#this is what happens when I work on a video and only see the first 16 minutes of the pilot again

[luvfy0dor]

Heyy, I was thinking about a concept with Fyodor (or whoever from BSD) having a streamer bf, but like, one of -those- streamers where every word they say can be quite questionable (in a “good” way/ironically). For some reason it amuses me to imagine it with Fyodor and Reader occasionally teasing him, calling him their ‘discord kitten’ or streaming for 5 hours (or more lol) saying nonsenses or playing video games instead of paying attention to Fyodor. What do you think?

“Get Off The Game ♡⁠˖” BSD x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Fyodor Dostoevsky, Dazai Osamu

Warnings;

Description; BSD men with a streamer!reader

A/n; these are in headcannon form, I hope that's alright!!! I think Dazai or Nikolai would be a better person to have this occupation w so I also did headcannons for one of them

Fyodor Dostoevsky ★

• Fyodor thinks it's stupid at first, but when he realized you made money from it he learned to tolerate it. He wasn't too fond of the noise, though.

• I don't think he was too fond of the nickname 'discord kitten', always raising an eyebrow when he's called that, he also strongly dislikes brainrot cause what do you mean you're so sigma? No you're not, you're y/n. That's unrelated, but I thought I'd add that in there.

• "A discord what? Kitten? What even is that? I am nothing of the such."

• Catch him dead before he makes an appearance on camera, he much prefers to keep his business private. He doesn't mind you talking about him though, he loves that. He loves that people know you're already taken by him and that all those losers in your chat don't have a chance with you.

• Sometimes he'll watch your streams from a different room in attempt to understand your work and the art of gaming. He enjoys when you play horror games, especially the ones that get you thinking. He sometimes finds your facial expressions when you get jumpscared funnier than anything else in the stream.

• When it comes to the duration of your streams, Fyodor can entertain himself for as long as you need him to, but he can't help but feel like he'd rather be spending that time with you every now and again.

• He usually just takes the time to work on his DOA stuff, and occasionally he'll get so lost in it that he doesn't even realized you've finished with your stream and on whenever that happens, you make some tea and go to fetch him to spend some quality time together, whether it's you laying in his lap while you both read a book or having a conversation about whatever comes to mind

Dazai Osamu ★

• Dazai is your #1 supporter since day one. There's a conversation going on about content creators? He's immediately bringing you up. You need new items for your set up? He's manifesting that said items go on sale ASAP!

• Oh my god, and he LOVES it when you get recognized in public. He's very prideful of you and likes that it's only him and a select group of people that get to see the real you outside of the camera frame.

• He, unlike Fyodor, does have an issue with the long hours, so he busies himself with the ADA and otherwise to keep himself from walking in and talking your ear off while you play your games for umpteen thousand people.

• He doesn't despise being called a discord kitten, but it does confuse him a little bit. But whatever, as long as you have 'my' in front of any name he doesn't care.

• Dazai watches your old streams when he's bored and can't help but giggle at the out of pocket or questionable things you say. He likes to watch the compilations of you on YouTube, too.

• Sometimes he'll quote you out of the blue.

• He doesn't like people trying to flirt with you or talk to you on the Internet as any partner wouldn't, so he is in the comment section of every post reading through individual comments. Type guy to see '❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥' comments on your posts and reply '🧯🧯🧯'

• All in all, Dazai is well received by your fanbase, especially the ones who don't try to romance you and are normal. They think he's funny and a good match for you.

A/n; I hope it wasn't to short!!! I thought it was a cutsey idea, I think Nikolai would be pretty similar to Dazai in this scemario.

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd fanfic #bsd headcanons #fanfic #fanfiction #bsd fyodor #fyodor x reader #bungo stray dogs fyodor #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor bsd #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #fyodor x you #fyodor x y/n #dostoevsky bsd #bsd fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor #osamu dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #osamu dazai x reader #bsd dazai osamu #dazai osamu #dazai bungou stray dogs #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x you

[bratbutcute]

A sparkle in the night

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pair: Alastor and Vox. A bit platonic, a bit romantic, could be read in different ways.

Disclaimer: Nothing other than it’s a SFW tickle fic. They are also slightly ooc but tbh we don’t really know since I’m describing a moment that happened before the series takes place sooooo… who knows (but honestly, Alastor is much too sweet to be canon).

Also I had fun with some fonts I found online, I don’t know if that is a problem so if you find difficulties reading please tell me and I’ll change it!

Vox is stressed and wants to reminisce old times, old friends, old feelings.

I got the idea for this from this fic by @starlight-write. I wanted to explore Alastor and Vox’s relationship before whatever happened between them.

I hope you all enjoy it!

~~~

Hell had changed a lot since Vox first arrived. He had met many Overlords who now weren’t ‘alive’ anymore, killed by Angels or by other sinners. He had seen Hell change its geography, different shops rising and then succumbing to nefarious fate.

He had met friends along the way, and he had lost them too.

Vox had learnt that the afterlife was just as complicated and confusing as his past life: people were hard to read, it was hard to understand their needs and, honesty, he wasn’t very good at accommodating them. Of course it was easy to solve people problems work wise (most of the times he was the one creating a fake problem and giving the public a new product as a solution), but when it came to personal business he couldn’t just hypnotise everyone. Well he could but…

He was alone in his personal room, monitors all over him, phones and computers all around him. Even if he was alone he was constantly under the spotlight. He knew he had to prove he was stronger. That he wasn’t scared of anything or anyone.

That’s how he would spend the majority of his afterlife: surrounded by his constant eyes, recording every movement he himself ever made.

So that’s why he felt so excited when he turned off every single monitor except for the bigger one in front of him. He shut down every camera or microphone around him. Unrecorded. Unregistered moments.

A shiver ran down his spine.

After seeing that ghost of his past back again after seven years of absence he had to see something. Something that was his and his only.

What he was looking for was an old memory, one that he had to update digitally from his old headset.

Everything was meticulously categorised so it didn’t take long before he found what he was looking for.

The video started.

And he was almost 45 years younger, he had a different - and much heavier - headset and an ‘old pal’ next to him.

They were in the middle of an animated conversation in a remote bar in the pride ring. Everybody was keeping their distance from them and the moody bartender kept sending them drink after drink.

«Television is much more than photography you radio obsessed demon. Television is alive, it’s thrilling!» Vox exclaimed standing up and stomping his foot on the chair in front of him. Alastor looked at the action with little to no reaction, his usual smile plastered on his face.

«You, young man, are as loud as a cow at the slaughterhouse. That is in no way an Overlord behaviour.» he said squeezing his shoulder and inviting Vox to sit again.

Vox blinked in confusion - and slight worry because of the metaphor - before pouting as a scolded child. He got himself back on the high stools next to the counter dangling his feet.

Alastor poured another whiskey in his glass.

«I admire your enthusiasm, but you have to understand that Hell is different from Earth. You cannot show demons your… moving pictures and expect them to simply follow you. You need to plan. To be strategic. Logical.» he offered the drink to Vox, who looked at the goldish liquid with skepticism.

Alastor’s smile grew bigger. «A peace offer?». Vox sighed and gulped it down in one shot, much to Alastor’s disapproval.

«I think you’re complicating your life too much! I can hypnotise people!» he pointed at his eyes as the pupil changed, but Alastor was unfazed.

«It doesn’t work on me.»

«Yeah I still have to understand why…» he sighed as his head started to spin. His face became a bit foggy, just for a moment.

That made Alastor grin wider. «Is the strong and powerful aspiring Overlord feeling a bit dizzy?»

«Fuck you I am not. You’re just-» he looked down at his empty glass and grabbed the bottle to refill it. «I am an Overlord! ‘M not aspiring to be anything you pompous-» but he was cut off by Alastor cupping Vox’s hands with his and helping him pour the drink. Vox’s heart skipped a beat as his antennas sparkled.

«You were saying?» he hummed, fully aware of what he was doing.

«Fuck you.»

Alastor’s smiled softened «Charming.» and Vox smiled back, rolling his eyes.

They had these kind of conversations every time they hang out. They would go to a bar and sit far away from everyone, start bickering, try to get a deal one from the other only to call it even and repeat this cycle every few days. Vox kept convincing himself that these encounters weren’t a big deal but things like that, like that genuine smile, made him doubt that.

Vox drank his whiskey quickly, just to see Alastor’s ear flicker in dismay, a gesture Vox had learnt to recognise over the years.

He took the bottle and refilled his and Alastor’s empty glass.

«You do not understand what it means to be an Overlord just as much as you do not understand how to enjoy your drink.» Alastor said turning on his stool and leaning with his back on the counter.

«AH! Alcohol gets you drunk. That’s the big meaning behind it.»

Vox was about to chug down his whiskey when he felt something brushing over his side. As he yelped Alastor snickered, trying to camouflage it with a cough.

«AÆl- he glitched - what are you doing?»

«As you can see I am not doing anything.» he said raising his hands to prove his point. Vox straightened his back, looking at his surroundings in confusion.

His fogged brain was trying to process whether there was a threat or not. He felt electricity build up in his body.

As he raised his glass, he felt it again, something brushing his side, just lightly, but, when he turned, his eyes could only scan thin air.

«What is going on?» he mumbled putting the drink down.

Alastor didn’t answer, but he was having fun. Vox could see it by that stupid tail of his that was slightly wagging.

If it was his doing… oh no.

The tendrils came out of nowhere and wrapped around his torso, caressing his stomach and sides slowly.

Vox felt electricity between his fingers and in his antennas. He clamped his mouth shut with his hands, slightly kicking his feet.

«Is everything alright Vox?» Vox shook his head, little sparkles all around him. That fucker…

One of those tentacles circled around the center of his tummy, caressing the blue skin. He could feel the tip lightly scratching the sensitive area, making his body tremble.

It was so agonisingly slow. The gesture felt both sweet and mean, as if it were Alastor’s fingers toying with him.

Then he increased the pace.

Vox’s face started trembling, the image of his expression danced on the screen for a moment, deforming his flat features. Alastor came closer to his prey, enjoying every second.

«Maybe it would be better if you just let yourself…-» the tentacles that were around his stomach changed direction and dug in his hips «…Laugh.»

Vox giggles sparkled, as static electricity vibrated around him. He tried so hard to contain himself, but once the first chuckle was out he could not stop.

«AHAHAHAHL nohohoho.»

«No? But I’m not doing anything my dear! I think you had one too many of these.» he said sliding away the man’s drink, saving it from being destroyed.

«Yohohou knohow dæ-ámňņ well what you’re dohohoing.» Vox managed to say while trying to push his tentacles away.

«Of course I do.» he got closer, more tentacles coming from all around him. Vox felt his heart pounding in his chest, his face a mixture of fear and excitement. A stupid wobbly smile was plastered on his screen.

«And you’re enjoying every single second.» had Vox been a little less drunk he would have probably tried to retort, but all he could do was stare at Alastor’s tendrils.

Two of them wrapped around his wrists, raising his hands.

«Oh noho don’t y҉̗͚͚̯̋̏̍̑O̸͎͕̒̽͐̏U҉͓̦̰̘̌́̏̾͆ DARE ALASTOR!» the tentacles danced in front of him, circling around his underarms. Two of them were near his sides, and no matter how hard he tried to pull at his restraints he couldn’t free himself.

«Oh how I like seeing you like this.» Alastor sighed «So helpless.»

«Ahahahahahl Ihihi ha-hatehehe yohohor stupid gahames.» he protested. He was still sat on his absurdly high stool, his feet trying to touch the floor to push himself back. But there was nowhere to run.

Every demon in the place had already fled, believing that the Radio Demon had found his new victim. Well they weren’t completely wrong.

«Do not lie to me.» Alastor caressed Vox’s screen with a single finger, and fake sweat flashed on his face. «You love my games. And besides, a powerful Overlord like you should laugh at the face of danger.» that actually made Vox titter.

Anything said by Alastor made him laugh.

«Let me see your smile.»

All of the tentacles attacked at the same time, some caressing his skin, some scratching at the fabric of his clothes. They were under his arms, on his stomach, meaningly attacking his hips.

The laugh that left his throat gave Alastor goosebumps. It was loud, the loudest he had ever heard from him and it was so… carefree.

All the sense of control, the pressure of becoming a powerful Overlord, the high standards the man held on himself all crumbled down. And he was just helplessly laughing in front of his friend, eyes closed, not afraid to be hurt.

Unfortunately for him he was definitely too sensitive though and the moment a tendril flicked his antenna he started to glitch.

«NOHOHOHOHŒĦØ-»

A spark of electricity made the entire place blackout for a moment, before the lights came back on. Alastor looked at the display of power both amazed and awed.

The man was really strong.

«Be careful my friend-» Alastor’s voice came from much closer than before «We wouldn’t want you to short circuit would we?»

He decided to give him a little break.

The moment the tendrils freed him, Vox turned his back and held the counter with both of his hands, looking for stability.

He could not stop the giggles and titters leaving his body, feeling even drunken than before even though the alcohol was starting to wear off.

However, before Vox could stop laughing, a single tentacle snuck under the his shirt, through his sleeve, slowly and gently caressing his underarm with its tip. The small movement was driving Vox mad.

He collapsed on the counter, laughter now pouring out of him. His feet were kicking the air. The free arm was pounding on the surface, not lucid enough to try to free himself.

He let his head rest on the table, the screen tilted toward Alastor.

«Yohohouh bihihihitch.» he giggled before trying to pry away a new tendril that was slipping under his shirt, targeting his stomach.

His feet kicked harder and quicker as he started to hiccup. «Ihi- IHĮĦĮ- chahaæn’ț.» his voice changed and distorted.

Alastor drank another glass, closing his eyes and enjoying the flavour.

«Sooo» he stood up next to the giggling mess. «Do we wanna make a deal?» he asked making his tentacles stop their torture and back away.

Vox took a few seconds to compose himself before lifting his head and facing the other demon.

Giggles were still stuck in his throat, threatening to leave his body at every word. «A deahal?» he straightened his back and fixed his shirt, now turning his entire body towards the friend.

«I’m not selling my soul for some T̵̲̫̈́̉͗̂͆-tickles. You can’t be that stupid.»

«I am not, my friend. And for once I do not care for your soul! Oh no no no! I would like…-» he let the anticipation roll on Vox’s nerves as he approached him with twitching fingers. «-for you to never drink whiskey in such an inconsiderate way. You either taste your liquor or you don’t drink at all. You do not gobble your alcohol. You understand that young man don’t you?» and as he pronounced the last sentence, he started tracing invisible circles on Vox’s sides.

Vox closed his eyes and the giggle that escaped his lips was a mixture of ticklish agony and amusement.

«Are you finding my request funny?» his fingers danced on his sides.

«Oh c’mohohn Ahahal.» he kicked his feet again, very careful not to hit the demon in front of him. «Ihiht is fuhuhucking hilariohohohus.» he managed to say.

Alastor was not amused.

«Well if you think this is hilarious I cannot imagine what you’d think of t̷̥̲͎͇̤̒̈́̔h̵̳̪̰͋̊ȉ̵̭̦̰̊̉̒s̶͈͉͙͕̥̅̚.» as his voice distorted he drilled his thumbs in Vox’s hips, scratching slightly under his clothes.

Vox’s face became black for a few seconds, before returning to his loud self, pounding with his free hands on Alastor’s chest.

«Such a sweet sound.»

«Ḍ̷̙̙̪̏́̏̒͊e҈̫̓̓̈ͅĥ̴̤̖̪̓́͗̀a҉̤̩͙̏̿ĥ̴̤̖̪̓́͗̀a҉̤̩͙̏̿ĥ̴̤̖̪̓́͗̀a҉̤̩͙̏̿l̸̳͓͔͇̗̋͌̈ ḍ̶̣͎͍͇̐̂̉̿̎e̷͎̘͌̈a҈̫͎͆̏̇l̵͉͚͓̃̄ ḍ̶̣͎͍͇̐̂̉̿̎e̷͎̘͌̈e҈̫̓̓̈ͅĥ̴̤̖̪̓́͗̀e҈̫̓̓̈ͅĥ̴̤̖̪̓́͗̀a҈̫͎͆̏̇l̵͉͚͓̃̄.» his glitched and distorted voice came so soft to Alasto’s ear.

Alastor stopped with a chuckle.

«You enjoyed it.» he said before stepping away.

«Oh well don’t think I didn’t notice your tail wagging.» the tv demon whispered with a smile on his face.

Alastor turned himself, hiding his back and his stupid soft tail, a small blush colouring his cheeks.

Vox laughed again, a genuine laugh, and then grabbed his own glass. The older man way eyeing him, fingers ready to summon his power once more.

Vox drank slowly, feeling the warmth of the alcohol. He closed his eyes, enjoying the taste.

Alastor smiled at him, the genuine smile reserved to these late night, where the alcohol in their veins made their heads lighter and their words easier to leave their lips.

The words Alastor pronounced forty-five years ago echoed in the empty room. They sounded sincere, no filter altering them, just honesty and liquor on his tongue.

«You’re like a sparkle in the night Vox. You make this dark world brighter with your smile. Remember that»

Vox closed his eyes and let out a sight. He hugged himself for a moment and let those words sink in, burning his soul.

He allowed himself to feel this way for a few seconds, before turning everything off and straightening his jacket.

He had to go now.

He needed to find out what that pompous old prick was planning.

