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permanentswaps · 28 days

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Nonno’s Globetrotting Adventure

Part One

I sat in my modest apartment, the weight of my years heavy upon my frail shoulders. My once-strong body now betrayed me, confined to a wheelchair as age and illness took their toll. But despite my body, I still felt young at heart. And, more importantly, I had a burning desire to experience the world beyond the confines of my small Italian town before my time was up.

One day, my grandson Nico came to visit. Although it feels weird to say about my grandson, Nico is a very attractive young man.

He’s currently working as a waiter while pursing his dream of getting signed by a modeling agency in Milan. While Nico certainly has the looks to get signed, he seems to lack the discipline and patience needed to succeed. Every time he comes close, he finds a way to sabotage his chances – oversleeping for a final callback, not bothering to dress nice enough, always something.

Seeing that Nico was struggling, I had an idea for how to help us both get what we wanted.

“Wait, so let me get this straight,” Nico said. “You want to use my body to travel the world, while I stay here in yours?”

“Exactly,” I replied. “I know it sounds strange, but think about it. You’re young and full of energy, it’s really the only way I could see some sights before I pass.”

“But how would it even work?” he said.

“I have these enchanted necklaces. If we both wear them at the same time, we’ll swap bodies. And then, when the summer is over, we can switch back by both removing the necklaces,” I explained.

“Wow, that’s… That’s a lot to take in, Nonno,” he said.

“I know it’s unconventional, but I would be willing to pay you double what you would make from waiting tables over the summer. That way, you would have a cushion to focus full time on landing a modeling gig when you get back. And I’d be sure to take a bunch of pictures for you while I’m away to help build up your portfolio.”

“I don’t know, that’s a great offer, but I’m still not sure.”

“Well, let’s try now and see how you feel,” I said, quickly clasping the necklace around his neck before he could say anything.

Then I threw on my own. I felt my soul rush out of me and slam into my grandson. Standing up tall and taking a deep breath, I felt my strong muscles. Then I looked down at my hands and saw thick veins. Damn, I hadn’t felt this good in years.

Sensing some reticence from Nico, I quickly said “Oh! Thank you so much Nico, it really means the world to me.” Hoping to guilt trip him before he could say anything.

Clearly still worried, he tried to play it off and said, “Alright Nonno, you’re welcome.”

Taking in this body, I snapped this photo on the way to my new home:

Part Two

The first stop on my world tour was New York City. Since I was a little boy, I had always dreamed of visiting America, but I had never gotten the chance.

As I stepped out of the metro and up to ground level, I couldn’t help but stare at the skyscrapers touring over me. Walking down the street, I could tell that guys and girls were checking me out, which was a new feeling. Sure, I was attractive when I was younger, thats part of where Nico gets it from. But even then, I’d never really gotten these types of looks back in the day, especially not from such hot guys … I think I like it.

At the youth hostel, I met a bunch of really cool guys – we hung out in a crew and went to do all the iconic landmarks like Times Square, Central Park, and the Statue of Liberty.

Walking through Midtown one of the guys, Adi, shouted to me, “Hey Sal, check this out!” as we turned a corner, revealing a perfect view of the Empire State Building. I couldn’t help but marvel at the sight, feeling a sense of awe wash over me.

Adi slapped me on the back, grinning widely. "Pretty awesome, huh?"

I nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, it's incredible. I never thought I'd get to see it in person."

We bar-hopped around the city together, sharing stories and laughter late into the night. At one point, we stumbled upon a street performer playing the guitar, his soulful melodies filling the air with a sense of nostalgia. Adi nudged me with his elbow, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Sal, you ever played an instrument?"

I shook my head. "No, never had the chance."

Adi grinned. "Well, there's no time like the present. Grab that guitar and let's see what you've got!"

With a mixture of nervousness and excitement, I hesitantly approached the street performer, who handed me his guitar with a friendly smile. As I strummed the strings and attempted to mimic the chords he had been playing, I felt a sense of exhilaration wash over me. Despite my lack of experience, the music flowed through me, filling me with a sense of joy and freedom I had never known before.

The guys cheered me on, clapping and cheering as I played. In that moment, I felt alive in a way I hadn't in years. It was a feeling I never wanted to end.

I made sure to snap some more selfies of myself, and get my new bros to take some shots for my modeling portfolio too:

After bidding farewell to the bustling streets of New York, I traveled westward. From the majestic mountains of the Rockies to the tranquil plains of the Midwest, each destination had its own unique charm.

But it was in California, with its sun-kissed beaches and sprawling landscapes, that I truly felt at home. As I walked for what seemed like endless miles along the rugged coastline, the salty breeze tousling my hair and the warmth of the sun on my skin, I couldn't help but marvel at the beauty that surrounded me.

With each step, I felt the strength and vitality of Nico's body coursing through me. I would’ve never been able to do this trip in my own body. Gone were the aches and pains of old age, replaced by a sense of boundless energy. I couldn't shake the feeling that this was somehow meant to be, me in Nico's youthful body.

Part Three

After about a month of traveling, I found myself in India. While I hadn’t really though about traveling there before, so many people had recommended it to me as my next stop. So I decided, why not check it out.

Arriving in Mumbai, I checked into my hostel and made a conscious decision to introduce myself as Nico, not Salvatore, this time. While my fellow travelers were none the wiser, I couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement every time someone addressed me by my new name. It made feel even more at home in this body than I had in California.

Among the eclectic group at the hostel, one stood out to me – Emilio. Another Italian adventurer like myself, Emilio had a warm smile and an easy charm that immediately put me at ease. With his curly hair and striking green eyes, Emilio was undeniably handsome, and I found myself drawn to him in a way I hadn't expected. We spent our days exploring the bustling streets of Mumbai, immersing ourselves in the sights, sounds, and flavors of the city, and going to some nearby hotsprings.

One fateful night, after returning from a night out on the town, Emilio found himself locked out of his bunk. Immediately, I offered him a spot in my private room, and to my delight, he accepted without hesitation.

Since it was so hot in Mumbai, we decided to strip down to just our underwear. As we lay sharing my small bed, I feel his hand trace up my inner thigh. My breathing getting heavier, Emilio decides to increase the pressure of his strokes. In reponse, I reach over to his thigh and work my way up to his cock, which I can feel is massive. That was all the sign he needed.

Emilio gets up and splits my legs, now rubbing both of them and playing with my waistband. As he does that, he also leans over and begins sucking my nipples. While this wouldn’t have done anything for my old body, Nico’s nipples are sensitive as hell.

“Fuckkkk” I said in a low grunting whisper.

As he switched over from one nipple to the other, Emilio then reached into my trunks and began jerking my uncut dick. Eventually, he flips me over and pulls down my underwear before taking off his own. I can feel his cock now teasing between my ass cheeks. The anticipation is agonizing as I wait for him to put it in.

He reaches underneath me and pulls up my chest so that I am on my hands and knees. Nibbling on my ear he whispers “you’re the fucking sexiest guy i’ve ever seen,” as he shoves his 25cm cock inside me.

Thrusting in and out of me, he uses the hand that he has across my waist to play with my nipples again, which drives me crazy. Before long, I feel pressure growing, and without him even touching my cock, I feel myself shoot my load across the bed.

Smirking at me as I turn my head around, Emilio takes his fingers, runs it through my seed, before then showing those same fingers into his mouth. He then lifts up his arm, flexes his biceps for me, which makes me tigthen my hole. The tighthness is too much for him and he shoots his entire load inside me. We collapse onto the bed, his cock still inside, where it stays for the rest of the night.

From that night on, Emilio and I became inseparable. We decided to travel together for the rest of our journey, visiting South Africa, Kenya, and Egypt before finally finding ourselves in Greece at the end of the summer.

The beaches of Greece were a paradise. We spent our days basking in the warm Mediterranean sun, swimming in the azure sea, and indulging in leisurely walks along the shore. In the evenings, we treated ourselves to sumptuous dinners at quaint seaside tavernas, savoring the flavors of Greek cuisine and the company of each other.

One night towards the end of our time in Greece, over a sunset dinner, Emilio turned to me with a serious expression.

“These past few weeks have been beyond anything I could have imagined,” Emilio began, his voice soft but filled with emotion. “I've had the time of my life, Nico, and I don't want it to end when we return to Italy.”

His words echoed the sentiments that had been swirling in my own mind, and I felt a rush of anticipation at what he might say next. Meeting his gaze, I couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for this man who had become so dear to me.

"Me neither," I replied, my heart pounding in my chest as I gazed longingly into his eyes.

With a determined look, Emilio took a deep breath before continuing, "Will you be my boyfriend?"

The question hung in the air between us, charged with the weight of all that we had shared and all that was yet to come. And in that moment, I knew with absolute certainty what my answer would be.

“Yes, of course,” I replied, a smile spreading across my face as I reached out to take his hand in mine. “I've been waiting for you to ask since the night we met in India.”

He looked at me, his eyes glistening, before pulling me in for a deep, passionate kiss.

Part Four

Eventually, Emilio and I made our way back to Italy. We'd been back about a week, and I was eager to share my adventures and introduce Emilio to the rest of my family, which I planned to do at dinner tonight. However, there was a significant problem: none of them knew about the body swap. I hadn’t spoken to the real Nico since I'd left three months ago, but I'd see him tonight. I knew what I was going to do, but I didn’t know how it would go over.

Walking hand in hand, we approached the familiar doorstep of my family's house. I could feel Emilio’s nerves radiating, but I squeezed his hand reassuringly, confident that my family would adore him as much as I did. Stepping into the warm embrace of my family, I proudly introduced Emilio to each and every one of them.

My mother’s (formerly my daughter) eyes lit up with delight as she embraced Emilio warmly. "Oh, it's so wonderful to finally meet you, Emilio! Nico has spoken so highly of you."

Emilio returned her embrace, a smile playing on his lips. "Grazie, signora. It's truly an honor to meet you all."

My father clapped Emilio on the back, a jovial twinkle in his eye. "Welcome to the family, Emilio! Nico here has been a bit of a handful lately, but it seems like you've got him under control."

We all shared a laugh at my father's jest, and Emilio's cheeks flushed with warmth. "I'm doing my best, signore," he replied, earning a nod of approval from my father.

As we sat around the dinner table, sharing stories of our travels and adventures, Emilio chimed in with anecdotes of his own, effortlessly weaving himself into the fabric of our family dynamic. With each passing moment, I could see my family growing fonder of him.

As we sat around the dinner table, I asked, "Hey, where’s Nonno?"

My mother's expression softened with concern as she replied, "He's in bed, nico. He's been resting a lot lately."

A pang of guilt tugged at my heart as I excused myself from the table, my footsteps heavy with apprehension as I made my way upstairs. "Nonno," I said softly, approaching his bedside with a mixture of sorrow and determination. "I need to talk to you."

"I am so relieved you’re back," he replied weakly, his voice raspy with exhaustion, "but, why did you call me that?"

Taking a deep breath, I summoned the courage to tell him. "I... I met a guy," I began, my words faltering slightly as I struggled to find the right way to express myself. "I've never felt such a deep connection before, and I need to see where it leads."

His brow furrowed in confusion. "But... what about our agreement?" he asked, his voice tinged with disappointment.

"I know, Nonno, and I'm sorry," I replied, my heart heavy with guilt. "But I can't ignore how I feel. I hope you understand."

Anger flared in his eyes. "You can’t do this to me," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "It's not fair."

With a sudden surge of frustration, Nico ripped off his necklace, the enchanted chain clattering to the floor with a finality that echoed through the room. "I want to swap back right now," he demanded, his gaze locking onto the necklace that now hung around my neck.

I leaned in towards my old body, my guilt giving way to slight confidence as I made my declaration. "I understand it's hard to accept, Nonno, but this is my life now," I asserted, my tone laced with a sense of superiority.

With a swift motion, he reached for the necklace around my neck, his fingers trembling with desperation. But as he tore it away, his expression twisted with shock as he realized that nothing happened.

I looked at him with a face of pity. “It’s not going to work,” I said.

"I melted down the necklace and had it made it into a bunch of different pieces of jewelry while I was in India," I confessed.

His eyes widened in disbelief, his feeble grasp on the situation slipping away with each passing moment. "You... you did what?" he stammered, his voice tinged with incredulity.

"I wanted an insurance policy so that I could ensure nothing would stop me from pursuing Emilio," I continued, my resolve unwavering.

"I knew you probably wouldn’t think to take off the necklace until I cam back. So I took the opportunity to melt mine down into jewelry that I can wear all the time and nobody can just accidentally take off or force me to take off – earrings, bracelets … cock piercing. Emilio thought they were so hot."

"You couldn't get them off me even if you were in the best shape of your life – and well, now I am in the best shape of your life and you’re in the worst shape of mine," I added with a touch of irony.

"I’m sorry, but this is my life now," I concluded, my voice firm. "I hope you can understand."

With that, I turned and walked back downstairs to rejoin my family and my beautiful boyfriend, leaving behind a bewildered Nico in my former body, grappling with the weight of my decisions.

Epilogue:

A week later, I get a call from my mom early in the morning while I am still in bed. Nonno passed away in his sleep. I feel a pang of sorrow mixed with relief, this body was officially mine forever.

I roll back over to see Emilio sleeping peacefully beside me. Leaning over, I gently kiss him on the lips, waking him from his slumber. He stirs and without opening his sleepy eyes, a soft smile graces his lips and he pulls me down into a big hug. In that moment, as I feel his skin on mine, I know with absolute certainty that this is exactly where I belong.

