#ted sears

[thewaltcrew]

Chanticleer concept art by Marc Davis

Chanticleer is likely the most famous of all canceled projects at the Walt Disney Animation Studios. Although these drawings were done in the early 1960s, the studio had been trying since the late 1930s to develop a feature film based on two French stories: the play Chantecler by Edmond Rostand and the Roman de Renart or Reynard the Fox, a literary cycle first collected in 11th-century Europe. The two stories were initially developed separately. Storymen Ted Sears and Al Perkins were the first to work on them, but they quickly ran into the same problem that would constantly plague Chanticleer for its entire development existence: how to make an arrogant rooster into an appealing protagonist.

Sears: We, or any other cartoon outfit, cannot depict a likable, interesting rooster character. Good animators have told me this, and only some revolutionary change or inspiration would make a rooster character sympathetic.

Development on Reynard also ran into similar problems of having a protagonist with a less-than-admirable personality, as Reynard the Fox is one of the most famous sources that propagated the image of a fox as a sly trickster. By 1945, the idea to combine the two properties came about, likely to help alleviate the problem of Chanticleer’s arrogant character by having a villain for him to play off of. Attempts to develop it again continued on through the 1940s, but nothing ever panned out.

In early 1960, Marc Davis and Ken Anderson, uninterested in any of the films in development at the time, took a trip down to the Animation Research Library to find ideas for a film they could develop on their own. Davis, being a fan of musical theater, wanted to do a big Broadway musical-style animated feature. They came across the old treatments for Chanticleer and jumped on the chance. They disregarded the original source materials (aside from the basic premises) and began to develop their own plot, envisioning it as a satiric comedy.

The story would have been about a rooster named Chanticleer who believes that his crowing makes the sun rise every morning. Everyone else in the village adores Chanticleer because they believe in his power too, and they elect him mayor of the town. However, he becomes an overbearing leader, ordering the hens to lay more and more eggs. The townsfolk come to resent him, and Reynard the fox arrives and takes advantage of the situation, wishing to exploit the village for his own benefit. He entertains the citizens, and the chickens stay up all night, becoming too tired to lay any eggs. An angry Chanticleer orders Reynard to leave, but Reynard announces that he will run for mayor against Chanticleer. Chanticleer finds himself in a duel at dawn against a Spanish rooster who works for Reynard and doesn’t realize that the sun has risen without him. Once he discovers that his crowing does not bring up the sun, he realizes his foolishness and is humbled, allowing the villagers to forgive him. Because although his crowing never made the sun come up, it did awaken the citizens for them to be able to start their days.

Cost cutting is what effectively ended Chanticleer’s chances. Walt was pressured to stop the production of animated feature films moving forward, as their already existing catalogue would have been enough for the company to profit off of during re-releases.

Davis: Walt was about ready to dump animation; then he got to thinking, “I owe these people something,” which he did. So he said, “Hell, these guys know how to make these films without me.” I don’t think the others realized how eager the members of this business gang were to get rid of animation. Everything after Dalmatians was done with a minimum of Walt’s supervision. I think he got spread very thin: he got terribly interested in the Parks, his vision of Epcot, and more.

But as preoccupied as Walt was, he didn’t have it in his heart to shut down animated film production for good. He did, however, reduce the output by setting a schedule of a new film every four years rather than every two. This meant that one of the two films in development at the time, Chanticleer and The Sword in the Stone, had to be cut. The decision was obvious, as Chanticleer would have been much more expensive to produce, and The Sword in the Stone was a simpler story with human characters and a cute underdog protagonist.

Davis: We had all the artwork up on the walls, and the money people at the studio came in like it was a funeral. We went all the way through the presentation and met with silence. Then a voice from the back of the room said, “You can’t make a personality out of a chicken!” They all filed out and that was the end of it.

Walt would soon call up Marc Davis to ask him to help out at WED (later called Imagineering), which is where Davis would stay for the remainder of his Disney career (where he would contribute to some of the most beloved Disney attractions of all time), thereby making Chanticleer the very last thing he worked on at the animation studio.

Davis: I had always kind of doubled up: I did story on an awful lot of stuff that was not made, including some damned good things. I think some of the best drawings I ever did for the Studio were for Chanticleer.

Chanticleer has grown a legacy of its own, perhaps solely because of how appealing and well-drawn Davis’ work for the project was. As animator Andreas Deja put it, “Marc designed some of the best-looking characters I’ve ever seen--those drawings want to be moved and used... The designs for Chanticleer show the same level of graphic sophistication as his paintings. When that’s combined with his very thorough knowledge of anatomy and the Disney appeal, the result is outstanding.”

Mel Shaw attempted to rework a new treatment for Chanticleer in 1981, but it was quickly squashed. In 1992, Don Bluth, an ex-Disney animator who, like everyone else, loved Marc Davis’ work on Chanticleer, tried his hand at the story himself with the film Rock-A-Doodle, though to little critical or commercial acclaim.

Although Marc Davis never worked on an animated film again after Chanticleer, some of the designs he created for that film did find their way into his WED project America Sings and later Splash Mountain, when the animatronics from America Sings were repurposed.

research sources from [x][x][x], The Disney That Never Was: The Stories and Art of Five Decades of Unproduced Animation by Charles Solomon, and Marc Davis: Walt Disney’s Renaissance Man, Chanticleer chapter by Charles Solomon photo sources [x][x][x]

#marc davis #chanticleer #disneyedit #animator #artist #story #ken anderson #ted sears #al perkins

[adamwatchesmovies]

Cinderella (1950)

Sumptuously animated, with iconic images and memorable songs, Cinderella exemplifies the golden age of Disney Animation. Adults will be filled with warm nostalgia while watching - even if they didn’t grow up with the film. Kids will be delighted. Smart choices throughout make it an old-fashioned picture with lasting appeal

Orphaned and now living with her cruel stepmother (voiced by Eleanor Audley) and two wicked stepsisters (voiced by Helene Stanley and Rhoda Williams), Cinderella (voiced by Ilene Woods) is now a servant in her own home. Though forced to perform endless chores and suffer unjust punishments, Cinderella never loses hope that someday her dreams will come true. When the King (voiced by Luis van Rooten) organizes a royal ball to find a suitable wife for his son, Lady Tremaine becomes determined to prevent Cinderella from attending.

Cinderella is very much a classic fairy tale. The story is timeless and easy to latch onto. It’s also very much a product of its time. The protagonist is not an active participant in their own story. Today, a strong female character might use her wits to get herself out of a jam or just punch the bad guy in the face. It’s no spoiler to tell you that Cinderella’s salvation is kind of just served to her on a platter through the magic of her fairy godmother (voiced by Verna Felton)… but that's oversimplifying it. The story’s message is that even if others treat you like dirt, you shouldn’t hold a grudge and remain kind. The moral is taken to an extreme but it’s a good lesson to teach - far more applicable to real life than you'd think.

This is a rather straightforward retelling of the fairytale by Charles Perrault but key additions and choices make it stand out. First, the animated medium. Every frame of Cinderella is so crisp it looks like it was made yesterday. The colours are wonderful. The characters are delightfully expressive. The movements are smooth, everyone is always on-model and it’s a delight to simply watch the story play out. The chateau is filled with all sorts of details that make it feel like it used to be majestic but is slowly rotting away, like the huge mouse population that moves through its corridors through endless - and varied - secret passages. You can tell the artists had a blast coming up with new ways for Jaq, Gus (voice by Jimmy MacDonald) and the other mice to make their way from one room to another.

Another memorable aspect of Cinderella is the musical numbers. Ask anyone. They’ll tell you Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo is the best piece but over the years So This is Love has grown on me as much as A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes. Special attention should also be given to Oh Sing Sweet Nightengale, in which Cinderella sings harmony with herself in a clever manner that also utilizes the animated medium to its full potential.

Cinderella is a lovely person. She’s meek but kind and patient, with neverending empathy for those around her. Seeing her constantly beaten down breaks your heart. While she could be described as a bit bland as far as heroines go, the same can’t be said about the film's chief villain, Lady Tremaine. Modeled after and voiced by the same woman who would later bring Maleficent to life, she steals every scene she’s in. You hate her but wouldn't dare look away for a moment.

There is one scene, in particular, that stood out to me during this viewing. It’s not a big memorable moment but it exemplifies the care that was put into the film. In it, Cinderella walks up a flight of stairs with a tea set on a tray. She's being followed by Lady Tremaine’s cat, Lucifer, who knows a mouse is hiding beneath one of the cups. The cat is about to get his prey when Cinderella’s shoe suddenly slips off. She turns around to put it back on, spinning the tray and making Lucifer grab the wrong cup in the process. His bewilderment makes us laugh and the scene also foreshadows the famous slipper that will be left behind later in the film.

Cinderella is what you picture when you hear the words “Classic Disney”. it’s gorgeous, contains plenty of laughs, and offers just enough heartbreaks to keep you in suspense until the happy ending you've been promised. The songs are memorable, as are the characters - even if sometimes they’re little more than archetypes. Not every movie should be like Cinderella but if you want to tell an old fairytale, do it like this. (On Blu-ray, March 12, 2021

#cinderella #movies #films #movie reviews #film reviews #wilfred jackson #hamilton luske #clyde geronimi #william peet #ted sears #homer brightman #kenneth anderson #erdman penner #winston hibler #harry reeves #joe rinaldi #ilene woods #eleanor audley #verna felton #claire du brey #rhoda williams #james macdonald #helene stanley #luis van rooten #don barclay #1950 movies #1950 films #disney movies #disney films

[courseyoulovemeyoudontknowme]

Pinocchio (1940, Hamilton Luske, Ben Sharpsteen, Norm Ferguson, Bill Roberts, Jack Kinney, Wilfred Jackson, T. Hee)

10/02/2024

Pinocchio is a 1940 animated film directed by various directors, produced by Walt Disney Productions and based on Carlo Collodi's novel The Adventures of Pinocchio. It is the 2nd Disney Classic.

With this new film Walt Disney hoped to repeat the success achieved three years earlier with Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, but the outbreak of the Second World War in 1939 did not allow the desired result to be achieved. However, it was the highest-grossing film of 1940. Furthermore, Walt Disney was working at the same time on a more ambitious project, Fantasia, released in the same year as Pinocchio.

The screenplay was written by Aurelius Battaglia, William Cottrell, Otto Englander, Erdman Penner, Joseph Sabo, Ted Sears and Webb Smith adapting Collodi's book, and tells of the old carpenter Geppetto who carves a wooden puppet named Pinocchio, who is brought to life by the Blue Fairy, who tells him that he can become a real child if he proves "good, courageous, selfless" : thus begins the puppet's adventures to become a real child, which involve many encounters with a series of shady characters.

The production was supervised by Ben Sharpsteen and Hamilton Luske, and the film sequences were directed by Norman Ferguson, T. Hee, Wilfred Jackson, Jack Kinney and Bill Roberts.