~~~

I feel like I’ve been working on this fics for a month, but it’s actually been a couple of weeks.

I loved exploring Vox and Alastor’s dynamic and showing Alastor being kind of a mentor for Vox.

Initially Valentino had a part in this fic, but in the end his role got cut off, but who knows! I might explore their relationship and how it affected Vox and Alastor in future fics! In this universe (yeah, the one I created pretty much for this single tickle fic) Al and Vox originally had a strong relationship, something between platonic and romantic, that got ruined when Vox met Valentino and started hanging out with him (Even though I strongly believe that in the serie Vox was the one that fell in love and Alastor was just trying to get something out of him and eventually got tired of Vox and left him)

The first scene felt really like when Hamilton and Burr go drink together at the beginning of the musical ahahahaha.

I don’t know when will I publish the new fic, it will take me a long time before I am able to write so much again.

Let me know what you think guys 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

#tickle fic #hazbin hotel tickle #lee!vox #ticklish!vox #ler!alastor #i hope it’s well written I’m stressing so much #i started writing with no idea for a plot #but i can totally see Alastor getting mad for not drinking in tge ‘right way’ #and Vox being an impatient little shit about it #idk I love them so much #and really I need to get lee!vox out of my system

[auroreliis]

Not sure if you'll even see this LMAO. But I love the way you think, so I wanna know your take on Nightwing/Dick Grayson with an antihero. Someone who's constantly swinging between hero and villainy

I love this idea!

The thing with Dick is that he would be so annoying on this:

"Be careful, you'll hurt yourself!"

"I don't want to fight you. I'm doing this for your own good"

"I didn't want to give back ALL the money you stole, but if you do not stop fighting now, I will return the whole lot of it!"

You often find yourself knocked out and tied to a chair by him. In a safe place, of course, he wouldn't want you to get hurt, but man, those chains are thick...how will you get out? (You don't, he comes and frees you when everything has settled and brings you home...)

After his first encounter with you, he'd get Bruce to find out who you are. And then you're in for it...

He'd casually call you by your real name on your next encounter. The smirk on his face merely widening as you look at him confusedly.

"What the hell do you want?"

"So that IS your name? It has a nice ring to it..."

Your eyebrows furrow as he mumbles your name to himself a few more times like a madman. He didn't even notice you slip away.

The panic ensues as he goes around for a bit, trying to find you. He lost you...completely...what an escape artist you are...

And not only the first few times, you manage to slip away every time he even dares to blink. How sneaky of you. He's impressed truly.

However, he does not tolerate it when youngsters like you, with no training, try to act tough. Whether you're a good guy or a bad guy, he will not allow you to fool around anymore. Haven't you got a life? How do you expect to get sleep if you jump around on roofs every night? How immature of you.

And so starts his nagging.

His first thought is bribery. He'll give you whatever you want, as long as you stop fooling around like this, lest you hurt yourself.

If your main interest is material things, this will work. He will give you whatever you want. Whatever your heart desires. Just keep away from Gotham's moonlit streets. Go to bed, watch a film or something else, just please stay inside.

If your primary interest is more adrenaline than anything else, then he will need to get more creative. He will encourage you to seek entertainment through other means. Video games, escape rooms, laser tag, in fact, he will even encourage you to become a hero instead of being on the borderline.

If this doesn't work, he won't give up, it's just that Bruce finds a few holes in the walls of the manor. And Jason notices Dick being more irritable. And Tim, Steph and Cass notice that he doesn't joke around as much. And Damien notices the serious look on his face.

His attempts usually end with this line:

"Being a hero is extremely exhilerating, so why not choose to be good?" (Or, in other words, why not choose to be closer to me?)

Luckily (for you), you chose to come with him. God knows what would've happened if you hadn't...

#heyyyy im backkk #guess who lost the password to this account and finally found it again... #yep...me...whoops #i wont be on so often anymore #but ill pop by when i get a new idea relating to the batfam :) #batfam #platonic yandere #dc comics #x reader #platonic batfam #yandere batfam #yandere dick grayson #dick grayson

[kingdom-of-sins]

Charles Leclerc x reader

A/N: Friends to lovers

You and Charles knew each other since you were kids. Went to the same school and had play dates almost every week. Both were each other's valentines when you two were just five year olds.

You two kinda lost touch when your parents sent you to boarding school in a different country. Charles got busy with his karting career and you got busy with your studies. But you two would meet once or twice in a year whenever you go back home or both coincidentally in the same city.

Both of you had relationships with other people as you two grew older, but your break ups were not as controversial as his. You would hear your friends talking about it, and with social media everyone just knows about every thing.

Once you moved back to Monaco the friendship took a new life. It's not a big place so you two run into each other almost every day. See each other at every event. Same gym. Same neighborhood.

Your professional life soon got hectic when you started working in your parents' company. A fashion/jewelry company. Famous internationally. You managed to sign Charles as a brand ambassador.

Imagine him doing a photoshoot for your company's new line of clothing. You at the set as well. Both constantly talking and discussing just normal stuff. Both going out for lunch just as friends. Your social media is private, so imagine Charles posting a funny video of you taking ages to choose what flavor of ice cream you will have...just imagine his laugh while he is explaining what's going on and zooming the camera on you. Imagine the fans reaction, but obviously they don't know you two are just very good friends.

Charles and you started to spend more time together. It's like the play dates you two had when you both were kids, but the difference is you two are now adults and instead of playing fun silly little kid's games you two just hang out, vent about your hectic lives, share interesting life events, all that...

Since the friendship rekindled Charles didn't feel the need to jump into a new relationship. He didn't know why. He didn't even think about it. But both of you still under the impression that you two are "just friends".

Imagine you invited to the Monaco GP by Ferrari. You at the back of the garage during the weekend, having a front seat view to everything and Charles. Charles will occasionally come talk to you if he gets the time. Obviously the cameras will get that. It will even be posted on the Ferrari social media. Imagine Charles winning the Monaco GP for the first time (i think we all want it to happen). He doesn't say it but a part of him thinks he won his home race because you were there.

Imagine bored Charles during his week off. Visit you in your office with lunch because you are too busy to even eat. He doesn't disturb you or anything, just making sure you eat something. You find a few minutes break from your work and spend it with him.

Gradually you find yourself regularly keeping tabs about the races and important news regarding F1. You will be doing some important work and the race which is happening in a different continent would be playing on the tv or your phone.

The first time Charles realized that he loves you is when he was in desperate need of a haircut before a social event. He was not in Monaco, but fortunately you were in the same city, probably invited to the same event. So hours before the event he was in your hotel room, sitting on a chair with a towel on his shoulder, and you with a comb and scissor in your hands. Charles trusted you to cut his hair and you were his only option. The entire time he was thinking how "right" it feels. He was looking at the mirror while you cut his hair, and the longer he looked the longer he wanted it to last. The bonus is the hair cut is exactly how his mom would have done it.

You are not dumb or oblivious to everything. You know you are falling for Charles. Whenever you think about you two, about the past and all the moments spent together, falling in love with him seems just inevitable. But you are kinda scared to take the first step. What if he doesn't feel the same way? Charles too is scared to confess his feelings. He knows he doesn't have a good track record when it comes to love and relationships. He doesn't want to mess things up with you. He is scared and nervous and completely in love.

You were very good at hiding your feelings but Charles was not even half as good as you. Everyone around him could tell that he is in love. Even the workers at the Ferrari factory could tell.

Imagine Charles in a different country for a race, and you in a different country for work. Suddenly he sees an article of you with some model or designer. It's just a work meeting but the media made it seem like there was something romantic. Charles knew that but he so badly wished that it was him in that article instead of the other guy. He won the race, mostly because he just wanted for the race to be over as fast as possible so he could hop on the plane and fly to you.

When Charles knocked at your hotel room door you thought it was room service. You opened the door expecting to see your dinner but found an exhausted Charles standing there. He didn't give you a chance to speak and immediately kissed you. It took you a couple of seconds but you kissed back. The way he held you, the way your fingers ran through his hair, the way it felt to kiss each other said everything.

Everything just felt natural. Everything just felt like it was all meant to be. Everything just fits like a perfect puzzle.

BONUS

Imagine both you and Charles decided to keep the relationship private. Of course your families and close friends know and they were all thrilled.

Both finding the right balance between work and relationship. Sometimes you are able to sync your travel with his so you both can be in the same city. You understand what it takes to date an F1 driver, and Charles soon understood what it takes to date someone who is one day going to inherit an entire company.

It's okay if you two don't call each other every day, but you two keep each other updated with texts, photos, videos and voice notes.

Imagine Charles trying to attend your company's events to support you. And you try to attend as many races as you can, at least 10 races a year.

While the relationship is private you never enter the paddock with him. It's for the best. But people are not blind and most are overthinkers and great investigators. Of course speculations started to spread about you two.

You thought the relationship would be private for at least a few more months but Charles accidentally posted a video of you driving his Ferrari while he is just being the passenger princess. The video was supposed to be for the "close friends" but he accidentally forgot to choose that potion before uploading it on his insta story. He realized it immediately and deleted it but a lot of fans have already seen it and recorded it.

Now imagine entering the paddock together. A power couple. Charles holding your hand, fingers intertwined and all. Him introducing you to some necessary people.

Imagine one of those photos where he helps you get in his car and see how it feels. A very unique experience. Him explaining the steering wheel and all the buttons and switches.

Charles kissing you before getting in the car and after finishing his race. If he is in the top 3 or won the race then he just knows you are with the Ferrari team at the parc ferme waiting for him and celebrating for him. Hugs and kisses. Smiling at you from the top of the podium.

Your social media accounts are private so the fans just hound him to post photos of you. Occasional hate is there. You don't care but Charles does.

Summer break. You surprise Charles with an amazing vacation. He is thrilled and excited, but he just can't stop smiling when he finds out that you invited his family as well, because you know he loves going on vacation with his family.

Cute videos of you two from race weekends.

Charles posting cute photos of you or of both of you. It's very rare but he proudly posts them.

Whenever someone asks him questions about you or your name comes up he just gives a love sick smile "my girlfriend..."

You live in Monaco, you are rich, you already have expensive cars, but imagine Charles gifting you a Ferrari. He was completely involved in designing, choosing the perfect color, anything that can be personalized.

Imagine cozy nights at home. You cooking and Charles helping. Watching movies while cuddling under the blanket.

Imagine both working out together.

Imagine both buying a house together. Both equally involved in designing and all. There is no shortage of money so you two can have anything you want.

Imagine you two having a perfect relationship.

#f1 #formula one #formula 1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc f1 #charles leclerc one shot

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Ok regarding that “can i make Yves do my homework if I give him my childhood pictures” ask, exactly how much access does Yves have to our lives? Does he have images or videos from when we were still a baby or would they be new information to him?

A bunch of my baby pictures and videos are lost because my dad lost the computer that had them but we recently found my aunt’s old camera filled with our childhood pictures, it was a pleasant surprise for us but would it be for Yves too?

