he cleared his throat slightly, "Are you okay? I mean, listen, even though I hated the guy, I'm not the one who's gotta be with him. You know I'll support you no matter what and I don't want to be the reason you're not with someone that you maybe....love-"

"Yeah, no. There wasn't any love there," She quickly interrupted before heaving another sigh, "I was just....I dunno...lonely I guess? The hours we work are brutal and he was, you know, around. Whatever, what's done is done and honestly no ones gonna tell me I cant hang with my two favorite pain in the asses."

Jensen didn't acknowledge the thrill that ran through him at her words. He was just gonna ignore the hum of content that made him smile. She was his friend, (hot, sexy, beautiful friend), "Do you wanna come over and hang with us? Take your mind off of things?"

"Thanks. I may take you up on that later on tonight. I'll text you."

"I still got a bottle of Stoli Razz here from last time if you're interested in getting obliterated."

"Ahhh, Ackles. You always know just what I need. Talk soon."

With a smile and a goodbye, Jensen ended the call. Since he'd started talking to Y/N on a more personal level about a year ago, she had been with Jerk-off-Chad. And despite his sexual attraction to her, he'd always kept her in his off limits category. Even without her having a boyfriend, he didn't want to jeopardize what they had. He respected her way too much for that.

So then why did he have a sudden vision of her on her back while he licked between her legs?

Fuuuuck he realllly needed to get laid.

First Jared and now Y/N.

Both people he loved and cared for deeply as friends. And his perverted mind was making them into sexual conquests.

Maybe a quick rub and tug was just what the doctor ordered.

With a quick glance at the time, Jensen realized he still had a good twenty minutes before he could expect Jared to knock on his trailer door. Plenty of time to relieve some of the ache his too full balls were giving him.

He quickly pulled his lap top over from its resting place on the side table next to his couch and brought up one of his favorite porn sites. (Yes, he had favorites and if you asked him he'd tell you he had his go-to videos categorized and in corresponding folders. Fuck anyone's opinion. He was twenty-eight, almost twenty-nine with no steady girlfriend. His hand rarely left his dick when he was alone.)

In a rush, he picked a random video that looked good and pressed play before placing it back on the side table with the screen facing him. A deep moan drifted from the speakers as he saw a girl kneeling in front of a huge dick before she swallowed it down in one gulp, lovingly rubbing the balls underneath. Another loud moan drifted from the speakers.

Shit. Way too loud. No need to have one of the crew walk by his trailer and have a story to tell the others tomorrow morning.

Quickly, Jensen reached over for his ear buds and plugged them in before setting his phone to vibrate and placing it next to him so he could feel it. Jared would text before he came over. He always did.

Reaching down, Jensen wrapped a hand over the slowly rising bulge in his sweatpants and bit his lip. He caressed the head through his pants and was glad the pants were black. Wet spots on the crotch of grey pants were never a good look.

And the close ups of the chick's wet pussy and spit slicked swollen mouth were making his cock start doing a steady drip-drip.

He pulled his shirt up over the flat panes of his stomach before squeezing his cock and adjusting it so it lay underneath the band of his pants, the swollen head peaking out of the top as he brought his thumb around the wetness, coating it before letting out a moan of his own. He liked to tease himself. Draw it out a little bit before the end result.

"Fuck baby," Big-dick guy said on a gasp from his place on a brown couch, "Suck it. Yeah...just like that."

The blue eyed blond on her knees let out a whine before releasing the cock with a pop, "So big," She said as she rapidly stroked him from root to tip, "I don't think I can suck this all by myself."

"Mmmm," Big-dick hummed with a dirty grin, "Lucky for us we got some help."

Well,shit. He had picked a threesome video without even knowing it. Two chicks sucking on one dick? Every. Guys. Fantasy. Bring it on.

The camera panned back into the guys lap as the blonde licked up the side of his cock and a shaggy dark haired head bent down and took the guys balls into his mouth.

Well that was a shorter hair-cut than he was expecting on a chick....

The blonde reached down and grabbed the head of hair and brought the lips of the other person to hers, tongues dangling in the air, "Hey baby..." She said on a breath, before bringing the tip of the big dick to her partners mouth and tapping it against the pursed lips surrounded by a five o'clock shadow-

Wait.

What?

Five O'clock shadow?

And to his surprise and wide eyed gaze, he watched as the dude on screen sucked down the cock in front of him with a deep growl, his shaggy hair being moved out of the way by the blonde as she waited her turn.

And instead of his dick deflating into nothing, he let out a noise he would later deny to himself as he ripped his cock out of his sweats and started rapidly stroking his dick as the guy on screen let out slutty noises and tongued down the other dudes dick before sloppily kissing the blonde with the cock in between their lips.

"Fuck, I love this dick," The guy gasped, "Want it all the time."

The blonde giggled and the camera panned to where she was running her finger around his puckered hole, "You want it here baby?"

And as the guy on his knees let out a groan, threw his head back and made his dark hair flutter around his face, Jensen let out the slightest of squeaks as he pulled roughly on his rock hard cock and he felt the pull in his balls become an onslaught of come,"Fuuuuuuuck!"

Sticky white liquid shot out of his cock and onto his stomach as he quickly realized that the reason he came so hard and so long was cause the guy on the screen was a look alike of the guy currently standing with his mouth open at his doorway.

"Jared!"

Shit.

With another squeak, Jensen slammed the laptop shut, ripped his ear buds out and quickly stuffed himself back into his sweatpants before standing up on shaky legs.

Jared blinked at him wide eyed and pink cheeked as he closed his mouth and swallowed hard, closing the trailer door softly behind him, "Uhhhh, Dude, you ever, uh, consider locking your door, if you're gonna jerk the chicken?"

"Dude, you ever consider fucking calling first before you just come over? Or maybe knocking on the fucking door?"

"I DID knock on the fucking door but you obviously had your dirty movie on too loud. AND I TEXTED before I came, like I always do!"

Jensen gave him an incredulous look, "No. You didn't," He shot out as he grabbed up his phone from the couch, "I would have felt the.....oh," Jensen gave him a sheepish glance, "Looks like I put it on silent not vibrate."

Jared's lips twitched into what could have been a smile, "Uh huh," Jared casually pushed passed Jensen's stiff form and plopped himself on the abandoned couch. He spread his arms across the back of it as he glanced up at Jensen through his lashes, "Sooooo, if I hadn't gotten here when I did, would that have been the, uh, next thing you would have pulled out?"

Jensen's eyebrows drew together in confusion, as his humiliation continued to burn through him, "Pulled what out?"

Jared bit his bottom lip, obviously trying not to laugh out loud, "Never mind. Man, its fine. Stop looking at me like you wanna crawl into a hole. We ALL fucking do it. Hell, I jerked off twice in the shower before coming here."