Although it received critical acclaim and became the first animated film to win a competitive Academy Award, winning two for Best Score and Best Song for When You Wish Upon a Star, it was initially a box office flop, primarily due to due to the Second World War which interrupted European and Asian markets abroad.

#pinocchio #animation #1940 #the walt disney company #carlo collodi #The Adventures of Pinocchio #List of Walt Disney Animation Studios films #walt disney #1937 #snow white and the seven dwarfs #world war ii #Film col maggiore incasso per ogni anno #fantasia #Aurelius Battaglia #William Cottrell #Otto Englander #Erdman Penner #Joseph Sabo #Ted Sears #Webb Smith #Geppetto #Fairy with Turquoise Hair #ben sharpsteen #hamilton luske #Norm Ferguson #T. Hee #wilfred jackson #Jack Kinney #Bill Roberts #film criticism

[tootern2345]

Rewatched the 1930 Talkartoon, Swing You Sinners! just now and I still like it! Still enjoyable, unrestrained, and just neat! A maverick that all can enjoy.

The cartoon does have a racial connotation to it and some stereotyping and the main conflict of the toon that starts it all (Bimbo wanting some food) truly worked when the cartoon first premiered to theaters but it is still a pretty nice cartoon all things considered. The animation is varied, given that at the time, Grim Natwick was training various inbetweeners (like Shamus Culhane, Willard Bowsky, & Inbetween dpt head William Henning amongst others) to animate after the four key Fleischer animators left for greener and not so greener pastures midway through production of the short. Natwick’s animation in the short is pretty rubbery and straight-ahead, which gives the toon and others he animated on it a unique feel since Fleischer was primarily a studio that, while inventing the process itself as we know it, adapted the system of inbetweening. The story is simple but it’s the overall gag after gag nature and the macabre but interesting tone that makes it all the worthwhile! The music is also pretty jazzy and really sets the mood for the cartoon pretty well, Swing, Swing, Swing indeed!

Overall, the cartoon is pretty enjoyable. It’s not “surreal” or anything of the sorts. Just an enjoyable romp. And remember ya’ll, don’t steal a chicken or do anything Bimbo done or else you’ll be devoured by a skeleton xD. I rate it a 10/10! One of Fleischer’s best!!!

#toot’s talking corner #swing you sinners #fleischer studios #max fleischer #dave fleischer #ted sears #grim natwick #1930’s animation #creepy #jazzy #animation #classic cartoons #golden age of animation #new york animation industry #1930 #the great depression

[waddingham]

i cannot stop thinking about the amsterdam episode. it's going to be Thee episode this season I just know it

#either in terms of a major turning point or being the funniest or the most heart searing its going to be big i can feel it #i mean. might be all three with this show who tf knows #ted lasso spoilers

[callixton]

at least there r the seared christmas videos..... if nothing else at least there r the seared christmas promo vidoes...... <3

#why did you hoist ur entire self onto that piano king... do it again #i've never wanted him so bad #raúl with a sleeve of tattoos & the beard & the soft sweater & the dumb little santa hat & the greatest sense of play + lightness....... #ted talks #raúl esparza #seared

[onlylonelylatino]

Blue Beetle and Justice League Europe by Bart Sears

#blue beetle #ted kord #justice league #justice league europe #j onn jonzz #martian manhunter #metamorpho #kilowog #captain atom #rocket red #ice #guy gardner #green lantern #bart sears #dc comics #modern age #keith giffen #gerard jones

[evilhorse]

Why don’t you cheer me up and get the hell outta here?

(Invasion! #3)

#invasion! #world without heroes #green lantern #guy gardner #blue beetle #ted kord #cheering up #crossover #keith giffen #bill mantlo #bart sears #dc comics #comics #80s comics

[jrueships]

re kyle my lil beefcake... pat riley acknowledged kyle was dealing with serious personal issues and then still was insulting his weight like what????

deadass that was foul n it did not fit right in my moral comprehension. the Raptor fans in the comments being like 'come back lowry we'd never talk to you like that OR let a man talk to you like that' n like , mhm! yea !!

#cruel n unusual it did not settle #how u gonna know someone goin thru smthin n proceed to talk abt em like that #some ppl laughin like its some joke #fuckin foul #n i know if that scraped ME that SEARED deebo like!! #damn ! #piss me WAY off now i gotta go do the dishes or smthin so im not angry no more #why would u go n say this to someone n to anyone in general man #dont be talkin bout people like that !! aint u got some sulci??? do better bruh. do better #glad this rubbed us BOTH off cus ion LIKE it !!! #ted asks

[jiejies-corner-store]

THE AVENTURINE FIC 😭😭 OH GOSH IM CRYING 😭😭

i’m so sorry, anon! here this should make it up 😭😭 the devil knows you're dead

pairing. aventurine x reader

tags/tw: fem!reader, references to a complicated childbirth, mother!reader, father!aventurine, spoilers to aventurine's real name, spoilers in reference to 2.1 trailblaze questline, aventurine’s nihilism and depression, references to death, hurt/comfort, ooc aventurine probably, i make shit up at the end because i want a happy ending—bite me.

sfw

a/n: ouchie. i finished 2.1 and it hurt. it hurt a lot. the ost for the “all the sad tales” is genuinely so beautiful. the trumpet just feels so melancholy yet hopeful it just goes so perfectly with aventurine’s story. but i need something that feels good now. ABSOLUTELY NOT PROOF-READ pt. 1

“As long as you are alive, the blood of the Avgin will never run dry.”

It was cold. Cold and warm. Almost feverish feeling. The type of feeling you’d get when you were freezing but your skin was hot to the touch. There was this frustrating beeping noise somewhere off in the distance that you just couldn’t tune out, finally you opened your eyes to see a sea of darkness, and seemingly at an unreachable horizon, a large circle of white light that looked like a gate.

“You’re not dead, if that’s what you’re wondering,” a voice came from beside you. How you didn’t realize there was a whole person standing next to you, you had no clue.

“Well, that’s not originally what I was going for, but now I’m a bit worried I might be,” you laughed, nervous, but curious all the same. This… person you couldn’t quite make out an exact face, or even a body for that matter, but ther was this distinct feeling that it was in fact a person. Like your instinct knew, but your brain couldn’t quite fill in the details.

“This is a place beyond mortal comprehension, if I tried to explain it to you, you would only be more confused. Walk with me,” the entity said, and without even willing your body to do so, you followed. Ripples emanated from each step as you followed and soon the inky void around you melted into an unfamiliar planet.

The sky was a deep purple, streaked with red that looked like lighting that crackled along the sky. Instead of the fluid, black ground, sand now shifted as you moved foward. Inside a small hut made of rock, you saw a woman cradling a swaddled child.

“Such a lucky child, such a blessed child… Just like your name. A gift from THEM to Avgin… my boy…”

You turned to the figure beside you and hesitantly asked, “Where are we?”

“A land of rock, but not water, lightning, but not rain, blood, but not tears,” the entity responded cryptically, which only caused a crease in your brow. You went closer to the mother in the hut and sat next to her. She whispered a blessing onto her child, but none of the words made sense to your ears. Similar to the entity, it’s like your brain scrambled them from your understanding.

The mother cried. You tried to wrap your arms around her to comfort her but only phased through her like a ghost. The baby too began to cry.

Then, the scene changed again, suddenly it was a cell with iron bars. A blond young man sat next to you. The blond’s gaze was downturned, but you could recognize that voice anywhere.

“—Thirty tanba… that’s all my life is worth.”

“That’s not…” you said, but realized it was all in vain. You tried again to take Kakavasha’s hands into your own. You wantd to take the cuffs off his wrists and cradle where the skin was rubbed raw.

“It's all or nothing…”

“Kakav—agh!”

Your future never existed You█ future never existed You█ future ne█er existed You█ fut███ ne█er existed You█ fut███ ne█er ████ted You█ fut███ █e█er ████ted Yo██ ██████ █e█er ████ted

Your mind felt clouded, a searing headache, followed by an inability to even pin down a coherent thought. The scene shifted once more.

“What’s going on!” you shouted at the figure that stood only silently next to you, crippled on the ground, clutching at your head, fingers pressing in to try to find the spot that would alleviate this awful pressure.

When your senses were no longer blinded by pain, you were back to that inky void you started in, but this time you weren’t alone. Not far away, maybe twenty feet or so, was your Kakavasha, and a woman you didn’t recognize.

“Why are we born into this world if it's just to die?”

You stumbled to your feet to try to run to him, but with each step closer he only got further away. He walked towards that gate of light. In your head, you heart was pounding faster and faster. You failed to catch up to him. He only got further and further away until he disappeared like fireflies dispersing into the night, “Kakavasha! No—!”

Utterly devastated, you sunk back onto your knees. You didn’t know why but you had this distinct feeling of loss. Tears rolled from your eyes freely. He… he wasn’t gone surely? The entity’s presence reappeared next to you.

“Why did you show me all of this,” you asked, not sure if you actually wanted an answer.

“Because you need to go back,” the entity answered and your jaw locked, gritting your teeth so hard they hurt.

You screamed into the void, “You’re the one who brought me here!”

“I never call anyone to me… you mortals believe that it is US that determine when your time to go is… but in truth it is your own doing, whether it is your body or your mind that gives up first,” the entity said, “It is only the strength of your will that will allow you to continue down your destined path… but many give up on that path and someone else must be chosen.”

“What does this have to do with me,” you snapped. “Why are you meddling in my life? What does Kakavasha have to do with this?”

“Kakavasha still has a long road ahead of him. I have supplemented his journey all his life. It was only recently he was able to live on his own will,” said the entity ”Your body is giving up. I do not have the power anymore to keep him alive. That lies with you.”

Your surroundings melted again. You were in a hospital room and on the bed was you. Eyes closed and steadily breathing, but your heartbeat was weak. The annoying beeping from before was louder and more prominent.

“You wanted to help him. During his past, you reached out each time. There is nothing you can do about that now, but the future and the present… you still have a choice.”

Laying a hand on your unmoving body, there was a slight resistance, but with just a bit more pressure you felt as if you could phase through it entirely.

“What do I need to do,” you asked the entity.

“Live.”

You furrowed your brow at that. Of course you wanted to live… right? The entity gestured for your hand, you obliged. Against your palm was an oddly soft feeling. Warm. Like a mother’s touch against your’s. Your palms pressed together, the entity spoke,

“May the goddess Gaiathra close HER eyes three times… Keep your blood eternally pulsing… Let your journey be forever peaceful… …and your schemes forever concealed."

You lifted your head and your “body” began to disappear similar to how Kakavasha disappeared. Just before you disappeared into sparks of golden light, you had the sense about you to ask:

“Who are you?” you felt like you were shouting, but your voice was quiet.

“You could call me Fenge Biyos.”