It absolutely is. If Yves was there with you while your aunt showed you the photo gallery of her old camera, Yves would momentarily lose a bit of inhibition and let his pupils dilate to a maddening degree before instantly constricting it back to appear normal. It's a rare, super deluxe edition photos of you, there isn't anything else like it out there as they're most likely not uploaded to the internet or a cloud based service, where he could easily hack.

Him coming across media from your childhood or at least during those early days where people still go to and get their photos developed, is like winning the lottery for him. Because, although he tries to collect everything relating to your existence, there is only so much he can do in a day. He rather prioritizes the present and the future, as the past is the past; neither you nor him can change it, he can only understand or connect it to your current behaviours or thought patterns.

He does have some information about you as a baby or a child, but that is if they're "readily available" to him. (I.e., it can be found in predictable places like in your childhood home.), that is why, Yves would try to build a good relationship with people you grew up with, to extract information.

Despite being reclusive as he is, Yves would never fail to attend every and any family gathering he is invited to or expected to come. Encouraging that drunk uncle to drink more if he knew he has something to say about you, bribing your relatives with gifts and career opportunities, perhaps even drugging that really difficult and combative cousin to make them more bearable to interrogate.

As soon as he knew your aunt could be another goldmine of your data, he would get to work. Wasting no time building a rapport with her, it's a piece of cake given how obsessive and manipulative his nature is.

Inevitably, your aunt will come to love him and see Yves as family. By extension, her relationship with you will skyrocket too, she will invite you to her place much more often even though she might not be the most sociable person in the first place. Yves will find a way to make her bend to his whims.

The majority of their conversations would be about you, only sometimes Yves would talk about something else if it meant he could keep the drive to spill more about your lore going. His sharp ears and mind will pick up on clues as to where he might find more pictures or writings about you. He would then break into your aunt's home to give it a thorough shakedown and leave without a trace. Yves would repeat this process until he's positive that she has nothing left to offer. That camera is getting fucking stolen and replaced with a duplicate.

It didn't matter if your aunt was a minimalist or a severe hoarder, he would go through all her things just to try and find pieces of your puzzle. He would wade through cobwebs, dust piles, rat droppings and mould if he had to, Yves isn't scared to get dirty to obtain what he wants, "squeamish" isn't in his vocabulary.

When she is robbed of all your essence, Yves would become distant. Not hostile towards her, just cold and indifferent. He would still maintain some sort of relationship with her though, in case she becomes useful again later. As of now, he either puts his entire focus on your current peripheral and direct life, or start to hunt other members down- from his snooping, he had learned of other people who may have valuable input about your childhood.

All of this is happening in the background. You wouldn't suspect a thing, there wasn't a dip in his attention for you. In fact, he may have gotten a lot more smothering, as Yves would be shaking at the thought of testing out his new theories and hypothesis that were birthed from his new knowledge.

He just loves you so much that he couldn't help himself but to get greedy. Yves wants all of you; past, present and future. And any version of you that could have been.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere male #oc yves #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere x you #male yandere oc x reader

[watcherthrowaway]

also one real post about this and like, plenty of ink has been spilt on how disconnected watcher entertainment seems to be from its fans but i think the missing piece here is how disconnected watcher is from the rest of youtube. when the catastrophe hit i went to all my terminally online friends, the same way i did after the hbomberguy james somerton video, or after the ned fulmer fiasco, or the creepshowart scandal etc, or every time jenny nicholson dropped a new evermore video, including the ones behind the $2 patreon paywall we all gladly pay for, and for the first time...

no one knew who i was talking about.

these are not insulated people. these are people i can trust to have at least name recognition of almost any youtuber i mention. they know downtherabbithole and strangeaeons and cjthex and kappakaiju and miniminuteman773 and kazrowe and somemorenews etc etc etc

so when i put in the group chat, with no context, 'he wasnt even on cribs' or 'we have no cats kathleen' or 'only humble pagan commune schemes' or whatever, i usually do so with great trust that at least half the group will know what im on about.

this time, crickets.

i backpedaled a little and pulled up the 'ive connected them' meme and the fuzzy blue professor, and i got nothing at all. the only recognition i got was when someone belatedly realized that he had seen the goatman video when it dropped (although he had no idea that they had their own company now), and another person remembered that they had offered to collab with danny gonzalez, a youtuber with twice the subscribers

because she had checked back to see if danny went ghost hunting again, and lost interest because he hadnt.

i also brought it up in my dedicated buzzfeed unsolved group chat but ummmmm i am the only one in that group still watching ever since the shift to watcher oops

the only splash they had made in my again, TERMINALLY ONLINE friend group that watches hours and hours of youtube a day was a buzzfeed video seven years ago, and when they had failed to collab with someone more famous than them. i found myself in the unusual position of having to explain the situation to a bunch of dirty internet gremlins, all of whom heard the whole story and said 'why would they do that'

not 'why would they do that to their fans' but 'why would they do that as youtubers'

even aside from the moneygrubbing, we watcher stans were confused about why they tried to offer us a service we didn't need or want, and i think it obscured the confusion on why they thought it was a good idea at all, when so many other models were available to them. why werent they using their patreon like other youtubers? why weren't they collaborating with other youtubers? why weren't they putting out regular, lower quality content like other youtubers? if they wanted higher quality content, why weren't they partnering with nebula, like lindsay ellis, or netflix, like bo burnham. why didn't they run their ideas past someone like the green brothers, who have jumpstarted scishow and many other similar projects successfully, and are famously good to work with/consult with? why would they try to pull a roosterteeth? don't they know what happened?

and i think the answer is no. i think they just don't know those things. and they didnt bother to check, because they think all those things are beneath them. because they think corporate content is the only worthwhile kind there is.

why else would they think they have to have an office building, keep dozens of people on staff, buy expensive cameras, and build a streaming platform? why do they only collaborate with actors and singers who have corporate entertainment approval? why are they reinventing the wheel on buzzfeed when thousands of youtubers build perfectly stable careers with a mic and a camera, and sometimes hire an editor?

i guess my takeaway from this is that, at least they didnt break my heart as a fan entirely because they fundamentally misunderstood me. they did it, at least in part, because they do not understand how youtube works, or what part they play in it.

they dont understand how people use youtube. it is not a cinematic event worthy of the big tv, it is line goes up playing in the background for the 400th time as i wash my face and put my laundry away.

that is why they spent months and months planning this without ever noticing it was a bad idea, while millions of youtube viewers knew instantly. thats why they didn't start with a more moderate solution, why they never used their patreon properly, why they cared so much about the production value, why they thought a youtube audience, any audience at all, would jump at the chance to leave youtube.

bc youtube as a creator sucks, and we all know that, but youtube as a viewer is extremely comfortable. all i ask of youtube is to be mildly interesting in the background while i do other stuff. it is filler. some of the filler is extremely good, yes, but there is no room or reason in my life to give more of my money and attention to my filler, let alone to get a bigger screen for it.

and honestly, this is why i and others stayed on with the ghoul boys even though their quality dropped. because it's filler. im not even looking at the screen you apparently spent 100k on. im flipping my eggs. im washing my hair. im waiting for the bus with my headphones in and my phone in my pocket. thank you for being my background music. in return i will sit through your ads and push your view counter up by one. i may even hit the like button by accident bc my phone is in my pocket.

this is not to say i dont enjoy my filler. i would absolutely die without it. but it is not and never will be exchanged for the instances when i make popcorn in The Big Bowl and turn on a Real Movie on the Big Screen (my old laptop that is 15 whole inches) with my phone turned over so nothing can distract me.

my filler can't be my movie, and vice versa. nor should it be. but watcher doesnt understand that, apparently. they think youtube is cruelly preventing them from being netflix, and they think we want netflix, and they don't understand that, even with that half-assed apology that they didn't explain their dream correctly and they are jsut so destitute they had to take extreme measures after they went to europe 6 too many times...

there is a fundamental misunderstanding about how people use youtube , both as creators and as consumers. they didn't just misunderstand their fanbase. they continue to misunderstand the entire ecosystem. idk guys. maybe you should have learned something from those youtubers that you apparently think you are too good for.

and as for me, welp. i've booted people from my filler line-up for less. and there are soooooooooooooo many other fish in the sea, and they are not asking me to pay them 27 corporation salaries from my own pocket. they are asking for me to bump their view counter up by one.

goodbye boys. i really hope you find a way to fulfill yourselves artistically or whatever. but you have burned this particular bridge, like. forever. and i don't think i'm the only one who feels that way.

and not because i dont support people getting a living wage, you guilt-tripping vultures, or because i dont believe in following dreams and wishing on stars and whatnot.

but because i prefer to consume content from people who know what they're doing, and i simply no longer trust that includes you.

#watcher entertainment #steven lim #shane madej #ryan bergara #this is truly all i will say #just amazing how the average youtube viewer immediately identified all the problems with the new plan #and none of the executive big boys involved did

[anon-sect]

picture source anonymous.

Drey and lab partner Nile were given a tough assignment in chemistry class of there sophomore year in college. Drey was a hard working student that always got straight As, while Nile was one who slacked when it came to assignments. The professor wanted to help Nile become a better student, so he partnered him up with the smartest student in the class, hoping some of those good habits would rub off on him.

When the assignment was complete and graded, both Drey and Nile were given an A for the assignment. The professor asked Drey if Nile really did pull his weight on the project, and he told him yes. What the professor didn't know was that Drey was forced to say yes by Nile.

Once they were partnered together, Drey started noticing Nile's feet. When Nile noticed that Drey was looking at his feet often, he figured that he had a foot fetish. He decided to use this fact to his advantage. He offered his feet to Drey to do whatever he wanted to do with them.

Drey would have feet worship sessions in Nile's dorm room when his roommate wasn't present. Nile would even let Drey lay under his desk as a footrest while he gamed on his computer, sometimes for hours sniffing his feet. But when it came time to work on the project, he told Drey to do all the work and they both would take credit. A day before presenting the project, Drey had threated to tell the professor he had done all the work and Nile did none. Nile then showed a ton of pictures and some videos of the foot worship sessions. He then threatened Drey that if he didn't say they both worked on it together, he would show the pictures and videos to his roommate first and then to a lot of other students. Not wanting his foot fetish to be well known, he relented to Nile's demand.

Three days after getting the A, Drey had a change of heart on his decision to remain silent. He texts Nile that he was going to tell the professor the truth, it didn't matter if he was exposed. Nile texted back that he was sorry for blackmailing him and that it was wrong for him to do that. He also told him that he will tell the professor the truth. If he wanted one more foot fetish session, to come over to his dorm room. Drey believed him and went.

Nile let Drey into his dorm room and shut the door. Drey got down on the floor and started kissing Nile's feet like he usually does in their sessions. He didn't notice what he was doing up above him. He looked up briefly to see a strange ray device pointed at him. "I got you here so that my secret would be safe. You won't be ratting on me if you are under my feet for a very long time." Nile spoke to Drey and fired at him.

Drey saw his whole view change as his body shrunk in size and started to turn white. He tried to speak, but his mouth was sealed shut. Everything happened so fast within seconds. One minute later, Drey was gone, and in his place was a pair of white flip-flops.

Nile laughed as slide his feet into his new flip-flops. "Now my secret is safe and I have a new pair of flip-flops to add to my collection. He laughed more. He placed his phone on the floor to snap a picture of him and his new flip-flops. He then posted on his social media page. He added caption beneath the picture, 'Thanks for my new flip-flops, Drey. I think I will keep them for a very long time.'

Drey was mortified mentally as Nile's feet crushed his face. He could feel Nile's feet started to mold his face to service his new owner's feet. He had no means to call for help and lack the ability to move on his own to escape. His fate was sealed. He was Nile's flip-flops forever. Had he left things alone, he would not have been where he was now. He could only partially blame himself for all the pain that Nile's feet was going to cause him for the rest of his life.

#inanimate transformation #shrinkage #foot domination #transformed flip-flop #tf story

[wazzappp]

ALRIGHT WE BALL. Time to get on with the story (i have a story planned thats. a real shocker. im ass at writing but ill get this drawn damnit I promise)

This argument is one that just needed to happen. Robbie cant think of the infected he's been killing as people because that would mean he has killed a truly UNCOUNTABLE AMOUNT OF PEOPLE. Lisa has done what she has to in order to survive, and that includes killing the un-infected (which, of course, to Robbie is totally unacceptable). So when he's trying to explain the difference it just comes across JUDGY AS HELL. They're both proud and defensive and bad communicators and the conversation goes BADLY.

This happens while they're on their way to the Beneviento house. Lisa basically goes 'Alright if youre so high and mighty go ahead and beat this one yourself then!' and fucks off back to Duke with the intention to kill as many Lycans in the way as physically possible. Robbie goes ahead to the SPOOKY NIGHTMARE HOUSE trust me I have plans for what he sees in there and its appropriately disturbing but it also spoils the ending I have planned for this whole thing so :) hang in there.

BUT he ends up having a BAD TIME when he's trying to head back and what @rokhal suggested slotted in SO VERY NICE HERE (i feel i have sufficiently LOST MY MIND over the fic you posted i am JKSL:FJSDFDS F UCk)

'Picturing Robbie alone in the Village foraging for gunpowder and cash (because it's a Video Game and they can't just hang out in Donna Benaviento's house throwing the creepy dolls in the river while waiting for rescue after reconnecting the phone lines, no, they have to wander around the entire map) and he's saving the herbs for Gabe and using all the chem fluid for sniper rifle ammo or whatever. And he's fighting off werewolves and it's fine because apparently his health regenerates like mana because he's made of mold.

But as he's wandering around it starts to get harder and harder to remember how much cash and scrap he needs. And he keeps missing shots. And then he gets a little turned around but now he's lost and there's more fkn werewolves, and he's seriously low on ammo and he just wants to get back to Gabe, but he needs to regroup and his hands are numb so he tries to warm them at one of the villager's stoves.

And then he discovers that he's slowly turning into a mindless mold creature, and realizes that the only way to keep Gabe safe from him is to get really really really lost, so lost he'll never find his way back before something kills and eats him.

This does not work, but it does ensure that he is incoherent and barely recognizable by the time Gabe and Lisa track him down.'

Which is all MWAH. CHEFS KISS.