Ignoring the pull of desire in his belly at Jared's words, Jensen groaned out loud and threw himself down onto the other end of the couch and rubbed his hands over his face, "So fucking embarrassing," He muttered into his fingers, refusing to look over at Jared.

A small squeaking sound, slid through the air and sounds of heavy breathing filled the awkward space.

"Yeah baby, just like that. Fuck me with your fingers."

Jensen's head shot up as Jared let out a deep belly laugh and stared at Jensen's re-opened laptop at the kneeling guy on the screen getting his pink hole finger fucked by the blonde chick next to him as he sucked and licked the cock in front of him.

"DUUUUUDE, this is some kinky shit."

"What the fu-? Jay! Why would you turn that back on?!" Jensen threw himself over Jared's lap, ignoring the loud laughter falling out Jared's mouth and frantically pressed buttons until it stopped playing and slammed the laptop shut once again. He whipped his head to the side and glared at the wide grin inches from his face, "You're an asshole, you know that?"

Jared winked at Jensen as he shifted his hips underneath him, poking Jensen in the stomach with something, "You're taking this way too seriously, Man."

Jensen looked down into the small space between him and Jay before slowly leaning back into his own spot on the couch. He couldn't have felt what he thought he did....did he?

With a clearing of his throat, he swallowed and sat back as he ran his hands through his hair, "This is fucking embarrassing!" He repeated.

Shrugging, Jared leaned his head into the back of the couch and rolled his head so it was next to Jensen's, "Soooooo, does this mean....I mean...are you...gay?"

Jensen's eyes widened in alarm as his heart started pounding frantically, "NO! I'm not fucking gay, Jay! Did you not see the chick in the movie? I didn't realize until it was too late that the guy was going to be...involved like that."

Jared sent a sympathetic look at Jensen's panicked gaze, "You know Jen, it's okay if you are. I'm not judging. Like, at all-"

"Jesus, Jared! I'm telling you I'm not-"

"-cause I've swung both ways before soooo.."

"-gay.....what?"

Jensen blinked stupidly at Jared's soft smile and felt like he might pass out from sheer terror mixed with immediate curiosity.

Jared sat up and placed his elbows on his knees before lacing his fingers together, "I'm...I mean I guess...you could call me...bisexual," He shrugged before running his fingers through his hair and Jensen could see a slight tremble despite Jared's calm tone.

"Have you...um...had...you know.."

Another dazzling smile was sent Jensen's way, "Have I ever fucked a guy before?" At Jensen's nod, Jared shrugged, "Yep. Both catcher and pitcher."

"Jesus."

"What? You know if you cant talk about gay sex, you shouldn't be doing gay sex." He said with a mock serious look.

"Yeah, yeah. Well, I'm not. Doing it. I mean. With guys. And lately, not with girls either," Jensen ran a hand against the back of his neck, "Maybe that's the problem. I'm backed up to the point where my brain is floating in sperm and stupidity."

Jared laughed again before placing a hand against the back of Jensen's neck and squeezing it, "Jen, again, not judging. But, uh, coming that hard? Usually signifies that shit is turning you on. And then some."

Jensen gaped at Jared, "How fucking long were you standing there?"

"Long enough to wonder if you were gonna provide a cigarette after the show."

"Dude."

With another squeeze to his neck, Jared smirked, "What can I say, it was seriously hot."

Jensen's poor heart started pounding at an even faster clip, "You...you thought that was hot?"

Jared's smirk dropped and a look that Jensen had never seen before took it's place, "Come on, Man. Have you seen yourself in the mirror? Can you really blame me for thinking that way about you?"

Jensen swallowed. Hard. "What....what way?"

Jared licked his bottom lip and bit it, "How curious are you about this? I don't want to go down a road with you and you wake up the next morning and decide you cant work with me or you don't want to be friends. I value our friendship, Man. Truly. It would kill me not to-."

"Yeah," Jensen interrupted with a soft smile, "It would kill me too."

With a smile of his own, Jared let go of Jensen's neck and sat back, "Sooo, you wanna finish watching the movie?"

Was it possible for stomachs to dip right outta your body? Cause that's what was happening to Jensen's.

"I-uh, I mean, if you, uh, wanna, I mean..."

Taking pity on Jensen's stuttering, Jared reached under the side table and pulled out the bottle of Glenfiddich whiskey he knew was stored there, "Drink first?"

"Fuck yeah."

:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~~:~:~

The first two shots burned on the way down. By the time they were both nursing the third drink, Jensen was feeling the edges of his anxiety start to float away and Jared was sitting closer to him on the couch.

They talked a little more about Jared and his previous male conquests. ("They were pretty. And hot. I have a hard time saying no to pretty and hot.")

And they spoke of how he may not advertise his sexuality but he wasn't ashamed of it either. ("Pussy and dick both make me come. Soooo, why not?")

By the time they reached the point where Jensen felt brave enough to let Jay turn on the laptop, he was sporting some chub thinking of his best friend in these compromising positions.

And if Jay's gaze was any indication, it was very noticeable.

Fucking sweatpants.

Clearing his throat, Jared pressed play and placed it on the couch in between them.

"Suck that cock. Fuck yeah. So fucking hot." The blonde said as she continued to finger fuck the dark haired guys ass before quickly adding a second finger. The blonde slapped one of the guys ass cheeks with her free hand before using the same hand to separate them, "Look how pretty. Can't wait for you to take that monster up in here. Gonna make you eat my pussy while you take it."

Jensen's head was swimming as a deep pulse of lust shot into his stomach and straight to his dick. His mind was quickly replacing the images on screen with him being the one sitting on the couch, running his hand through Jared's hair as he sucked his cock with major enthusiasm.

Fuck, could he really be this hard, this fast?

Sending a surreptitious glance toward Jared, Jensen took another sip of his drink and adjusted himself on the couch, trying to sit in such a way that his wood wasn't so obvious.

He was terribly unsuccessful.

Especially considering he had looked into Jared's lap and saw a massive boner laying against the side of his leg, plainly visible in the track pants he was wearing.

This time, Jensen had to bite his lip to keep in the moan that threatened to fly out of his throat.

"You, uh, you okay?"

Jensen's head shot up at Jared's deep baritone and he swallowed at the look of lust making Jared's eyes darken, "I, uh, maybe this wasn't such a good idea..." He said as he placed his drink on the table next to him.

Jared looked down at the tent in Jensen's sweats, before raising an eyebrow, "You sure about that, Jen?"

At that moment, the dark haired guy on screen let out a loud moan and both of their heads swiveled back to the screen just in time to see him take Big-Dicks cock in his ass. He swiveled his hip and pushed against Big-Dick before licking up the blondes thigh in front of him, plunging his tongue in her pussy.