You opened your eyes with a deep gasp for air. Your surroundings were blurry, and you rubbed at your eyes, only to realize Kakavasha was up, standing next to your hospital bed with an anxious expression, hands already grasping the one that was wiping crust from your eyes.

“You’re awake,” he choked out, holding you as if you would break, “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry for everything. I’m sorry I did this to you that I—”

“Kakavasha, slow down, what… why are you—no, don’t be sorry,” you finally found your words, sitting foward on the bed to wrap your arms around him. You racked your brain, trying to figure out what was going on. Your mind was still foggy, but finally that haze disappated and you remembered everything leading up to now.

“Kakavasha~” you hummed in a song-like tone, a small wrapped box with a blue and purple bow tied around it. You skipped over to his desk and wrapped your arms around his shoulders where he sat, and placed the gift in front of him, laying your head on his shoulder as your arms tightly hugged him. “I have a surprise.”

He smiled with a small laugh, “Doesn’t this usually work the other way around?” He pecked a kiss onto your check before pulling the bow off and opening the lid of the box, when he froze.

The smile on your face faltered bit when he didn’t say anything after a bit. The corners of it tightened into a more forced position, “Kakavasha? You’re gonna be a papa…”

The joy in his face from earlier had completely vanished. Only replaced by a stony, cold, poker face. He pushed his chair back and you stumbled into the wall behind. He gave you a tight smile and kissed your forehead before heading for the door and grabbing his hat. “I’ll be back later.”

With that, the door slammed shut behind him, leaving you at a loss as you fell into his chair, feeling suddenly so very empty in this large office alone.

He came back after that, apologetic for leaving you, but nothing felt truly right. He continued to reassure you that he did want to have this child, but it was a strenous time. The entire pregnancy was stressful. The doctors warned you that the level of stress you were under put you at risk for a premature birth, but you brushed them off. It was just the hormones, you were sure. Kakavasha still loved you. The ring on your finger should’ve been proof enough of that.

“How about the name Ilyas?” you suggested, laying your head on Kakavasha’s lap, “I was… looking at some databases about Avgin names and I thought that one was nice. What do you think?”

Aventurine hummed, but his mind seemed elsewhere. You let it go.

The next few months continued on in similar fashion.

But it all came to a head.

The two of you were standing in the kitchen. It had started off small. The hormones and the stress were getting to you. It was an off hand comment about him not fixing dinner, and you were tired and hungry from carrying around his child.

From there it had escalated. It turned into you were tired of feeling like you were walking on eggshells when you talked about the pregnancy. About how he was barely around for the appointments, and when he was he seemd emotionally distant… finally he exploded

“I never asked for this!” he shouted. “When did I ever say I wanted to be a father? Did you even ask me? Did you think about what I felt about this whole thing at all?”

You paused, feeling tears well up in your throat as a white-hot fear flashed through your body. You laughed, a hollow sound, “I’m sorry, Aventurine, I thought it took two people to make a baby? And you certainly made no attempt to use protection.”

He didn’t have anything to say about that. Even though the argument seemed over, you felt a nauseous feeling crawling up in your throat. Your tears felt like acid burning through your skin. Then a pain in your stomach. Your knees gave out and the last thing you remember was the scared expression on Kakavasha’s face before it all went dark.

“I was scared…. I was so scared that bringing another Avgin into this world would only bring misfortune onto you… that Gaiathra Triclops would take you from our child, just like my mother was taken from me,” he openly cried into your shoulder. “I took it out on you. I made something that should’ve been a beautiful experience something that was awful, and I understand… if you never forgive me for that but please…. please don’t leave.”

Now you were crying with him, one hand tangled in his blond locks and the other rubbing his back. Quietly, so quietly that you almost didn’t hear it, he whispered, “I can’t lose you too.”

You thought for a long time. In front of you wasn’t one of the Ten Stonehearts of the IPC. Not a calculating or cunning man, who’s only interest was in things that benefited the IPC’s bank accounts. In front of you was a broken man, who’d had everything stripped away from him when he was only a child. Who was shattered and forced to put his life back together with nothing but fear and anxiety as glue.

Did it excuse what he'd broken?

No.

“I’m here… I won’t leave Kakavasha,”

But maybe with time and effort, you could help re-glue each other with something a little more beautiful.

“Ilyas! Don’t run so far!” you called after a small blond haired child who was already ahead of you by a longshot, you turned exasperatedly to your husband, “Honey, can you go after him please? I don’t want him to get trampled by some idiot who’s not paying attention…”

The man only smiled at you, one hand firmly wrapped around your ever expanding waist, “It’s okay. There’s some of my squad that’s following him incognito. He won’t get out of our sights without them dragging him back. We can let him get his energy out. He’ll be cooped up in a hospital soon.”

You huffed conceded. Already tired from just getting through the theme park’s entrance. You were due in about two weeks, but Kakavasha was insistent that a week before you’d be under hospital supervision until you brought your second child into the world. It had taken about five years before the two of you had healed enough and there were roadbumps along the way… but you were both ready to give Ilyas a little sister.

But for now, the two of you wanted to let Ilyas have one more day as an only child. The reconstructed Penacony was nothing like the Dreamscape of the past. Fear and secrets no longer were trapped in the gilded cage of the former prison planet. With the help of the IPC and the Harmony, New Penacony was entirely real. No more dreams, just reality. They’d kept many of their old franchises and built a true theme park.

“Mama!! Picture! Let’s get a picture here before we go in!” Ilyas screeched, pointing at Clockie statue in front of the Clock Studios main attraction. You set a hand on Kakavasha’s arm, glancing up at him to try to get a read on what he was feeling. He’d let you in on the parts of his past that he’d kept a secret. The scheme behind Penacony, his proposed “death” and his encounter with his Past and Future.

He took a breathe and looked back down at you, giving you a smile that said “I’m okay” and relief flooded your bones. After walking you over in front of the camera, he crouched down and scooped Ilyas into his arms.

“Ready?” the cameraman asked and you nodded. After a brief countdown the camera flashed, and for a moment in that bright light, you saw the hopeful future that lied ahead.

#aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #aventurine x you #hsr 2.1 #penacony

[neverinadream]

You Want This Back?

Summary: The topic of turn-ons consumes a conversation between you and your roommate.

Pairing: Christian Pulisic x Fem!Reader

Requested: Yes

Song Inspo: Crushing Me - Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, smut, roommates to lovers, soft dom!christian (with subtle hints to sub!christian), sub!reader, dirty talk, pet names (baby, princess,...), a bit praise kink, teasing, masturbation, giving instructions, nipple play, talks of porn, talks of turn ons, fingering, spitting, unprotected sex, cum play, aftercare

Notes: i apologise because this is a long one. this is very much inspired by a conversation that i had with @thoseboysinblue ages ago now and also by that one scene in ted lasso where roy walks in on keeley. i haven't written smut in a long time, so if it's shit then it's shit. feedback is always appreciated.

An uncomfortable, searing ache had built between your thighs, one that couldn't be ignored any longer. You slid your hand under your panties, whimpering as your fingers were instantly coated in your arousal. Holding your phone in your other hand, you listened to the woman gagged and splutted around her partner's cock as he forced more than she could take into her throat. You wanted to be controlled like that, to have tears prick your eyes as you pushed past your limit. He grunted something about her doing a good job and she moaned approvingly around him, but you only heard your moans as your fingertips swirled around your clit, before thrusting deep inside.

"Oh, god," you whimper, rolling your eyes as your head leans back against the headboard.

You imagined him between your legs, his hand gripping your throat as he lapped his tongue against your cunt, devouring it with every ounce of energy he had. A new rush of arousal flooded your senses. You switched between fucking yourself and rubbing your clit, both working to stiffen the knot in your stomach, and you knew for sure you weren't going to last much longer. Soon, you would be crying out as your orgasm shatters through you.

But a knock on your bedroom door interrupts you and you start to panic as the muffled sound of your roommate's voice comes through from the other side. "So, I was thinking..." He voice slowly tunes out, forgetting what he was going to say as he witnesses you hastily pull your covers up your body, and you throw your phone out of fright across your room, a sharp cry of surprise escaping your throat as it all happens.

Christian looks at you and then down at your phone, his head tilting at the sound playing through your phone, eyes growing wide as he realises what was happening.

"Leave it!" You snap, watching him take a step towards your phone, pulling the covers higher up your body as he ignores your request.

"You want this back?"

He tilts the phone screen in your direction, a close-up of the actress throwing her head back over dramatically filling up the screen as the video continued to play. Fake moans and aggressive grunts fill the silence as he waits for you to find your voice, but instead of trying to say anything, you just wished for the earth to collapse and split below you. The idea of plummeting into the Earth's core was much more appealing to you than attempting to explain the porn still playing on your phone.

What could you tell him? The truth? That watching him perform simple drills in his backyard had turned you on? That the sweat dripping down his naked chest sent a rush of searing heat to your core, leaving you with an uncomfortable ache that only you could fix? Absolutely not.

You two were barely friends.

Only acquaintances.

If it wasn't for your mutual connection that came in the shape and form of Weston, you'd be finishing up your year abroad in overpriced student accommodation. You weren't about to ruin your situation by telling him he made you wet.

"I told you not to pick it up," you finally speak, finding the strength to pull back your covers and leave your bed. His eyes flick down to your bare legs, and you watch the corner of his mouth twitch. Blood rushes to his cock at the slightest glimpse of the black lace peaking out from underneath the end of your t-shirt, but his eyes are snapped back up as you snatched your phone out of his hand, acting quickly to turn the video off. "What do you want?" You ask, masking the irritation you felt with a fake smile.

"I was going to ask if you wanted to go grab an early lunch, but, my bad," his grins grows wider as he watches your fake smile crumble, "I didn't know you were already busy."

He takes a step back, his eyes brushing down your body, focusing on that little bit of lace still on show to him, and then flicking over to your bed. He wets his bottom lip, sinking his teeth into the soft pillow of skin, and thinks about you propped against the messy stack of pillows getting yourself off to some actress faking her moans for the benefit of the audience. The image of you sitting there, your phone in one hand, the other below the waistband of your panties, fingers spreading your heat all over your pussy left him uncomfortably hard.

He takes a deep breath, trying to shake the thought from his head, and shifts his focus back to you. "You know what, why don't I go and grab us lunch from that Italian place you like?"

You raise your eyebrows. That place was at least a thirty minute drive away from his house. "Why that place?" You ask, tucking your phone under your arm, folding them across your chest. Once again, you watch his gaze flicker to the end of your shirt, pupils blowing up as more of the lace is accidentally revealed to him.

He takes a step forward, a wave of his cologne hitting you as he leans in. He always smelt good and you knew you would miss it. "So then you have more than enough time to finish what you've started," he whispers, his mouth resting against your ear. You go to shove him away, but he reacts quickly to your sudden movement, catching your wrist. He doesn't miss the subtle whimper you let out, but it wasn't like you tried to hide it either. "Don't watch that fake crap though," he offers a suggestion, "think about me instead. Let it be my name that you moan."