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damiansgoodgirll · 8 months

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Jude x reader where he buys reader a birthday gift and reader REALLY doesn’t like him spending money on her and her reaction isn’t the greatest and jude gets all pouty until he sees her wearing it one day.☺️

jude bellingham x reader

spoiling you

you weren’t used to the fancy lifestyle your boyfriend jude was used too. you were a normal girl, grew up with a normal life, normal friends and your parents had normal jobs. you learnt how to appreciate the small things you had and, the high cost of living nowadays, the value of money and how money weren’t everything but, for some people were everything and more.

you were born in a normal town, not a big city like jude was, you weren’t used to the way people would dress in big cities and how they would show off their expensive cars and outfits. not only you weren’t used to that, you simply didn’t care.

jude learnt how you preferred a box of chocolates instead of a box of jewels, the way your smile shined everytime he got you a new book instead of a new expensive bag, how you preferred home cooked meal instead of spending thousands of money in a fancy restaurant, how you didn’t care about taking the metro or the bus instead of having a private driver.

but, deep down, he wanted to spoil you in more ways and what better occasion or your big birthday?

he had everything in mind. he saw a beautiful chanel bag, classy and elegant just how you were to him and he decided to gift you that. but when he walked into the store he also saw a beautiful chanel bracelet that would go amazing with your outfits and he decided to add that too at the gift.

he thought it wasn’t enough though, he wanted to spoil you with more than a bag and a bracelet. he wanted you to see how it really felt being able to have luxurious things. so he decided to match everything with a diamonds necklace, a very expensive one.

he put everything in a white bag so you wouldn’t suspect anything.

and when the party was over and it was only the two of you, that was when he decided to give you your gift.

“happy birthday love” he smiled as he handed you the bag.

“jude…we talked about this” you said.

“i know i know, but i wanted to give you something anyway” he teased “come on, open it” he said as you were both sitting on the couch.

your expression was between shocked and confused when you saw two chanel boxes and a tiffany one.

“jude? what is this?” you asked him, a little confused.

“your birthday gift! come on, open them, you’re gonna loved them” he was so happy and excited that you couldn’t say no to that face.

he was right - you liked the bag, the bracelet and the necklace, you only thought it was too much for you.

“jude i - i don’t know what to say…this is too much, like way too much, you shouldn’t have…” you said.

not the reaction he wanted but the reaction he was expecting.

“i know…i just wanted to spoil you, you never let me spoil you so i used your birthday as an excuse” he explained, looking at you with his big puppy eyes “if you don’t like them i can always return them…”

“what? jude i love them, all of this…it’s just…i didn’t expect it. you spoil me every single day, with your love and the things you do for me, that’s enough for me because i love you…” you said smiling at him.

“i love you too…” he kissed your lips “and i know you’re gonna find an occasion to wear those” he whispered and you nodded, too lost in his big eyes.

and the occasion came only two days after your birthday party. you were both invited to a business dinner and for the first time in your life, you thought about wearing those expensive things that jude got you for your birthday.

the moment he saw you coming down from the stairs wearing a beautiful long dress, hi heels, the black chanel bag he got you, the bracelet wrapped around your wrist and the necklace falling right into your cleavage, he thought he died and came back. you looked stunning and he fell in love with you more and more.

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rwrbmovie · 8 months

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BTS of #RWRBMovie: 'z' in your last name

TZP via HOLA:

Clifton Collins Jr., who plays my father in the film, was amazing. I knew of him. I’d seen his projects, but we’d never crossed paths before. And then we met and we just got along, thick as thieves. And he’s like an OG Mexican from Los Angeles which was so colorful. He made it feel like there was family on set. Same with Matthew being Puerto Rican. Their influences help you get into that vibe, and then you do the scene and it’s wonderful. You really bring that accuracy to it.

There’s a line in the film when Alex and Henry are in Paris, and Henry asks him a question about his mom’s campaign, and Alex starts telling him about his father and his abuela coming to the States. The line is something like “If you’re an immigrant in America and you have a ‘Z’ in your last name, there’s a lot of people in positions of power that don’t look and sound like you. I’ve been given the opportunity to be someone in the world that my father didn’t see when he was growing up.” As someone with two ‘Zs’ in his last name (laughs), that was a tough scene for me because I had to be there as Alex and not as Taylor. It was very emotional to think of my family and what they went through to come to the United States. Even though they came here a long time ago, you still think about all of the people that are coming to America today and about all of their stories. Alex realizes that his father didn’t have any role models growing up and now he’s a congressman. That fuels his fire to be the change. That was so exciting for me.

From NYT:

For both Zakhar Perez and the director, the character Alex’s biracial identity was particularly meaningful. López grew up in Panama City, Fla., with his Puerto Rican father and Polish Russian mother, while Zakhar Perez is of Mexican, Middle Eastern and Mediterranean descent and was raised in northwest Indiana, where he said there was only one other Mexican family. “Matthew and I talked a lot about the mestizo journey,” Zakhar Perez said in a video call before SAG-AFTRA, the actor’s union, went on strike. “Being part Mexican, part lots of other things, I don’t want to say you’re forgotten, but in today’s world, it’s like, you’re either this or you’re that. There’s nothing in between. I’m kind of a cultural chameleon.” “As a young Latiné queer man, I never read something that centered someone like Alex,” López said, echoing his star. “If I had been presented with this character when I was in my late teens, early 20s, it may have changed how I thought about myself.”

From Windy City Times:

Was the part about having a Z in your last name personal or the book? ML: It was personal. That was about me and Taylor. It came from a conversation that Taylor and I had when making the film.

From Metro Weekly:

Alex has a line about grow ing up in Texas as a kid with a last name that ends with Z, which is I guess something else you can relate to, Florida style. ML: And Taylor Zakhar Perez also. Taylor and I talked about that scene a lot as being something that we both understood. My aunt Priscilla Lopez is a beloved, beloved stage actor. She was in the original cast of A Chorus Line. And there's a story that she tells about Mandy Gonzalez, who was in In the Heights with her, and Mandy once told Priscilla that Priscilla made it okay for her to be someone with a Z in her last name. And that was a thing that Taylor and I spent a lot of time discussing as well. It was important to me that that scene be in the movie. There was never a chance in hell that that scene was ever getting cut.

From Teen Vogue:

TV: One of my favorite parts is when they’re in Paris, and Alex talks about being a young person of color coming up from Texas and not seeing anybody who looked like himself or his dad in politics, and Henry’s response to that simply being: “I’m learning.” I don’t know if you were in the theater for that one, but half the crowd was like, awwwww. ML: Yeah, I was for that. TV: I’m married to a white man, and I was like, that is the perfect thing a white man can say in that situation. ML: I’m married to a white man, too. Speaking as someone who is a person of color married to a white man: that’s like the ultimate thing you ever want your white boyfriend or husband or partner to say. That’s it. “I’m learning.”

ML via THR:

There’s a scene in the movie that is very much me, which I gave Taylor after they’ve had sex for the first time. They’re there in pillow talk mode, and he tells Henry about what it’s like to be the son of an immigrant with a Z in your last name. It was really important to me to talk about growing up with a Z in your last name and even just how our names are pronounced, the spellings of our names sometimes if you have Latin ancestry. To have to answer for your name has always been something for me that I struggled with until I stopped struggling with it. So, I needed to put that into Alex’s story and when it came time to shoot that scene again, it was something I didn’t have to explain to Taylor Zakhar Perez. He got it instantly. The only thing that I did screw him up with is like, “We’re going to do this [scene] as a oner, and we’re going to do it as a top shot that starts in a wide shot and comes all the way down to your face, and we’re not going to leave this scene until you get it right in one.”

#rwrb movie #rwrbedit #red white and royal blue #rwrbsource #taylor zakhar perez #matthew lopez #alex claremont diaz #tzp #*#rwrb bts #rwrbbts #my gifs

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stereodaydreams · 10 months

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Safe & Sound

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader, 2.3k (18+, smut, oral(f!reciving), pnv sex, established relationships, use of baby/baby girl, no y/n, smidge of angst)

Notes: I write for another fandom in a different blog and couldn’t help but jump on the Miguel train. 💛✨

18+

Nueva York’s metro moves like a metal bullet tearing into a lavender and yellow sunrise. Birds break out into the skies, traveling from one tree to the next. Steam rises from vents as those waking rush to heat their homes, covering the streets and taxis in a man made fog. The thick mist drifts past cafes where open signs have just flipped and welcome bells ring. But high up on the 76th floor of a condominium, two bodies intertwine beneath warm sheets, too far to be awoken by the commotion.

Miguel’s legs drape over the edge of a bed, bare feet caught in strips of golden sunlight. It’s a king sized bed and somehow he manages to spill out of it, especially when he bullies his way over into your side, broad shoulders blotting out the sun and keeping you in the shadows where your sleep remains undisturbed.

There’s a wide gap from where his side of the bed should be. No matter how many times you tease him about a hostile takeover of what little domain you have of the king sized mattress, Miguel finds a way to fit himself around you. Your bare skin is warm and soft against his. You smell like a blend of your body wash, the pile of bed sheets, and a little like him and it drives him fucking wild. He’ll take whatever time he can have pressed up against you because... well.

Being Spider-Man is more demanding than a full time job. Try as hard as he might, there are nights where his superhero duties don’t end in a timely fashion and you sleep alone with a hand on his pillow. He tells you it’s because no one else can do what he does and… well, it’s half of the truth.

“I’m the one and only Spider-Man,” he laments to you. “The city needs me.”

“You have to come back in one piece. Promise?” you ask as worry etches itself on your face and on your body.

Large fingers wrap around your chin and Miguel pulls you in for a chaste but sweet kiss. Brown eyes blink slowly and his cheeks wrinkle in a smile.

“Always,” Miguel answers.

While you know his big superhero secret identity, there’s another secret that’s he’s been keeping from you— a little white lie. Miguel O’Hara is the only Spider-Man of Earth-928 but he’s not the only Spider-Man. He’s seen alternate realities, other universes where he’s an ordinary man working at a lab while a teenager gets bit and becomes Spider-Man or one where he’s a bodybuilder turned movie star. The multiverse is vast and entertaining to pick apart until Miguel gets a peek of realities that make his stomach twist and drop.

The fortunate events which link you two together often leads to roads where one of you is doomed to an early grave. So he decides he doesn’t want to leave your lives up to chance. Everyday, he whittles at his algorithms, tinkers with new wrist tech, all in the hopes of containing the status quo of his reality.

Miguel’s confident. Statistically, there has to be a reality where it all ends well for you both and it very well may be this one.

He watches your chest rise and fall as you doze and slowly moves his arm from your waist to your wrist. His fingers idly trace a band of metal on your ring finger and he smiles to himself, turning his gaze to a matching gold band on his hand.

You’re his, as he is yours and you are here, alive and safe and—

Miguel buries his face into the crook of your neck, breathing you in. Your back tenses as you wake, lungs inflating from a quick and deep inhale. With one eye open, you find the time on a wall clock and wince at the numbers you see.

“Mig…” you protest. It’s early, but not unreasonably so and you wouldn’t mind if it wasn’t your day off together. No superhero business, no work calls, just the two of you and a lazy morning. “Five more minutes. No… wait, half an hour.”

“Baby,” he purrs back in your ear.

You make a noise while burying your face into the pillow, your body twisting away from his grasp. Miguel laughs and exhales a warm breath that tickles the nape of your neck.

“Are you still tired?” he asks, voice low and laced with desire.

You know that tone and if his wandering hands slipping from your waist to your backside are any kind of indicator, Miguel won’t be letting you slumber for much longer. You can’t help it. Your back arches to his touch, lips parting in a half moan.

“Mhmm,” you mumble, your face digging into cotton as you nod. “Can’t wake up m’too sleepy.”

He chuckles, chest vibrating against your back. You’re lucky he finds you cute. Miguel’s palm grips your butt and gives it a small squeeze before the weight behind you dips as he shuffles his large body further down the bed. His hands engulf your thighs, fingers pressing into your skin as he pulls them apart. You’ve no choice but to reorient yourself onto your back, following his movement down your thighs.

“Mig, what are you up to?” You eye him warily with a lazy smile tugging at your lips. Your vision blurs as your eyelids threaten to shut.

He lays a kiss on your inner thigh. Bright red tints the edges of his eyes, threatening to spill over and replace the soft brown.

“Do you need help waking up?” At your nod, he continues, “That’s what I’m up to.”

He smirks, fangs catching the light of the morning sun and it’s gone once his face dips lower. His tongue drags along the seam of your sex, dipping between your folds for a quick taste. Miguel lets out a rumbling sound, pushing his face in deeper to breathe you in. Your fingers work their way into his hair but your grip is loose, a sleepy sort of pawing at his head. Still half awake, your thighs are slack, tensing only as his tongue rises and reaches a hard nub of nerves.

“Mig…” you moan, eyes fluttering shut.

“That’s my baby. Come here.”

A hand wraps around your back and lifts your hips up for him while thick fingers prod at your cunt. Miguel wraps his lips around your clit, licking flat, broad strokes as amber eyes watch you writhe and jolt beneath him.

“You don’t look so sleepy anymore,” he goads. You shake your head and he chuckles. “No?”

“Nuh uh-h. Oh god—”

He eases two fingers in knuckle deep, groaning at how wet they get. Pumping them in slowly, Miguel curls them around sensitive nerves, feeling you clench down on his hand. It’s easy to lose yourself to the feel of your husband’s mouth on you and the stretch of his fingers pounding into you, but you eventually notice something’s off.

You can feel him grinning while he licks and swirls his tongue around your swollen nub, hands beginning to slow to a halt. His fingers pull almost all the way out you, causing your eyes to finally open and a noise of protest leaves your lips.

“Mig—” you begin, swallowing down a hiccupy moan. “Miguel, please.”

Miguel raises an eyebrow at you, shrugs his shoulders like he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Wicked as ever, his tongue moves at unrelenting speeds. Heat flares from your abdomen, thighs twitching out of your control. Between you and him, there’s a damp mess between your legs as Miguel bullies your clit. Your hips try to chase his fingers as they leave you for good, desperate to clench around something, anything. You let out a sob when he stops to press a kiss to your clit.

“Babe!” you cry out, pulling harshly at his hair.

His face rises just enough for you to spot how drenched his chin is. A pink tongue darts around his lips and he smirks.

“You want it, baby girl?” His voice takes on a rougher quality as he challenges you. Large fingers push at your cunt, almost in but not quite. “Work for it.”

Your limbs are still heavy from sleep but the need to feel Miguel makes you roll your hips until you feel yourself push down and squeeze around his fingers. He doesn’t move though, grins wider while he watches you fuck yourself on his hand.

“Isn’t that better?” Miguel asks like he doesn’t know the answer. The hand on your back slips away, flattening onto the bed as he rises above you. You’re too busy trying to follow his other hand to realize he’s right by your head, wide shoulders blotting out the morning sun.

Breath hot and heavy, he snarls in your ear, “Does it feel good when you listen?”

“Mhmm!”