Anyway Robbie is gone for a WHILE and Lisa realizes that the puzzles she needs to solve to move the fuck on require 2 people so she's stuck killing any lycans that stray too close to Dukes camp and hanging out with Gabe. UNTIL, of course, Gabe decides yeah no fuck this fuck that Robbie has been away for WAY to long and I'm going after him. Only problem is that Gabe's abilities are kinda rooted too wherever his sclerotia pods (is adding pods to that redundant? whatever we ball) have had enough time to take root and grow. Meaning, despite her anger towards Robbie at the moment, if Lisa doesen't want Gabe caught, dragged to Mother Miranda and dismembered, she's gotta go with him (also featuring @moosemonstrous hilarious idea of her being proud of Gabe's attempted intimidation).

When they DO track him down he's barely awake. He keeps wandering in one direction then looks like he wants to turn around and go another but he keeps FORCING HIMSELF to go the other way (generally I think he would be a decent bit stronger, but fighting his instincts this hard make him seem more aimless. Robbie is borderline unstoppable when trying to get to his brother, but right now he's NOT trying to get to his brother. you feel me?). Lisa goes up first to make sure he's not going to lose his shit or something. He basically falls onto her with the single saddest "m'sorry" ever heard on planet Earth. If it's for FALLING on her or if its for the CONVERSATION earlier, Lisa isn't quite sure. But it's been years since anyone has apologized to her for anything and thats enough for her to decide she should at least sling him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes back to Dukes camp.

They make it back to the Dukes camp and give Robbie a couple of med kits (GOOP JUICE!!!!!) and he's a little more coherent. He's still trying to stay away from Gabe even though everything in him is saying 'STAY CLOSE' but he's got SOME brain space available because at least he's in line of sight now. Scrambled brain time is not the BEST for trying at an apology but hey, Robbie isn't really known for his great ideas and he tries anyway.

(ft me being unwell about shoving them together)

They're on better terms after this. The communication is still weird but hey its them so everything is weird. Plus they get some extra bonding time because I also snatched rokhals OTHER suggestion of

'....Been thinking maybe The Duke has a recipe that would heal Robbie...requiring meat from a golden dancing fish and the breast of the blue bird that haunts the graveyard and the tenderloin of the magnificent boar that sires all the swine in the Village...or something. So Gabe and Lisa have to go hunting while keeping Robbie calm...'

Ah yes. the high end flesh of the Great Village Fuck Boar. Delightful.

Cause I mean he's BETTER but still not GREAT. I think now that he's with Gabe he would be unable to leave him again while like this. Gabe would HAVE to go with them (we can get >:] 'Robbie goes into an overprotective frenzy and sword hands himself to hack some poor lycan that got too close in half' its a good time [its not. sword hand is very disturbing to him])

So anyway what Im TRYING to say is that the brainworms will continue

#I also :) found a way to fit :) side-of-face-splitting-into-horror to fit into the actual story :) aha. ahahaha. #ghost rider re7 au #my art #sketch #this took. a while lol. #what he sees in the Beneviento house is gonna be so fun to show you guys I promise its a terrible good time #we just need to get to the end of the story first to get there i dont wanna spoil design stuff >:] #RE!lisa #robbie reyes #gabe reyes

[karenandhenwillson]

Fandom and Ships

In the last couple of weeks, we have seen the number of fics in the Bucktommy tag skyrocket. Which is pretty exciting and amazing and a clear sign of how very excited the fandom is about this development. But of course there is also backlash, mostly from people who suddenly see their preferred ship in danger. (Honestly, when has a canon ship ever stopped fandom from shipping the people involved with other people instead?)

It's expected that some Buddie fans are disappointed. It's also expected that they would lash out (though, I had hoped people could for once remember there are adults and just because everyone is anonymous in online spaces doesn't mean there aren't people sitting behind those keyboards getting hurt by baseless accusation of racism and other things). I should probably not be surprised they are now also using the low engagement we have always seen with Henren as a weapon.

So, let's talk about fandom and ships.

There is no question that there has since season 2 always been the most engagement with Buddie content in this fandom as a whole. People saw the chemistry between Buck and Eddie and ran with it. Compared to that, the canon couples have all barely any content.

But if you look at any fandom at any point in time, there is a clear pattern between canon and fanon ships. There are only very few select fandoms where canon couples ever got a lot of engagement. Of the various fandoms I've been part of, I can only think of one at the top of my head.

I think the reasons are pretty simple. 

First of all, the fans get that couple on their screen pretty regularly. They don't have to wish and hope for it, don't have to search for the little details that will validate their headcanon. They don't have to go into fandom spaces to find content for that ship. They can just lean back without any kind of effort and enjoy this ship right on their screen.

And then second, those who do create fan content for those canon ships have to balance a very fine line. What of the canon facts will they dare to contradict to create their own content in fanfiction? (Fanart, videos, gif-sets are probably a little easier there.) Where and when do they deviate from canon? Is there even anything they feel is missing from canon that they want to see in fan work? Do they want to risk contradicting anything that will be established in canon later on? Usually, this conundrum leads mostly to short fics about missing scenes, but nothing truly epic. At least not as long as the there is new source material fairly regularly.

People creating content for purely fanon ships don't need to bother with most of those questions. Because they are deviating from canon anyway. It doesn't matter much then how far they go with that. Everything canon that comes later will just be dismissed with a shrug. Everything canon that happened previously and they don't like can be dismissed just as easily because they are already dismissing parts of it.

Then there is a clear divide between hetero, maleslash and femslash content, no matter if canon or fanon. There are probably people much better suited to get into the gritty little details about that. I'll just share some thoughts I have about any of those ships in this fandom because of my experience as a fanfiction author.

I've always been writing and telling stories. And I started writing fanfiction pretty early on, too, because I found a lot of freedom there in the content and relationships I could explore. Looking back, I've always mostly written maleslash. But I've also always had hetero and femslash pairs in my works. Have had works that focus solely on those pairs.

I know as a teenager I wrote mostly maleslash because I just got a lot of engagement for that. And back then that was a great motivator to publish my fanfiction. It's not my motivation to publish now anymore and it's never been my motivation to write at all. So there are some stories about hetero or femslash couples on my hard drive that I just never published back then.

For 9-1-1, I've been writing many of the ships there are. More than once I focused on characters who don't get much attention otherwise, not even in canon. I have some femslash stories published, most of them Henren. They don't get many klicks. And the comments I get are from friends I actively talk to very often who just read about anything I publish. Or from some very dedicated readers who I seem to have enamored enough with my writing that they'll follow me into pretty much any rabbit hole, I think.

I like Buck and Eddie a lot as characters. I adore Christopher. So, I enjoy creating for them a lot. But I also enjoy creating for the other characters and I'm scratching that itch regularly. But no matter the reason for why I write (because the stories are just in my head and the only way to get them out is to write them down), sharing what I create is more fun when I'm finding engagement over it. So, there are stories that are outlined or even fully written who I'll maybe never publish.

Where were all those Buddie fans in the past who now complain about the missing content for Henren? Where was their support for those who have written Henren all along only to be practically talking into a void? (Right, just as it was never about queer representation for some people, it was never about Henren either. No matter what they say now. They are just searching for the next thing the mob might be latch onto so they can pretend they are right.)

#911 abc #bucktommy #henren

[lazuliquetzal]

Whee Fight Scenes! (This Is A Seirei no Moribito Advertisement)

For the past couple of years I have been almost exclusively writing fanfiction for action-fantasy video games which has led to me developing opinions on writing fight scenes. I used to hate writing them because what even happen fight, really, like what the hell??? But now I’ve learned to tolerate them! Sometimes I even enjoy writing them! So now I will share my wisdom with you. 

(Disclaimer: This post was written so I could avoid writing a fight scene.)

My credentials: I occasionally write fight scenes in my action-fantasy video game fanfictions, and I have seen Seirei no Moribito the anime several times. I do not claim to be an expert on fight scenes, but I do claim to love Seirei no Moribito to bits.

Part 1. The Set Up

There’s this excellent anime about a mercenary on a life-long quest for redemption who ends up taking a cursed prince under her protection. It’s about unraveling propaganda and colonialism, and also about kicking ass. The first time I watched this anime, when I got to the episode 3 rice field fight, I thought, “holy shit, I see now that a good fight scene requires not only a kick-ass fight, but also narrative/emotional build up in order to give the scene weight and tension.”

Like, lots of anime have excellent and extremely iconic fights, but this was the show that really made the writing aspect of it stick in my brain. Seirei no Moribito is also an adaptation of a book, which might why this stood out to me: the way its fight scenes are constructed are not as reliant on the actual visuals so much as they are on everything else (the animation for the fight is gorgeous, too, like, just watch this show please it’s so good). That said, I haven’t actually read the book. But I have seen this show several times and the rice field fight gets me so hype.

(And also every other fight scene. I’m never over episode 13. If you have to watch only one (1) episode of Seirei no Moribito, watch episode 13. But also, don’t do that. Watch the entire thing you coward.)

Anyway. What’s going on in Seirei no Moribito episode 3?

Part 1a. The Narrative Stage

Ep3 is early on in the series. The rice field fight is not the first action scene, but it is the first fight scene. This is what we know going in:

Balsa, our main character, is a formidable mercenary with a practical mind and a strong sense of honor. She has sworn to protect Chagum, the prince of the Empire. Her goal is to keep Chagum alive at all costs, because saving his life is crucial to her personal goal of redemption.

The Emperor (Chagum’s father) has dispatched his elite warriors to kill the prince, as they believe that he is possessed by an evil water spirit. Their goal is to kill the prince because the evil water spirit is a bad omen for the empire, and they believe that killing the prince will save the kingdom.

Balsa’s spear is damaged, and she is outnumbered. She has the disadvantage.

We are, of course, rooting for Balsa and Chagum at this point in the story. Balsa’s our main character, she’s super cool, and child assassination is a bad look. We know that Balsa is strong: we’ve seen her do athletic stunts, and it’s been alluded to that she is extremely skilled with the spear. This fight is the first time we get to see her use it, so it’s very exciting to the viewer. We want to see her in action.

Part 1b. The Emotional Stage

Chagum doesn’t have much of a personality at this point: we know he’s a child prince, and we know his dad wants to kill him. So we don’t know him well, but he’s already sympathetic due to circumstance.

When Balsa and Chagum get to the rice fields, they are almost home-free. They’ve spent a lot of effort trying to redirect the emperor’s warriors and the plan almost worked. We are extremely close to safety, so the fact that this is when the emperor’s elite catch up is very tense and frustrating.

All this puts the audience in the mindset of: oh man, they’re so close, I really need Balsa to win! I don’t want the kid die! You can taste the safety, you are almost there—it’s the type of tension that gets you invested in the outcome of the fight.

Part 1c. The Physical Stage

The first half, and the faster-paced portion of the fight takes place in a rice field at night (a classic). Wide open, with water to splash in, and nowhere to hide. It’s right on the edge of the thick forest, which gives Balsa and Chagum an immediate goal: get to the denser terrain so that they might break line of sight of their pursuers.

The second half of the fight is less of a fight and more of a close-up, emotional moment of action. It takes place in a clearing by the edge of the forest.

The physical location of the fight ties in with the short-term goals of the characters: the open field forces Balsa into direct confrontation even though she wants to run, and the clearing by the edge of the forest gives Jin (one of the emperor’s warriors) the illusion of privacy when he tries to kill Chagum, and it gives Balsa cover to hide until she can intervene.

Part 1 – TL;DR

Even before you get to the actual fight, the setup of the fight has inherent tension and intrigue. One can reasonably assume that Balsa and Chagum will survive, because this is episode 3 of a 26 episode anime. But you don’t know if her damaged spear will hold out. You don’t know why the emperor wants Chagum dead. You don’t know if Balsa will kill the emperor’s guards, or if she’ll be able to make a clean getaway with the prince. All these uncertainties create mystery, which creates tension. And tension is what makes the fight fun.

Part 2. The Purpose

I mentioned earlier that this is the first actual fight in the show.

It’s the payoff for a bunch of little questions that have cropped up so far. How strong is Balsa? Is she good enough to win, even when outnumbered? What does her fighting style look like?

A lot of action stories have big fight early on, and that’s because a well-done fight scene squeezes in a massive amount of characterization. In this fight, we learn a lot about Balsa, and we learn a lot about the Emperor and the difference between the Emperor and the people who work for him.

Some questions that get explored: How do they think under pressure? What kind of fighting do they do? Are they strategic? Reactive? Brute force or trickster? How do they solve problems? How far are these people willing to go to achieve their goals?

There’s a moment in this fight when Balsa is wounded, and the emperor’s warriors retrieve Prince Chagum. Balsa ends up retreating into the forest. Jin says something along the lines of: she’s a mercenary, she works for money and she’s already been paid; she won’t risk her life to come back and get the prince.

But she does. Even though she’s been wounded, and even though she had the perfect opportunity to walk away, she comes back and saves Prince Chagum at the expense of her own health. Balsa keeps her promises; Balsa’s personal quest for redemption is more important to her than her life. We know her, now!

Fight scenes are great for characterization because it’s a deviation from status quo. A person’s default state is not “battle,” and stories thrive on extraordinary circumstances. “How does this character change/act/perform under pressure?” is a really great characterization question, and a fight scene is the opportunity to show the answer rather than tell it.

Fight scenes are also great for thematic debate. You get the opportunity to literalize the conflict between different philosophies via characters fighting each other. EZ story moment. You know that one Howard Ashman quote about how, in musicals, the characters sing when they’re too emotional to speak? That’s what fight scenes are to me. The characters fight when they can’t talk to each other.

And then, of course, a fight scene is also moving the plot along. The conflict is happening, information is being exchanged/discovered/buried. Some characters life, some characters get hurt, some characters die. A fight scene is a way to physically bring characters to the state they need to be in for the story to progress (in the right emotional state, the right physical state, the right location, etc). Lots of things going on, which is good—you want all of your scenes to be purposeful.

Part 3. The Details

All of that had to do with the zoomed-out, overall story view of the fight (how the fight fits into the overall story). I am now going to continue to gush about the episode 3 rice field fight up close (how does the fight scene work in isolation). Because Seirei no Moribito rocks.