"Is your ego truly that big that you would think that I would ever think about you?" You fire back, holding his gaze. "You make my pussy drier than the Sahara!"

"Of course, I do," he shrugs his shoulders, making sure to linger at the door to catch your reaction, "that's why you were squirming in your seat and squeezing your thighs together as you were watching me earlier." You try your best to mask your surprise with an expression of annoyance. He winks, chuckling at you as you roll your eyes like he was telling you your secret was safe with him. "See you later, princess," he bids you goodbye, turning out of the door, leaving you to gawk at the empty doorframe.

'Princess.'

You hated and loved it all at the same time.

———————

You shovel another fork full of pasta into your mouth, moaning loudly as the palette of flavour bursts on your tongue like hundreds of tiny fireworks. Christian sat across from you, the corners of his lips twitching into the smallest of smiles as he listened to you vocally enjoying your lunch. "I've decided I'm going to miss this place the most," you swallow, washing it down with a quick of your water, "I wonder if I can bride one of the chefs to move to the States with me, pay him to be my personal chef."

"How are you going to pay them?" He asks, wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin.

You giggle, reaching over to wipe the spot he missed with your napkin. "I'd pay them with really incredible, mind-blowing, earth-shattering sex."

He raises his eyebrow. "What if all their chefs are women?"

"Payment stays the same," you shrug your shoulders, stabbing your fork into the pile of pasta. The tomato split under the pressure of the fork and was to never be seen again as it travelled to its final destination inside your mouth.

He pushes his food around his plate, leaning to rest his elbow on the edge of the counter. "What if they're all really old?"

"How old are we talking?"

"Like...your dad's age," he replies, hovering his fork in front of his mouth, "would you still do it?"

"Compared to little boys, older men know what they are doing," you mumble, taking a few seconds to think about your answer. He looks at you like he couldn't decide if you were joking or not. He had heard you say things in the past that wouldn't surprise him, but this was...different for him. "The last time I went home, I discovered that my first ever boyfriend had cheated on me," you share with him, setting your fork down and reaching for your glass. You see a flash of sympathy in his eyes, but you quickly dismiss it with a shake of your head. "No, it's okay, because I fucked his dad!"

His eyes widen as a small piece of food becomes lodged in his throat. He reaches quickly for his glass, his face red from coughing, and takes long sips of his water. "You're lying," he taps his hand firmly against his chest, trying his best to catch his breath. You gave him a look that said, Am I? "Seriously?" He sets his glass down and pushes his plate to the side. "Don't get me wrong, it's fucking shitty that he cheated on you, but you slept with his dad?"

Hook, line and sinker.

You giggle, shaking your head. "No, but you should've seen your face!" He rolls his eyes and smiles off to the side, nudging you with his elbow. "No," you're compelled to nudge him back, hiding your smile as you took another fork full of food into your mouth, "old men are just creepy. That whole "you'd be prettier if you smiled more" bullshit they always do makes me want to vomit." You push your plate away, grabbing your napkin to wipe your mouth clean. "I'd fuck you, Chris, before I'd let myself open my legs for some old creep."

"Spoken like a true poet," he chuckles, reaching into his pocket for his phone. It had pinged a few times in the latter portion of your conversation, but he had never once reached for it. "Who said it?" He mumbles, trying to keep half of his attention on you. "Shakespeare?"

"Something like that," you answer, watching with a slight tightness in your chest knowing that someone had stolen his attention from you. You tried to shake the feeling away, but your curiosity got the better of you. "Who is she?" You tried not to sound jealous.

"She," he looks up, "is just Weston." He made an effort to show you his screen. "So, no need to get jealous."

You roll your eyes. "I wasn't jealous."

"Sure you weren't."

He puts his phone on silent and sets its face down on the counter. A conversation with Weston was less important than the things he had on his mind. He watches you clear the dishes away, putting leftovers into Tupperware and stashing them in the fridge, before giving them a quick rinse and stacking them into his dishwasher. You moved so effortlessly around his kitchen. To him, it was like you had been living with him for years and not for the best part of about eight months. He liked it, to him it told him that you were comfortable here, and he knew he would miss it once you were gone.

"So, are we gonna talk about earlier?" He might as well have cut the silence with a knife asking a question like that.

You lean forward and press your elbows onto the counter, staring across from the opposite side of the island. "Which part?"

You hold one finger up. "The part where you asked me to think about you?"

You hold a second finger up. "Or my choice of material?"

"Well, since you bought it up," he leans forward, mirroring your position, "is that..." You raise your eyebrows, noticing the change of colour in his cheeks, which he tries to hide as he averts his gaze. He'd been thinking about what he had seen on your phone to and from your favourite restaurant. The slight roughness of how the woman was being handled had surprised him. "Is that really the sort of stuff that turns you on?"

"What are you asking me, Chris? Do you want to know if porn itself turns me on? Or, do you want to know if the stuff happening in the porn turns me on?"

"Both."

You shrug your shoulders, taking slow steps around the counter as you thought about your answer. "A bit of both, I guess," you pause, tilting your head to the side as you rethink your answer, "I like being told what to do. I like surrendering all of my power to the other person. There's a euphoric rush to being forced to my knees or pinned to the mattress and told to take it like a good girl."

He sits and listens to you, the blood rushing to his cock as he daydreams about you on your knees before him, his fingers fisted in your hair, your lips wrapped nicely around his cock as he repeatedly buried it inside your throat. "But sometimes," your voice snaps him out of his trance, his body shuddering at your breath as it hits his neck, your lips just touching the shell of his ear as you lean from behind him, "I like it when they're gentle; when their bodies are pressed firmly against mine, my legs are wrapped around their waist, we're looking into each other's eyes, and for those few moments, it feels like we are the only two people alive."

"Sounds nice," he looks over his shoulder, following you with his eyes until you were seated on the stool next to him.

You hum, resting your chin on your hand and take a second to study his face. You drag your eyes over every single freckle and search his honey-dipped eyes for his secrets. The corners of your lips tugged into a smile, "you're...not a porn kind of guy, are you? But you're also not the type to have a stash of nudes saved on your phone either." You couldn't figure him out. "What is it?" You finally cave and ask. "What's your choice of poison? Are you old school? Have you got a stash of Playboys hidden under your bed?"

He shrugs his shoulders.

"Come on," you drop your arm and nudge him with your elbow, "I'm not going to spill all of my secrets without gaining something in return."

He could lie and tell you that he did watch porn, or perhaps tell you he had a list of flings he could call on whenever the urge called to. Or, he could just tell you the truth. But it frightened and embarrassed him to tell you the truth, especially after you had answered his questions with a confidence he knew he'd never possess.

And his truth?

He thought of you.

You were in every single one of his fantasies, the very object of all of his desires. You were the one he thought of every time he closed his eyes, your smile was stitched onto the back of his eyelids and your beauty was tattooed onto his brain. And despite being only a couple of rooms down from him, it still felt like you were on the opposite side of the world. Untouchable. And definitely not his.

"I like to think of someone," he admits, looking between you and the counter. He runs his hands uncomfortably against his thighs, trying to wipe away the thin layer of perspiration that had formed on his palms. "Not all the time," he doubles back on himself, he didn't want you to think he was a creep, "but there's someone I sometimes like to think about." He flicks his eyes across at you and you sat in silence, patiently waiting for him to continue. "Sometimes I think about what I'd like to do to her if she was in the room with me." He hides his face from you. "Just basic stuff, I guess."

The tightness in your chest re-emerged as you thought about him moaning some stranger's name. Jealousy never suited you.

"She must be pretty," you mumble, trying not to sound deflated.

"She's beautiful."

You gulp down a large breath of air. "And does she know that she's the object of all your desires and the muse of all your fantasies?"

"She does," he turns his head, "because I just told her."

You? You were the someone he thought about? You guessed it only made sense for him to tell you to think about him when he had been thinking about you and secretly moaning your name all this time. A rush of warmth floods your core and you have to stop yourself from clamping your thighs together. Now you didn't feel so bad about what happened this morning when clearly your very existence was doing the same thing to him.

"So you think I'm beautiful?" Christian had been sitting in agony as he waited for you to say something, but that was not the response he had been expecting. He thought you'd call him a perverted creep, not ask him what he would like to do to you. "How beautiful?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "Really beautiful," he mumbles, the corners of his lips twitching into a sassy smirk that you secretly loved, "but your personality could do with some work." You roll your eyes, knocking your foot against his.

"So, what would you do to me?" You lean closer to him, brushing your eyes over his body, fixating on his tattoos, feeling the urge to reach out and touch them. His gaze falters, realising the implications of your words. "Come on," you encourage him, "if we were to have sex right here, right now, what would you do to me?"

"I-I don't know," he shrugs, his mind going blank, "maybe...maybe..." The tips of his ears were turning red as he fidgeted with the back of his neck, rubbing his fingers lightly over the patch of skin. He bounced his knee, making an attempt to distract himself from the hard tent that had formed, cursing himself for choosing to wear sweatpants today. You wet your lips at the sight of his bulge, pleasure tingling down your spine, increasing the dull ache between your thighs, as you imagined him taking it out for you to see. "I-I...Dammit, I sound like a broken record player," he shakes his head, laughing at himself to hide his embarrassment

You settle your hand on his knee, squeezing it as you stand next to him. He looks down at where you're touching him, his fingers coming to linger on your wrist, half closing his eyes at the softness of your skin. "Your skin is soft," he groans, dragging his fingers up your arm. He imagined what it would be like to touch the rest of your body, to drag his hands up your legs and dig his fingers into your thighs as he spread your legs apart. It had his cock twitching and aching to be touched.

A devilish thought pops into your head.

"Do something for me?"

"Anything."

You sucked in a breath and bite into your bottom lip, gnawing on the delicate skin before asking, "Will you show it to me?"

A tingle travelled down his spine, setting every nerve ending in his body on fire. Did you want this as much as he did? Or were you just fucking with him again, like with the fake story of you fucking your ex-boyfriend's dad? Either way, he wasn't going to give in to your demand just yet, no matter how much he wanted to show you how hard you made him. "I'm not just going to whip it out, princess," he negotiates, pulling at the waistband of his sweats, deliberately teasing you. 'Princess.' It left goosebumps on your skin. "I gotta get something in return," he runs his hand over the front of his sweats, gripping his length and palming himself through the grey material, "give me something to look at."

With calm hands, you remove your shirt, making a show of it as you scrunched it into a ball and tossed it behind him. His eyes gravitated to your chest, his pupils blowing wide until there was a ring of amber around them. The bralette you were wearing was black and lacey, and so thin he could already see your nipples through the material. Something told him it was part of a matching set, the pattern of the lace too similar to the sneak peek of your panties he was accidentally rewarded earlier. He had to stop himself from ripping your shorts off just to prove his intuition was correct.