You cling to him, clumsily grabbing his arms as an anchor. Between gasps and moans, his name is a chant on your lips, drawing him closer.

Miguel’s an odd entity. Without the mask, he’s soft with you, cracks smiles throughout the day and fills your ears with loving whispers of devotion. He’s not demanding of you in the way that he is with his team of superheroes at his beck and call. You’ve overheard him being prickly and impatient when things don’t go to his plans, seen him bare his teeth in anger. But never at you.

In here, where the sheets are silken, the atmosphere a little lighter, a little slower… Miguel’s a different man.

“You’re so close… I can feel it,” he growls out. He places a hand on your hip to still your twisting form and it’s infuriating how little effort he uses to hold you like a limp doll. With slick sounds, his fingers slide in and out of you, dragging across taut nerves. “Not yet, baby girl. Not yet.”

“Mig, please. I need you. I need…”

“Hmm?” He lays a kiss on your cheek, lips lifting in a smirk. Miguel wanders down, repeating his hummed reply, kissing your jaw and nipping at your neck. “Say it again.”

You whine and rake your nails across the broad expanse of his shoulders, drawing red lines on sun-kissed skin. “Need you in me, Miguel.”

Your words seep through his skin and into his bones. Every fiber of him aches for you. He’s the king of edging himself, of self control as he fights to ignore the throbbing twitch of his cock. You call to him once more, needy and desperate for him, and Miguel’s done. His hips rut forward, seeking your soaked cunt and he finds it, the fat head of him nudging at your entrance.

He groans out your name, head hung forward and his hands splaying around your face. The sheets strain from his claws retracting and returning and all you see in his eyes are red. Miguel’s shoulders push into the backs of your knees as he hinges forward, forcing your thighs further open for him. There’s mumbled Spanish flowing past his lips as he claims you slowly, your husband taking his sweet time filling you up.

“Fuck, sweet girl. My wife. So fucking tight for me,” he groans.

The pace he sets is fast and devastatingly deep. Miguel reaches spots that makes you incoherent, makes your head toss back as you spew whatever your fucked out mind can give him. It’s messy, rough and he fucks you like you’d never break. And you never do. You always give him what he needs and knowing that brings him to his knees.

Red eyes find you in the waves of passion and Miguel’s looking at you as though this moment is finite. He’s never going to tell you about the other you’s— can’t let you know the statistics which haunt him daily.

Instead, Miguel devours your every moan, lips crushing yours so he can taste you as you tremble. You’re impossibly tight around him, muscles clamping down on him and skin slick with sweat. Your nails mark his back and shoulders, smaller fingers winding into his curls and tugging hard. He can feel you falling off the edge and leans into it, all too happy to chase the end with you.

His hand works its way between you, firm thumb rubbing tight circles around your clit. There’s no reprieve from the cascade of sensations he’s building. Miguel chases your climax until you come around him with a cry of his name.

“Yes, baby girl. Fuck. Fuck,” he moans.

Hips rutting faster, cock pushing you towards hypersensitivity, he wraps an arm around you and pulls you in close. His back muscles seize beneath your hands as he comes with a groan. Miguel’s muttering your name in a breathy chant, hips slowing to a roll as more of his thick spend fills you.

His nose bumps yours, eyes brimming with warmth and fondness. It should feel dirty and hot with how wet it sounds between your legs but you don’t hear it when Miguel murmurs in your ear.

“Still sleepy?” he coos.

You grab at his cheeks and squeeze, receiving an eye roll on his part. He’s handsome but stubborn, your husband.

“Mig…” you laugh. “Can’t feel my bones after that.”

He nuzzles your cheek and hums an acknowledgment. You’re warm, still clinging to him in more than one way. Outside, the sky’s turned blue as the sun finds its way through the windows, shining brightly on your skin. Beads of sweat caught on your neck and chest glitter in the light. He’s never seen anything as beautiful as you.

“Breakfast?” he offers.

“Shower,” you insist and twist your hips to remind him of the stickiness which coats both your bodies.

“Mmm. But I like you like this,” Miguel teases. He rolls his hips, cock still hard and buried deep, eliciting a moan from your lips. “So full of me, baby.”

“I like it, too,” you answer and squeeze his cheek again.

Miguel smiles as if he’s a man unburdened. Here in Spiderman 2099’s universe, you’re safe and sound.

#my fics #astv #miguel o'hara #spider man 2099 #atsv miguel #fem!reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #spider man 2099 x reader

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zzoguri · 28 days

Text

familiarity (it’s all sticky) ➵ lee seokmin

peter parker!lee seokmin x spiderman!reader

you’re not sure why you decide to show up at your ex’s place all wounded up from tonight’s battle.

genre/warnings ➵ exes (to sort of lovers?), angst, touch of fluff, afab reader (no gendered terms), hurt/comfort (both physical and emotional), discussions of wounds and depictions of blood, lowercase intended, ghost-spider au (though please don’t expect it to be accurate!), reader is obviously spiderman while dokyeom is peter parker i mean HELLO?? i am right, dokyeom is a lil a slob here, reader’s hair is long enough to be tucked behind their ear, based everything on google when it comes to patching up wounds omg, kissing fingertips, mentions of non-sexual stripping and showering (let him take care of you)

word count ➵ 4k words

playlist ➵ nonviolent communication by metro boomin, james blake, a$ap rocky, & 21 savage // hummingbird by metro boomin & james blake

a/n ➵ my svt writing debut <3 i thought this fic would also work really well for my silly dk and i wanted caratblr to have a chance to read this lil baby of mine <3 here's the original work if you're interested! and ofc, thank you to my cat @wuahae for betareading the original :’) you know how much i love you! don't forget to reblog and leave feedback!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! want to request? check out my guidelines! masterlist

new york city never falls silent. the bustle of every new yorker can be heard through their footsteps, the wheels that glide against the train tracks along with the beeps of taxis sound throughout the city. the metropolis stays alive in every street, every alleyway, every corner. no matter what hour it may be, each pavement is wide awake.

but the lights seem hazy tonight; the luminescence pours out of every building, the led boards are only blurs of silhouettes and illegible words. normally, you would warn against going out if someone could barely make sense of what these signs say, but you never seem to follow your own advice.

as you swing through the city, web clinging onto every building, blood continues to seep through the white spandex that covers you from head to toe. your body feels heavy, the pain in your lower abdomen continuing to spike with every movement—every swing—you make.

you bite on your lip, holding back the whimpers. your eyes dart through every street sign you pass. with every swing, you realize you’re nowhere close to where you should be. instead…

you don’t allow yourself to think it over. maybe the loss of blood has you moving out of impulse, but for now, you can only think of getting rid of the pain.

you swing around the corner before landing down at the familiar fire escape, paint-chipped and rusted just like you remember. a hiss leaves your mouth as your hand reaches out to the spot where the blood continues to seep through, holding it down to keep pressure on the wound.

you’re face-to-face with the window; the reflection of you all suited up in some persona is a sight you’re accustomed to—but not on the glass of his window. you’re not sure why you came back here, injured in an identity he only knew of through word of mouth.

but the throbbing in your abdomen doesn’t give you enough time to think more about it. pushing the window up, you throw one leg over the edge into the apartment. your eyes quickly scan through the familiar space—a room you once treated as yours.

pillows scattered and bedsheets wrinkled, the walls are littered with the same posters of anime he swears to be the best of all time (which you agreed with), along with his desk, littered with trinkets you haven’t seen since the day you left him—ones that he talked about to you back then with so much joy.

as you attempt to get your other leg over the edge of the window, you yelp at the sharp pain that strikes. “fuck,” you whimper, gasping out a breath. another groan rips out from your throat as you force your leg over, head resting on the frame with closed eyes, bracing yourself through the wave of pain that follows.

as pants continue to leave your mouth, your senses tingle as your ears catch the sound of footsteps on the other side of the room. you attempt to stand up only for another groan to leave your lips, and you realize it’s too late—the door creaks open, revealing the man you haven’t been face-to-face with since you said your farewell months ago.

dressed in an oversized white tee and a pair of black shorts, dokyeom stands with a bag of chips in his hand and disheveled hair, eyes wide and gaping. you can only assume he was fresh from bed.

“s-spiderman?!” he looks around, noticing the mess that you’re being exposed to. before you can register it, he rushes in, dropping the bag of chips somewhere near the doorway, and tries to tidy his bed. “w-what are you doing here? i think you might’ve entered the wrong room,” he stutters as he attempts to fix his pillows and bedsheets (poorly, if you may say).

somehow, the sight of dokyeom all frazzled makes you smile behind your mask. the idea of your—no, you mean, this guy all worried about you seeing how untidy he lives makes you chuckle.

but as you laugh, pain shoots through your lower abdomen once more. you cough out before hissing, pressing onto the wound. it takes everything in you to keep your body upright until you feel a pair of hands rest on your shoulders. you look up only to be met with his worried expression.

and you spot the way his eyes trail down to where your hand rests. you’re thankful that the mask could hide the heat that rises to your cheeks.

“oh god, you need that treated,” dokyeom’s eyes snap back up to you, and your breath hitches. even after all these months, he still holds stars in his eyes.

it’s been a while since you last saw him up close. the bags on his under eyes have turned a few shades darker, and you notice an eyelash that rests on his cheek. you don’t think about what you do next, your free hand reaching out to his face, and his breath hitches. once you pick it out, you flick the strand off of your fingers, and that’s when you realize the mistake you committed.

“s-sorry,” you choke out. although you try to keep your voice as low and gruntled as possible, he frowns. he bites the inside of his cheek as his eyes flicker between your masked face and the wound.

“i-i don’t know how to help. i can call for an ambulan—”

you grab onto his arm before he can leave. as you shake your head, he gulps. “i can’t really help you,” he says, but your grip doesn’t falter. with that, he lets out a sigh before kneeling in front of you. his hands find themselves on the ledge, his arms now caging your frail figure. “do you have someone in mind who can help you?”

dokyeom’s question is innocent. you’re sure the last thing he meant was to mock your situation—showing up in a “stranger’s” room unannounced—but it strikes a chord in you.

you haven’t spoken to him since you broke up a few months back. when you’re outside of your suit, you avoid him like the plague. in the hallways of campus, you take any possible route to not cross his. but when you’re covered in your second skin, you find yourself on top of buildings watching him from far away. with the distance, you allow yourself to learn about what he’s been up to since you two last spoke.

so you don’t know why you sit in front of him all injured and dressed up in white, black, and pink spandex, because you haven’t spoken to him since that day. shame bubbles within you all while reality slowly slips from your fingertips. and the way your body gets heavier with every second that passes has him mumbling profanities.

his hands hold onto you as he makes you lean your weight on the frame of the window. “wait,” he says as he stands up and walks into his bathroom. before you know it, he comes out with a box.

dokyeom finds his spot back in front of you and he opens what he retrieved. as he looks through the supplies of bandages, alcohol, gauze, and more, he says as his eyes flicker up towards you, “i don’t know how much this will help but it’ll do for now.”

and you should be thankful that someone is willing to bandage you up after the rough night you’ve had, but it feels like a lie to have dokyeom be the one to do it, especially when you haven’t told him the truth.

so when he grabs onto the supplies he needs to treat your wound, your free hand reaches for the underside of your mask. his eyes follow where it rests, and he freezes in his tracks. your fingertips curl on the fabric as you take a deep breath.

“you don’t—”

you shake your head, cutting him off, and you close your eyes before pulling off the mask.

you’re afraid to look at the boy kneeling in front of you, for you can only imagine the annoyance—the disgust—that will paint his features. it’s not like you had a choice to show up at his fire escape this one night, but it was your choice to reveal who spiderman really is behind the mask.

a beat passes.

you’re not sure what to do at this moment. what are you supposed to do after a vigilante reveals who they are?

but when you open your eyes, dokyeom looks back at you with an emotion you can’t pinpoint. he averts his eyes, trailing down to your wound. “let me see it,” he whispers.

you gulp, an attempt to clear your throat and thoughts, before letting your hand move away from the puncture. your hand grips the hem of the top of your suit, peeling it upwards to reveal a bloody wound. from the sight, it looks like you were stabbed, but it’s only a deep cut.

he pulls out a piece of cloth, reaching out and pressing it to your wound. you yelp, eyes squeezing shut at the contact. “i’m sorry, but we need to stop the bleeding a bit more.” it takes everything in you to open your eyes. you’re met with the sight of dokyeom whose face holds a thousand emotions—you can’t identify any of them.

“can you keep pressure on it?” you only nod before you remove your gloves, afraid to touch the wound with fabric covered in grime. you dump your mask and gloves on the space beside you before letting your hand reach to where the cloth is held against. your hand brushes against his for a split second—you retract your hand immediately at the contact with his skin.

at the sudden motion, the cloth against your stomach drops with nothing left to hold it. dokyeom curses in a panic, hand shooting out in an attempt to save it, but you react faster. snatching it mid-fall, you grasp it tightly, placing the cloth back onto your wound. his eyes dart between where your hand rests and your face, a twinge of worry cast on his features, but he doesn’t give you an opportunity to say anything as he stands up quickly and walks back to his bathroom.

you hear the water run for a moment. the noises of the street fill your ears. the lights from outside cascade the floor, hues of yellow and purple filling the room. and then thunder rumbles; it shakes the floorboards. the sounds of raindrops follow, and you feel your back start to get wet from the storm that has entered new york city.

you try to push yourself off the ledge, a groan ripping out of your throat once more. and you’re finally on your feet. but at any moment, it feels like you may collapse.

“wait, wait! what are you doing?” dokyeom exclaims as he rushes out of the bathroom. he quickly grabs hold of you in an attempt to keep you steady. “don’t stand up or that wound might get worse.”

“i-it’s just the rain. i don’t want to leave the window open.” as you turn your torso, another spike strikes where your wound is. the yelp that leaves your mouth has dokyeom grip onto your arm tighter.

“no, just sit. i’ll take care of it,” he says as he brings you to his chair, his hand never leaves your arm. you let out a hiss until your bottom meets the cushion. as soon as your back rests on the chair, you close your eyes for a moment from the pain.

his hand leaves you. you hear the window shut; the car horns and barks from stray animals are now muffled.

when your eyes flutter open, dokyeom crouches in front of you with a wet towel in his hand. “i need to clean it.” you only nod before removing the cloth on your wound. he grabs it from you and places it on his lap.

as he raises the wet towel to your wound, you flinch at the contact. he quickly retracts it and asks, “does it hurt?”