Part 3a. The Setting

I already mentioned the open rice field/dense forest dichotomy and how that affects the characters’ short-term goals. It’s also a great choice to establish Balsa’s superior technical ability with her spear. The rice field is wide open and relatively flat—no obstructions or distractions, with everyone on equal ground. There are no tricks to pull, no environmental quirks to exploit: this is a clean fight between Balsa and the emperor’s warriors. When she comes out on top, it’s because she’s better than them.

Depending on the character, it might be better to change the terrain. Have the stealthy warrior fight in a forest, where they can appear and reappear and use their sneakiness to their advantage. Put a trickster in a situation where they can improvise traps. There is an aspect of your character that you want to show off, so set the stage so that they can show off. It’ll be totally badass and fun.

Part 3b. The Short-Term Goals

When you read a story, you can reasonably assume that the protagonist will stay alive (especially if you are not near the end of the story). Knowing the outcome can make a story stale if you're not careful. You can lose tension if there’s no risk. Some stories try to create a world/tone/atmosphere so that anyone can die. A lot don’t because that’s a little depressing.

My friend @yellowocaballero has an excellent post on this regarding OP protagonists, but to summarize: if you know the protagonist is always going to win the physical fight, you have to make the win condition not about that. Balsa isn’t OP, but giving characters goals beyond “win the fight” can make a fight so much more interesting.

In the rice field fight, Balsa does not have to defeat the emperor's warriors: she has to get Chagum and herself away alive. Her goal is to make a clean getaway. When the warriors show up, she makes the decision to confront them, and her goal is not just to win, but to win so decisively that they won’t be able to follow her. When Chagum gets caught, she changes her goal to ‘keep him safe at all costs, no matter the harm done to myself’, and she gets seriously wounded. She can succeed in some goals, but fail in others, and the story reacts and keeps changing. It’s the same principle behind why rolling a nat 1 is so entertaining in D&D. The more you fail, the more creative you have to get. 

Part 3c. Monkey Brain

There is just something so cool and so satisfying and so fun about seeing a character kick ass. There is also something very cool and very satisfying about seeing a character get beat up. The rice field fight has it all: Balsa kicking ass, and also getting beat up. It’s fun! Fight scenes that know exactly why they are cool are just so good. Hell yeah, overindulge and use every single weapon despite how impractical they are. Yes please show someone pulling off an unrealistic move for the coolness factor. Absolutely include the explosion-that-would-definitely-kill-but-doesn’t. 

Part 3 — TL;DR 

If you want the fight to be cool, make it cool! Set it in a cool place! Give your characters opportunities to show off! Make it interesting by changing the win conditions! Conflicting goals forces characters to prioritize and it makes scenes fun!

Part 4. Words???

Unfortunately, as mentioned, Seirei no Moribito is an anime and I haven’t read the book so I cannot analyze and gush about its prose in this section. Otherwise, the advertisement would continue. You’re safe for the moment.

Re: prose, there’s probably a post out there that goes over the language of fight scenes better than I ever could. I write with the diction of a middle-grade author because I read PJatO too much as a child and it rewrote my DNA. This is not a bad thing, this is just a fact. So I’m just gonna fire off fight scene writing advice I heard from around:

Filter words — if you want a more immersive reading experience, you want to avoid filtering the action through the narration. So use sentences like: “Her arm hurt” as opposed to “she felt her arm hurt”. But if you’re trying to distance the reader, like recreating the feeling of shock/dissociation, then filter words would help achieve that effect.

Make the rhythm of your prose match the energy of the fight. Short and choppy feels fast in the brain. Long and wordy feels overwhelming. Fragmented sentences and run-ons are chaotic. Customize the vibes.

Establish the important details of the setting beforehand so that you don’t have to stop the action to describe the specific placement of a relevant tree stump. I think I heard this one from Brandon Sanderson on a podcast somewhere, but I think about it a lot when I write because blocking is hard enough and it's even harder when you have to stop and attempt to translate the movie in your head into words. I can’t tell you how to block a fight scene. We need to find someone else who is smarter that can tell us.

Part 5. The Point

Fight Scenes are Fun, actually. They can be really effective if you set them up properly! If you know what you want to do with them, you can arrange it to be as cool as possible! You don’t have to be in a visual medium to make fights fun. You just have to figure out how to translate the cool bits into prose, which I think is mostly done through giving your fight cool shit on both the macro story level scale and the micro scene level scale. 

Also, watch Seirei no Moribito.

#i got a comment somewhere that was complimenting my fight scenes which. thank you! fight scenes stress me the FUCK out #but i do think i've gotten a lot better at them since i've started writing so i figured i'd write something about what i learned #and by what i learned i mean. gush about #seirei no moribito #tav this is not a response to your one post about fight scenes earlier that was a coincidence #lazuli talks #writing

[thelassoway]

Ted Lasso S01E01 Pilot || Ted Lasso S02E12 Inverting the Pyramid of Success Salty

#Ted Lasso #Rebecca Welton #Hannah Waddingham #Theodore Lasso #Jason Sudeikis #*mine: gif #*mine: nonsense #*mine: TL theory #parallels #these did not turn out great but I'm just here for the thoughts for the most part #this is what happens when I work on a video and only see the first 16 minutes of the pilot again #there's probably another time the word salty is used and I've messed this all up #first I did cut out the cut ways in both these scenes to S1 the room full of reporters mostly focused on Trent Crimm #and the other to Keeley in the S2 scene #this salty line being connected to reports in away builds my idea of how S3 will go #I've stated before that I 100% think they will win the Premier League taking for the 2016 Leicester City win #I'm thinking that the point of view will becoming from maybe Trent Crimm aka opening on him #and ending with his story how Richmond did it??? maybe. #or the salty line means nothing and there is no connect to the reporters and Ted & Rebecca with this #the rule of threes so S3 salty bits....salty dogs #something something a bad taste in your mouth and something about spit and swallow here too #I've gone somewhere to somewhere else with this but never not having thoughts good/bad real/not #dear TL please prove me wrong so the thoughts can stop #I need to be stopped. right.... #quality content maybe someday for now never heard of it

[slvttyplum]

suguru had a crazy ex. they were still stuck on him like white on rice obsessing over him and lurking on his socials. 

at first, you understood, and you got where they were coming from. i mean come on, it’s suguru geto. you too would be fawning over this sex, strong, funny, sweet man for decades to come, but then it became excessive to the point it wasn’t funny anymore but annoying. 

a notification popping up on his phone every day from an anonymous account. suguru was done with it just as much as you were. 

when he and his ex broke up, they both made it extremely clear that this was an agreement both of their terms and that they both wanted to break up. 

so why the fuck is he up at 2am going pee getting phone calls and texts from them even after getting blocked. it was insane, he really thought he was going crazy and was thinking of what he actually wanted to say instead of actually telling them, but no.

they just wanted him back and hated to see him with you, saying that they were the only ones who deserved him.

suguru really thought he was at a loss here, not knowing what to do and contemplating just going to the police, but he thought of something better, something sweeter in pettiness. 

think of something that would make you really mad—your soul crushed, devastated to see the crush do. it’s fucking someone else, right? yeah, thought so. 

so that’s exactly what suguru did. he wasn’t going to have his ex sit up there and get you all irritated the moment the both of you woke up; it’s not happening. 

and then getting you mad? fuck no. he works way too hard to keep you happy, and it’s not going to get destroyed by them. 

so he set up his phone, positioned it just right so only his face was shown, and started recording. of course, you knew about this, so you let the pleasure suguru was giving you take over. 

your body squirming, the heat in your body rising, lumps in your throat getting caught over and over again, your whimpers and moans flowing into his mouth. 

the sex was still the same, amazing. the only thing was that he was recording himself giving you that good dick that they apparently still craved. 

and after an hour of sweating, cum and different fluids on the shit, wet noises, skin slapping, and moaning, he sent the video. 

it worked. there was no reply, no snarky remark, no crying over the phone, no begging, just the “read” under the video.

now that’s how you get rid of an ex. 

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #x reader #geto x you #geto smut #getou suguru x reader #geto x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru #jujutsu geto #geto x y/n #jujutsu suguru #getou suguru x y/n #jjk suguru #getou suguru x you #suguru geto smut #jujutsu kaisen suguru

[notjustjavierpena]

Swelter

A/N: This happened because the SAG Awards made me horny. I have no other explanation for my behavior, no other defence. Maybe that I was listening to ur dad by VIAL. Obviously also a huge thanks to @strang3lov3 for being the cutest love bug I know, and for putting up with my brainstorming sessions.

Summary: You have a crush on Sarah’s father. It is summer, it is hot, and you just want a cold drink.

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, best friend’s dad, significant age gap (reader is 19-22, Joel is in his mid-40s), SEXUAL TENSION, bee stings, groping, voyeur to some degree, f masturbation, dirty talk, an endless amount of pet names, sexy play with a soda can, praise kink, car sex, daddy kink, fingering, unprotected piv sex, joel’s cock is huge in this, creampie, premature ejaculation, pussy eating, come eating, squirting

Word count: 6.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54233479

Swelter

A warm Texas breeze blows through the open window of Sarah’s childhood room, making the see-through pink curtains move elegantly from side to side. It hits your back right underneath your halter neck as you lay on Sarah’s bed, caressing your bare skin and making you think of him. You wonder if his hands would have the same effect on you because you find yourself shivering but not from feeling cold. He is somewhere here, and his daughter doesn’t even know that her best friend obsesses about that fact.

Sarah hasn’t changed her room since she was a teenager. She told you this the first time she brought you here, which is almost a year ago today. You were here last summer too, thrilled to be invited to spend a few weeks of your summer with a friend from college and you and her have been inseparable ever since, even if you are so different from each other.

You have your face in a woman’s magazine, propped up on your elbows so you can suck on a popsicle stick whilst turning the pages. There’s a page with the recipe for ‘The Best Fudgy Chocolate Cake Ever!’ next to a page on how to lose weight, and it makes you snort.

“What?” Sarah turns on her chair, pausing the video on her computer.

“What kinda woman are you? You can choose one, but only one. Don’t get greedy now!” You make a scratchy voice but then pop your ice pop in your mouth to hold up the magazine for her to see.

“Seriously? We can’t win,” she groans dramatically, “Chocolate cake always. I just want to be happy, and that looks like a serotonin boost.”

Suddenly, the door opens without any warning. It’s him. Mr. Miller. You quickly remove the popsicle from your mouth, not about to show him how your lips are stretched around the sugary snack. The open door causes a draft to blow the smell of his cologne your way, and it is intoxicating beyond your imagination because you relish in it in secret.

“Dad,” Sarah says with exasperation, “I thought being an adult earned you the privilege of more privacy.”

“It’s gettin’ colder outside now,” he states and ignores her comment, hand resting on the doorknob, “The Adlers need Mercy to be walked, and the pavement’s coolin’ down.”

“I walked him when I was fourteen,” she furrows her brow and you suppress a snicker, “I’m twenty.”

“Just ‘cause you’re grown, don’t mean you can’t do right by ‘em,” he states matter-of-factly.

“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you say from your spot on the bed as Sarah fumes quietly, absentmindedly reaching to pull the short skirt of your dress down. He can probably see the start of your ass from how it has been riding up as you lay down on the sheets.

“Hiya darlin’,” he replies and you swear you can hear a restrained sound in his voice. He turns to Sarah again, “Get your butt off that chair.”

“Fine,” she follows through on her orders but still wants to argue, probably embarrassed at being ordered around by her father in front of her friend. She gestures to you, “And what about my guest?”

“She’s grown too, which means she can probably entertain herself the half hour you’ll be gone,” he dares wink at you, and blood courses through your veins.

“I’ll just get that assignment done while you’re out,” you reassure and try not to seem like your core is shaking.

“See?” Joel looks triumphant.

“You’d make a hell of a lawyer,” she deadpans at her father and walks past him.

When he closes the door and leaves you alone in the bedroom, you can feel your popsicle having melted, its syrupy water running down your fingers. You switch hands and suck the sticky fingers into your mouth. The action makes Mr. Miller’s image flash in your mind and you press your thighs together before getting up and finding your laptop.

You find that it’s near impossible to concentrate on proofreading your assignment in the tiny bedroom after just five minutes of being alone. It’s not that you can’t concentrate in the Summer heat but no matter what you do, your mind keeps circling back to Joel’s voice as he called you darling. It heats you more than the sun ever could, and with every tap on your keyboard, your mouth gets more and more dry.

Eventually, you push yourself to stand from your seat at the desk and make a decision to go fetch something to drink, and it is definitely not with the intention of accidentally bumping into Sarah’s father. Not even when you do not find Joel in the kitchen and decide to bypass it altogether to continue into the garage in hopes of being successful in your search for a drink (obviously).

This infatuation started last year. It took you about ten seconds - from walking into the kitchen and shaking Joel’s hand - to realize that Sarah was cursed with having him as a father. Firstly, he was outrageously handsome; always wearing washed-out t-shirts that clung to his shoulders, always smiling with teeth, sporting salt-and-pepper curls, and sometimes even shocking you by entering the kitchen with working gloves on. However, when he opened his mouth and spoke, a southern drawl dripped from his lips and made your whole body tense up. He was charming, respectful, and laughed at the right moments. Most importantly, he laughed at every damn attempt that you made at being funny, and while it was probably an attempt to be nice and make you feel at home, it spurred you on terribly to win him over at every opportunity.

Despite all that, those opportunities weren’t many. He was also cool enough to know that his daughter didn’t want him hanging around all the time, and so he spent many days either in the garden to mow the lawn in competition with the rest of the fathers down the street, in the garage to fix up some old truck, or with his brother, Tommy, and Tommy’s wife who always had some DIY-project going on.

Thus, the summer became one of tanning sessions in the garden, movies in Sarah’s room, stolen glances at Joel Miller whenever he came inside to quench his thirst after hard labor, and secret longing whenever he had kept away for too long.

One particular day last year, Sarah had failed to mention that her father would be home most of the last days you were in their house, and because he was always out, you were getting more and more comfortable with walking around in your towels post-showers or leaving the door unlocked when changing.