"Pay up." You settle your hands on your hips, your pointer fingers dipping below the waistband of your shorts. "Let me see."

He swivels the stool around to face you, his finger looping through the small bow you had tied at the front of your shorts and gives it a gentle tug. It was enough force to make you take a step forwards. "What is this?" He asks, letting his other hand gravitate towards your chest, drifting his fingers over the straps of your bralette. His eyes were fixed on yours, falling in love with the partial glimmer of your soul they allowed him to see. "What are we doing here?"

"We're finally getting to know each other," you reply, touching the tattooed line of skin that peaked out from the end of his sleeve. The hair on his arm was soft and his skin was warm. "Please, don't make me beg," you whisper, moving your hands onto his thighs.

He pushes the stool out from behind him as he rises to his feet, and you suddenly felt small in front of him. He reaches for the back of his hoodie, takes a tight grip and yanks it over his head. It was his turn to put on a show for you. "Like what you see?"

"Maybe if I got to see some more," you pan your eyes down to where his erection was obvious, jutting out. Your fingers were itching to take it out yourself.

"Come here." He lifts you onto the counter, his large hands tightly grasping your body, and sits you down on the edge. The white marble was cold against the back of your thighs. "Take it out then," he orders, frowning and giving you a look when you hide your hands behind your back. "I thought you wanted to see it?"

"I do, but I don't want to touch it, yet." You lean forwards, dancing your lips on the corner of his and biting your lower lip to resist kissing them. "I want you to touch yourself for me."

"You're trouble, princess," he groans, dragging his hand down your thigh until it dropped off your knee. You lean back on your hands, watching him take a slight step back away from you. From here, you had a good enough view of him tugging on the sides of his sweatpants, pulling them down just low enough for him to untuck himself. "This feels a little unfair," he chuckles, watching your lips part and a shiver run through you as you watch his cock spring free. He looked thick, hard and heavy in his hand, and his breath was ragged as he thumbed the tip. "Give me some spit," he groans, biting his lower lip.

Leaning forwards, you ignore his hand and spit directly below you, both of you watching as it lands on his tip and drips slowly down the sides of his shaft. His cock twitched in his hand and it only turned him on more to know you were pure filth. Slowly, he stroked his shaft, working your spit up and down his length. Now and then, he would squeeze his hand a little tighter, and a low, desperate noise would rumble in his throat. Every movement looked like it caused him pain and his eyes were begging you put him out his misery.

"I need you," he rasps into your ear, jerking his wrist faster, "I need to see you." You push your bra straps down your arms and hastily remove the thin lace from your body, tossing it behind you. Your nipples were already pinched, begging for him to touch. "Can I?" All you could do was nod your head. He lowered his mouth around your beast, your head falling back, whimpering his name as he grazes his teeth over your nipple, soothing the slight sting with his tongue.

You arch your back, scraping your nails against the back of his head, lowering your hand to grip his shoulder as he continued to suck on your nipples. He pulls another strangled whimper from you as he continued to explore your chest, and you were quickly becoming aware of the wetness that had pooled between your thighs. "Jesus Christ," you whimper, slipping your hand past your shorts and under your panties. You slide your fingertips over your clit, coating your fingers. "I'm so fucking wet right now."

"Fuck," he groans, pressing his forehead against yours, "I've thought about you constantly, thought about what it would be like to touch and taste you." The desire in your eyes - you had never been looked at like this before - flooded your core with new wetness and warmth. Through half-closed eyes, he breathes your name through a moan. "I gotta taste you, baby," he says in a low growl, "please, please let me taste you."

Again, all you could do was nod your head. Yes, fucking hell, yes, is what you would've said if you had found the right words.

Bringing your fingers up to his mouth, he sucks on your fingers, moaning as the taste of you explodes on his tongue. You were much better than he could have ever imagined. "You taste so good, princess," he removes your fingers and kisses the inside of your wrist, "but I need the real thing."

You shake your head, denying him. "Later."

"Not later," he disapproved, whining under his breath, "now."

You hook your finger under his chin, tilting his head down to look at you. "There's going to be plenty of time for me to make a mess on this pretty face later," you tell him, giggling as his cheeks flash red.

"Okay," he whispers, hooking his fingers around the waistband of your shorts, pulling on the sides until they were far enough down your legs for you to kick them off, "later." The corner of his mouth twitches seeing the black lace covering your cunt. His intuition was correct, you were wearing a matching set. "I like these on you," he murmurs, running his fingers over the front. You whimper as he cups your pussy, bucking your hips to grind down on his hand. "You weren't kidding," he chuckles, feeling the spot that had formed, "you really are so fucking wet right now."

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer, breathing in his scent as you duck your head, letting your lips meet his warm skin. His head falls back a little, groaning as you press your lips against his neck. They felt amazing against him and he desperately needed to feel them against his own. "Can I kiss you?" He nervously asked, framing your face in his hands, brushing his thumb softly against your bottom lip.

"Please," you whisper, closing your eyes as you feel his lips capture your own. A moan travels up your throat and down his and you rake your fingers through his hair as his tongue moves against yours. One of his hands travelled into your hair and pressed firmly onto the back of your head, holding you in place. He swallowed more of your moans as he slipped your panties to the side, teasing you with his fingers, before guiding the tip of his cock between your folds. "Please," you repeated, mumbling against his lips, "please, Christian, I need to feel you inside me."

"I love it when you say my name," he nips softly at your lower lip, "I want to hear you say it over and over again. I want to make you forget about every name you've ever said before you said mine." He lowers his gaze, sucks in a deep breath, and watches the tip of his cock being swallowed by the walls of your cunt. You were already so tight around him. "God, look at that," he groans, with a ragged breath, "it's like your pussy was made to take me."

Your head rolls back as you feel him stretch your walls, his cock thicker than anything you've ever taken before. Strangled whines leave your lips as his teeth graze, scrape, and scratch against your neck. He thrusts deeper and you let out a small cry.

"You feel that, princess?" He guides your head back down, pressing his forehead against yours, and stares deeply into your eyes. "That's my cock deep inside you," he whispers, watching your lips part and your body shudder against him, "that's my cock fucking you. Mine. Feels good, doesn't it?"

Short, sharp whimpers were spilling out of your mouth as he continued to massage your inner walls. And he would grunt and groan each time you fluttered and pulsated around him. You couldn't think. Or barely breathe. All you could was dig your nails into his biceps and whimper at anything he said.

"Where's that smart mouth gone?" He chuckles, reaching between your bodies to play with your clit. It was slick with your arousal and he had to fight the urge to bring his fingers to his mouth. He had barely gotten a taste and he was already addicted. "That's fine," he kisses the corner of your mouth, whispering, "I like you more like this: all fucked out and begging me to make you cum."

"'m close," you whimper, the pressure in your core building at an astronomical rate. Your pleasure was all-consuming, like a sickness taking over every particle in your body, and you would do anything to cum right now. He nods his head, feeling his own pleasure building at the base of his spine. His cock jerked inside you as you clenched around him, and he knew he probably wouldn't last much longer. "I want you to cum inside me," you tell him, titling your hips and crying out his name as the new angle makes him bury deeper inside.

His body jerks as you dig your heels into his back, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist. "Fuck," he groans, resting his head against your shoulder, "don't say things like that, princess, if you don't really mean it."

"I mean it, Christian" you fire back, dragging your fingers between his shoulders, "I want you to inside me, fill me up, claim me as yours."

His eyes were practically black, darkened by desire. "Say that again."

"Claim me." You wrap your legs as tight as you can, swallowing a moan as you feel your clit now grinding against him. "Make me yours."

Christian responded by increasing the pressure and speed of his hips and you fell over the edge. You hung your head back as white spots blurred your vision, crying his name out into the empty kitchen, as your whole body clenched around him. He whispered something into your ear, but you were struggling to listen. You pulsated around his cock, which jerked and twitched, and he groaned into your shoulder, holding you tighter, as you felt the warmth of his seed spill into you.

"Fuck," he mumbles, lifting his head to look at you. He was trying to catch his breath, to try and say something else to you, but he was too light-headed to utter a single word. But you knew exactly what he was thinking from the softness in his eyes. You cupped his cheek and nodded your head. "Good," he mumbles, covering his lips with yours.

He pulls out of you with a sharp groan, that sassy smirk you secretly loved so much flashing on his face as his hand disappeared between your thighs. You were going to question him, but you were too busy gasping at the feeling of his fingers thrusting into you. A mixture of his cum and your arousal coats his fingers. "It's only fair that you get to taste me too," he says, watching with parted lips as you willingly take them into your mouth, sucking them both clean.

You grin around his fingers. "I can't wait to taste more of you."

———————

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#christian pulisic #christian pulisic imagine #christian pulisic smut #christian pulisic one shot #christian pulisic blurb #christian pulisic x reader

[beybaldes]

my first, my last, my everything

summer sleepover masterlist

roy kent x gn!reader

summary : “i could be your family” requested by the loml @onceuponaoneshotfanfic <33

content warning : readers family are a little mean because they are moving away from home, set pre-ted lasso era.

an : what a cute prompt :(((( domestic roy is something so personal to me :(((( title is based on the song of the same name by barry white !!

It was well known by anyone that had even heard of him that Roy Kent was ‘one tough cookie’ (as Ted had called him in a interview once when he first came to Richmond), and the sentiment had seemed to stick. But back when Roy first asked you out, you knew you were in for a world of romance.

Based on his ‘I don’t like anyone or anything’ aesthetic alone, you figured he’d be a secret softie and the worlds most hopeless romantic - and you’d been totally right. The evening of your first date, he’d shown up with 2 dozen red roses, kept his hand on your thigh the entire car ride, opened every door for you, pulled out every chair for you, and complimented you at every opportunity. When he walked you back to your door, after a night of being a perfect gentleman, he gave you the most searing and passionate kiss of your life, leaving without another word.

After spending half an hour sat in bed debating if his silence after the kiss was his way of letting you down gently, you searched to see if there was any meaning behind the 2 dozen red roses he’d given you.

The traditional romantic message of 24 roses is that of complete devotion, or “I am yours.”

You had no doubt you’d been seeing Roy Kent for a date, and getting kissed by him like that, again.

4 years later, almost each and every day of it spent together, Roy asks you if you’re willing to move across the country with him if the bid from Chelsea goes through and he gets transferred. When he asks, head hung low and his hands in tight fists, you can tell he expects you to say no. Expects you to explain that while you love him, and you’ve loved these last 4 years, that you can’t - won’t - leave Sunderland. He is ready for this to be the biggest heartbreak of his young life and have it ruin every other partner for him.

You say yes in a heartbeat, and seal it with a kiss just a searing as the one he gave you after your first date.

The move down south is long and tiring, but so worth it. You’re closer to Roy’s mum and sister, he gets to play for his childhood team, your work seamlessly transferred you to it’s sister company, and you were living in a beautiful house with the love of your life (who had an incredibly sexy shaggy mullet going on). Life couldn’t have been better.