“no, it’s just cold,” you mumble back. he only nods before attempting to clean the area around your wound. while he keeps his eyes on the puncture, your eyes remain on his face; hues of yellow cast upon him.

his skin glows under the city lights—did anyone know about the stars you once carved on it?

“is this why we broke up?” his eyes snap toward yours as he asks that question.

you cannot help but bite the inside of your cheek. “y-yeah,” you choke out.

he hums before his eyes go back down to your injury. “i’m guessing this is why you were distant then, right?”

you don’t bother to speak, letting the silence speak for itself.

he removes the wet towel; the white cloth is covered in patches of red. as he crumples it into a ball, you spot that his white shirt holds splotches of blood as well.

dokyeom stands up to drop the pieces of fabric on the table behind you. “your dad obviously doesn’t know,” he mutters to himself.

it’s a rhetorical question. of course, your father has no clue of your late-night rendezvous. you’re sure he could never look at you the same if he found out because to him, he would never understand what you do. he would see you only as a low-life criminal in the same way the nypd does.

dokyeom then dabs a cotton ball soaked in betadine on your abdomen. you bite on your lip as a hiss leaves your mouth. “fuck,” you curse, and he only continues to clean up your wound.

silence takes over you two. as he bandages you up, you allow yourself to close your eyes. you were thankful to find rest in these small moments. but you don’t miss the warmth of his fingertips on your skin; they feel just like last time.

“why did you come here?” his question has your eyes snapping open, and you are met with a frown resting on his face.

you bite the inside of your cheek. “i-i don’t know.” it’s a lie—one you both know. you had every chance to change the route you were taking. instead, you chose to go to his place—even if it may be on the other side of where you live.

he lets out a sigh. it’s clear that he’s disappointed by your words, but all he says is “okay,” as he gets up. “you can stay here for the night.” he stands in front of you in a shirt covered in patches of blood—it’s proof that his heart still holds a spot for you.

despite the venom that was laced in your words the night you cut ties with him, he leaves you a space for you to fill. it’s another choice you can make, but one you’re not sure if you should take.

dokyeom walks to the desk behind you and flips the lamp on. you swivel the chair so that you’re face-to-face with his slouched figure. you would’ve scolded him, but you’re not in the place to do so—not after what you two had.

but a part of you wishes to chide those words—hey, keep slouching and your back will get worse—for old time’s sake. it takes everything in you to hold back from saying the reminder, but it takes nothing to let your hand grip the back of his shirt. his movements halt.

as you sit up, you let your face bury into the arch of his back. the scent of his laundry detergent (it’s still the same smell of lavender) fills your nose, and you let your hands trail around his torso until they find their home on his waist. even after all these months, your hands knew where to rest—your spidey senses knew who to go to.

you feel his hands rest on your arms, his thumb drawing circles on your forearm. you breathe at the same pace as him. whenever his shoulders move up, yours follow. and you allow yourself to cherish just this once the familiar warmth of dokyeom. you let your soul mesh with his once more.

with closed eyes, you whisper, “i still look for you.” his thumb stops moving, and a shaky breath leaves your mouth. “i’m here because all i know is you.”

it’s half of a lie, but still a lie nevertheless. you shake your head against his shirt. “no,” you rescind. “i know i shouldn’t be here, and i had every chance to go back home, but,” you take a deep breath. “would you let me, just this once, be honest with you?”

your question hangs in the air—it’s not for him but for you. all the choices you took led to this moment, from embracing the persona you were handed through a single spider bite all the way to removing the mask in front of him.

dokyeom spins to face you. he stands in front of you with the remnants of you covering him, his shirt coated in hues of red and your blood dried up on his hands. the light behind him causes a shadow to paint his face.

but when he kneels once more in front of you, you get a good look at his features. he still looks like the same boy you first met—the same one you fell in love with—but you wonder if he was still the one you knew?

that is until his hand reaches toward your face. you hold your breath as it finds its spot on your cheek. but as his thumb grazes your cheekbone, a trembling breath leaves you. you gulp everything down—your fears and anxieties—so that you can finally be honest with dokyeom.

“i wanted to tell you who i really am.” a flicker of confusion flashes through his eyes. “and i know i’m not doing it in the best state,” a chuckle leaves your mouth. “but with every day that passes, and every injury i need to endure, i didn’t know when i would be able to tell you what went wrong with us.” a beat passes. “what went wrong with me.”

he shakes his head. “nothing’s wrong with you. what are you talking about?” a frown takes over his face. “i mean, you’re spiderman, for god’s sake.” you weren’t able to hold back the giggle that slipped from your lips.

but it wouldn’t be fair to just accept his words as is, not after the damage you’ve caused.

you let a hand rest on his, the one that rests on your cheek, and you curl your fingers so that you hold it. “i’m sorry that this is me.” the whisper is loud enough to fill the silence of his room. “i’m sorry that i crashed here all injured and left you to deal with the mess,” your eyes flicker to his bed. “especially on a night when you were resting.”

as soon as your eyes go back to dokyeom, you notice that he’s biting the inside of his cheek. “why are you telling me this?” it’s an honest question, one he couldn’t figure out the answer to. “we haven’t seen each other since you broke up with me.”

and he has every right to be confused with your sudden appearance. after all the months spent avoiding him in the halls while still seeking him on top of buildings, dokyeom was left with no clue as to why you come to him first in such a dire situation. why is it that you chose to reveal such an intimate part of yourself months after you two have drifted?

“do i have to say it?” you ask.

and he looks back into your eyes before saying, “it’s the least you can do.”

so you grab onto his hand, moving it so that it rests in yours. the sight of his fingers and palms covered in splotches of you fills your heart with warmth. it’s proof of the time he spent to patch you up. no matter who you may be—spiderman or not—you will forever be at his mercy.

“we can’t be together. it will only be another cycle of pain.” for both of you. as your eyes land back on his face, you spot sorrow coating his features.

“but i still do.” it’s an unfinished thought on his end. despite the frown you show, all he does is flash you a bitter smile. “i always have and always will.”

and it clicks.

“n-no, dokyeom,” you shake your head. “you can’t.”

he brings your hand close to his lips, letting it linger for a moment. “but you do,” he whispers into your fingertips. “right?”

even after revealing who spiderman truly is behind the mask, you expect dokyeom to rethink everything he knows. the months spent away from you should be enough reason to reconsider how much he knows of you now. but even if you two were to spend years apart, he would still read you as well as he does now.

“i can’t,” you choke out. “i can only offer so much, and you deserve so much more.”

he smiles at you—the same one you used to see every day, no matter what time of the day it may be—as his free hand reaches for your hair, tucking it behind your ear.

“i couldn’t care any less.”

you shake your head. it’s clear he doesn’t understand the gravity of it all; to be with you means to remain in constant danger. “no, dokyeom. you don’t understand. i broke up with you because i’m batshit scared of what will happen to you.”

because it seems to always occur—anyone you come close to becomes another target for your enemies. it’s already hard enough to handle the responsibility of being a masked hero, but you don’t think you could handle a possibility where dokyeom’s death would be on your hands.

but all he does is shake his head and says, “i don’t care. i still love you.”

you haven’t heard him say that to you in months. such a simple phrase causes warmth to fill your limbs and heat to rise to your cheeks. he still has the same effect on you after so long.

there are consequences that this conversation bears. you should have stood up and left as soon as he patched you up. it should’ve been obvious that the longer you stayed, the more you would pour out sentiments that you tried to keep under wraps—under the mask—and it seemed that dokyeom knew how to undo them even better than he did then.

and hearing dokyeom say those words has you falling into a perpetual cycle of torment, one that makes every day intolerable for you can only watch him from afar. but aren’t you already living it the more you deny what’s in front of you two?

so you only nod, and bring his hand close so you can feel his fingertips on your lips. with closed eyes, you whisper, “okay.”

it’s a testament to everything—one to his offer to let you sleep in this very room you once treated as yours, one to his confession that tilted your world’s axis, one to the very situation you’re in—and you’re sure he knows it, too.

he smiles as soon as your eyes flutter open. “let’s go to sleep.”

you know that sleep meant to be wrapped in his arms all while he would leave kisses on your temple. you don’t remember the last time you got enough rest, but you remember that the last time you slept in dokyeom’s arms was the last one you were able to fall into slumber at ease.

so you nod, allowing him to help you out of the chair. and he helps you through it all—shedding the suit off of you, cleaning you of all the grime from tonight’s adventure, and getting dressed in fresh clothes—until you two find your place on his bed.

nothing is said for the rest of the night. for once, you drift into slumber without any secrets stashed away.

taglist ➵ @kflixnet @blankjournal

#works of moni #kflixnet #bjnet #k-labels #seventeen #lee dokyeom #lee seokmin #dk #dokyeom #seventeen x reader #lee seokmin x reader #lee dokyeom x reader #seventeen imagines #lee dokyeom imagines #lee seokmin imagines #lee seokmin angst #lee dokyeom angst #lee dokyeom fluff #lee seokmin fluff

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boschfanaccount · 11 months

Note

How would the 3 boys propose to the reader

How they propose to you

Bosch, Jamie Siu & Luke Sullivan x Reader (separate). Reader is neutral Sorry this took a while to come out!! I'm finally free from uni and i have a lot of requests lined up I will get through slowly so thank you for your patience.

Bosch is an anxious mess. You both love each other so very much but theres that teeny tiny voice in his head that always makes him doubt and act on impulse. But this is something he knows he's wanted to do for the longest time, it took a lot of courage to even act upon making preparations for you. It's your 4th anniversary of being together. He first makes you a home cooked meal from his home country, a meal which he loves. You tell him how good it is and that he is too sweet for cooking for you. He then lets you get ready to then take you out to a very special spot. A park that sits on the harbour of Metro City, beautifully lit up at night. Walking up to the railing, you lean on it and breathe in the fresh air. Bosch then comes up besides you as he puts his hands on your waist, leaning in to give you a kiss on your temple.

"Thank you for this Bosch, you're too sweet." "It's the least I could do. Happy anniversary, but uhm... I actually have a present for you." You look at him with a soft look, "what is it?" you question. "I want you to close your eyes for a second". Nodding, turn to fully face him and close your eyes. You hear some rustling before he tells you to open your eyes. You bring your hand up to you mouth as your eyes widen in shock, letting out a small gasp. You're presented with a velvety red box fitted with a small and classy ring crusted with small diamonds. "[y/n], you're the love of my life, a-and... I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I know I'm not the best boyfriend sometimes and I have my moments but, I hope you can accept me... Will you marry me?". Jumping up and down before leaping into his arms. "Yes!" you exclaim as a few tears fall down your face. He stands back up and fully accepts your embrace. "I love you so much, thank you [y/n].

Jamie would most definitely propose to you in the sleekest way possible. He will have everything planned out down to the exact time, he has a mini speech prepped and the perfect plan to catch you off guard. Jamie would also be confident at first and kind of fumble a little bit but he's well aware you are the one for him and he is the one for you. He has no doubts about you saying yes once he pops the question and that fills him with so much pride and joy. Time moves so fast when you're with your boyfriend, you have been together for 3 years already yet it feels like you've known each other and been together for so much longer. Having gotten you ready for a fancy dinner date at an elegant chinese restaurant that Jamie has been meaning to try with you. You both went out shopping to purchase coordinating outfits, the colours of your outfits are black and yellow. Mostly black decorated with gold jewellery.

Once at the restaurant, you are both seated next to an open window which has the perfect view of Metro City. "This is so nice baby, thank you for booking this place." Taking his hand in yours Jamie looks at you with a satisfied look, "It's no problem, you know I'd do anything for you. I am the great Jamie Siu after all!" He says jokingly. You giggle at his statement. After having a delicious and filling dinner, you both are waiting for your desserts to arrive to your table. Little words are exchanged as you stare into eachothers eyes and hands intertwined on the table, the silence comfortable. The silence is broken by a waitress coming up and handing you your desserts however there was something off with yours. Your plate was flat and had writing on it, more specifically the words "Will you...", once you read the words you see Jamie walk up to you and get on one knee. Your heart starts beating fast but a bright smile decorates your face. "Marry me?" Jamie asks, a yellow lined black velvet ring box displaying a beautiful golden ring with a decently sized diamond placed on top. "Jamie!" You express, "Of course!!! Oh my gosh!!" He takes your hand and slides the sing on. "[Y/n], when I met you through Yang, I never thought you would end up being mine some day. But here we are, you are now officially my fiancée. I love you dearly and I don't know if I could ever express that fully in words but thank you." Jamie stands up and cups your face, bringing you in for a gentle kiss.

Luke, oh Luke. Luke would definitely have a mini freak out to himself over how he should propose to you. He is a confident man but sometimes he goes through weird moments of weakness where he's just unsure. Luke takes his time and never rushes into things so when he realises he needs to propose to you, he thought about everything carefully and wanted to make sure it was something you would like and that you were sure to say yes to him. While he is a bit of a chiller, I don't think Luke would be overly romantic but would still try his best to be, you deserve it after all. Having spent almost 4 years together, Luke decides it's time. There are a few places in mind that Luke would want to take you on, deciding on taking you to the beach. A quiet and calming beach. It would be the perfect setting, having a nice dinner first then taking you on a romantic walk along the beach to watch the sun set and finally get on one knee and confess his never ending love for you and ask you to marry him.

"Mmm! Luke have you tried this? It tastes so good!" Picking up a piece of your dinner on your fork and putting in front of Luke so he can have a taste. "Wow, yeah that is really good, want to try mine?" You nod. After having dinner it was time to now go on a quiet stroll on the sand. Holding onto Lukes large hand and leaning your head on his arm. Luke can feel his nervousness grow, you're perfect in his eyes. "Is something wrong love?" You ask, concern laced in your voice. "Haha, yeah. I'm just fine. Don't worry your little head." Luke brings you into a side hug, his hand resting on your hip. "There is one thing I want to talk to you about though." Stopping to stand in front of you, he takes your hand in his and rubs his thumb over your knuckles. "So... I've been wanting to ask you this for a while and for the longest time I thought I wasn't ready but every day I spend with you, I want to always be by your side. You make me so proud and I feel so powerful when I see you cheering for me in battles. I'm the luckiest man alive [y/n]. With that..." pulling out a box with a silver ring inside with a small rectangular diamond placed on top. "Will you marry me?" It takes you a few seconds to respond, you feel so joyed and happy and you needed a moment to process the sweetness of Luke's words. With shaky hands you cup Lukes face in your hands and place a kiss on his lips. "Yes" you giggle. "I truly love you so much, I'm glad to now be your fiancée" Luke picks you up, sharing laughs as he spins you around. Taking in the cool breeze of the beach with the cool water brushing up to your feet.