"Fuck...." Jared let out before he reached down and squeezed his dick through his pants, "That's fucking hot."

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Watching Jared touch himself through his pants was gonna make Jensen blow his wad straight across the room. The throbbing in his sweats was becoming unbearable and mixed with the whiskey in his system, he was ready to say fuck it and whip his dick out.

"Deeper.." The guy on screen begged in between long licks to the blondes pussy, "Deeper, Man. Yeah, just like that."

Big-Dick obliged and he adjusted himself to give the guy long, hard, deep strokes as his partner let out a groan and lay his head on the blondes thigh; his hard cock swinging between his legs with the pounding he was happily taking.

"You like that baby?" The blonde cooed as she ran her fingers through his hair, "Feels good right?"

"Oh my God," Jensen couldn't help but let out softly as he felt his dick dribble out pre-cum into his pants.

Jared looked up into Jensen's face and shuddered out a breath, "Dude, I'm so fucking horny right now that if I don't take out my dick, its gonna explode in my pants."

Jensen shut his eyes at the shot of want that streaked down his spine, "Shit, Jay. You're gonna kill me."

"Is that a yes?"

What to do? Lord knew he was so far gone the room was spinning. Though the whiskey could've had a hand in that as well.

Instead of answering, Jensen reached into his pants and pulled out his throbbing cock and immediately started stroking it from root to tip. He was so worked up, his hips involuntarily canted into his grip and he let out a groan and dropped his head onto the back of the sofa letting it loll to the side, facing Jared.

Jensen watched as Jared's eyes widened at the sight in front of him and he started letting out gasping breaths before reaching into his underwear, pulling out his cock (Big-fucking-cock. Want-it-in-his-mouth-cock) as he pulled down his pants with the other hand. Jay's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he leaned back against the sofa, inches away from Jensen's gasping mouth.

"Fuck..." Jensen whispered as he felt Jared's rapid breaths against his lips. Immediately, he licked his lower lip trying in vain to catch the taste of his best friend and swallow it down. He opened his eyes into slits and peered right into yellow-green orbs as he let out a low moan when his cock jerked in his hand.

He was so fucking close....

Jared let out a deep groan in tandem with Jensen, his mouth hanging slightly open as his hand reached down and played with his sack, "Jen....God...the things I wanna do to you..."

Those thick lips were so close to his own, he could practically feel them opening up and taking everything he had to give. He licked his lips, hoping his tongue would graze against Jared's but instead he felt an answering lick against the tip of his tongue as Jared tentatively rubbed it against his.

"Again...." Jensen groaned, "Please....again."

A sound of complete surrender left Jared's throat as he closed the small distance between their mouths and immediately wrapped his tongue around Jensen's before sucking Jensen's bottom lip into his mouth.

A bomb went through Jensen's torso and immediately erupted out of his dick as he came so hard his eyes crossed and he moaned long and loud into Jared's mouth causing the other man to moan in return. Come arched through the air and landed right on his t-shirt as he closed his mouth over Jared's and kissed him with deep strokes of his tongue.

"Oh God, oh FUCK!"

The loud scream from the laptop caused both men to separate and look down in time to see the dark haired guy on screen on his back getting plowed by Big-Dick as the blonde sucked down his cock.

"I'm gonna come!" He yelled into the air, "I'm gonna come."

As the blonde lifted her face out of the way, he shot up and onto his chest with loud grunts as the guy who had been fucking him pulled out and helped the blonde lap up the come on his chest.

A low groan came from Jared, "Ugggghhh, Jen. Shiiiiit."

Jensen looked to the side just in time to see Jared rip up his T-shirt just as his red tipped dick erupted onto his now exposed stomach.

It was by far one of the hottest fucking things he had ever seen in his life.

As both men leaned back letting out low gasps, Jensen waited for the awkwardness to settle in. But nothing happened. He blinked up at the ceiling of the trailer and tried to trudge up something of the fear that he felt earlier but instead he just felt....content.

"You okay, Jen?"

Jensen turned his head to meet Jared's slightly panicked eyes.

Jared gulped as Jensen didn't immediately answer, "I mean...are we okay?"

Taking in that strong jawline and those beautiful eyes, Jensen smiled, "Yeah. Yeah, Jay. We're good."

Letting out a sigh of relief, Jared closed the laptop between them and placed it on the table before closing the small distance between their bodies. As Jensen felt the heat radiating off of Jared's body bleed into own, he let his eyes slide down to the curve of Jared's lips and couldn't help but bring his mouth to his and press a soft kiss against them. He felt Jared smile before the taller man deepened the kiss and slid one of those massive hands of his across Jensen's t-shirt covered stomach. With a groan into Jensen's mouth. he squeezed at the side of Jensen's waist before meandering his fingers up his chest towards his neck before suddenly stopping and looking down at his hand.

"What's wrong?" Jensen on a breath.

Biting his lip, Jared brought up his shiny fingers, "Dude, you either have a talent for shooting long distance or you really were backed up,"

Jensen's eyes widened, "Is that my-"

"Come? Yep," Jared opened his mouth and inserted his fingers before sucking them deep and releasing them with a pop and a smirk, "Still warm too."

Another dip in his belly as Jensen tried to decide how he felt about watching his best friend lick his come off his fingers. When said friend, winked at him and bit his bottom lip, Jensen decided he was abso-fucking-lutley okay with it, "Fuck. You're gonna kill me."

Jared hummed deep in his throat and leaned his head in to kiss Jensen again when a loud knock sounded at the door.

"Yo! Open up the door! You two fools better not have drank all the alcohol."

Shit! Y/N!

With panicky eyes and fumbling hands righting clothes, Jensen cleared his throat and quickly made it to the door after looking back to make sure Jared was decent.

"Hey!" Y/N said with a bright smile when the door opened, "Sorry I took so long. Crisis with Christy happened. Again!" Y/N said referring to one of the PA's on staff as she made her way around Jensen and to his small kitchenette, "But I brought pizza!" She lifted the box in her hands before placing it on the table, "Hope you guys are hungry."

Jared and Jensen shared a heavy look before Jared answered, "Yeah, I'd say we worked up a pretty decent appetite today."

Y/N looked around the trailer and took a deep breath, swinging around making the short skirt she had on flounce in the air, "It smells like bad decisions in here, Ackles. You really need to clean up after you bang random chick number sixty-nine."

Jared let out a high pitched laugh as Jensen pursed his lips at his friend, "I did not bang any..chick in here. Thank you very much."

Y/N shrugged off her jacket and placed it on the back of a chair before plopping down next to Jared on the couch, "Then you need to figure out which sock is lying around and still hiding the evidence of your last....activities."

"Y/N!"

"Just sayin'."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~**~

Tagging some peeps that may be interested. Let me know if its not your thing and you’d rather not be tagged.