Except for the fact that your family hadn’t stopped bombarding you with text messages about your move all week. You still had boxes left to unpack and they were already making you regret your decision. Not the decision of moving in with Roy, you’d go fucking anywhere with Roy, but they made it so hard to allow yourself to feel like you’d made the right choice when they were constantly telling you you hadn’t.

Every single one of them was telling you Roy would leave you sooner or later, for some model, footballer, actress or one of the spice girls. One of your uncles even had a bet going with one of his mates from the pub that Roy would fuck all five before then end of his career. To say it made you feel like shit would be an understatement.

“Sunshine, I’m home.” Roy shouted from the front door, kicking it closed behind him and then kicking his shoes off. He’s been doing press about the transfer all day, and he feels terrible having left you in the new house all alone to unpack, but he knows it’s just part of the move, there’s ultimately nothing he can do about it. Still, the only thing he wants to do before he has to go out for another full day of press tomorrow is curl up in your arms, have you run your fingers through his hair, and whisper sweet nothings in his ear about the new life the two of you are going to build together in London. Instead he is met with what seems like a cold and empty house. “Babe? You here?”

You’re sprawled on the couch Roy had insisted was way too big, but looked small now in the middle of the gigantic living room, lazily covered in a throw blanket and only wearing one of Roy’s Sunderland shirts. Even though you’d heard him come in, you didn’t have the strength to call out to him, especially not when your phone was still frantically buzzing against the coffee table every 10 seconds.

“Sunshine? What are you doing in here?” Roy places something down on the kitchen counter and you can hear it thanks to the main rooms open plan, and you can tell he’s getting closer to you because you can hear the soft padding of his feet against the wooden floor. “You okay?”

Even though he wants nothing more then for him to crawl into your arms, he knows you need it more then he does right now. So, before you can resist him, he pulls you into his arms, sitting the two of you upright on the settee with you in his lap, his hand in your hair. “What’s up, buttercup?”

“Nothing Roy-o, just tired. Missed you.” You hid your head in the crook of his neck, hoping that if you burrowed deep enough into his mix of warmth and aftershave, you could hide from the constant buzzing of your phone. “It’s a big house, I feel so small without you here to share it.”

“Give me a week, sunshine, then I can be here all day every day until preseason. And then we’ll be on a pretty similar work schedule.” Roy pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, ghosting a kiss against your temple and the another against the shell of your ear. “It’s going to be perfect. You. Me. Here. It’s all going to work out, sunshine.”

For a moment, you believed Roy and it felt like everything was going to be okay, that you’d made that right choice, and that you and Roy were taking the first step towards the rest of your lives. Then your phone buzzed.

“Fucking hell, babe, you got a fan club or what?” When you didn’t laugh, Roy’s concern only grew, leaning forward and picking up your phone to see what all the commotion was. As he scrolled through message after message from family member after family member, his brow grew tense, and a scowl settled on his face. “What a fucking joke.”

“Roy.”

“No, seriously, they can say all they want about me. I don’t give a fuck. I never have. But about you?” Roy scoffed, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you with him as he leant against the back of the sofa. “You’re fucking related to them and this is how they’re talking to you? It’s a fucking joke.”

“They’re my family, Roy-o, they’re just trying to look out for me, that’s all.” One of your hands moved to run up Roy’s chest, tracing around the embroidered material of the Chelsea badge right over his heart. God, did he look good in blue.

“Some fucking family, to treat you like that.” Roy ran a hand over his forehead, pushing his curls of out his eyes. You loved his hair like this, grown out and curly like in the pictures you’d seen of him as a kid. Maybe one day you’d convince him to push it out of his eyes with a headband. He’d look sexy in a headband. “I could be your family.”

Roy’s hand cupped your jaw, turning your head slowly to face him. When your eyes finally met his, he pressed a soft and long kiss to your lips. You melted into it, the stress of the week and of the messages from your family melting away under Roy’s loving touch. “You’re already my family, Roy. It’s like you said, me, you, here. Besides, you have been since you wormed your way into my heart on our first date with those 2 dozen roses.”

“Funny you’d say that.” Roy whispered, nuzzling his nose against yours, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips then pulling away with a smirk. “Thought the new house could do with some greenery.”

As you turned to look at the kitchen counter, you saw what you could only assume was 2 dozen roses already in vases. It must have been what Roy brought home with him, and suddenly you wished you’d been feeling happier and could’ve appreciated them more when he first walked in the door.

“The traditional romantic message of 24 roses is that of complete devotion, or “I am yours.”” You repeated under your breath, a warm smile brightening your whole face. Roy’s eyes widened, as though he hadn’t necessary expected you to know the meaning behind 2 dozen roses, but he loved you even more for it.

“I am yours.” Roy repeated, voice filled with complete and utter earnest. “And one day I’m going to put a ring in your finger to prove it.”

an : Mwah!!!! Love you guys thank you for reading so far <333

#beybaldes summer sleepover !! #ted lasso x reader #roy kent x reader #roy kent imagine #roy kent one shot

[amethystunarmed]

What Do You Say?

Word Count: 1753 AO3 Part 1 Written for Hatchetfield Rarepair Week Day 3: Memories Duke and Ted work on the case to get Ted custody of Peter. Duke gets a very normal migraine and Ted has a very normal reaction.

“I got your abomination of a drink,” Ted tells him. He’s only twenty minutes late to their meeting, which is honestly a record for him. Duke has started scheduling everything at least a half hour before he actually intends on starting. “Why on earth you need to add four sugars to a fucking white chocolate mocha, I’ll never understand.” Ted continues, taking a swig from what Duke hopes is his own cup. “Fair warning, it’s from Beanie’s, so it probably sucks.”

He places the cup in front of Duke, and falls into the chair for his clients on the other side of the desk. Ted says “Nothing can replace Miss Retro’s,” just as Duke picks up the cup and says, “Thanks darlin’.”

And something in Duke’s brain snaps.

Static. 

It almost makes you forget about all that.

It’s all static. 

It feels nice to be the hero, for once. 

Forget.

Miss Holloway had a good run. 

Forget, Douglas Keane. 

That’s not fair.

F O R G E T.

I couldn’t forget you, even if I tried. 

He hasn’t forgotten anything.

I’m trying to say good-bye.  

There is nothing to remember.

Can I?

So then why does it hurt so goddamn bad. 

When he next becomes aware of something other than the splitting pain searing his skull, he realizes he is no longer sitting in his chair. There is a steady hum of noise in the room. He’s on the ground, on his hands and knees. They’re warm and distantly achy. He realizes he is sitting in a puddle of hot coffee, that he must have spilled it when the migraine hit. The bizarre flare of pain recedes as quickly as it struck, just like they always do. With the migraine gone, Duke is able to parse out that the stream of noise beside him is Ted cursing.

“Oh fuck, oh shit, what the fuck, come on, man-”

“I’m fine,” Duke interrupts, voice sore. He pushes back on his hands so he can sit against his desk. The pain may have already faded, but the migraine has left him disoriented and breathless. They don’t happen often, but they leave him off-kilter. Sometimes he feels out of it for days after a bad one.

And this, this was a bad one.

“No you fucking aren’t!” Ted yells, voice squeaky with panic, “You just had like, a seizure or something. Have you had one before? We need to call 911-”

Ted pulls his phone out of his pocket like a man on a mission and Duke can’t believe he seems to be trapped in some weird temporal flux that makes Ted Spankoffski give a shit about other people. And, despite how much he would love to encourage this odd change in behavior, he  really doesn't want to go to the hospital. “Ted. It's really, really fine. It wasn't a seizure.” Ted glares at him, clearly doubtful. Duke bites his lip. “I get... Migraines.”

“Dude, that was not a migraine. You fell to your hands and knees and started screaming.” 

“That happens sometimes.” 

Ted gapes at him like he has absolutely lost his mind, and Duke supposes that, in a way, he has. 

He swallows. He doesn't like talking about it. He doesn’t think it’s anyone’s business. Right now, only three people know about his episodes: his general physician, Miss Holiday, and Duke himself. But most people haven’t seen him collapse on the ground and go nonresponsive. Most people haven’t seen the worst episode he’s ever had in person.

Ted apparently takes Duke’s silence as a sign of something further being wrong, because he unlocks his phone. “Fuck this, I’m calling an ambulance.” Duke sees Ted dial “9” and the thought of seeing an ambulance makes the static swell in his brain. 

He reaches out and places a hand over Ted’s phone. “Really, I’m fine. It’s already passed.”

Ted gives him a look of blatant disbelief.

“Look,” Duke says, “I...” He quickly thinks of a half-lie, something that will explain without going into the empty hole that Miss Holloway has left in his life, about the debilitating grief he can barely feel for a woman he hardly remembers. “I was... in an accident, a while ago. My doctor knows about these attacks, and I have been checked out for them, okay? I’m fine. That was just... a bad one.” 

“Okay...” Ted says, sounding like he isn’t okay at all. “...Are you sure we shouldn’t call someone?” He flips his phone anxiously in his hand. He has that panicked look, the same one he got right before asking Duke for help all those weeks ago. And suddenly Duke realizes he is missing something. Something important.

“Ted...” Duke says slowly. He has a feeling that if he gets this wrong, whatever moment is developing will crumble like sand. “Is something else going on here?”

“Psh, no,” Ted scoffs, “You must have hit your head when you fell.” He flips his phone quicker. He reminds Duke of the cagey high schoolers he is called to help, the ones who think they are too cool to show actual emotions. It almost makes Duke grin.

“You know, it’s fine if it scared you,” Duke reassures him, “Especially if you haven’t witnessed a medical emergency like that before.” 

Ted barks out a startled laugh. “It’s kind of the exact opposite.”

Duke frowns at him, any amusement he was feeling rapidly evaporating. “What does that mean?”

Ted sighs. He tucks his phone in his pocket and leans back on his hands. There is something intimate, the two of them sitting on the floor beside Duke’s desk. It makes Duke lean in, like he is privy to something special. But still, he is not prepared for the words that come out of Ted’s mouth.

“Peter had a seizure. Came over for dinner and we ended up spending the night in the ER. Apparently our parents didn't have time to pick up his insulin refill and he didn't want to 'worry me.’” He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, that didn't work. Fucking moron.” His voice is calm, but he brings his knees to his chest and hugs them, tightly. Duke can see the tension in his arms. “I thought he was dying.” The unspoken I thought you were dying, hangs in the air. “I thought my parents had finally killed him.” Ted chuckles, like that can disarm the absolute bomb he just dropped. “But at least he didn’t have to go to Abstinence Camp? So that’s something. We both missed out on the Honey Festival though, so, you win some, you lose some.”

It’s supposed to be a joke. An out Duke can take to make light of the situation. Duke doesn’t take it. He can’t imagine just continuing and making light of this situation, like it was something normal, a wild weekend that could be mocked. 