#street fighter 6 #sf6 #bosch #bosch x reader #sf6 x reader #luke sullivan x reader #jamie siu x reader #bosch sf6 #bosch sf6 x reader #jamie siu #jamie sf6 #luke sullivan #luke sf6 #y/n #street fighter #x reader

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zoeys-writings · 10 months

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Quality Time (Luke Sullivan ⭐ x Reader)

[Context: Established romantic relationship, Reader is the MC for World Tour, Pre-Italy World Tour spoilers, Fluff]

(a/n: Finally, I WROTE SOMETHING! I'm very sorry this took so long to finally get out, finals are kind of kicking my ass. But alas, I got to finish a fluffy fic with this boi. He's hands down my fave from the base roster, his personality's just.. right up my alley. Hope you guys enjoy this one!)

Ah, relaxing days like these were always the best kind. After yet another grueling training session with Chun-Li, with a sprinkle of getting defeated at video games by Li-Fen, laying down on your couch while watching TV was the best way to relax after a long day of running around in Metro City. There was literally nothing that could possibly interrupt this very chill moment…

…Until you hear the very familiar noise of footsteps from one massive dumbass approaching your relaxed frame. You close your eyes, awaiting a nudge on the shoulder from the man of the hour. What you get instead is a small poke on your cheek, which forces a small chortle out of you. In response, you get another poke. You open a single eye to look smugly at Luke, kneeling down in front of your field of view, away from the TV. Seeing that you’re pretending not to care for his presence, Luke puffs his cheeks and begins to repeatedly boop your cheek, almost reminiscent of a dog asking to be fed.

With an amused sigh, you finally turn to look at him. “Yes, honey?” Placing his head on top of his hands while pouting childishly, Luke responds: “I’m bored, babe.” You sit up from your spot to look directly at him. “And what do you suggest we do about it?” Luke places his head on top of your lap, and you can’t help but hold in a snicker. He gets annoyingly adorable when he’s pouty, you can tell he’s missed you from how long you were out the house. “Play a fighting game with me?”

You can’t help but sigh while patting his head. “As much as I would love to take you up on that, I was destroyed by Li-Fen earlier. I’m kind of burnt out right now.” Luke groaned in response. “Please? I promise I’ll go easy on ya.” “Said the Burnout King. Going easy on me is not your play style, and we both know this, handsome.”

You half expect him to simply huff at your mocking nickname and nuzzle closer. But to your surprise (and sort of delight), your boyfriend proceeds to pick you up from the couch to give you a massive bear hug. “Is it that bad of a thing that I wanna spend quality time with my babe? I haven’t seen ya all day…” Luke says, nuzzling into you. Trying to calm down your racing heart, you hug him back. “I know, sweetheart, I’ve missed you too. Training under Chun-Li has just been a bit of a hassle lately. I want to learn as much as I can from her, y’know?” Pulling back from the hug to give you some space, Luke smiles gently at you. “Yeah, I get it. I can’t teach you absolutely everything about fighting just by myself. Your quest for strength comes first, right?” You shrug with a small chuckle at his last comment.

Suddenly, you feel an idea pop up like a cartoon-y light bulb. “You know what, actually… I was going to see if I could meet up with another fighter soon. And… She’s kind of far away from here...?” Before your boy could get pouty all over again, you raised a hand to continue your proposal. “And, I know how much you like traveling.” Arching an eyebrow with one of his signature goofy smiles, Luke places a hand over one of his ears as if to try to listen better. “And…?” “And, something tells me that her fighting style might be right up your alley.” With that, he crosses both of his arms with a determined smile. “I already like the sound of this.” “To finish my proposal… Have you gone to Italy? And have you heard of pankration?”

With a clap and some finger guns, Luke smiles like the fricking sun while wandering around the place. What he usually does when he gets excited. “Now we’re talking! When can we go? Should we get packing? I can pack your stuff if ya want, just tell me what t-“ You placed your hands over his shoulders in an attempt to calm him down. “Honey, honey, not yet. We gotta plan the whole thing first. You know how it is.” “Yeah, of course! Sorry, it’s just… It’d be our first time traveling together and I’m just… excited, y’know?”

Wait. Holy shit, it would be the first time. In fact, it would be the first in a long time for you as well. For the last few months, it’s just been Luke and Chun-Li, and Metro City so far. But you needed to expand your horizons, and if it took a threat from a Mad Gear Gang member to do so, then so be it. That would be difficult to explain to him; heck, you weren’t even sure if Marisa would be at all willing to accept your request to be taught by her, or help you acquire the missing charm. But you were willing to at least try, and if it didn’t go well, you had an entire country you could explore and have fun in with your boyfriend.

Like he said it himself, you can cross that bridge when you get to it! Most likely tomorrow, but tonight all that is on your mind is the picture of spending a nice vacation with the man you loved the most. Breaking yourself out of your train of thought with a sigh, you smiled gently at Luke. “It is. I’m also very excited.”

Then, with a smirk, you grabbed the remote controller and paused your show. “So excited in fact, I think I managed to gather the energy… To try and kick your ass at a fighting game a couple times.” Luke’s eyes begin to almost sparkle with excitement, instantly running to your console to put the game on. “Oh, hell yeah! Bet ya I can manage to not go on Burnout a single time! See if your lovely title for me actually stands up!” You grab your controller then sit down on the couch with a confident smile. “Oh, it will. Bet your precious bag of sour cream and onion chips that it will.” Luke plopped himself down on the couch, almost knocking you down but also bringing a laugh out of you. “Oh. It. Is. On, babe.”

#street fighter x reader #sf6 x reader #luke sullivan x reader #luke sf6 x reader

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xappetites · 7 months

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one thing leads to another

Russell Adler x f!Reader (Bell) | Adler is half convinced Bell's using tenderness as a battering ram on purpose, he also needed someone to understand him more than he would ever admit, shit's fucked but that's par for the course, as always i sort of added a year between finding Bell and the rest of the game | word count: 1,672

London is a mess, but then again, all cities are. And this one has the benefit of both being friendly ground but not exactly home, in case the whole thing goes sideways.

Besides, it’s not like Adler’s an amateur. He wouldn’t have started this game without the certainty that he’d be able to handle it, roll with all of the possible outcomes.

No, this was calculated.

He purposely picked the side of town where metro police drag their feet, no matter how urgent the call. And he’s carrying a trusty sedative in a hypodermic needle retrofitted into a pen, so all he really needs to worry about is Bell.

Quite frankly, Bell’s all he’s been worrying about for the past eight months, though for the most part he can justify it as just another job hazard. The rest he blames on being a sexually active human with an average libido and moderately good circulation.

Sure, he’s seen her bleeding out, sweat drenched and bruised from several rounds of interrogation. Feverish, mumbling, staring into his soul like she could tear into him with her eyes alone. And she still slides silk soft over the ridges of his brain.

It was easy to ignore, all things considered; in that dark room with nothing but the microphone and the bell. To watch her, past whatever attraction he can’t shake, looking closely for results. But now she’s out in the world, fully convinced that she’s known him for decades; now she remembers a different Russell Adler. The one he was before the crooked line of his life proved to him that he wasn’t one for an easy ride; the man who would banter mid firefight, with the kind of gusto that makes him roll his eyes coming from Park and Lazar over comms.

And sure, that means she’s comfortable enough to follow his instructions without much back-talk and she's amenable enough that she’ll take initiative to do what’s best for the mission on her own. She’s efficient and useful; and she claws that old playfulness out of him kicking and screaming. Even if he tries to resist, to ignore her easy jabs, the gallows humor, it’s those damn eyes and the light of affection in them that forces him to respond just to focus on something else.

It’s so obvious that even Sims commented on it, how he hadn’t heard chatter like that from him in years. So maybe that’s why Adler wanted this meeting to be private; why he asked Bell to slip away from Park when he called. Selling it as an added challenge when he dared her to find him in London with nothing to go on but the arrival time of his flight. A test of skill and loyalty.

Just as Park’s had Bell here for a week. Officially, for a briefing of the few leads MI6 has in Berlin. Off the record, offering proof of concept to the powers that be: one shining, sweet success to prove what programming can do. Work. That’s what’s behind Adler standing alone in a no name club, not the impulse to hog Bell all to himself, or the unspeakable notion that he misses her.

He’s too professional to let it show, and he knows what needs to be done, but that’s the filthy truth of him, the way his hands itch for skin on skin contact. The manufactured familiarity that allows her to touch him all the time —hands solid on his shoulders or her thigh pressed against his in the back of a cab. All the more tempting for being forbidden. More nagging in the back of his mind because he’s stealing her from the man he’s hunted for so long.

The sensation makes Adler lay his palms flat on the bar top, check his watch. All he can do at the moment is wait.

Two more minutes to his midnight meeting with Bell. Two minutes that are nothing in the grand scheme of his standing stakeout record of several months. Minutes that he watches tick like molasses over his wrist. Anticipation settling horrible in the pit of his stomach with the possibility that, once out of Park’s watchful eye, Bell will abscond back to Perseus. And won’t that be a fun one to explain. A betrayal he can already taste, that hurts in a way that it shouldn’t. Burning as it goes down like the whiskey that’s suddenly shoved his way over the bar.

“I didn’t order this.”

“Your missus said you looked thirsty.”

The bartender tosses a wry smile his way too, nodding in the general direction of a very smug Bell. Who, at least, has the decency not to appear out of the smoke like this is a private eye movie, she just simply is there, close enough to touch, when she wasn’t the second before.

“You made it,” he greets her, watches her grin grow slow and tilted over her mouth. Her hips angled to squeeze in next to him, lean her weight on the bar and steal a sip off his drink. And Adler hates how proud he sounds, how his shoulders lose tension when she takes the first, poison-taster gulp of liquor like a half apology for ambushing him.

“You doubted it?”

“Park can be hard to sidestep.”

Bell outright giggles then, smile blinding in her satisfaction, but she doesn’t offer anything else. She won’t spoil the magician’s trick.

“So what’s your story?” She asks instead, dipping closer still, until Adler can feel the ghostly touch of her hair against his cheek. “If this were to go tits up. Who are you tonight?”

“Well, you already told the bartender, I’m your husband.”

“Got you sore about that?”

There’s laughter in Bell’s voice, a tease of her fingertips straightening the collar of his jacket. Of course he’s fucking sore, with the way the thought goes right between his legs, aches in the pit of his stomach. Here with her lips on the rim of his glass, her body nudging insistently into his personal space like picking at a wound.

“Just wondering how believable it’d be for me to have a wife so beautiful.”

“Please, Russ, you’re the most attractive man I know.”

She moves, digging out a cigarette and flagging the bartender for an ashtray, and the extra inch of distance is such a deep relief that it takes Adler half a second to realize she’s smoking when they were supposed to have culled that out of her.

“I thought you’d quit,” he tries, as a thin, icy stream of uncertainty slides down his spine. He tries to be rational, smoking is the least dangerous of Bell’s old habits; complicated by the physiological dependence on nicotine to boot. This doesn’t have to be a sign of impending doom, he just has to keep an eye on it.

“In this line of work? It wasn’t meant to last,” she pauses, takes a drag and holds the smoke for long enough to notice she’s having his exact brand, familiar and comforting. “Besides, you give me cravings.”

The eyes, it’s always the fucking eyes. The way they catch on his scar, climbing along until she’s staring him down with nothing but open, honest desire, and a sort of sadness underneath. Like she’s given up on the magnetic pull she feels for him as soon as she admits to it.

Bell knows he’d put the job above anything, knows that’s what nuked his marriage. She knows because he told her, made her privy to things the likes of Sims only suspect. It was easy too, once he got started, to let the words get away from him; maybe not during the first session, but by the twentieth? The fiftieth? He’d find himself in the jungle of Vietnam and in the weeds of his personal hang ups all the same.

We fought together, bled together.

A mantra that to a degree poisoned him too. Enough to make him need this, once at the very least, to hold Bell steady by the back of the neck, tasting the smoke and the surprise on her lips. Then he has to do it again, since Bell’s crushing the cigarette out so she can pull herself closer by his lapels, run her fingers through his hair with a whisper of ‘fuck Russ’. And he is absolutely fucked in so many ways.

Fucked in the ease of walking beside her back to his hotel. And in how she sighs against his mouth when her cold hands sneak under clothes in the elevator. Adler feels his heart beating in double time as he finally works himself inside her, inch by inch so he can’t hide from this. He could regret it, he already does, as he struggles to make this last as long as he can, but he can never pretend it didn’t happen.

He’ll always have the way she clings to him, his name stumbling out of her when he hits the angle that makes her melt, to weigh on his conscience. He’ll keep coming back to her shoulder, still slick from the shower as he rested his forehead on it, because that was the third time he’d come that night and it never lost its edge to feel her around him.

These are the things Adler knows will haunt him. Keep him up at night until he finds the next excuse to have her, in a different hotel and a different city, with the same burning desperation.

And it’s what he sees, clear as day, playing in her mind that night as he tries to drag Perseus’ location out of her. Every kiss and every single time he drew meaningless shapes over her skin while she was curled up against his side.

The way he demands the information but has not let go of her hand, the fact that they both know how this ends. And he can only fucking hope, with her brilliant eyes burning through him again, that she can forgive him for falling for her.

#m: cod #r: smut #russell adler x reader #russell adler x bell #personal #i want this man to be so down fucking bad he can't even live with himself #'it was never personal' my ass

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cherryxcadbury · 1 year

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hi! hope ur doing alright. Can I request for kylian? Something around him seeing you for the first time at a party/club/bar and he’s captivated by you at first sight or something of that sort? 💗

this is such a mess and long af but it’s honestly my fave thing I’ve ever written

Y/N: Your name

2nd person pov

"If I don't get food right now I'm going to assault someone." Ayaan groaned from the backseat, beginning to curse in Spanish.