The particular event had happened in the morning when the house had been silent except for the kitchen where Sarah was preparing breakfast, using a large box of pancake mix and the whole fruit section of the local grocery store for topping. You had just showered, standing with your head in your suitcase to search for the last few pieces of clothing you had that were clean when there was a rap on the door and a pull of the handle not even a second later.

“Sarah, I need—“

You whipped around at the sound of a new voice entering the room. Your heart nearly burst out of your chest, feeling as though it was fighting its way out between your ribs as embarrassment began to flood your system. Even so, you stood too frozen to reach for something to cover yourself up.

Joel was in the doorway and dead silent, looking as if struck by lightning. Like earlier today, his hand had been resting on the doorknob and in the painfully short moment that the both of you were processing the situation, you saw that his grip tightened enough to whiten his knuckles.

And then it happened, the thing that had soaked you in forbidden desire and delicious excitement; his gaze had flickered down your body and taken you in for the briefest of seconds. His gaze had traveled from the hard peaks of your nipples to the shape of your hips and the softness of your young cunt.

“Fuck,” you heard him utter as he remembered himself and his self-awareness made you finally grab the top you were going to be wearing that day to cover up your quivering body. He slammed the door shut and spoke through it, “Christ, ’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Miller,” you promised but he was already gone. You immediately locked the door afterward to come so hard with two fingers on your clit that you had to hold onto the chair by the desk.

God, you want him to look at you like that again, want to tell him it is all for him. Now, as wrong as you know it is, you find yourself searching for an excuse to get him to ogle you and the chances are higher if he actually spends time with you.

“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you announce yourself as you enter the garage through the door in the kitchen. Joel has his head inside the hood of his truck, leaning over to inspect something that you wouldn’t understand anything about anyway. He grips the front side of the engine room to push himself to stand, closes the top of the hood of his truck, and turns around to face you.

“Hey kiddo,” he returns with a smile, “How many times do I gotta say to ya that it’s just Joel?”

“Alright, Mr. Miller,” you tease, “—I mean, Just Joel.”

You hear him laugh softly but you don’t dare look at him, afraid that you’ll spontaneously combust. He goes to the utility sink to wash his hands, saying nothing more and making you feel insane for coming apart in the silence.

“I’m just getting something to drink,” you explain when it becomes too much, “Sarah’s room is boiling hot.”

“That’s fine, take what you’d like,” he replies, and there’s a kind teasing in his voice. “But don’t touch the orange sodas. Those are mine.”

The concrete floor of the garage is cold on your bare feet as you pad across the floor where an old bottom-freezer refrigerator stands in the corner, humming in the otherwise quiet room. It has seen better days, and it seems like Sarah has tried to cheer up its weathered appearance by covering it in stickers and ugly magnets.

“Now I have to get one of those,” you giggle and pull the door open, scanning the contents and noticing that the sodas are on the bottom shelf. You hesitate for just a second, and then you choose to bend over instead of crouching down. Behind you, Joel Miller is completely silent.

In the beginning, it hadn’t been your intention to let the crush fester in your brain and turn it into something more but last week, during dinner out on the terrace, you had accidentally sat down on a bee and gotten stung on the back of your thigh. The cry you had let out had nearly made Joel tip over the table to get to you, his chair falling backward as he got up from his seat.

“Fuck! Ow ow ow!” You cried and hobbled around on the grass. The pain was unbearable but the shock only seemed to make it worse.

“Sarah, please get some ice and some antihistamines. There should be a bottle on my nightstand,” Joel ordered quickly and she rushed inside. He walked toward you, grabbing at your shoulders to ground you but his touch only heightened all other sensations. He dug his thumbs into you and your head swam, “Sweetheart, ‘tis just a bee, shh, calm down. I need to remove the stinger. Lemme see ya.”

“It really fucking hurts, Mr. Miller,” you said with a whine as he guided you to one of the loungers that Sarah and you had dragged out from the shed earlier that week.

“I know,” he finally let go of you so you could think just a bit more clearly, “Lemme take a look. Lie down on your front.”

You followed orders with the realization of how much you trusted his judgment, that he would treat you right, moving carefully because the flex of your thigh muscle was making the pain worse. The wooden lounger burned slightly against the front of your thighs, and you pressed your cheek into its slats while screwing your eyes shut.

The wood creaked behind you as he knelt on it with one knee and suddenly, his broad hand was perched on the top of your thigh in an attempt to keep your skin taut. You sucked in a breath but he only mistook it for more pain.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I can see it,” his breath was slightly quicker but you didn’t want to jump to conclusions, “He really got ya right on your inner thigh. Hold on.”

Your eyes shot open when his thumb ran towards the innermost part of the back of your thigh, a sort of panicked arousal spiking from your chest and thighs. He paused for a second then murmured something, a swear word that you tried to take as frustration. There was a beat but then he cleared his throat, “Can you bend your leg a little? I wanna make sure that I get it on the first try.”

“How?” You asked stupidly. The image of how he would be looming over your backside made your heartbeat go down between your legs, “My dress’ll ride up.”

“Just bend the knee a little, pull it towards your chest,” he explained and cleared his throat once more, “On my life, I won’t look.”

So you did as he told you, and sure enough, your dress betrayed you by crawling slowly up to sit around your hip instead of the middle part of your thigh. You looked back at him when he started picking at the stinger with his nails, and you hoped that he would not notice your gawking at his concentrated expression.

A flash of the day he had barged in on you naked flashed in your mind because his eyes were so focused on not staring at you that you nearly whimpered when you saw his eyes flicker to the spot of dampness between your legs for no more than a second.

You had worn white cotton panties that day so they would not be seen through your dress. They were straining against your pussy in this position and all he had to do was reach out, and he’d find your clit poking against the fabric from how excited you were feeling.

He had had the perfect outline of your cunt, and it’s the same now as you bend over to get to the very bottom of the fridge, reaching for a cold drink that just happens to be his favorite. You know that he can see everything, and the worst is that you know he already has. Twice. The mere thought is so dirty that your heart starts pounding in your chest and sends heat through your already hot body, so you hurry to stretch to your full height again.

With a cocky grin that is mostly put on to hide your anxious excitement about what you have just done, you turn to face Joel and walk to stand in front of him and his car. His cologne fills your nostrils again, and the scent seems once again to have a direct line to your cunt because you have never felt more empty. In front of you, Joel’s jaw is clenched but other than that, he seems a lot more calm and composed than you.

That is until you jump onto the hood of the car and scoot back, letting your bare feet dangle out over the edge. You crack open the soda in your hand and take a sip that is a little longer than intended. The satisfying burn of the fizz grounds you in the warm climate, but it is even more heavenly as you tuck the skirt of your dress between your thighs so you can place the cold can there.

Joel shakes his head with a sigh but you know he is playing a game as much as you because he cannot help but crack a smile back at you, “You’re trouble, I knew it the second Sarah brought ya into my house.”

“Oh, whatever will I do?” You ask dramatically and lean back against the windshield.

“Go morally bankrupt?” He raises a brow. If only he knew what is going through your mind. You catch him looking at you in the fashion that you have craved when you sigh deeply and cause your chest to push out.

“Only that?” You take another sip and some of the contents spill down your chin in a thick, sticky trail due to the angle you’re sitting in. You reach up to wipe it away with your index finger and then dare to suck your finger clean with the intention of mimicking the way that you had licked it clean earlier when it had been coated in melted popsicle.

“Give it here,” he says. You lock eyes with him. However, your eyes widen slightly when he nods at the can and takes it from between your thighs. There’s electricity shooting through your nerves the second his fingers touch the fabric of your dress but they intensify to a dizzying degree when he takes a sip of the soda too.

Like a reflex, the sight of him drinking from the can that’s been nestled between your thighs makes your legs fall out to the sides. You’re worse than an obedient dog in your horniness, reacting the same way to the way he moves as it would to the sound of a bell ringing.

Your dress rides up slowly along your thighs, revealing your sweaty skin that feels sticky by now and Joel clears his throat after briefly looking down. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and when you realize the effect it has on the poor man, you grab the hem and pull upwards, “It’s so hot outside today. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to the heat here in Texas.”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says and his face has got a pinker tint, pulse visible on the side of his neck. With his free hand, he grabs one of your knees and starts nudging your legs together again. He yanks your skirt down, “I know I’m always teasin’ ya but you can’t be doing this.”

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you say with exasperation and move your legs out again, “It’s just very hot… and it’s not like you haven’t had a peek.”

“Hey now,” he leans forward to place the can of soda on the roof of the truck, “That ain’t a fair accusation.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” you reply, chewing on your bottom lip, “But you’re not denying it.”

“Don’t tryna make me look like the pervert here,” he scolds, taking a step towards you and causing your stomach to do somersaults, “I noticed the way you went real quiet when my hands were on you.”

“What do you mean?” You furrow your brows in confusion, “Your hands were never on m–”

“Did that bee sting really hurt that much?” He clarifies. Oh, you think whilst he smirks with triumph. Something has switched in the air surrounding you, the atmosphere has become more daring, “Yeah, I saw her; your pussy wet f’me.”

It’s true. If you think about it too much, you can still feel your heartbeat in the places where he touched you, and the pulse is rapid and overwhelming. You can’t imagine what it'll be like if he touches you underneath your dress, even if it’s simply on the outside of your panties. The thought has your underwear starting to dampen, the fabric starting to stick to you, and make you painfully aware of the wetness between your legs.

“Did ya touch yourself after?” His eyes have darkened slightly. His pupils are dilating with desire for your answer, and you nod hesitantly, overwhelmed by the need to tell him everything.

“During my shower that you told me to take,” you confess and hear him make a sound low in his throat at the mental image, “I couldn’t stop myself— I wanted you so badly. The thought of you inside me...”

This is a crossroad, you realize, you’ve said your deepest secret of depravity. On one hand, you can bolt out the door or you can make a move to show him what you really came down here for. The latter is risky but Joel is so goddamn decent that you know that if he doesn’t want this - which you doubt is the case at this point - he’ll gently reject you and never mention it again if it means that his daughter will continue having a best friend.

However, as your mind races with scenarios of what could or could not happen in this moment, Joel pulls you back into reality as his hand, cold from gripping the can, rests on your knee again but this time, it doesn’t try to make you decent like before. Instead, it slides up under your skirt in such a slow motion that you find yourself holding your breath.

“Is this what’ll quiet down that mind of yours?” He asks in a low voice, eyes flickering from your face to down between your legs and back again, “If I take a peek more to get it outta our system?”

“What are you doing?” You ask as if you do not know. It’s your turn to be scandalized by bluntness, and you find yourself gripping his arm but not hard enough to signal that you do not want him to continue. You hope that he realizes that this is not you rejecting his advances.

“I ain’t doing nothin’ that you haven’t already silently begged me to do. Perhaps sometimes - and God help me, I will probably regret it - you just needa follow your instincts when a pretty girl like you has been sendin’ me heart eyes all week,” he almost sounds annoyed with you, and to stop yourself from being scolded, your hand loosens its grip on him until you remove it altogether. He smiles, “Good girl.”

“You shouldn’t—“ you feel a rush of blood to your head, adrenaline kicking in as your thoughts circle around the repercussions that this can bring. In all honesty, you had only walked in here to have Joel’s eyes on you but now, you are getting more than you bargained for and it is making you so turned on that your mind is clear and foggy at the same time. Boldly, you sit up on the car’s hood so you can reach for the buckle of Joel’s belt, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“You’re damn right we shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he agrees immediately but doesn’t stop. His warm and rough palms skim further up your thighs until they settle by your hips, his thumbs teasing the elastic band of your panties. He starts to drag them down, the fabric nearly snapping in two when you barely register that you have to lift your ass to help him.

His fingers unintentionally caress your calves as he slides the underwear down to eventually pull them off your ankles and feet. The sensation makes your body wake up even more, a gush of wetness smearing your inner thighs and you know that you have to pull your dress up soon if you don’t want it stained.

In front of you, Joel reads your mind. He shoves the hem of your dress up as far as he can without a word with desperation in his trembling hands, and you move to let him bunch it up around your waist so he has a full view of what waits - and for long has waited - for him.

When your cunt is revealed to him, he groans like he is in pain at the sight of the slick shining on your soft youthful skin. You can see how hard he is in his jeans, cock straining against the zipper at the front of them.

He looks like he wants to touch but hesitates. The first sign of his inner conflict. You remember that he did say just a peek as if there’s an unspoken agreement that he is not to cross the line of touching what he shouldn’t want to have. It would definitely be a nuclear decision if he chooses to do it anyway. It makes you want it even more, and another gush spills from your glistening slit when you clench from excitement.

Joel swears under his breath, something that sounds like fuck it and it sets it in stone; he is going to ruin you for eternity right here on his car. He steps closer until your spread knees bump into his sides, and without saying anything you move to yank his jeans and briefs down, settling them around his hips with a soft gasp as you take in the sight of his fully hard cock. He is huge. So huge that your mouth starts salivating like you’ve already been fucked stupid and your walls try to clamp down on nothing. It’ll hurt. You want it to if it means that you won’t doubt if it ever happened tomorrow.

“Tell me you want this too,” he seeks your reassurance.

“So fucking badly, Mr. Miller— Joel,” you say without any hint of second-guessing in your voice. You scoot further forward on the car and lean back so he has better access, trying your best to be elegant in your messy state, “Please, want you in me.”

“Jeez, honey,” his breath shakes, “Already so eager. I haven’t even felt if she’s ready f’me.”

With one hand gripping your left thigh, he uses two fingers on his right hand to slide through your wet folds and you don’t think you have ever been this turned on for anyone; when he flips his palm upwards and shoves two fingers inside of you, you feel more arousal drip from your cunt and pool in his hand. The longing you have felt since you saw him for the first time finds somewhere to empty all its desire and desperation into, and you whine like you’re in a state of agony.

“Shhh…” he soothes and curls his digits inside of you until you think you might start crying, squelching cunt trying to pull him further into you as he fingers you lazily. Your gaze drops to how his cock twitches whilst standing in the air, “You’re grippin’ me so good, doll, can’t wait to fuck this pussy. Don’t cry like that. Be patient.”