@thoughtslikeaminefield @maddiepants @coffee-obsessed-writer @pisces-cutie @idreamofplaid @tumbler-tidbits @glassjacket @boondoctorwho @spnkinkbingo

#j2 #j squared #jensen x jared #jensen x y/n #jensen x y/n x jared #supernatural #supernaturalsmut #spinkinkbingo #pining #mutual pining #sexuality crisis

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skamamoroma · 4 years

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How do you feel about them using violence in wtfock? You are all about the warmth of skamit and the hope and comfort but you are super balanced about all remakes and appreciate them all so i would like to hear your perspective on this whole thing of that is ok with you?

Thank you for your lovely words, anon ❤️

I do always talk about the hope and comfort of it all. That, for me, is why Skam is special. So you’ve absolutely read me right there.

This is the only post I’ll make on the whole thing (after last night’s emotion fest). It’s a little long, I got a little carried away...

So I guess I’d say first of all that I do not need a remake to be the same as the original. I appreciate changes, I appreciate creative choices and alternative approaches. They may not all work for me but that’s fine, we’re all very different, but what doesn’t work for me will no doubt be someone else’s exact cup of tea.

Julie Andem has always been very open with her intentions with Skam and it was always to firstly reflect reality properly, none of this sugar coated, vapid kind of reflection of young people but a real, genuine, warts and all, personal and in-depth look. Another thing she always talked of was reflecting the thoughts and experiences of young people in their own environments and shining a light on actual experiences but always with a view to ensure young people to know they aren’t alone and that there is hope and comfort... the very things that Skam has always striven to do and, for the most part, done very well.

We’re talking about s3 here and the original was absolutely special. That’s undeniable. There’s also a reason it was incredibly popular and one of those reasons is the sheer U turn on classic LGBT storytelling. It was hopeful, intimate, affectionate, clever and still maintained the real and honest storytelling while ALSO touching on very serious subjects like homophobia, mental health, parental importance, found families, loneliness, suicide, religion, friendship, forgiveness etc etc etc.

It was a story written FOR young people and in a way to raise awareness on topics that still provided them with hope and effectively telling them that if they’ve got it rough like Isak or Even then it may be difficult for a while but it can and will get better. She didn’t choose to show too much of the difficult stuff, rather hinted at it. Examples being Even’s intentions for suicide, Even’s episode was minimally shown, Isak’s mother wasn’t shown, homophobia was casual rather than intense etc. It had its own issues and wasn’t perfect but as a whole was done with love and respect and wonderful intentions and it resonated.

They were artistic choices and WONDERFUL ones. I appreciate them so much for so many reasons and they worked.

A show like Skam is going to be watched by many and s3 was going to be viewed by both LGBT+ people looking for representation or hope etc and also non LGBT+ folks. The intention was always clear - she’d give LGBT+ folks a story to hold tight to and the non-LGBT+ folks a story to learn from and to help perhaps some less supportive or educated people to see LOOK THIS IS LOVE ALSO. You know?

So that has always been the way of Skam. Each remake has considered its approach and has done its own thing, some in a much more drastic way but the overall requirement has always ultimately been to primarily provide hope and a story for those who identify and, as an extra, provide a story to educate those who don’t.

The country the show airs in is very specific too. Take Italy, with a right wing political landscape and significant issues with LGBT + representation, safety and support, decisions were made to give a huge dose of HOPE. It was warm and cosy and emotional but Ludo Bessegato even talked about how Giovanni GaraU as a character was his “tool” in that season for people to learn from - be more like Giovanni GaraU. It was beautifully done and is absolutely dear to me and always will be.

To me, darkness and reality isn’t to be shied away from necessarily. I have experience a lot of stuff in my life and the most affected I have been by media/fiction when these sensitive topics are touched upon have been when the sheer reality has been shown and a person has then been shown to grow, heal, gain strength and love and support and leave it behind. Not everyone will respond the same but many many will.

So, there’s contention in including blatant homophobia and violence concerning LGBT+ folks in a season dedicated to LGBT+ issues (amongst other things). It has been done time and time again and even in the 90s, it was the staple of any LGBT fiction. LGBT+ folks craved (and rightly so) to be depicted beyond that, to be shown to be loving and caring and varied and intelligent and filled with the same multitudes as any other group of people but also for the unique things about the LGBT+ community to be celebrated. That’s entirely a worthy cause and likely why we have so much more diverse LGBT+ media/fiction. Look at Moonlight winning the Oscar and Love Simon being released as a successful teen movie and San Junipero being arguably the most beloved Black Mirror episode and winning Emmys... it has been a long fight and it isn’t over but it’s WONDERFUL to see that type of progress.

But. Society isn’t there yet. I can’t speak for every society and country because I’m merely 1 person who is still learning and I am uneducated for that but violence against LGBT+ folks still happens, LGBT+ people still fear for safety in public etc etc etc. These issues haven’t disappeared. They are a reality for many. A sad, maddening reality that is horrific to comprehend but a reality all the same. So many folks who have endured this have grown, thrived and proven the world they are as worthy of love and support as any and that those who seek to destroy their love or community will fail and are worth nothing. Should they have to? No. But their stories are worth telling. The same way that an experience I lived through that was harrowing and has changed me as a person to this date when much of it happened when I was a teenager... was made easier by seeing other succeed from where I was. Their power and optimism and stories helped me make big decisions and change my life.

There is more than one way to do something. I will ALWAYS be a champion of hope and comfort and contentment. I strive in my life - everyday - to live that way and to give that to people around me because I know what it is to be without it. People need kindness and hope and you can provide that in many effective and useful ways that will work for some and not for others... and isn’t that wonderful? Isn’t it great that media and fiction has that power? It can be used for bad and we should ALWAYS constructively call that power out but Skam has always been a champion of hope and I don’t think wtfock’s intention is to provide misery porn for the enjoyment of straight folks. They wouldn’t be striving hard to show a complex, moving, intimate, affectionate, real relationship between two boys if they didn’t have respect for the people they are trying to portray.

Do we always need the stark realities of life to know they’re there? No. Do we need hope in media/fiction especially LGBT+ focused fiction? Damn right we do. Can a story like that be told without showing or highlighting those topics in any significant way? Of course it can and it is. But is there value in representing the stories of those who have sadly been subject to mistreatment or who have acted poorly when struggling with internalised homophobia? In my opinion, yes. Watching a journey of a character you are living the life of and seeing them succeed from a very difficult place is absolutely what some need. Not all. And if folks don’t like or agree then that’s the beauty of media/fiction, you can choose what you consume.