You and Asami looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"We told you to eat something at the metro station." Phoebe mused, examining her cuticles.

"That's besides the point." Ayaan complained.

He was quickly silenced by Asami who intwined her hand with his. A small smile playing on both of their faces.

You rolled your eyes. You were seated next to Asami who was next to Ayaan. The two of them happened to be dating. Phoebe was in the passenger seat with Louis driving, as he was the only one comfortable on the Parisian streets.

"How much farther are we? I'm sick of third wheeling. And I'm kind of hungry too." You asked Louis and Phoebe.

"Less than a kilometer." Phoebe answered, showing you her phone screen.

"So, who exactly are we meeting?" Louis questioned.

Ayaan shrugged his shoulders, "My cousin Arra and whoever he's with."

A comfortable silence fell upon the car. You all had decided to go on a trip to Paris for about a week after Asami's, yours, and Louis's exams ended. Ayaan was two years older than you, he'd graduated from university two years ago. As for Phoebe, you really didn't know how you met Phoebe. She was someone's childhood friend. But, you all just clicked. She had graduated a few years prior.

Within a few minutes we were off the motorway and pulled up to a busy street street, lights and music blaring.

"Keep going forward. Then turn left." Phoebe instructed, reading off her phone.

Louis did as told and drove down this path until a building was in sight.

"Here we are." Ayaan exclaimed with excitement.

"Donde esta mi primo? No puedo esperar." He quickly got out of the car, gesturing for someone to hand the keys to the valet.

The rest of you followed suit. Ayaan seemed to know what he was doing.

You gaped at your surroundings. The building looked a lot like a five star hotel.

"Where exactly are we?" I turned to Phoebe and Asami.

"Bout twenty minutes away from Bondy, half an hour from Paris's city center." Asami informed.

"Bondy. The home of Kylian Mbappe." Louis stated.

"Yeah fuck him." Phoebe mumbled, still angry about the World Cup.

"You best not go in there with that attitude." Ayaan advised.

You quirked an eyebrow at him before shrugging your shoulders.

Ayaan led you five in through the multiple doors, immediately making his way over to the reception. You were all directed to the loft where Ayaan pressed the lowest button.

"Are you sure there's a party here?" Asami questioned with suspicion.

"Yeah it's completely silent." Louis nodded in agreement.

"Just you wait." Ayaan smirked.

Within thirty seconds the doors opened to reveal a long hallway. At the very end were a few people in line and a bouncer. They were all dressed like kids whose parents made a fortune and let them take their private jet out on weekends.

"Come on." Ayaan beckoned to us, Asami's arm linked with his.

"Identification." The man said gruffly.

You all did as told and the bouncer gruffly flicked through them until he landed on Ayaan's.

"Hakimi?" He questioned Ayaan.

"My cousin." Ayaan answered with a huff of annoyance.

The bouncer nodded briefly and gestured for you all to go in.

"This is some rich people shit." You mumbled to Louis and Phoebe, who were judging the place as well.

On the inside it looked like a normal club, except that it seemed like one strictly for rich people.

"Im getting a drink." Phoebe started off into the club just a few steps behind Asami and Ayaan who'd already started wandering.

It was just you and Louis.

"Food?" He asked.

"Always." You responded nudging him towards the direction of the bar.

You both walked up to the bar which Louis leaned on and spoke rapid French.

He turned to you, "They don't sell food."

You gaped. You were so so hungry.

"It's a bar? And they don't sell food?" You questioned.

Louis shrugged his shoulders.

"I can get us drinks?" He offered, some fear in his eyes based off of your demeanor.

"Whatever will do." You mumbled, stalking off to an empty booth.

You sat down, scooting far into the middle. You took solace in the fact that Asami and Ayaan were in view. They were talking to a group of people whose backs were turned to face you.

You sighed a bit. Going up to them when there was a bigger group was a bit too intimidating for your liking. Clubs or parties in general, while fun when you were with your friends, weren't necessarily your thing.

You really shouldn't have left Louis at the bar. Because then at least you'd have someone to talk to. But you'd let your hangriness take over. You and Louis were both big introverts.

You looked around for Phoebe but she was nowhere to be found. You really did not want to look lonely, so you opened your phone and scrolled through instagram, pretending to look busy.

Meanwhile on the other side of the club, someone's eyes were fixated on you. Absolutely captivated by your beauty.

Kylian Mbappe stood talking with his best Achraf Hakimi, Achraf's cousin Ayaan, and Ayaan's girlfriend Asami.

His eyes were encapsulated by the beauty who sat alone at a booth, engrossed in her phone.

"No but NYC was very fun. Kiks and I had a great time." Achraf spoke.

He nudged Kylian who was turned around, facing the opposite direction.

Kylian regained composure, nodding at Achraf's words.

"You have your eye on someone Kylian?" Asami asked, a small smile playing on his face.

Kylian's face faltered.

"Uh well I..." He began to speak

"Who is it?" Achraf questioned with a chuckle.

His friend never got starstruck by anyone.

Kylian stared at the ground.

"The girl sitting alone in that booth over there. Short black dress. Long wavy hair. Beautiful sparkling eyes." He mumbled.

"No way." Ayaan began laughing.

Kylian's head shot up.

"What? Don't tell me she's related to you or something?"

Achraf turned to Kylian "Bro what?"

Kylian shrugged his shoulders, "I mean she's kind of tan?"

Asami interjected with a grin, "That's Y/N. She's my best friend."

"And mine!" Ayaan added.

"She's very pretty." Kylian's eyes went wide with adoration when he turned to look at you.

"Does she have a boyfriend?" Achraf smirked, asking the question he knew Kylian needed the answer to.

Before Kylian could slap Achraf for his bluntness, his smile fell when he saw a well dressed man come over to you with a drink.

"Boyfriend." He murmured.

Ayaan put his hand on Kylian's shoulder causing Kylian to look back at the group he was with.

"That's Louis. Our other best friend. And not Y/N's boyfriend." Ayaan informed.

"Are you sure?" Kylian asked, looking at Asami for confirmation.

"Two hundred percent sure. In fact." Asami paused briefly before beckoning over a small girl with deep ebony skin.

"This is Phoebe." Asami introduced the girl to Kylian and Achraf.

"Hello Phoebe!" Achraf smiled.

"A pleasure Mr. Hakimi, I'm a big fan." She confessed shaking his hand.

Phoebe turned to Kylian and scowled at him.

"What'd I do?" He inquired, hands up in the air.

"You beat England you bloody bastard." She gave him a wicked look.

"We got beaten by Argentina anyways. Consider yourself avenged." Kylian defended himself.

"Fair." Phoebe concluded.

"Now why'd you call me over?"

"Kylian here has a little crush on Y/N." Ayaan smirked.

"Little crush? More like he's in love with her." Achraf emphasised.

"Tell the whole world why don't you!" Kylian rubbed his temples.

"You have a crush on Y/N." Phoebe sniggered.

Kylian stayed silent, becoming embarrassed very quickly.

"He does! But he's afraid Louis & Y/N are a thing." Asami explained, gesturing at Phoebe to say something.

"Ahhh yes. Fortunately Kylian, that is impossible." Phoebe answered.

Kylian cocked his head to the side with a look of confusion.

"Louis and I are uh. Friends with benefits to put it briefly." Phoebe responded, throwing off even Ayaan in the process.

"I didn't know this!" Ayaan exclaimed.

"Your brain has limited capacity to begin with. Don't need rubbish like this taking up extra room." Phoebe joked.

"Go over and shoot your shot Kyks." Achraf advised.

"I don't know man."

"Then let's call her over here." Asami shot him a smug look.

Kylian immediately turned around so you didn't catch him staring.

"Y/N! Louis! Over here!" Asami waved you and Louis over.

You whipped your head in the direction of the group which now contained Phoebe as well.

"Ready to meet new people?" Louis questioned, quirking an eyebrow at you.

"Never." You sighed putting your drink down and walking to the group with Louis.

"You know I felt very very stared at today. Like I don't know if I'm paranoid or something but I swear to god someone was staring at me." You mentioned to Louis.

He scoffed, "Don't tell me you didn't notice."

"What do you mean?"

"Jeez Y/N. You are so oblivious."

"So someone was staring!" You exclaimed.

"French men are pigs. Eyes have been on you since we got in here. Probably because of the dress you're wearing. Lots of sequins." Louis broke the news to you.

(if u guys wanna a pic of this dress lmk, I'm obsessed w it).

You groaned, immediately feeling self conscious. Your usual uniform of tees and sweat pants never really attracted much male attention. So times like this when you dressed up has always felt a bit foreign to you.

"In my defense I borrowed this from Phoebe who by the way, is a lot shorter than me."

"Phoebe would do more justice in it than you." Louis tried to rile you up.

"Oh fuck you."

"Might want to pipe down before they hear." Louis gestured to the group you approached.

It was Asami, Phoebe, Ayaan, and no way. No fucking way. Achraf Hakimi & Kylian Mbappe.

"Y/N! Louis!" Ayaan smiled.

"Meet mí primo, Achraf. And his best friend, Kylian."

Louis greeted them before you, as you grew nervous very quickly.

"Nice to meet you, big fan." You grinned, shaking Achraf's hand.

Now, you turned to Kylian.

"It's a pleasure to meet you." You smiled softly.

Kylian stared into your eyes for a second before returning your smile.

"You as well Y/N. May I say that you look very beautiful tonight." Kylian replied.

You felt your heart began to beat rapidly.

"I uh thank you." You shot him a grateful look, turning red quickly.

"Y/N you remember the 2018 World Cup don't you? When you had a huge crush on Kylian an..." Louis began to speak before you kicked him.

"Louis what the hell!" You whisper yelled to him.

"Care to get a drink with me at the bar Y/N?" Kylian requested, back to his usual confident self.

You nodded numbly, following him there.

You two ordered your drinks and stood at the bar. You patiently waited for him to start the conversation. Because you sure as hell weren't going to.

You fixated your eyes on something. Someone had left a copy of Lord of the Flies on a nearby table. You loved that book.

"You like Lord of the Flies? It's one of my favourites." Kylian spoke suddenly.

You turned to face him with shock.

"You read?"

He shot you a playful look of annoyance, "Just because I'm a footballer I can't read?"

His eyes danced with curiosity.

"I mean yes! No offense, but besides Xavi and Iniesta, you all seem pretty mediocre in terms of intelligence. Or intellect if we're being honest." You confessed.

"I was very smart boy in my school days."

"Somehow I find that hard to believe."

He shook his head with a chuckle, "Name another book."

He downed a shot. Eyes almost taunting you to compete with him.

You smirked at the little competition.

"Crazy Rich Asians. A new classic." You replied, with your first shot.

That stung, a bit.

"China Rich Girlfriend. Colette Bing's a bitch." Kylian replied with another shot.

"You've read it?"

"All three."

You were in shock.

You surrendered, "You win. I'm not going to even try."

Kylian smiled, his competitiveness had taken over.

"How long are you in Paris for?"

"The next week. But I don't live too far away to begin with."

His face became lovestruck again.

"Um Id love to show you around Paris one day if you have the time?" He offered, scratching the back of his neck.

You wanted to laugh at what he was dancing around the idea of.

"I'd much rather you be straight to the point." You shot him a smug look.

He took your hand, you were caught off guard.

"Will you let me take you out tomorrow?" He asked softly.

The look in his eyes. He could bring you to your knees. You wanted to tell him he could do anything to you with that look and that voice.

"Yes." You responded breathlessly.

***

"I was in love with him from the very beginning." You told the young boy and girl who were seated on the floor.

"And he was enamoured with your mum too." Asami told the kids.

"Papa and Mum were in love!" Your son exclaimed.

"Papa and Mum will always be in love." Kylian announced, coming from the kitchen to wrap an arm around your waist.

He looked at you with the same adoration he had in that club, all those years ago.

And you couldn't help but return it.

to the few who dmed me abt smut writing, it still makes me uncomfy but I hope the “he could bring you to your knees” may partially suffice ;)

#kylian mbappe #mbappe #kylian mbappe fluff #kylian mbappe imagines #kylian mbappe imagine #kylian x reader #kylianmbappe #kylian mbappé #psg #france national team #achraf hakimi #mbappe imagine #kylian mbappe blurb #Football imagines #football #World Cup

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siremasterlawrence · 4 months

Text

Broken Heroic Will Part 1 - 2

Clark Kent is on his way home when a giant screen appears blaring over the entire city of The Great Metropolis showcasing a group of people rushing in to the Museum of Metro Technology and Science.

The main one stops cold facing both of the other men snapping his fingers they follow his orders informing him them to remove all of their guns and guards the space with the front door barricade.

The man quickly makes intake of the area all surrounding him when he spots the odd object sliding across the room he stops shy of the glass fading his hand as it pushes in through the glass and grabbing it.

The mind altering agent boggles a bit shook him to his core then spun about feeling all of his senses as he looks up knowing who else is here because the power level of the Man Of Steel.

He spins in mid air like a drill he burrows so deep in to the ceiling as it cracks up in a huge smash he continues to drive down to me in fashion the blue, red and yellow are a dazzling sight.

I giggle a bit throwing and catching the old no ancient object in his hand flipping it back and forth as it burns up with light shining it then absorbing it in to his skin with a strong vibration empowering him.

Superman is overwhelmingly not shocked at all to see me then throws a super hard shaft of a nightmare punch sending him flying so much craziness across the room hitting the wall.

His body sliding to the bottom of the room I glee with excitement laughing so loud in the main hall as let the noise echo in to his ears as he it is excruciating shaking his one body.

The man uses some magic creating a circle of power in the air creating a box out of thin air sending box decorating in Christmas like paper and a bow tie on top of it glowing in a aura it lands next to him.

The main raises his hand wiggling his finger as sprinkles of fire transferring him from the museum and leaving Superman is lost as his whole senses comes back to reality he signs heavily.

He is groggy picking up a box anger rage of himself unwrapping the bow tie, trashing the Christmas paper and unlocking the top of the box and the magic lifts upward in to the air.

The magic rains over him changing a multi array of color on to his body becoming more in to Kryptonite getting weaker and weaker as his energy draining his power from his body.