“Please, I’m so—“ your palms are flat on the hood of the car, your mouth hangs open in ecstasy and you stare down at where his ring- and middle finger disappears repeatedly into you, “It’s yours, please.”

“I know it’s mine, don’t gotta say it, I know,” he coos at each of your whimpers, gets you worked up until you are just on the brink of coming, and then he moves quickly. He pulls his fingers out of you, smears his cock with what you’ve soaked his whole palm with, and leans over your gasping frame to nudge at your quivering hole.

When he finally enters you, the both of you gasp in unison. He struggles with it for a moment, rubbing the skin just below your belly button to make you relax because he is so much bigger than you had first anticipated, and such a tight fit that you think he might split you in two.

“Goddamn, you are tight,” he says through gritted teeth, “Feels fuckin’ amazin’.”

“Ah,” you feel like letting yourself turn into a drooling mess already, pulsating around him from the way your body struggles to take him, “Joel, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, honey,” he encourages, showing no signs of pulling out of you to free you from the burn of his girth. He growls low in his throat as you struggle with it, and you know it’s because your walls are clenching around him as you involuntarily move, “Stay still, let her get used to it.”

“It hurts,” you whine, sliding slightly on the metal underneath your ass. He presses his hips forward even further and causes you to whimper but in doing so, he holds you firmly in place by using his strong frame.

“I know but ya just gotta relax,” he goes on. He places one hand flat on the hood of the car and then places the other right on your hip, thumb going inwards to find your clit. It pulses under his finger, trying to find out whether to find the pain delicious or not.

When his thumb starts going in circles on you, your thigh muscles start to twitch and flex from burning desire instead of uncomfortable pain. He presses down a little to stroke your sensitive nub with even more determination and smiles at his success when a moan slips from your mouth, “That’s it, honey. Just enjoy this until you’re creamin’ on me, and then I can fuck her real good.”

Your walls start to flutter a few seconds after the first new round of pleasurable sounds leave you, and the more his finger moves on you, the easier it gets to take him because the pain turns into nothing more than a dull ache in the background of ecstasy. He has you breathing faster and faster, and in return, he starts moving his thumb up and down to make his touches more direct.

God, your clit is hardening underneath his torment. He stares at what he is doing, an occasional grunt leaving him from how you involuntarily squeeze his length, and you know that he can sense it, suddenly smirking to himself as you near your climax. He admires the sight of you, eyes glued to the way the hood of your clit has drawn back, “Babydoll, look at that. Such a pretty pussy, clit peekin’ out and all. Does she wanna come on my cock?”

“Please, yes, oh please,” you nod repeatedly, mouth hanging open in an o-shape and breaths coming out in small puffs. Your climax is within reach, and Joel looks concentrated as he more than willingly hands it over to you whilst buried deep inside of you. The concentration on his face is probably from keeping himself from spilling inside of you too soon, but God, he looks gorgeous as he determinedly strokes your cunt.

“Yes, yes, yesyesyes— oh God, I’m… fuck, I’m coming!” You shake with pleasure as he causes your pussy to spasm, your hands barely able to find out what to do and making you grab at both the metal underneath you with one hand and his wrist with the other. Your eyes are squeezed shut but you do not doubt that he is staring at you in awe as you come so hard that reality fades.

“Good girl,” he rasps, voice unsteady and hand hitting the hood of the car as the feeling becomes overwhelming, “Oh sweetheart, you’re choking my dick so g—“

He swears quietly and then loudly, and suddenly, his cool demeanor crumbles because he is spilling his load inside of you with a pathetic and strained grunt. His hips stutter slightly and warmth spreads slowly inside of you, mixing with your own arousal.

You look down to where the two of you are connected, feeling fucked out despite not even having had the chance to feel him move inside of you. His come has started to spill from you already, dripping obscenely from your cunt.

“Fuck,” you hear Joel say above you. He slips out of you and leaves you gaping and mewling for a second, starting to take a step back. You catch him with your legs before he is too far away, and he reluctantly steps close to you again. He looks embarrassed but gives you a smile to hide it, “Felt too good, honey. This pussy’s makin’ me all sweet on you.”

“I’m that irresistible?” You grin in your post-orgasmic haze, not really giving a crap about the lack of a proper fuck from how much dopamine is coursing through your veins.

Joel takes hold of your thighs as they are wrapped around your body and lifts them off of himself, “You’re makin’ an old bastard like me weak in the knees, so maybe. Hah! Comin’ too soon like a goddamn teenager.”

“I liked it,” you admit without hesitation, still basking in the sweet afterglow, “Made me feel sexy and powerful.”

He scoffs but can’t fight the smile on his face, “Now now, don’t get cocky on me. Crawl back a little, spread ya legs f’me.”

You giggle and do as you are told, presenting yourself to him on the hood of his car. You plant your bare feet on the metal, lay back against the windshield, and smile.

“Now look at that,” he tuts as he admires his work; white ropes of come dripping down from your slit and onto the surface beneath you. He lays both hands flat on the car and leans forward, and before you know it, his mouth is covering your whole cunt and he eats from you like he’s paid to do it.

“Jesus,” you groan, throwing your head back and grabbing onto the roof of the car with one hand whilst the other finds Joel’s hair. You tug and he moans against you, sending vibrations through your whole lower body and beginning the first stirrings of another high. You don’t think that you can take it, squirming just like you had done moments earlier.

Joel makes a sound of disapproval. He scoops his arms under your thighs until he can lay his hands on top of them, holding you tightly against his mouth and causing you to cry towards the ceiling when he makes your second orgasm approach so quickly that nothing in your brain makes sense except what he is doing between your legs.

The hand on the roof of his car goes to his head too. You slide your fingers on both hands through his hair until they lay at the back of his neck, and then you yank once more at the curls there. His tongue works at your clit, swiping back and forth over it until you think that you might see God.

However, it doesn’t stay there. Instead, it is replaced by his nose so that he can eat his own spill straight from you by dipping his tongue hungrily inside of you.

“Joel— holy fuck, you’re incredible,” you close your eyes to concentrate on your pleasure. Who knew that the man could fuck with his tongue? He is warm and wet inside of you, slurping pornographically until you are clean of any remains of his come.

You are just about to finish a second time when he halts whatever he is doing. He pulls back only a few inches so you can still feel his uneven breaths against your cunt.

“No! Please,” your eyes fly open, you cry desperately, and throw your head forward dramatically. You want to thrash but he still has your legs locked in his arms, so you decide to pull out the big guns and hope for the best, “Please, Daddy! Pleasepleaseplea—“

“What the fuck did you just say t’me?” He looks up at you but you are too busy screwing your eyes shut in agony whilst whining for more. He growls and releases one of your legs, “I was already gonna make you a happy young lady but now, I’m gonna make you come so hard your little brain goes dumb. See how it feels. Impatient girl.”

His hand goes between your legs. He turns his palm upwards and then shoves two thick fingers inside of your pussy like earlier, curling them slightly and then pumping them so quickly that blood starts speeding through your system a second after and your heart rate goes so fast that you know that you are just about to come.

“Joel, oh my— fuck!” You whimper.

“Wrong word,” he replies.

You correct yourself immediately because there’s no way he is stopping again to chastise you once more, “Daddy, oh I— mhmm, I’m gonna come for you. Don’t stop, please, please Daddy, pleasepleaseplea—!”

He responds just how you had liked: He closes his mouth around your swollen clit and sucks hard, finally severing all connection to your brain and you come so hard that you actually squeal. Joel groans against you, feeling you squeeze the digits he has buried deep inside you. He draws back his fingers, pressing upwards the whole way.

Clear liquid squirts from you the second he pulls them out. The gushes that follow are so intense that the leg he isn’t holding anymore shakes so violently that the metal rattles under you, the car staining with your come. He repeats the move again and again, over and over, and watches the steady trickle down the hood and onto the concrete floor that turns a dark gray.

Euphoria courses through your being as you come in a way that you have never felt before. Your limbs tingle as warmth spreads out from beneath your belly button, your cunt pulses with eager pleasure, and you sob through the waves that crash over you without giving you time to recover from the last. The whole room feels brighter and its colors more vibrant.

“Shh, baby, let it happen, feels so good, don’t it? That’s it,” Joel coos at you the whole way through, guides you through it when you barely know how to use your words. He has straightened to his full height again but you don’t know when, and he has slowed his fingers down to tease out a few aftershocks. You whimper feebly at each one, and when Joel seems satisfied with what he has drawn out of you, he covers your whole mound with his palm to soothe the feeling of overstimulation that settles.

“Soundproof,” he mutters, once again reading your mind when you come to your senses again and start thinking about your noise levels with furrowed brows and eyes flitting from him to the garage door. Your heartbeat has started to slow again, and the relief of knowing no one has been able to hear you makes you slump against the windshield and breathe deeply.

The remnants of your orgasm have made you smile, your body slipping into a deep state of satisfaction when the anxieties have been dispelled. Joel moves his hand up your lower body until it settles between your breasts, still covered by your dress. He caresses your heaving chest, looking at you boyishly for the first time, “You good? Didn’t cause any brain damage, did I?”

“You think this truck has ever seen action like that before?” You joke breathlessly.

“Probably ain’t the first time I disappointed a gorgeous lady in its presence,” he says with an apologetic smile, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Disappointed? You’re insane,” you stretch your arms above your head to get some of the last bits of euphoria out of your body, trying to ignore the way he has just called you a gorgeous lady. He probably means nothing by it. As your stretch peaks, you moan gently, “I came two times. Hard. I’m not complaining.”

“Just saying that I woulda liked to do it… properly, I guess,” he talks as he stuffs himself back into his underwear and pants, most likely trying to feel the least uncomfortable about mentioning his overexcitement. Automatically, he steps back when you jump off the car to adjust your dress.

“This doesn’t have to be a one-time thing,” you try to act casual as you say it but there’s no way you are accepting the best sex of your life to be a thing you will never have again, reducing it to a movie merely playing behind your eyelids as a cruel reminder of what is unattainable.

“And when would we have time for that?” He asks, zipping up his jeans. He wipes his hands on them, “We can’t, honey.”

“We just did,” you mumble, picking up your underwear from the floor. You turn the panties in your hands, just about to bend down to put them on before deciding against it. Boldly, you stand in front of him and stuff your sticky underwear into his front pocket; closest to his crotch. There are extra pairs in your bag in Sarah’s room. He can have these.

He looks down briefly and then finds your eyes. His jaw clenches as he weighs his words, “When?”

“Aren’t you driving me to the airport on Sunday?” You smile and kiss his cheek, and then you leave him, your soda in hand and a mess on the floor.

.

.

.

FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

#pedro pascal characters #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #the last of us #my writing #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller the last of us

[captainfantasticalright]

In 1985, one of the only persons interested in an interview with a “new” writer called Terry Pratchett, after his publication of the Colour of Magic, was one Neil Gaiman. Neil Gaiman was writing for Space Voyager at the time. "The Colour of Pratchett" was the name given here:

It ran exactly one page inside the June/July issue of that year. The interview took place in a Chinese restaurant in London.

Here is Neil many years later holding that issue. You can see it here if you want. Warning: extremely emotional video.

Neil arrived wearing a grey homburg hat. “Sort of like the ones Humphrey Bogart wears in movies” he later wrote. (Before saying that in fact he did not look like him, but like someone wearing a grown-up’s hat). Terry Pratchett, photo courtesy of one @neil-gaiman, was in a Lenin-style leather cap and a harlequin-patterned pullover. At this point, Terry was already a hat person, although not that hat.

Terry offered Neil this : "An interview needn't last more than 15 minutes. A good quote for the beginning, a good quote for the end, and the rest you make up back at the office"*. (Terry Pratchett had worked many years in journalism by this point ).

But the meeting went terribly well. The two of them realized they had "the same sort of brains". So well indeed, that in 1985, Neil had shown Terry a file containing 5282 words, exploring a scenario in which Richmal Crompton's William Brown had somehow become the Antichrist. Was a collaboration in the cards as of that moment? Not really. But Terry found in Neil someone to whom he could send disks of work in progress and to whom he could pick up the phone sometimes when he hit a brick in the road of his writing.

Terry loved it and the concept stayed in his mind. A couple of years later, he rang Neil to ask him if he had done any more work on it. Neil had been busy with The Sandman, he had not really given it another thought. Terry said, "Well I know what happens next, so either you sell me the idea or we can write it together". **

And as you know, unless you’ve been living in Alpha Centauri, the rest is history. That was the beginning of what would become William the Antichrist and later would get the name Good Omens:The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch. (Title provided by Neil Gaiman and subtitle by Terry Pratchett).

From the introduction to William the Antichrist: “In the summer of 1987 several odd ideas came together: (..)I found myself imagining a book called William the Antichrist, in which a hapless demon was going to be responsible for swapping the wrong baby over, and the son of the US Ambassador would be completely undemonic, while William Brown would grow up to be the Antichrist, and the demon would need to stop him ending the world. The unfortunate demon, whom I called Crawleigh, because Crawley was a nearby town with an unfortunate name, would have to sort it all out as best he could.

It felt like a story with legs.

Terry took the 5,000 words, and rewrote them, calling me to tell me what he was doing and what he was planning to do. The biggest thing he was going to do, he told me, was split the hapless demon into two characters – a would-be-cool demon in dark glasses (which was, I think, Terry’s way of making fun of me, a never-actually- cool journalist in dark glasses) who had renamed himself Crowley, and a rare-book dealer and angel called Aziraphale, who would embody all the English awkwardness that either of us could conceive.”

William the Antichrist being a direct inspiration of the 1976 film The Omen. If the baby swap had just been a little bit messier and the kid had gone off somewhere else he would have grown up as somebody else. “And then there was a beat and I thought, I should write it, it will be called William the Antichrist” says Neil. ***

“The first draft of Good Omens was a William-book. It was absolutely in every way it could be a William book. It had Violet Elizabeth Bott, it had William and the Outlaws, it had Mr. Brown”.

Over time they realized that they would have more creative freedom if they in their own words filed off the serial numbers. William and the Outlaws becoming Adam and the Them.

But the spirit of Just William was never far away.