Wtfock has a lot to prove but I haven’t been shown anything in the clips so far that suggests that they intend to do anything other than show a story of survival and hope and comfort. If I’m proven wrong then so be it - won’t be the first time haha - but Julie Andem wouldn’t give the rights to her story if it wasn’t going to achieve that. I’m willing to give them a chance.

[but a warning should have 100% been added to last night’s clip. Nobody should have to watch scenes like that if they don’t want to and need to be given a choice]

I hope this answers your question ❤️

#wtfock #thoughts etc #tw homophobia #long post #these are my own thoughts and youre more than welcome to disagree #but i havent got the energy for a debate so please if you disagree know that your opinions are as valid as mine and move on

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ninety6tears · 4 years

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king-of-exchanges letter

Wooo kingofexchanges is happening again!

I’m a big fan of SK but only somewhere in the middle of my consumption/obsession; with King being heavy on self-referencing and crossover-friendly treatments, I’d be happy for you to mix and match any of my requests, as long as you can see from my goodreads page that I’ve read the relevant stuff.

Basic preferences: I read everything from G-rated to explicit PWP. I love pastiche for lit fandoms but something that feels more off the beaten path of the original style can also be fun.

I love: Angst, pining, subtle UST, first times, or established relationships with some level of conflict to be resolved. Intense friendship stories. Protectiveness in close relationships as well as in those that wouldn’t obviously appear to be protective at first. A character or characters experiencing a type of attraction that isn’t the status quo for them. Relationships that had a falling-out and neither of them ever really got over it. Characterization that focuses on the nature & nurture of who people have grown to be and the unique ways they take care of or need other characters. Insecurity/hangups over worthiness. AUs of all varieties.

I can handle: underage, dubcon, noncon, torture and incest. Character death. Love triangles. Infidelity.

Do Not Want: Fix-its without sacrifice/troubles. Soulbonding/magical soulmate tropes. Disputes centered around marriage as a show of commitment ("If you were really serious you'd have proposed by now rather than just wanting to live together" and all that). A/B/O, mpreg, or any body fluid kinks. More than a mention of Alzheimer’s/dementia.

Christine ‘83 (FIC):

Arnie/Dennis

Arnie/Christine/Dennis

---NOTE - The movie is more fresh in my mind for prompting purposes but I have read the book, so feel free to run with this request for either version. I do like the dark humor Carpenter brings to adolescence without mocking the angst of being a teenager, not that King isn’t morbidly funny in his own right.

We get very little of them together before Arnie starts to go all possessed but we can tell their friendship has lasted a lot of changes over the years. That hospital visit over the holiday (which I remember was more bittersweet, less tense in the book?) feels like the last time Arnie remembered that he's supposed to be a big part of Dennis’ life. But even before all that, there’s a nice dynamic where Dennis is protective of Arnie and really thinks highly of him (and huh, maybe sees something in his looks other people don’t) when it’s not socially advantageous for him to retain that loyalty, and I’d like to get more of that. Maybe they’ve fooled around once or twice? Maybe Arnie was the one who got weird about it, afraid of the eventual rejection, or they’re both just too repressed? I like the triangle with Leigh too, if you wanted to get into the confused jealousy/conduit attraction thing, just nothing that completely dismisses any meaning of her relationship with Dennis if it’s referenced at all.

If Dennis was the one Christine got dangerously jealous of (either because something happens between them or she just knows) how would that go down differently? Or what if the car decides she wants to be shared by them, and maybe likes to watch them do things to each other (take that however you want it to mean) and either their closeness makes the two of them eventually snap out of it, or they all just become a weird evil threesome? I'm also into the idea of some other fantasy/sci-fi AU in which Christine is something or someone else entirely but is still threatening in some paranormal/inhuman way.

Crossover Tags (FIC):

Peter McVries & Ray Garraty & The Stand

Peter McVries/Ray Garraty & The Stand

---I’m interested in how these two would fit into a story with such an elemental moral war. Both are reckless but McVries more prone to hopelessness and nihilism; would he be tempted to join Flagg without outside influence? Would he just kind of wander around with no sense of purpose until Ray found him? It could also turn the existential misery of The Long Walk on its head, with them losing their families and possibly realizing too late the preciousness of life that way. You don’t have to get into much philosophy or plot either; I’m kind of into the everyday pain-in-the-ass minutiae of the post-apocalypse and people finding ways to laugh about their circumstances and reach for each other in their grief. Feel free to write it as full-on crossover with some of the canon Stand characters appearing.

Larry Underwood & Richie Tozier

---If you have some other idea of where to put these two together, go for it, but I had this idea of Richie hosting an occasional interview special for up-and-coming musicians and Larry being invited on when the single’s just out and being so nervous to meet this famous personality, and maybe they get drunk or high together before or after the interview (bonus points if Larry can hardly get in an answer cause Richie gives him the giggles). They’re kinda both assholes so they get along? They’re both assholes so they kinda hate each other? I didn’t nominate it as a shippy treatment but if you’re really sad I didn’t, hey, stuff happens when people party.

The Dark Half (FIC):

Alan Pangborn/Thad Beaumont

Alan Pangborn/Elizabeth Beaumont/Thad Beaumont

George Stark/Alan Pangborn

---I thought the surprising friendship and trust that takes hold between Thad and the officer who initially believes him to be a cold killer was one of the better aspects of this novel, and the way that connection is so soon polluted by Stark's insurmountable connection to a part of Thad’s psyche is chilling and more than a little sad. I would love to get a shippy treatment of their immediate companionship and/or the inevitable disturbance of it. If you wanted to make it a poly thing with Elizabeth, with all three of them not really pausing in the midst of all these maddening things happening to question opening their marriage to someone they find comforting, I would be interested in how that might underscore the events.

And when it comes to George/Alan...yeah, I want darkfic, potentially outlining Stark’s role in putting Alan off Thad in a more sinister way, whether it’s poisoning the well of Alan’s (sublimated? not yet acted on?) desire and affection for Thad by being sleazily flirtatious in pointing it out, or going to a darker noncon place with all the mingled disgust and misplaced attraction that might provoke. (In the context of this prompt, I’m not super into the gross-out factor of Stark being at the stage where his skin is falling off, but if you can’t somehow set it at an earlier stage it would be better to just not mention it.)

Also, I realize Alan has a family, but you can deal with that however you want; his wife can just not exist for the purposes of the story, but even infidelity wouldn’t put me off if you’re taking the character that far out of a healthy mindset.

The Long Walk (FIC):

Peter McVries/Ray Garraty

---Since we’re never in Pete’s head, it would be great to get anything detailing how his initial distance from Ray quickly erodes into the protectiveness he obviously can’t help over him, if there’s a spark of empathy there even before the first time Ray saves him, or what he’s really thinking or trying to say at some of his more cynical and cryptic moments. I wonder what it was that Parker said to him to imply he thought he and Ray were “queer for each other” and how this apparently was covered without McVries feeling the need to deny it?