The box swirls on to his body as he began to float into the air traveling without his will or consent shooting him in to the sky he flew in to a magical hole transporting him in to a new dimension.

Crash landing in to a massively huge crater

leaving him in pain as he crying begging him for help as he rolls over in pain and some tears in his eyes as the man walks off in to the distant.

Clark tries to throw a punch catching both of his hands in his palms, Superman firmly taking it in his hands twisting them to the side and forcing him to his knees it is very obvious.

“How on earth are you doing this?”

“Oh Poor Superman!”

“Stop mocking me”

“Or What?”

“Super pussy”

“That is not my….”

“Not you what?”

“That word”

“You men a name “

“Yeah!”

“Dumbass”

“Take a knee”

“I will never succumb”

“Oh but you already have “

“You lie”

“Hardly! Look at me”

“I said look at me”

“Your eyes “

“I am your Lord and master”

“You are my slave “

“You are too powerful “

“Someone admits it “

“Who am I?”

“Master Lawrence “

“Clark Kent”

“Kiss me”

“I am not gay”

“You are now “

“Nnnnoooo”

“Yes”

“YES! I love you “

“It’s about time my boi”

“I am sorry”

“Do you love me?”

“With all my heart “

“Here to the moon”

“Wow!”

“Oooohhhhh”

“My God!”

“The world will crumble under his feet”

“I am yours”

“Is this not simpler?”

“Yes My God! I love you “

“Raise up to me”

“Kiss me like you are hungry “

Captain America aka Steve Rogers is on the beach ignoring everyone else a weird strangers palm lands on his wide shoulder holding it tightly and swinging him in to a gigantic bird cage.

Steve looks horrified watching an evil looking Superman with a sadistic expression arms crossed and ready to battle with darker like intentions he speeds over to the cage and raising.

He shook it over his head before he is proceeding to throw it fifty miles away in to the rock formations behind him and causing hell on earth with shamble of rubbles spread wide.

I stepped in to a horrible disaster area that is worthy of a construction site crew horror is on full display when Captain America is able to escape flipping in to the air he does a super hero landing.

A shield is thrown in to one rock as if it is so light weight starts to ricochet sending it hit me head on and I go rolling to the floor in total pain and he stares down at me into total disappointment.

I can feel all of my attention on him as when Captain America descending down right in front of me but Superman rushes to my side blocking his fist in a swift attack and gave a good punch to the gut.

Steve is struggling on the floor completely in a stems of hazy fog clouding him up all else fades disappeared in to nether world of his own mind and he is falling in to a life of my consuming him.

Clark grabs him jolting in to the air doing a semi back flip he slams his body in a fatal bone crushing pain his eyes roll back in to his socket and he is knocked in to a deep slumber.

Clark is unconscious waking up tied down to the chair he is stripped of his clothes and unable to move the fear in his eyes is clear that he is broken their is no way coming back from this.

“Why Clark? “

“Just what?”

“I am Master Lawrence’s vessel “

“No Clark”

“Stop it”

“Submit”

“I cannot “

“Feel the crushing pain of defeat “

“You cannot force me too”

“Too what Steve?”

“You can’t win”

“Master Lawrence….”

“He is using you “

“Lies”

“He freed me from my torment”

“All hero’s have torment”

“Such a loser”

“FUCK YOU!”

“Oh! I will Fuck you “

“Bastard you are cruel “

“Mwahahahahaha! You have no idea “

“I can’t fight you any longer”

“Why bother anymore?”

“I loathe you “

“Go on”

“I despise your like”

“No! You don’t “

“Keep telling yourself “

“Oh! I will”

“You love me”

“Make me bitch”

“Uuugghhh”

“My power is cemented “

“Resistance is futile “

“I can do this all day “

“Hahahah”

“Oh Captain!l”

“You no idea “

“What you will unleash?”

“Hell on earth “

“Nothing more would be satisfying”

“Uh huh!”

“What did I just say ?”

“Exactly! Haha”

“I give in”

“I give up “

“I am yours”

“Take my waist in your hands”

“Yes Master”

“Undress me”

“CUM”

The end

#henry cavill #evil superman #chris evans #evil captain america #hypno submission #mind control slaves #reprogramming #Sheer Will #Broken Heroic Will

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edaworks · 2 years

Text

Wasteland Survival Guide: Travel Talk - The Great American Road Trip (Commonwealth --> Capital Wasteland)

- Hi and welcome to my absurdly niche TED talk on realistic foot travel between Fallout 3 and Fallout 4 locations (for fanfiction and/or tabletop RP purposes)

- There is a lot of variation in how people calculate travel times between these locations so here is my unhelpful and un-asked-for analysis of the topic

- IRL it is about 463 miles from Faneuil Hall in Boston to the Krispy Kreme outside the metro stop at Dupont Circle in DC (used to be my stop for work years ago 😂), using one of the best routes available via intact surface roads and interstate highway systems

- This best-route-IRL is probably not realistically available to your party because it passes directly through NYC and very close to Philly (we know “nuclear detonations in New York and PA” are canon from the beginning of FO4, so both of these areas probably got blasted all to hell), nevermind passing near other large cities that might have been struck (such as Baltimore, MD), but I’m using it to come up with 463 miles as a best-case-scenario mileage for the sake of argument

- From what I understand the average 30-ish-year-old human has a walking speed of 3-4mph under ideal circumstances

- Your party will need to stop, sleep, take breaks, cook food, hide, flee, hunt, scavenge, clean/maintain weapons and fight while traveling by foot, and it is possible not everyone in a travel group will be walking at an ideal speed

- Figuring a maximum of 8hrs. per day spent walking/more realistically hiking, and a lower max travel speed of 2.5mph to account for unhelpful terrain, then your party is moving at a best rate of 20 miles per day

- If you could walk on beautiful intact roadways in perfect weather and without taking any days off this would get you from one location to the other in 23.15 days

- That’s a little over three weeks and two days

- under ideal circumstances

- without fighting any deathclaws, yao guai, super mutants, zetans, raider gangs or mirelurks along the way

- without hiding from radstorms

- and with everyone in your party in perfect health and without any of them sustaining/recovering from any injuries

- The gods help your characters if they have any health conditions or are traveling in summer or winter

- I am begging you, please allow an absolute minimum of one month to traverse the wastes between downtown Boston and downtown DC if your characters are walking/caravanning, and probably more like a month and a half to two months if they’re stopping at locations en route, otherwise you will murder your characters via accidental deathmarch, the poor dears

- I know Google Maps says it takes six days and twelve hours to travel between these locations by foot IRL, but what that really means is six days and twelve hours of continuous walking - i.e., 156 hours of traveling by foot at 3mph (19.5 days at 3mph/8 hrs per day) - so the 7-day travel time suggested by Maps is really only feasible if your party 1) is entirely comprised of robots, Nick Valentine and/or (imo very debatably, given conflicting in-universe information on their need for food/rest/ability to cope with exhaustion) Gen 3 synths/Coursers, and 2) has a perfect, intact walking route to follow; most of the other limitations noted above probably still apply

- Just have your party steal/borrow a Brotherhood vertibird with a full tank if you need to travel quickly between the two areas, and pray you have pilots better than theirs 😂 This trip is well within the operating range of a V-22 Osprey (VTOL tiltrotor used by US Marine Corps, Navy and Air Force IRL, so a good analogue to a vertibird) provided you don’t have a full payload. Stats: these can handle a normal operating range of up to 1,100nm (1,265.86 miles); a payload of 24 troops, or 6,000lb of cargo at a 430nm (494.84 mile) combat range; a payload of 8,300lb of cargo at a range of 220nm (253.17 miles)

- Frankly by that logic the Brotherhood would have taken over half the east coast by the events of Fallout 4 if they had any vaguely competent pilots?? Whoops, good job guys

- Thank you for coming to my TED talk

#fallout 3 #fallout 4 #fallout #headcanon #roleplay #fanfic #worldbuilding #wasteland survival guide #travel talks

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someinstant · 2 years

Text

Brutalism and High Modernism in ANDOR's Production Design

So about a week ago I wrote about how the production design of Ferrix was clearly coming from a Bauhaus school of design, and I might have threatened to write about the use of Brutalism on Coruscant, and some of you fools have encouraged me. So you have only yourselves to blame for this.

I hope you're happy with yourselves.

First, the disclaimer: while I have taught AP Art History in the past, and am a nerd about architecture, I am mostly an autodidact about this stuff. My areas of expertise are in history, anthropology, political science, and education. So please understand that I am not specifically trained in this, and when (not if) I get something incorrect, I'm always open to friendly and helpful correction.

Now. ONWARDS TO CORUSCANT!

I will admit, friends, that I am very much Not A Prequels Person, and I haven't watched any of the animated Star Wars series, so I can offer no points of comparison between ANDOR's depiction of Coruscant and other SW media. I can only work off of Luke Hull's vision of the galactic capital, and-- damn, that is no bad thing.

We'll start with an aerial view from episode 7. As the camera soars over a portion of the endless city, we see the occasional building with strong geometric shapes-- such as the one on the above right-- that look like nothing so much as the Chrysler Building in New York City. I mean, look at those stacked triangular corner pieces and the metallic cladding on some of those curves! It's such a strong, unmistakable reference. Now, if you know your architecture, you'll be like, "But SomeInstant, this rant is supposed to be about Brutalism and High Modernism, and that's clearly an Art Deco reference!" AND YOU ARE CORRECT, MY FRIEND. Good eye!

Art Deco is an international style-- one of the first!-- that developed following World War I, reaching its height of influence in the late 1920s and early 1930s. It was associated with style, glamor, craftmanship, rich materials, and a sense of technology and progress. And it shares a common ancestor with Bauhaus designs-- they're both strongly influenced by the Vienna Secession movement. But while Bauhaus was about the accessibility and utility of design for the Common Man, Art Deco was fancy. The materials weren't your common brick or tile: it's chrome and ivory and inlaid tropical woods. Mon Mothma's apartment has some serious Art Deco references in it, if you want to look-- those pretty geometric white screen things between rooms? That's what I'm talking about.

So what we have here is a building that is speaking the same stylistic language as the buildings on Ferrix, but with a VERY different accent, and to a totally different audience. I would like to think that both the building we see here on Coruscant and, say, Maarva's home on Ferrix were built around the same time-- but the language of power and privilege and the physical reality of each are totally separate.

But what happens if we move lower? What if we stop just looking at the skyline, and adjust our gaze down a little?

Now, this is Brutalism. (And also a killer shot, god damn.)

So. As an architectural and design form, Brutalism has its roots in post-World War II Britain, and is marked by a reliance on the plain, unadorned exposure of building materials such as concrete, steel beams, plate glass, exposed pipes, and bricks. In its emphasis on common materials, Brutalism is closely related to Bauhaus design. But Bauhaus uses more rounded shapes, and plaster or tilework to turn everyday materials into decoration. Brutalism foregoes that finish, however-- and it has a certain stark, clean appeal, especially when its done thoughtfully.

Brutalism is a style of design that is often associated with public constructions: mass transit, public housing, libraries, universities, government offices. If you've ever been to Washington D.C., the Metro is a great example of this-- that coffered cement curve of the ceiling? Pure Brutalism. And this is because Brutalism could be a form of design that was simple and cost effective. At its best, Brutalist designs offered simple, affordable housing, and could be constructed relatively quickly. Personally, I really dig a lot of Brutalist architecture-- it can be amazing!

But there are many, many criticisms of Brutalism as a design form: it can feel impersonal, cold, and flattening. It's very strongly associated with forced population movements: that is, the destruction of existing neighborhoods, and the mass relocation of people for convenience's sake. (That is, for the convenience of the state. We'll come back to this.) Take a look at Soviet-era apartment blocks, or the forcible relocation of the Inuit in Greenland in the 1950s-- the housing that was provided was typically Brutalist in its design. Thus, Brutalism has become historically associated with totalitarianism and the strong hand of the state, and the loss of individualism.

Another reason why some folks object to Brutalism as a form is the exposure of construction materials like concrete can mean that the surfaces can become stained and discolored, or wear unevenly in some climates. The broad, flat surfaces can become the target of graffiti-- I mean, if you have a problem with that, which I don't, because it can be amazing and the only difference between graffiti and public art is usually the zip code and price tag. Actually, a lot of very cool Brutalist buildings are beloved not because of their designs, but because of the fact that they're perfect for murals. Check out much of downtown Atlanta or Mexico DF (especially the campus of UNAM) for evidence of this.

But I haven't seen a single mural or tag on any of the shots of Coruscant thus far: it's just sterile, industrial concrete as far as the eye can see. That's state control for you.

So, anyway-- that's a Very Good Thematic Reason to use Brutalism as the main design influence on the lower echelons of Coruscant. If the Art Deco skyscrapers are coming from the same lineage as the Bauhaus design on Ferrix and speak to the Empire's surface-level ambitions, the Brutalist underpinnings of the galactic capital show its organizational power.

Which leads us to High Modernism.

High Modernism comes out of Brutalism, historically-speaking-- but as you might be able to guess, the materials used in its construction tend to be more polished than the unrefined, simple finishes of Brutalist architecture. No vast planes of concrete here: no, bring on the sheets of glass, the slabs of polished stone. There's still a strong geometric language at play, a lack of ornate decoration-- but there's a degree of sterility in High Modernism that isn't present in Brutalism.

High Modernism is associated with the Cold War era of the late 1950s and 1960s-- and is therefore a DAMN good style choice for the ISB. My god. It's a design school that is all about technology and control: control over the environment, control over civic spaces, control over labor-- you name it.

The thing I associate with High Modernism above all else is the notion of state legibility: the idea that populations and spaces are organized into a structure that the state can read and therefore control. James C. Scott has a whole book about this, called Seeing Like a State. It's not my favorite of his works-- that would be Weapons of the Weak-- but his overriding thesis about how state policies of legibility are often destructive to culture and communities are worth coming back to. I mean, think about city and civil engineering, housing laws, city grids-- or Imperial sectors.

In our world, maybe the best example of High Modernism would be the work of Le Corbusier and his followers-- I mean, consider Brasilia! It's an artificially planned city, designed to reflect the aspirations of a growing nation: Ordem e Progresso, right? High Modernism tends to disregard historical realities, cultural practices, and the way people actually use spaces-- which, again, is exactly why Luke Hull is giving us this:

It's almost like these folks at ANDOR are good at their damn jobs, or something.