Duke could have passed their room in St. Damien’s when he went looking for Miss Holloway’s body in the morgue.

So instead, Duke doesn’t say anything. It’s a helpful trick he has learned over the years, to just let a silence be. He reaches up and grabs some napkins from the drink tray. He begins mopping up the coffee he knocked over, and lets Ted sit.

(Besides, he doesn’t know what he would say anyways.)

“Our parents... They're not bad people. They're just distant.” Ted continues after a few minutes, almost defensively. It feels involuntary, as innate a response as shivering in the cold. Duke wonders how often he's told this lie, that he truly believes it. “So for an independent kid like me, it was fine, you know? I took care of myself when I needed to.” 

And Duke has words to say about that, has heard plenty of hurt kids say the same thing, but Ted just plows through before he can get a word in. “But Peter... Peter isn't the kind of kid you can half-ass. He's too fucking good to die because my fucking parents can't bother to drive to the pharmacy. He needs someone who can actually take care of him.” Ted laughs bitterly and gives Duke a self-deprecating smile. “Guess he really inherited the Spankoffski luck if he's stuck with me.”

“I think he's plenty lucky,” Duke says without thinking. He means it though. Peter is lucky to have someone like Ted looking out for him.

Ted blinks at him, seeming utterly dumbstruck. He blushes, a bit, and isn’t that a wonder. Ted Spankoffski. Blushing. He clears his throat. “Well, you'd be about the only one.” 

Duke smiles at him. “Let's get back to work so you can show the rest of Hatchetfield then, huh?” With the information Ted just gave him about Peter’s health, Duke figures they would have a pretty solid case for medical neglect. If Peter was taken to the children’s ward, Duke may be able to have Becky Barnes come in as a witness. She has always been a fantastic resource for him in past cases-

“Oh no,” Ted says, interrupting Duke's train of thought. He clambers to his feet, and holds out a hand to help Duke up. “You are going to take a fucking break, that’s what is about to happen!” 

Duke blinks at him, even as he takes Ted’s hand. “Ted, I told, you, I’m fine-”

“Can it,” Ted interjects, and pokes his finger at Duke’s chest. “We’re not fucking up my little brother’s life because you were too out of it to file the proper paperwork. We’re stopping until I’m sure you’re not about to keel over.” 

And just a few weeks ago, Duke would have been annoyed. But somewhere along the line, Duke has realized that Ted is physically incapable of being emotionally vulnerable, even about his brother who he so clearly cares for. Most of his worrying about Peter comes out in complaints and bitching. And Duke thinks that, maybe this is just Ted’s version of caring.

He finds himself oddly touched. 

Duke feels a fond little smile creep onto his face. “Sure,” he says, “Seems like we need to pick up more coffee anyways.”

Ted looks down at the puddle of coffee-soaked napkins at Duke's feet.

“To be honest, this is probably for the best. I think both our drinks had spit in them. The baristas at Beanie's do not like me.”

And, for a brief, impossible moment, Duke finds himself wondering why.

“I mean, the crabby one is not NEARLY hot enough to be as mean as she is.”

Ah. Right.

#duke keane #ted spankoffski #hatchetfield #hatchetverse #killer track #nmt 2 #tgwdlm #nightmare time 2 #spankoffski bros #hfrarepairweek #hfrwapril #hfrwday3 #tw child abuse #tw medical neglect #angst #hurt/comfort #my writing #my fanfic

[moesasaur]

ALL TBOM ELDERS + all canon information on them

I am making this to help out anyone who is writing fanfics or drawing fan art of The Book Of Mormon and wants to draw the elders accurately or keep them in character. I will involve all lines from each character + their fandom given first name and other small things that indicate their personality or traits. I will also state the animal they brought up in I Am Africa since I believe the animals do reflect their personalities in some way.

Elder Church

- Elder “James” Church

- Given the name James by the fandom

- OBC actor: Brian Sears

- Comes from Cheyenne, Wyoming

- When he was young his parents were in an abusive relationship, with his alcoholic father abusing him and his mother

- “Okay, okay, HOLD ON! I mean… We COULD… SAY that we had some baptisms” Is the elder that suggests lying about how many baptisms district 9 has achieved

- “We were SO worried about you” Is the first elder that tells Kevin they were SO worried about him when he fell asleep at the bus station

- In I Am Africa he sings “(with) The Noble Lion King”

- In I Am Africa he also sings “A tribal woman who doesn’t wear a bra”

Elder Michaels

- Elder “Michael” Michaels

- Given the name Mike by the fandom

- OBC actor: Clark Johnsen

- Comes from Provo

Elder Thomas

(I could not find a photo of him, please accept this photo of the actor as an offering)

- Elder “Chris” Thomas

- Also goes by Elder Poptarts

- Given the name Chris by the fandom

- OBC actor: Scott Barnhardt

- His sister died from cancer and he was unable to say goodbye since he was at the apple store in line for a new iphone. Her last words were “Where is my brother”

- “You, too?! I had the hell dream after I accidentally read a Playboy!” Had his first hell dream after accidentally reading a playboy

- “Well, somebody needs to tell that General Butt-F-ing Named that people should be free to do what they want!” Is the elder that gives Kevin the idea of speaking to the general.

- In I Am Africa he sings “(with) The meerkat”. A lot of the fandom compares him to being like a meerkat

Elder Davis

Same thing, take this photo of him (right) standing next to Andrew Rannells (left)

- Elder “Robert” David

- Given the name Robert by the fandom

- OBC actor: Jason Michael Snow

- Is the first elder to ask if Elder McKinley is okay when he is panicking about the mission president

- “Elder Cunningham we must always work in PAIRS. Remember?” Is the first elder to complain about Arnold and Kevin arguing before being shut down by Elder McKinley

- “Looks like you fell asleep at the bus station!” (to Kevin after SMHD)

Elder Schrader

- Elder “Brian” Schrader

- Given the name Brian by the fandom

- OBC actor: Benjamin Schrader

- Please note that he isn’t called Elder Schrader in every performance, he sometimes takes the last name of the actor that plays him since he is named after Benjamin Schrader, his OBC actor

- “Are you an IDIOT?! MORMONS don’t LIE!” could come across as him being outspoken + rude personality wise

- In I Am Africa he sings “With the rhino”

Elder Neeley

Same thing AGAIN. Have a photo him (left) standing next to Jason Michael Snow (right)

- Elder “Ted” Neeley

- Given the name Ted by the fandom

- OBC actor: Kevin Duda

- “I told a lie once when I was twelve, and I had a dream that I went to hell! It was REALLY SPOOKY.” Had his first hell dream after telling a lie when he was 12

- “Yeah, we have to go home!” “But the mission president said we’re all as far from the Latter-Day Saints as it gets!” Seems to be the elder that wants to go home most after being shunned by the mission president

Elder Zelder

I scoured the internet and found no photos of him at all this is all I got sorry guys

- Elder “Elder” Zelder

- Given this name by the fandom, frequently referred to as an alien. I assume this is due to him having fewer lines compared to the other elders. People joke that Elder Zelder is his full name

- OBC actor: Justin Botton

- In I Am Africa he sings “(we are) A monkey with a banana”

PAIRINGS

Here is a photo of the chalk board that lists the pairings of all the elders:

If you can’t read it,

Elder McKinley + Elder Thomas

Elder Zelder + Elder Michaels

Elder Neeley + Elder Schrader

Elder Church + Elder Davis

also it’s a good example of Elder Schrader’s name changing based on the actor portraying him!!

Thank you for reading my little infodump, I did this mostly for myself but I would be happy to know that other people found this helpful!!

#my stuff #tbom musical #the book of mormon #the book of mormon musical #book of mormon musical #musicals #tbom #elder poptarts #elder church #elder thomas #elder zelder #elder michaels #elder neeley #elder schrader #elder davis #Moe’s tbom info-dumps

[callixton]

listen. there is a gif out there of him humping a table in seared. this is important only bc this clip does not exist in any of the promo material i've found. and u know what that means

#give me the boot pls pls pls i'll do anything #i can't trade i don't understand how it works but i would literally pay for any of his shows. unfortunately i have no idea who has them #bc as i said i don't understand trading #i also can't find this gif anymore. but i do know it exists bc it came up in the following tag #ted talks #raúl esparza #seared

[calzone-d]

Couch Kisses

a/n: here’s my expansion of my earlier post about kissing Ted’s bulge over his khakis lol. I feel very strongly about this. my requests are open, come talk to me!

pairing: Ted Lasso x Reader

warnings: smut, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex

word count: 2.9k

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

It was late when Ted got home. You knew he’d be staying late with Beard and Roy to discuss strategies for the next game, so you had no qualms with leaving work before Ted to prepare dinner and catch up on your TV show.

The week had been a long one, with Ted prepping for the last match of the season, and there was little time for the extracurricular activities you guys typically liked to indulge in. All week you’d been feeling needy and the quickies before work weren’t cutting it anymore. 

When Ted did come home, you were three glasses into a bottle of wine. A light blush had found its way to your cheeks, and your mind had been clouded with lust as you allowed yourself to slide your hand into your panties, mind racing with thoughts of Ted. 

You didn’t even hear when he opened the door. The image of you with your head laid back against the armrest, one foot pushed up against the seats of the couch with the other on the floor was enough to make Ted’s breath hitch. Add in your hand lightly moving behind the wet spot on your panties, and your soft moans were enough to make him crazy. The sound of him setting his bag down and shedding his coat drew you out of your fantasies. 

Sitting up, you ran a hand through our hair as the blush on your cheeks grew darker. 

“Havin’ fun there, sweetheart?”

“Not as fun without you, Ted”, the pout on your lips simultaneously tugged at his heart and his dick. 

“Why don’t I come join you, then?” 

He sat down in front of your spread legs, running a teasing finger over the wet spot on your panties. Not in the mood for teasing, you sat up on your knees and pulled his face to yours for a searing kiss. 

In this position, you towered over him. A slight change in your typical dynamic, but not one you two haven’t explored before, and definitely not one either of you minded.

 His arms wrapped around your middle, warm hands splayed across your back to pull you closer to him. As you grabbed handfuls of his soft, thick hair, your tongue found its way into his mouth, prompting him to let out a soft sigh into your mouth.

The way you two kissed was nothing but filthy; hands grabbing at each other, breathing labored as your tongues explored deeper and deeper into each other’s mouths. Ted pulled away, making you pout.

 He laughed at this, but before you could protest, he moved to sit against the back of the couch, pulling you with him. Crawling into his lap, you settled yourself on top of his bulge and smiled into the kiss. Ted’s hands assumed their previous position, while yours traveled a new path. One went to cup the nape of his neck, the other running up and down the side of his neck. Eventually, you pulled away to nip down his neck, reveling in his soft sighs and whimpers. 