If you wanted to write them both somehow surviving, I would love to see how their relationship remains in the aftermath; maybe they don’t exactly end up together because they associate each other with this traumatizing thing, and they have an essential but troubled friendship because of it (and maybe they end up fucking a couple times but don’t really talk about it).

In the realm of more absolute alternate universes...a bigoted boarding school atmosphere, an aggressive correctional camp, anything where a compulsive make-out might happen in the bunks or the showers and then be stiffly denied later on sounds like a backdrop I’d love for these boys if you want to do something bleak-but-not-as-mortally-bleak.

I prefer to think of McVries as having complicated depression that doesn’t just stem from girlfriend problems; I’d prefer you mention the incident with Priscilla as little as possible, but any focus on Pete’s scar is totally fine.

The Stand (ART):

Larry Underwood/Lucy Swann

Lucy Swann/Larry Underwood/Nadine Cross/Randall Flagg

Nadine Cross

---My attempts to prompt for art for these tags may be unhelpful but I’m really into Nadine’s scary paranormal bond with Flagg, the imagery of her hair and Flagg’s tainted handsomeness and everything haunted about her and her life, and how the love triangle with her and Larry and Lucy is really a quadrangle of temptations and baggage beyond the usual moral pressure of romantic entanglements. They’re all figuratively in bed together whether they like it or not, but I could see that presented more literally in art. I also would like anything associated with the individual permutations (Larry/Nadine, Larry/Lucy, Larry/Nadine/Randall?). Desperate/melancholy embraces, or moments of almost touching. That ghost leering over Nadine’s shoulder in her moments of getting too close to tenderness.

#stephen king #christine #the dark half #the long walk #the stand #it

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imaginarycircus · 4 years

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The Good Place Project: Post #1

(project master post)

WTF is Ethics?

It’s deceptively easy to define ethics as doing the right thing, but what is the right thing? The concept of rightness or good is slippery and without specifics like who, why, how, and what’s at stake, there’s nothing much to talk about except vague, mushy concepts like Good and Right. This is one reason ethics is hard to discuss and practice. We talk in universals, but we act in specifics. We study and contemplate the big picture, but we live in our choices. Learning to translate from vague principles and hypotheticals to everyday thoughts and actions is the work of ethics.

So wtf is Virtue?

The Greek concept of virtue has nothing to do with Christian ideas or any sexual connotations, as in euphemisms for unbecoming behavior in women. I had to recalibrate the word when I first started reading ancient philosophy. So what is it? Plato never gives a simple and solid definition of virtue. His dialogs are about asking questions, not answering them. Do we know what we think we know? What is it we think we know? If we can find the best way to ask a particular question will it lead to a clear answer?

Aristotle’s definition of virtue is snappy. It’s doing the right thing, in the right place, at the right time, and for the right reason.

The right reason is what renders actions virtuous or not. If you do a good thing by accident it’s nice, but it’s not virtuous. If you avoid doing something bad because you fear punishment, you definitely aren’t practicing virtue. If you do the right thing because you know it’s the right thing, that is virtue. It has to be intentional. So that’s easy, right?

Easy as pie, if said pie is universally delicious to all people and cures all diseases. Alas. That pie is impossible and so is perfect virtue.

Hold up. Why can’t we be perfect?

Perfection is a static quality because it cannot change. It simply *IS* and nothing in the physical world is static. Everything is changing at every moment, becoming something and then breaking down. Our lives can’t be perfect, but they can be virtuous. I like this because fear of not being perfect or of being wrong often hamstrings us needlessly. I mean Chidi. Bro. Pairing a guy who fears making mistakes with a woman so cynical she sees no point in doing good things is brilliant. It makes them both consider their behavior and change once they become friends. I want to talk about how all the characters affect each other in another post.

I’m dancing around Aristotle’s concept of “becoming.” It is the most important part of all his philosophy. Good is not something we are. We are becoming ourselves by doing good. I want to tell you all about this right now because it’s the kindest most practicable ethics I’ve read, but I’m cutting myself off to stay focused. It will come up in a later post. Crap. I’m going to have to make a post and just dump a lot of Aristotle on people who want it. idk if you noticed yet, but he’s kind of my fave. I’m not planning to stick to ancient philosophers forever, but it’s where our characters begin, where my education began, and where the western canon begins. Apologies to the Pre-Socratics, but how many people have even heard of Anaxagoras? TBF he was actually kind of cool. Most of them were Sophists. We don’t like them. They’re a bunch of punk ass bitches.

How to be a good person.

Yeah. How? I honestly don’t know. This is a preliminary post so I’m setting aside what “good” can mean in this context. Defining your terms is a huge part of philosophy and that’s what a lot of Plato’s Dialogues investigate. The word good has a ridiculous number of meanings in the wild like high quality, satisfactory, useful, competent, worthy of approval, and this specific goodness that is virtue is a whole discussion in and of itself. Aristotle calls it beautiful and there’s something sort of noble about it. But we all have concepts of what is good and right. That’s all you really need for now.

I’m not being cute. I really don’t know how to be a virtuous person, but I can tell you that philosophers advise practicing virtue for its own sake, education, learning from and observing wise people and friends who are like you. Self-examination and reflection is required. If that sounds like A LOT consider that you’re already doing some of this to some degree.

Does it matter if we’re virtuous or not?

I think so. Socrates talks a lot about being good so you can be reincarnated as a bee or some other highly organized creature and maybe you can see what I meant about not finding answers in Plato’s dialogues.** Aristotle says we practice ethics to be happy. It’s not the kind of happiness derived from someone baking you a cake. It’s not pleasure per se. It’s a soul deep rightness that you’re doing what you’re meant to do.

Our purpose in life is to be happy the same way an acorn’s purpose is to become an oak tree. We try to do good things, to be good people to benefit others and become ourselves--happy people.

I promise I will come back to “good” and “happy” later and try to really dig into them.

** I assume people know this, but just in case--Socrates was Plato’s teacher. Most of what we know about Socrates was written by Plato. The Dialogues are like little plays--the dialogue written out. So what is Plato’s work and what was truly Socrates is up for grabs. Plato was Aristotle’s teacher and let’s just say that Aristotle is cut from a different cloth. If you ever have questions, please don’t be afraid to ask me. I want to share cool ideas with people and I am not judging anyone for what they don’t know. People can’t know everything and if you want to learn you have to start at the beginning. I didn’t know that Plato’s dialogs starred his teacher until I read them.

Do other people matter or is ethics something you do alone?

Other people are crucial. We can see in The Good Place why everything hangs on relationships and community. We are "political animals.” People live in civilized societies with codes of conduct and intertwining lives. We depend upon each other. Politics is the condition of living in a city or group. That’s all it means. Our existence is political. You cannot be ethical on your own. It’s always in relation to other people and the rest of the world.