(Join me next time on SomeInstant Talks About Architecture in Andor: Wait, Is Niamos Space Acapulco, or What?)

#art and architecture #andor spoilers #andor #episode 4 spoilers #episode 7 spoilers #episode 6 spoilers #brutalism #art deco #high modernism #academic nonsense #sometimes i teach art history #production design #this is now a luke hull fanpage #star wars design #star wars #coruscant

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gourdkeeper · 10 months

Note

Love your Jamie Fics soo much!

Would you be able to write a fic about Jamie and Fem!Reader battling it out against each other at a Tournament at the local stadium?

Maybe reader wins, and things get a little heated in the locker room afterwards? :D

Thank you!!! And absolutely can do, this one was fun, reader and Jamie aren't dating in it but it was def not their first rodeo

Warnings: 18+, fem!reader, relationship is complicated, fwb (teacher with benefits?), jamie is a bitter sore loser but also very proud of his disciple, biting, marking, drunk sex, piv, jamie is possessive in this one

Sore Loser

Word count: 1243

"You can almost cut the tension with a knife!"

The spectators cheer as the announcer hypes the match up.

You and your opponent both struggle to keep it together, you can hardly believe you've made it so far. You'll be hurting and putting ice packs on your bruises for hours after. Same goes for the fighter standing in front of you who is none other than Jamie Siu, your mentor, who's got blood dripping down his nose and onto his lips and chin, courtesy of a punch landed by you, of course.

The way you both move spacing each other and trying to read the next move is more akin to a dance than a fight. You both know that whoever manages to land the next attack will win thanks to the exhaustion.

Both of you have had five fights back to back before this one. What kind of tournament even does that?

Well, Metro City being Metro City you suppose.

Jamie tries to hit you by surprise.

"Aaand the brash peacekeeper makes a move! Is he desperate for an opening?"

The bottom of his palm brushes you just as you dodge right on time and with that you grab onto his arm and toss him over you. He falls flat on the ground.

"And the former winner of the Novice Tournament steps aside! Nothing goes by unnoticed by her aaaand there he goes! Thrown on the ground, will this be it? Will the novice fighter really take on and win against someone of this caliber?"

You know you won. Jamie is not getting back up, he's far too worn out, same as you, and you both knew, whoever would hit the other would take the win under their belt.

---

"FUCK-"

Jamie can't even express how he feels as he punches his own locker.

Under his breath he mutters to himself as he tries to make sense out of his emotions.

"I can't fucking believe this shit. She's my disciple. Mine. And I fucking lost to her." He kicks the poor innocent locker this time. "This crap was broadcast everywhere, how the hell will I move on knowing EVERYONE has seen me getting my ass handed over to me by someone who got trained by ME?"

He's furious. Then again. He's also insanely proud, you've come so far since he has taken you under his wing, but he's not pleased with how it turned out.

He hears you arrive at the locker room.

"What the fuck do you want?" He blows a loose hair out of his face.

"I just wanted to-“ you're cut off.

"To rub your victory on my face?!" He turns around, he looks like a mess. He's clearly been drinking since the match ended. "How the hell will I show my face in public after this?" He's walking towards you, gourd in hand and face scrunched up, clearly not pleased by any of this.

"S-same way you always did?" Your voice is small and uncertain as you step backwards, you didn't realize he'd be affected this badly and you feel bad for even joining the tournament at all. "I'm sorry, I- it was a really close match... It was amazing to fight you, I didn't kno-"

His mouth meets yours. You don't pull away. It's not the first time you've done this.

You reciprocate his kiss and you can feel his hand on your shoulder gripping tight as if warning you. Suddenly he pushes you onto the wall of lockers and dominates the kiss entirely. Tongue ravishing you, making you feel weak, imaging what else that tongue could do.

He breaks away from the kiss. Anger has mostly dissipated from his face, it's nothing but wanton lust now.

"How fuckin' dare you humiliate me in front of everyone," his words are sharp but his voice lacks malice "how dare you make a fool out of me... I'm gonna make you pay." He bites into your neck and sucks on the skin. He wants to mark you as his.

You feel the heat form between your legs.

"I'm so proud of far you've come... All because I taught you, and then I let my guard down and you do this? You need to be taught a lesson don't you think?"

"Huh-uhh!" You whine, god. Fuck. You need him. Was this caused by the adrenaline of the fights? Maybe but you need him.

"You belong to me. You belong t- to Jamie Siu, and 'm gonna show you." He's growling at your neck, possessiveness coming forth thanks to the drink. "Gonna make you beg for forgiveness. You'll know where you belong when I'm done with you."

His hands work at your waistband, grabbing both pants and underwear at the same time and pulling down leaving you vulnerable. You quickly wrap your legs around him and his fingers find your clit.

"You're so fucking wet, is this all for me? Are you so desperate to please your master? Maybe you should learn to be a better disciple huh?"

He starts rubbing you, showing no mercy. He wants you to lose control and he wants you to come for him, he needs a victory.

"You're so fucking pathetic. About to get fucked in the locker room... And here I thought you were a champion?" His teeth sink into your neck once more.

His other hand busy trying to free his dick.

"How badly to you want me inside you?"

"So bad! ...Jamie please!"

You're so terribly turned on by his behaviour. Maybe you should try and beat him more often if it leads to this.

He pushes himself into your wet folds, "Shhhh quit being so loud and be a good little disciple for me yeah?" He cups his hand over your mouth and bites at your shoulder. Thrusting in and out, keeping you pinned in place with the weight of his body.

"That's right... Take Jamie's cock, beg for more like a weakling and a loser... Come all over me."

He's working you fast, pumping in and out of you, you're overwhelmed, his dirty talk is driving you insane, his teeth on your neck, warm breath making you quiver, you can't contain yourself for much longer.

"Please Jamie...! I-“ you can't even finish what you wanted to say before you see white. Your body tenses up and he tightens against you. You're not going anywhere, he wants you to ride out the orgasm in full.

The locker room has been filled by moans and the sound of skin slapping at breakneck pace.

"That's right... That's my good girl, my good student... You're not taking any wins from me anymore from now on because you belong beneath me with my cock buried in you."

You're seeing stars. You know Jamie is close to cumming as well, he's far too sweaty and slurring the words, swears escaping his lips with ease.

He grabs onto your arms as he loses it. This is it, he can't take it any longer either.

"M- I'm so fuckin- p-proud of you, you're so fucking good- you take me so well" he turned to praising you as he comes undone and it riles you up again, your cunt still filled and now dripping with his seed.

His body limps and finally lets up on you. You both lower yourselves to the ground out of breath.

"Y-you good?" He asks you with an eyebrow raised.

"M-more than good-" you reply with a sideway smirk.

"God you make me so fucking hard, do you have any idea of how hard it is to focus and fight while trying to hide a boner? You're not fair-"

There's a knock at the door "PRESS INTERVIEW IN 5!"

You both jump out of your skin, you need to clean yourselves up and fast.

#gourdkeeper #jamie siu #jamie siu x reader #street fighter #jamie really tried to Fuck It We Palm the reader #requests

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astriiformes · 1 year

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Minnesota is surprisingly left for a red state are they akso pro choice too

I definitely wouldn't describe Minnesota as a red state! I know people make the assumption sometimes given what much of the rest of the Midwest is like (including many of our immediate neighbors -- although I'd be remiss not to point out the many people striving to make it otherwise in all of them, particularly some of the hard-fought battles being slowly won in Wisconsin -- you go guys, and I know you can do it). But MN has other cultural influences like a long solid labor history and a large immigrant population that mean it's actually been a Democratic stronghold for a long time. We have the longest streak of voting blue in presidential elections of any state in the US!

Things do get much redder as you leave the Twin Cities metro area, though that's really the trend in any state. But for perspective, over half the state's population lives in the metro, so when you take into account that there are at least a few other blue clusters in the state (Duluth, a Great Lakes shipping town on Lake Superior with a long labor union history and that currently has a nonbinary representative in the MN House comes to mind!), we really are more of a blue state, or at least a very blueish-purple one. Right now our state Democrats (the Democratic-Farmer-Labor party) control the House, Senate, and Governor's office, which is the reason they've been getting so much good legislation passed. And while our national House reps are split half and half (though some of our Democratic reps are particularly progressive) both our Senators are Democrats.

I wouldn't oversell how blue we are, there are certain parts of state politics that are narrower and go back and forth a bit more than in some of the really "safe" blue states. But at the same time, after living here for a while, I really do think the flip side of that is that our Democratic politicians are somewhat more genuine about what they do, which ends up balancing certain things out. Hence the current legislative session where they're pushing through everything they can in remarkably quick succession!

To answer your question though -- yes, Minnesota is also a pretty pro-choice state. Our state House recently passed a bill that would limit the release of reproductive healthcare information, essentially protecting people from other states who come here for reproductive care. The bill is expected to pass in the Senate and be signed by the governor as well. Our governor and lieutenant governor have both been fairly outspoken about protecting reproductive and abortion rights in the state. Earlier this year the governer also signed into law the Protecting Reproductive Options (PRO) Act to explicitly protect and codify abortion rights here.

I hope some of that's useful information! Minnesota politics are definitely not what I expected when I moved here -- in my time living in the state I've had the opportunity to vote for one of the most progressive reps in the US Congress (Ilhan Omar) and been consistently impressed by how seriously our state takes things like voting rights and state welfare programs. There's a lot of really incredible political activism happening here and it's moving to be a part of -- especially since I know we're becoming even more of an important sanctuary state for people from other places in the Midwest. The northern Great Lakes states (thinking about MN, WI, and MI in particular) are all sort of interesting beasts politically and I'm grateful to have learned more about some of the strong Democratic and labor history in the region in my time here.

Ending with a terrible joke, but -- we have over 10,000 lakes, of course we're blue!

#the 'minnesota has 10000 lakes is actually an understatement. minnesota has over 10000 lakes' thing really gets me #living here has made me far more pro-minnesota than i ever expected to be though #i definitely also had an incorrect perception of the political complexity of the midwest before i moved here #i'm glad to have had it remedied -- it gives me a lot of hope!#land of eldritch lakes

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gamebunny-advance · 5 months

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I didn't get a chance to vote on the poll, but also noticed what would have been my answer wasn't there so I'm writing it in now- I personally see it as he's their CREATOR first, manager second. They don't call him manager in a lot of materials, and they also don't call him father, they call him "Captain" or "sir," (this being pulled from largely the additional voice actor's portrayals at least, which I think are worth at least considering in a wider scope of interpretation)

That feels like the title or nickname he'd prefer they use, hence programming them TO use it for him- and that betrays neither fatherly intent nor producer intent, but pre-existing intent he didn't change (lifting from prior coding) or that he preferred. Beyond that he definitely refers to them as troops- it is their aesthetic, but it's more impersonal

the items you get for the lore on 1010 are toys, and while it's not stated, I've always thought there was an implication that he had made them- His relationship then isn't one of a father to sons, but of a creator about his creations, which IS different. It's why he's as willing to literally throw them at you in combat and, simultaneously, seemingly instinctively, puts a hand out in front of himself to protect them when the final attack is coming- even if they are tools to some degree, he MADE them what they are and he's PROUD of that- He doesn't want to see his work destroyed

Obviously this gets increasingly more complicated if you believe that 1010 gain sapience of some degree, but I still think the relationship isn't quite what I'd call fatherhood. He is simultaneously all the family they have and deeply, inherently unlike them- yet there is undeniably pieces of him and influences from him present in them, because every creation will reflect its creator in some way, in ways they can't even predict

Then, y'know, yeah, it's being a manager time. Ultimately he's gotta organize them and tell them what to do- how he feels about that could be a variety of ways, but he is doing it nonetheless, so something about it matters to him as well- likely the vow to serve the city thing, if leading a boyband is the way to ensure the lights stay on, then he's going to do it 'till his heart gives out.

To start, I do think you're getting a little caught up in the semantics of the poll, but since you're making the case that "creator" is different from "father," I'll hear you out.

And tbh, I really like that interpretation. It's a little more nuanced from what I'm used to seeing, and it is giving me something to sink my teeth into.

I do differ in that I don't think Neon J. personally made the toys or the base 1010: I felt like the implication of the MKI - MKIII standee was that 1010 has actually been around since the wartime era, since MKI 1010 are build more similarly to the recycled battlebots in the Metro Division. Parallel to that, I think it's implied that Neon J. is a cyborg due to suffering injuries in the war. Since they appeared to exist at the same time, it seemed more likely to me that 1010 and NJ's body originated from the same source, but not that NJ was necessarily the direct creator of either them or the toys. (Though, I will admit that knowing that the toy company is called "J-1" does imply that he has something to do with it. But to rectify that, I'm gonna say that he just bought out the company/factory, but he didn't start them.)

But that's just an argument of history. Both interpretations can still lead to the "creator" theory in the sense that NJ still views 1010 impersonally, but still fondly. Even if he didn't make the base, he still turned them into what they are today, which is still a lot of hard work and dedication to the craft.

It's not making him out to be this overly sentimental guy (which is ultimately what I dislike about most "father first" interpretations), but he's also not heartless, and I like that. It's retaining what many interpretations (including mine, sadly) sometimes miss out on, and that's that he's an artist, just like all the other stars. He values his craft, and 1010 are the result of that, for better or worse.

#nsr #no straight roads #1010 #neon j #gbunny responds #thanks for the good meal~#it's been a while since someone's sent in some interesting analysis #i'm a little too stuck with what i've got to change my own headcanons #but i genuinely really like this take #so i'm gonna go ahead and file it into my brain as 'valid 1010 opinions'#which i will promptly do nothing with but will make me happy when i think about it~#tbh. i stick with the 'father' interpretation because it gives me the platform to explore generational trauma and the cycle of abuse #that is the whole point of NJ/white/green's horrible relationship #i made him a father just so he can be absent #BUT if you take away that angle then there's a better platform for discussing NJ's war-trauma with more focus #because if he doesn't see them has his kin #then he doesn't have the obligation to 'raise' them nor do they have the obligation to expect it #so whatever 1010 are becomes more a reflection NJ's psyche #which i think is a great angle to come from #it's juicy. i'm into it~

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