You would trail hot, open-mouthed kisses all the way to the collar of his Richmond sweater, and back up. Over the curve of his jaw, across his scruffy cheek, and to his earlobe where your teeth would pull it into your mouth so you could suck softly on it. The whimpers you let out were directly in his ear, and to him this was heaven. Your presence was everywhere, you were sitting firmly against his growing cock, your hands explored the length of his neck and carded through his hair, your lips barely left his skin for more than a second. 

It was now your turn to pull away; chest heaving, lips wet and puffy, pupils blown with lust. No words needed to be spoken as you pulled upward on the bottom hem of his sweater before throwing it behind the couch. Your lips found his neck again as you slowly worked the buttons on his dress shirt undone. All the sensations made Ted shiver, and he could feel you smile against his neck, making him pull you even closer into him. As you worked his buttons undone, you trailed your kisses where each one button previously covered his chest. Once you got about four buttons down, you slid off his lap and down onto the floor between his legs. 

Continuing with the buttons, you could feel Ted beginning to squirm. Once you were finished you decided to leave his shirt on, unbuttoned, and you trailed a hand down to the waistline of his khakis as you admired his figure. His broad shoulders and chest made you weak. The dark hair covering his chest and belly was soft as you ran your fingers through it, making him shiver again. He didn’t have abs, but his abdomen was firm, and it tensed slightly as you scraped your nails over it. Ted’s body was the perfect definition of a “dad bod”, and you couldn’t be more in love. 

You knew that Ted could sometimes be insecure about his body. Being a bit older than you, he couldn’t help the scarce thought that you may be more attractive to someone with a more sculpted figure, but you were always quick to dismiss his fears. Leaning closer to his torso again, you trailed light kisses across his belly, what you could reach of his hips, then right under his navel. Eyeing the trail of hair there, you felt your pussy clench, as you pictured exactly what it led to. 

Before you could continue, a gentle hand in your hair made you stop. 

“Honey, you don’t have to. I know it’s been a long week n’ all, there hasn’t been much time for me to love on you”, a slight crease had formed between his brows, though his arousal was evident with his blown pupils and sizable bulge. To ease his fears, you raised back up to plant a firm kiss on his lips. 

“Please let me, Ted”, you practically whined, “I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

Instead of replying, he pulled you back in for another kiss and caught your bottom lip with his teeth. You pulled away and followed your previous trail across his jaw, down his neck, chest, and all the way right above the button of his khakis. Casting your eyes downward, you almost felt bad for the way Ted was straining against the zipper of his pants. With a light finger, you barely brushed his cock through his pants, making him sigh and bite his lip.

Looking upward again to gauge his reaction, you brought your face eye-level with his bulge. You knew the sight of you between his legs always made Ted weak. He could feel your hot breath through his pants, his cock sensitive and begging for any sort of relief. 

Softly, you brushed your lips over his bulge, your hands squeezing his thighs. Ted let out the softest whimper, and rested his head on the back of the couch. The next kiss was more purposeful. He brought a hand down to rest on the back of your head, not pushing it down, just resting there in an attempt to ground himself. 

“Shit, darlin’. Y’have no idea how good that feels' ', he was letting out soft moans at this point.

You brought a hand up to squeeze him this time, “Yeah?”

“Mhm”

Ted only grew needier as you unbuttoned his pants and unzipped his zipper. You could make out a half-inch wide dark spot where his tip sat pressed up against his boxers. Leaning forward again once more, you pressed hot, wet kisses over his cock through his boxers. With the confidence you gained from his reactions, you trailed your tongue over the ridge under his tip, making his hips jerk up into your face. You smiled as you continued your ministrations, inhaling his musky scent. Ted always kept himself clean, something you greatly appreciated, but he just smelled so much like him. You were beginning to grow needy yourself. 

Apparently he’d had enough as he lifted his hips up to slide his boxers down his long legs. The head of his cock was red and leaking as it softly bounced against his lower belly. He didn’t even have to say a word before you were taking him into your mouth. The weight of him on your tongue spurred you to let out a few moans of your own. Your nails lightly scraped his thighs, nose repeatedly hitting the skin above the base of his dick. Before you, Ted had never been given head like this; wet, sloppy, intent stuck on making him cum. You brought up a hand to cup his balls, squeezing with a small amount of pressure and appreciating the drawn out moan he responded with.

Ted’s sounds always made you wet. He was always so vocal in bed, so attentive.

“Yeah, like that, sweet girl,” he whispered.

Every time you came up, you swirled your tongue over his tip, not missing the way his hips seemed to chase after you. 

You were brought out of your trance by Ted softly pulling you off him, “C’mere honey.”

He pulled you into his lap, and you stayed on your knees hovering over him as he brought you in for a kiss. It was sloppy and needy, full of love and lust. Ted’s fingers ghosted over the growing wet spot on your panties, making you whine.

He chuckled while beaming at you, “Want my fingers?”

“Yes, please”, all you could do was whine at this point. You shimmied off of him to pull your panties down your legs and wasted no time assuming your previous position.

 Ted’s fingers felt cool against your scorching cunt. He gathered your wetness and brought it up to your clit, drawing teasing circles around it lightly. When you attempted to grind down against his hand, he chuckled once more and brought you in for another kiss. 

“My girl’s so needy tonight hm?”

You looked at him with a pout rivaling the one you wore earlier. 

Before you could say anything else, he slipped a finger deep into you, softly curling it upwards to prod at your g-spot. As he continued you bit your lip and let out a breathy moan. Ted leaned up to trail kisses across your collarbone and slid another finger inside of you. The pressure of his two fingers hitting your g-spot perfectly was enough to make you moan louder now. Ted knew your body. Knew what turned you on, made you cum, riled you up. You’d never had a bad experience with him; this was the man who would give anything to make you feel good. 

His thumb pointed upwards to brush against your clit and you began trying to subtly grind against his fingers inside you.

“ s’not enough Ted, need you inside me”, this made him smirk. 

“Alright, alright darlin’. You’ve convinced me.”

All you could manage was a breathy chuckle as he gripped his cock, brushing his head up and down your soaked folds. Before you could beg some more, he lined himself up at your entrance and pulled you down onto him slowly. With his size, there really wasn’t any other way.

You both let out satisfied moans at the feeling. For him, the feeling of your tight, hot walls around him was enough to make him see stars. For you, the feeling of him stretching you out always made you gasp in pleasure. 

Allowing you time to adjust to the stretch of him, he pulled you in for a kiss, hand cupping the back of your head. As you two made out, your pussy would sporadically clench around him, making him moan into your mouth. Ted pulled away and brought his thumb up to your mouth. With no hesitation, you allowed him to push past your teeth and began swirling your tongue around his digit. He looked at you with hooded eyes, full of nothing but love and adoration.

 After a few seconds he pulled his thumb away from your mouth and replaced it with his tongue. Before you could think anything of it, he brought his now wet thumb down to your puffy clit and began to softly stroke it. The action made you clench around him even more, and the two of you exchanged moans through the heated kiss. 

With your hands on his shoulders, you started to slowly rock against him, his tip rubbing against the deepest part of you. The way you grinded against him was causing your clit to rub against his pelvic bone, and all you could do was dig your nails into his shoulders and will your legs not to give out. Ted pulled away from your kiss with swollen red lips. 

No words needed to be exchanged as his strong hands made a home in the curves of your hips. He helped you start to bounce on his cock, nails deep in his shoulders, tits staring him straight in the face. At this point your moans were continuous, and they intensified in volume as Ted slowed his pace down to capture a hardened nipple between his teeth. One of your hands moved up to his hair to pull him closer. His eyes fluttered closed as he inhaled the lingering scent of your perfume, his eyelashes fluttering against your skin making you smile. Switching to the other one, he let out a growl into your skin, the protectiveness of the situation making you clench yet again. 

Ted pulled away to look up at you as you began to bounce harder, chasing your release. He pulled you closer with a grunt. “Want you closer, sweetpea.”

One arm wrapped around you again, while the other found its grip in the space where your neck met your shoulders. You allowed your head to fall onto his shoulder and your lips began to softly suckle at the flushed skin of his neck. He had a firm grip on you as he thrusted his hips up into you. The close angle was providing friction against your clit, and the feeling of him surrounding you was bringing you right to the edge. 

His moans sounded so beautiful, and knowing you were the reason for them made you clench around him even harder. As he got closer to his own orgasm, his moans turned into grunted praises.

“Feels so good baby,”

“Love you so fuckin’ much,”

“Taking my cock so well, sweetpea,”

Your hands reached down to grip at his sides as you felt yourself teeter on the edge of your orgasm. “M’so close Ted, please” you whined. 

“That’s it, come on my cock honey” His dirty words were enough to send you over the edge. Your mouth fell open against his shoulder and your pussy clenched continuously around his cock while your legs began trembling. Ted held you up as he chased his own orgasm, and wasn’t far behind you, painting your insides white with a grunt. 

He held you close to him while you each attempted to catch your breath. One hand drew shapes against your back while the other soothingly stroked your hair. Warm kisses were pressed against your temple as you felt his cock beginning to grow soft where it was buried inside of you. He didn’t dare move, allowing you to take all the time you needed to reorient yourself. After a few minutes, he felt your breaths begin to slow against him, and he knew the combination of the wine and orgasm were enough to knock you out. 

“C’mon darlin’” He helped ease you off of him, not wanting your legs to give out. Still, as you stood they were shaky, and the feeling of his cum dripping down your thighs made you shiver. 

As he got the towels and shower ready, you sat on the toilet with arms wrapped around yourself while you stared off into space. 

“Y/N?”, you snapped out your thoughts.

“Yeah, love?” 

“I asked if you were okay. Seem like there’s somethin’ on that pretty mind of yours.”

You chuckled, “No, love, just tired.”

He extended a hand for you to help yourself up with. As soon as you were on your feet, he pulled you into his chest. You allowed yourself to relax even more in his embrace, strong arms holding you tight against him. The steam filling up the shower made you shiver. 

Ted softly pulled you towards the shower, pulling the shower curtain back for you and following you in. After you wet your hair, he helped you shampoo it. Twice just like he knew you usually did. While you let the conditioner sit on your ends, you wrapped yourself around him once more. His hand stroking the skin of your back and the hot water were making you even more tired.

You rinsed the conditioner out while Ted washed his own hair, both of you quickly washing your bodies before getting out. Ted got out first, wrapping his towel around his waist before wrapping you up in your own. The sight of the water droplets rolling down his skin was enough to turn you on once more, if you hadn’t been so tired.

In your shared bedroom, he helped you into one of his faded t-shirts and slipped on his own pair of boxers. The two of you got settled in bed together, gravitating towards each other again, seeking out each other’s warmth. Ted’s steady breaths and homely scent carried you to sleep, as he fell asleep with his own head resting against yours. 

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#ted lasso x reader #ted lasso smut #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso #ted lasso fic #im feral sorry bout that #my writing