People learn different things and are good at different things. This is a benefit of living in a society. All of our lives can be improved by people sharing ideas and skills--by people taking care of each other.

sources:

1. Aristotle’s Nichomachean Ethics, translated by Joe Sachs. Mr. Sachs is (was?) a tutor at my college. His Greek translations are par excellence. Aristotle is dense and hard to crack open. I had to read parts of The Physics half a dozen times before it started to make any sense. I think he’s definitely worth reading, but reading it alone without being able to discuss it sounds difficult. Not impossible though. I’m referencing The Politics at the very end there.

2. Plato’s Dialogues, Princeton University Press, various translators. Specifically The Meno and The Apology here. The Meno is a good dialog to try if you’ve never read Plato. The Gorgias is also useful. I know people are all about The Republic and The Cave and that’s fine. I just can’t stand that Dialogue and cannot personally recommend it. You can pick up and read Plato easily. You may find it interesting or obnoxious. Socrates likes to flirt with many people, especially pretty young men. Even though he can be maddening, he was also brilliant. He believed in his work so deeply that he was happy to die for it rather than recant or say he was wrong. He walked the walk until they executed him. I think of Socrates as the First Teen Idol. He got all the kids in Athens het up on philosophy and disobeying their parents and people lost their goddamn minds.

#TGPP #The Good Place #wtf is ethics #hell if I know #but I've thought about it some #lol 𝞥-curious

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beneaththetangles · 4 years

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Teasing Master Takagi-san, and an Easter after Lent

Teasing Master Takagi-San has been a joyful surprise for me. This slice-of-life school comedy about the excessively self-conscious Nishikata and his clever and humorous female deskmate, Takagi-san, is full of color and light and small moments in which I could find myself—and God—went much further than I thought it would, and really pulled me along for the ride.

And very appropriately, as this is a twofold story about gradual change for the better in the midst of daily life, about heading in a direction and being able to see more clearly as you grow. It’s about being guided, which requires hope, and about what seems a messy cycle of everyday chaos at first glance, but is really a path. After all, our everyday life may be, in fact, a series of miracles, and one day I will join Japesland and write about why Our Lord probably likes Nichijou.

Takagi-San may not have the crazy originality and brilliance of that series, but it has strongly reminded me of how I felt watching it as well as other favorite comedies of mine like the Haruhi Suzumiya series, Toradora, OreGairu, Barakamon, and Ore Monogatari, all fish-out-of-the-water stories of a sort.

Enduring the crazy status quo, half-knowing that something is growing and solidifying at the other side, as in all romance, as in Christian life, and as in Lent too, which is like a small parable of Christian life, I must confess Takagi-San has rapidly become one of my favorites, and has also taught me a great deal.

On the surface, Takagi-san seemed like a well-paced mix of the similarly named Tonari no Seki-kun (which I also enjoyed a lot) and Tsuki ga Kirei. There are the seemingly endless variations of the same basic premise, each done in a wildly inventive way. There is the absurdist character comedy centered in small moments. There is the indirect connection through a feeling of “but I can´t help but be interested.” There is the recreation of the school ethos, with all its small pleasures and small torments (Get yelled at in class—the horror!). And on the other hand, there is also the attention to detail, the small moments, the side characters, the luscious colour and detail and developing relationships of the second. Yet, too-cute shows usually push me away (it ended up happening even with Tsuki ga Kirei, despite its other virtues), but here, the teasing, the constant battle of wits, the slow reveal of new aspects of our characters, did the trick: I was invested in them from beginning to the end.

Part of its appeal for me is that I remember, and can still imagine, how nightmarish it would have been to be sit next to a Takagi-san as a kid. I would have died. At that time, I was a good student, I practiced a faith that few around me practiced, and I did read a lot of books that nobody else read, so it was only natural for me to model many of my attitudes on those books. Sometimes this was helpful, and I’m glad I did that instead of finding other models. Oftentimes I was more or less socially awkward and self-serious, a time-traveler from the Victorian era or downright ridiculous, bordering on having the infamous 8th-grade Syndrome. In time, my demeanor at school became that of a Hikki (more so around girls). I would go in my school suit as if it was armor. While I changed at university (not without a not-so-little help from my friends), I was still told once by a classmate that I was the most serious person he had ever known, and I’m intimately familiar with all species of Phariseeism you can think of, and maybe more.—Luckily, my parents are wise and dealt with all my antics with patience and a good sense of humor, and God played the role of a Takagi-san in my life. That is, He teased me, threw me off balance, told me who He was, and patiently guided me so I didn’t become completely trapped in my own defense mechanisms. Like Norman in The Promised Neverland, He was the one who told me something like, “Come with me, and I´ll show you something cool.”—That being so, I really appreciate how without fail, Takagi-san teases Nishikata in a way which subtly helps him mature and develop, while also making herself known to him. Her jokes are never separated from her appreciation for him. It is truly an art. She pays attention to him, to how he thinks, to what he likes and dislikes, to what he seeks and to how he reacts, and uses all that to play him. She has the courage to make herself comical and compete, and seeks the occasion with delicacy and cunning cleverness, again and again. She searches for the weak spot in his defenses, and for the correct word and the correct time. She patiently waits, and when the time comes, she takes him out of the frontiers of his small world like a rollercoaster, showing him a ray of intimacy he did not know she knew (or even that existed) and places him again in the floor of a broader world, shared to a greater degree and more open to the true meaning, to the joyful surprise, to the deep adventure.

And now I will discuss more specific aspects of the plot, so spoilers ahead.—Nishikata may or may not have realized, but Takagi never humiliates him for the sake of humiliation alone. She does it to let him know when he is being ridiculous; to make him acknowledge what he likes and dislikes; to strengthen their bond; and to encourage him to try harder. She offers him a way, and asks for him to choose to go on at the crucial times. She trusts him. God has acted like that many times in my own life, and in that I see the fatherhood of God the Father, the intimate knowledge and loving wisdom of the Holy Spirit, and the humanity of Christ, Who told the Apostles, “Let the children come unto near me.”—Just as He approaches in the Bible and the Gospel to each person at His own pace, to John and James through the Baptist and a day of hanging out, to Peter through the miraculous catch of fish, to the Samaritan by asking her for water and discussing Jew-Samaritan issues, to Zacchaeus by requesting he host Him at his house, to the sickly woman by letting her touch Him in a crowd, or to the Canaanite by debating and testing her, He has often chosen to approach me and make my head spin with His unique sense of humor, and offered me a way which certainly takes control out of my hands in many situations, but that I would not change for any other. And I am very grateful.—The path of the Christian, for me at least, feels very much like that of Nishikata sometimes. After all, God knows everything, and if I am being dumb, evil, or infantile, He sees it at first glance. Yet, He is kind, and interested in develop a personal bond, an alliance. So He speaks to me every day while everyday life goes on, challenging me, putting up with my antics, leading me further, showing me my folly, forgiving me, taking the effort to get me to feel that He really understands. And from there, it is a strange and sometimes downright embarrassing world full of crazy situations where I find myself confessing my blackest sins to a guy I just met; asking for a McFish for the first time in my life because it is Lent; returning at once forty books I had been taking out of the library during the years; engaging in practices, prayers and devotions that only in time come to “unblock,” so to speak, their meaning; trying to love in some way the cartoonish teacher whose philosophy and manners with which I violently disagree; the cheerleader-like classmate who constantly shows off how rich her family is or to the man trying to rip me off twice with the same story on the street; discovering that I am crying at the Passion; singing at the Church with the very elderly choir; letting Christ wash my feet or sharing all this in an article at Beneath the Tangles. And this is not even the crazies part. It is being a long and strange journey.

Takagi’s trust in Nishikata has another aspect I like: It highlights how chaste he is. Nishikata is often dumb, very much immature, believing everything he sees on TV and would die before admitting that he enjoys a romantic comedy show, but he is remarkably noble and respectful in dealing with Takagi-san. Chastity as a virtue is not a popular topic outside a Christian context, and may make him sound like a loser. Yet, he is not losing. He is fiercely competing with a girl who teases him all the time, yet he wouldn’t take advantage of her, respecting her space and her intimacy, refusing to risk hurting her feelings even at the cost of the game and the joke, and rushes to protect her whenever she is in danger. He will not tickle her, even though she tickles him. She can be alone with him, flirt with him, close her eyes in front of him, or make herself vulnerable, knowing that she is safe, that he would refuse to take advantage of her.—He wants to trick her (and so badly!), but never to humiliate, use, or demean her. He chooses to interpret Takagi’s teasing as a challenge to become stronger, both physically and in cunning, and he does, everyday. It is meant as effort, as he is being teased and they are always competing, and more so as their bonds grow. Of course, giving his immaturity and the context of romantic comedy, his barriers on this matter are sometimes excessive and even an obstacle, but I cannot help feeling that he puts this embarrassment to good use.

As Takagi-san, I admire that: I´d rather be cool than uncool, but I´d rather be as chaste as him when dealing with girls and women, who are the precious daughters of God. The life of St. Joseph’s example (Medieval Otaku commented on this here a few years ago), for instance, is one of trusting God, taking care of Our Lord and of His Virgin Mother and dealing with major inconveniences at a maddening pace: the duty under the Law to reject his betrothed, carrying out with a love which would have taken the fault before the world; the sudden change of plans and the courageous faith required to accept God´s design; the edict of the Emperor and the rushed voyage to Bethlehem; the birth of Jesus in a barn; the flight to Egypt; and Jesus lost in the Temple at twelve. All of it unplanned, and probably a mess in the eyes of those who knew him. And through it all, he exhibits the chastity, the respect, and the paradox of being the guardian of St. Mary, who he always loved and always respected. His relatives and contemporaries may not have admired him, but I certainly do.

Returning to shame is described in the Bible as being a result of the Fall, of the end of Edenic innocence. Man and woman, both being now broken inside—unclean, with their sins ingrained in the heart—in a suddenly hostile world where the inner ugliness was present and the gaze of fellow human beings was not warranted to be one of love, became ashamed. They needed clothes to hide, and a path to communion with God and with others, sometimes full of hardships, in which both maturing and cleansing, purifying our intentions, play a part. They tried to do it with leaves, and God gave them better clothes.

Shame, like a guardian, is intended to protect our intimacy and that of others to let us share ourselves with purity, with respect, in a way that helps and enriches us and others. We need to overcome it to achieve communion, but it helps us realize that, in sharing ourselves or entering the space of others, we are dealing with something valuable, something that must be protected. I think we must understand what our shame tells us, not merely deny it. Like Nishikata, we need to gradually learn to be vulnerable, but also to love with all our strength, and to be faithful.

Every time Nishikata is foolish, he is also vulnerable in a way he cannot help, as he is exposing his true self. There are aspects in which we all behave like idiots, in which our silliness is exposed to others. We may not think anymore that having a two-storied house with one story dedicated to manga and other to video games is a sophisticated and mature thing, but we believe things which are equally ridiculous. We become comical, and it is easy to make fun of us. But even the dumbest can do that, to laugh at others: The real challenge, the interesting, helpful thing, is to make them enjoy the joke, to bring them to smile even so, as God does with us and Takagi-san does with him.

That´s why gossip, slander, dirty humor, frivolity, and cynicism are repugnant: to take advantage of the weak spots of others, real or imagined, to have a laugh. The foolishness of man shows something of the inside in a way beyond his control and perspective, and thus becomes hopeful when looked at with a hopeful view, with compassion, joy and tenderness, reflecting the view of God. Our friends and our loved ones are like messengers of God when they do this: They are godsends. And humor is precisely one of the biggest challenges that every tyrant pretending to be God will face: It will reveal that, despite all his might, he is in some way ridiculous.

Which leads me to the final episodes, and the connection with both Lent and Easter. Having endured the constant teasing for more than a year, Nishikata has grown, and he and Takagi-san are closer and closer. Through all this embarrassment, all this effort, all this training, all this hard-conscious guidance, all this hardship (and what may seem trivial to us may be a world to a middle school boy), he has changed. He is able to bring comfort to Takagi-san when she is sad, and when she leaves an open spot, also to triumph over his shame and ask her to the festival, where they will be together in public.

And there, after the final separation and reunion (Our Lord, when He was twelve, also used the separation and reunion during the feast to prophesy His passion to St. Mary and St. Joseph), she tells him the secret: Whatever he thought, he was not losing at all. Every part of it is now a part of their valuable future, a sign of the triumph achieved through them, not by sheer force, nor in the sense he expected: The triumph of having freely chosen to follow an uncertain path, and to have letting himself be guided, enduring the proof, confronting the obstacles. He has come to see what he could not see at the beginning, a whole new world.

The road for Nishikata and Takagi-san is ahead, but they already have a joyful sign of hope in this first triumph. Likewise with us and the Lord: I hope you will let this Easter celebration be the conclusion of your Lent, rest in the bond between you and Christ, and prepare yourself for what lies ahead. I assure you it will be worth the wait.

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Teasing Master Takagi-san can be streamed in Netflix and Crunchyroll.

#Anime #Christianity #Karakai Jouzu no Takagi san #Teasing Master Takagi san #Lent #Holy Week #Comedy #Easter #God #Articles #Author: Gaharet

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