The joy for Neil was to construct “perfectly William sentences”. The one when Anathema tells Adam that she has lost the Book, and he tells her that he has written a book about a pirate who became a famous detective and it is 8 pages long… that’s “a William sentence”.

Good Omens was also inspired by a particularly antisemitic moment in The Jew of Malta and John le Carre's spy novels. (Neil’s ask)

“When we finished the book we estimated that the words were 60% Terry’s and 40% mine, and the plot, such as it was, was entirely ours.”

(Here are some slides of mine where I go into some other details concerning the origins of Good Omens).

*Quote: from Terry Pratchett A Life With Footnotes by Rob Wilkins, but said by Terry of course.

** All the quotes, facts listed here : see above.

***all other quotes by Neil Gaiman from various interviews and asks I’ll link.

#good omens #neil gaiman #terry pratchett #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens fun facts #the colour of magic #the colour of pratchett #space voyager magazine

[evilminji]

Been Watching Weird Fruit Explorer(?)... and I just...

W-Who let Bored Danny have BooTube?

Sorry, YOU-Tube. He has TWO Apps now. BooTube is bigger. Way more random, yet... somehow more niche? Meh. It's what happens when you get billions of billions of people who all have their own Obsessions to rant over, on a site.

Ember's channel is pretty lit, tho, ngl.

He stopped using YOU-Tube almost overnight. Too many ads, weird algorithmic pushiness. No thanks. It was too small and too "trying to take my money". You know?

Buuuuut? See.... TUCKER is the Tech guy.

Coding and that sort of stuff. HE does hands on work. You want a toaster? He can MAKE you a toaster! With LAZERS! Runs off The Goo! But a program? Eeeeeeeh? Hit it with hammer maybe? Monkey make fire? Hit with stick? Blergh.

Yeah, he can SORTA push through.

But he suuuucks.

And like... he had a headache, okay? His project had just, quiet literally, exploded in his face. So when he looked at his phone? All the apps were blobs. He clicked the one that LOOKED kinda right. Shoved his arm in his phone and brute forced a channel set up.

He figured he could ramble about Space!

It's not like he cared is anyone LISTENS or not! It's a "for him" thing, you know? Like a diary. But more... putting on a ☆~show~☆?

So he rambles from the floor of his Lair's Lab, crashs and wails in the distance, green sky occasionally visible as he lazily floats by windows. Dropping... juuuust past human knowledge understanding of Space. Talking like he's STUDYING somewhere. Referencing PAPERS no human will ever be able to find.

But a few they WILL.

Some of which, are currently? Only half written.

But then? Oh YEAH... he should eat! You know... Sam keeps bringing him fruits and veggies and stuff from her internship at that Botanical Lair. Stuff never seen before of Earth. Or hasn't been seen in centuries.

Again, like, a FEW that? Randomly? Have???

He picks up something sharply purple, bright orange insides. Crisp crunch. He makes a face. And starts to ramble about it, distracted from Space. "Weirdly mushroom-y" he notes. "Kinda bubblegum sweet? But like... CHEAP bubblegum. Like it hits you all at once and is kinda chemically. But it disappears real fast? Huh. Spicy too..."

It's the first video on the Playlist. One of hundreds. Two of the green Lanterns RECONIZE that fruit ad HIGHLY toxic to humans, can't recognize what planet they're seeing. Or how this alien teen got himself on YouTube.

He seems... unaware of how incredibly famous he's become.

But his strange techno Pharoah friend has not. HE is both perfectly aware and apparently amused. Has taken to feeding him rare and hazardous flora and fauna, to see if it tastes good.

....there have been an alarming number of plants from dead planets.

And the comments the kid makes? Alarming as hell.

Sam's just pleased everybody's getting their greens. Danny's glad him n tuck get to hang and do "try weird foods and fuck around, bro time". They've made lazers! Talked about stuff! Debated why Martian Manhunter is THE superior Justice League member.

Danny understands. Wonder Woman is a BAMF. But he's biased, Tucker. He doesn't CARE if she has a sword and flowy, impressive locks! Shape-shifting telepath! From MARS!!! *imaginary mic drop*

And Tucker? Is conquering the YouTube scene with this charming, weird, relatable young alien. Who rambles about Space, debates nerd stuff, eats weird plants and describes them, and makes sci-fi technology! Theme? WHAT THEME? Phantom is a weird channel, man. You never know what you'll find!

And no one can get rid of it.

Believe them, governments have TRIED. Censorship? Not possible. Not without removing the whole SITE.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #minji's writing #bootube to youtube au #internet famous au

[moonlinos]

I can hear the siren (Siren part I)

♡ Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin × fem!reader

♡ Genre: Camboy!Hyunjin, neighbors AU, strangers to “lovers”

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), sex work, voyeurism if you squint, hate sex kind of?, masturbation, thigh riding, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, Hyunjin’s a bit of an asshole but I love him

♡ Word count: 7.9k

♡ Synopsis: To say your new next-door neighbor is loud would be an understatement. Three times a week, at the same time every night, he will laugh and talk loudly for an hour. After that, like clockwork, a cacophony of his groans and moans will fill your room through your shared wall. He’s most certainly entertaining some hookup, or maybe a girlfriend. You frankly don’t care — all you know is you want your peace and quiet back. But you never would’ve guessed what you would find out upon confronting him.

♡ A/N: Once again, I cannot shut up and this ended up being much longer than I had originally wanted. One day, I will write a one-shot that’s less than 5k words, but today is not that day. I listened to Taeyeon’s Siren while writing this, hence the title. Also think the song’s a little fitting to the story.

part II →

Yet another night, yet another two hours of hearing your next-door neighbor moaning like a porn star for anyone to hear. The thin walls of your apartment, coupled with the fact that your room shared a wall with his own bedroom, make it impossible for you not to hear everything that happens inside his bedroom. Earphones have proven futile in muffling his voice, and you can only distract yourself with mindless YouTube videos for so long before you give up and simply wait for him to finish. Quite literally.

You noticed it was his routine: Fridays and weekends — the nights when he would graciously give the entire building a free show.

But that wasn’t all he did. And that’s what stirs up curiosity inside of you.

An hour before the unholy sounds begin, he spends a significant amount of time simply speaking, laughing loudly, and throwing the occasional suggestive comment here and there. But only his voice can be heard, and considering how damn thin the walls are, you can’t help but wonder why that is. Maybe his hookups aren’t into his long, drawn-out conversations, only there to get fucked and dip as fast as possible. Or perhaps it’s a girlfriend, and he enjoys gagging her. Your mind has had plenty of time to run wild with theories, seeing as he moved about a month ago, starting your own personal version of hell on his very first day.

You complained to your landlord three times now. On the first time, you were dismissed as being too sensitive to noise. Maybe invest in some earplugs, she suggested. The second time, after explaining through gritted teeth that perhaps the entire building could also hear him and it would be wise to give him a warning, she assured you that only your apartment had such complaints — after all, it was only the two of you on that floor. And, on your last attempt before you ultimately gave up, your landlord all but berated you for meddling in your neighbor’s business. She argued he was inside his apartment and could do whatever he desired.

And so, you accepted your fate.

As you walk out of the shower, your bliss at the realization that tonight is a Friday dissipates as soon as it dawns on you that you are in for three days in a row of your neighbor and his antics. You groan, reluctantly making your way toward your bedroom, your body aching after sitting at your desk at work all day. So sleeping on the couch was not an option; your limbs only ached even more the day after you did that to try and escape the raucous noise.

Like clockwork, at exactly ten p.m., his loud voice fills the small space of your bedroom.

“I’m actually going out tonight again, so we have to be quick,” he explains. “But you like it when I’m quick, don’t you? Like when I make you cum so fast you barely have time to understand what’s happening.”

You grimace at his words, burying yourself under your blankets. God.

“I’m going clubbing with a couple of friends,” He continues. “Hopefully, I’ll find a nice girl to take home, hm?”

Crossing out the word Girlfriend on your mental notes, you scoff. What a gentleman he is, letting his hook-up know he’ll have to fuck her fast so he can leave to meet another woman to take home.

“Maybe I’ll record a video for you if she lets me. Would you like that, seeing me fuck another woman? I bet you would.”

What the fuck. The word Girlfriend is added back to your list. Maybe the girl is into that shit, and you’re not one to kink shame so long as everything’s consensual. But you surely didn’t consent to knowing that information. 

Soon enough, his voice drops to a sultry tone, and incessant hums spill from his lips. And the worst part of your night begins.

You hate to admit it — seeing as the guy makes you lose sleep and disturbs your peace since he’s graced the building with his presence — but his dirty talk, when coupled with his groans, becomes far less unpleasant and much more enticing. Every night, you struggle for an hour with the uncomfortable feeling of arousal between your legs, the way he alternates between praises and vulgar words causing a twinge inside of you. But you never dare to masturbate to the sound of his voice — that would be going too far. Or, at least, that’s what you tell yourself as you follow your rule of waiting for him to finish whatever it is that he’s doing to then finally touch yourself. As you tightly shut your eyes, you focus on your upcoming work assignments, desperately trying to drown out the sound of his voice. Maybe boring yourself to sleep is your only escape.

“Oh, I know how wet you are just watching me — fuck,” he groans, a breathy scoff leaving his lips. “Don’t even gotta tell me. Just touch yourself, it’s okay.”

Your eyes shoot open as it feels as if he’s fucking talking to you. You shake your head, the awful feeling of embarrassment engulfing you in the privacy of your own bedroom.

“I know you want to,” His voice is unrelenting, reverberating through your dark room, punctuated by heavy sighs. “Do it for me, will you? Touch your pretty cunt for me.”

You feel your clit begin to pulse, and a loud groan escapes from your lips. So loud, in fact, you wonder if he heard you through the thin walls as well.

Fuck it, you tell yourself inwardly, it’s not like the guy will ever know what you’re doing.

The sound of his voice was as silky and dark as velvet, covering you wholly and clouding your judgment with each word. You allow your hand to slip underneath your sleep shorts, gasping as you find the fabric of your panties already soaking simply from hearing his words — almost begging, guiding you to let go of your reservations and touch yourself.

“Just like that. D’you like the sound of my voice?” He asked, voice breathless, a deep groan echoing through the walls. “Like hearing me moan for you? Bet you’d like it even more if I was fucking you.”

Your fingers delicately flick back and forth, teasing your clit, your mind now shamelessly imagining his fingertips, his tongue, his cock, anything he was willing to give you. You’re quick to lose yourself in this imagination, despite not knowing what the man looked like — you soon realize that wasn’t at all important, a dark shadowy figure hovering over you proving to be more than enough for you as you felt a rush of wetness pooling between your thighs when your neighbor let out a louder, guttural noise.

“Fuck, I’d love to be stretching that pussy out,” He chokes out, and you bite your bottom lip to keep from making any noise. You’re now hyper-aware that if you can hear him this loudly, he’d be able to hear you with the same amount of clarity.

Your embarrassment only goes so far, though, as you slip a finger into your cunt, your breath hitching and your eyes fluttering closed to better conjure up the fantasy your mind had been creating. You imagine his long fingers inside you in place of your own, the words he spilled almost nonchalantly being whispered directly into your ears. One finger soon turned into two, then three, the heel of your palm rubbing against your clit as you tilt your hips up. You throw away your last drop of inhibition as you indulge in vivid thoughts, imagining the shape and size of his cock and, most importantly, how it would feel as it filled you up. Your neighbor’s words almost faded into white noise, his grunting the only coherent sound in your ears.

Would he take his time with you, like he always did whenever you heard him? Teasing you for hours as he candidly talked about nothing in particular, rendering you unable to do anything but beg for him? Or would he be hasty, like tonight, his cock abruptly stretching you to the brim, making you feel every inch of his thick length? Would he rather finish on your breasts, your stomach, or maybe your face, taking a picture to keep as a souvenir he could show off to whoever he was with during these nights?

“Come with me,” His voice suddenly became clear once more, deep and hoarse as you imagine his lips pressed against the shell of your ear. “Think about how good it’d feel to have me come inside you, stuffing that little cunt while you milk me dry.”

You purse your lips as you feel your release approaching, coaxed purely by his words. The mental image of this stranger painting your insides with his release, all the while his intoxicating voice told you how good you were, how warm and tight you felt enough to have waves of pleasure wash over you, body tensing up as your orgasm surges through you.

As you slowly come down from your high, you feel your consciousness come back to you. Your fingers leave your core as if you were just burned by fire, which is fitting as a feeling of burning embarrassment wraps around you tightly like a vice.

But the worst part is that the shame quickly ebbs away as you hear your neighbor’s chuckle, the laugh of a stranger you had come to almost memorize.

“You know I’m always glad to make you come. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And with that, everything around you falls into a quiet stillness. You faintly hear as he shuts his front door, presumably leaving for that club he had mentioned, and you’re left to lie with your regrets.

This has just crossed a line, and although you couldn’t bring yourself to feel all that guilty, you still knew it was wrong. You had no choice but to confront the cause of your troubles yourself.

Unfortunately, that cause was a person you had just shamelessly fantasized about as you fingered yourself.

The next afternoon, you stand at your neighbor’s door, hesitant to knock. Since he mentioned going clubbing last night, you knew coming by in the morning would be futile, but you also know — sadly, all too well — that Saturday nights are when he’s the loudest, and he only stops well past midnight. You settled for the afternoon, preparing lunch as you rehearsed your words in your head instead of enjoying your weekend.

You knock twice, and that familiar voice soon rings through the door, asking for a moment. A minute later, your neighbor is standing in front of you, holding the door open with sleepy eyes that focus on you. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but surely not a tired-looking tall man with messy black hair wearing a pout on his lips, as if you just rudely disturbed him from his sleep (how ironic). From what you heard during the last month, you were ready to have to face a shirtless fuckboy, a permanent smirk etched onto his lips as he eyed you indifferently. Instead, you’re greeted by soft cheeks and half-closed eyes.

“Yeah?” Your neighbor croaks out, face still heavy with sleep.

You clear your throat, returning to the matter at hand. “I’m your next-door neighbor, I—”

“Nice to meet you, neighbor,” he says before you can even finish your rehearsed opening sentence, his lips curling into a small smile. You fight back the urge to roll your eyes. Somehow, him being so soft is making you hate him even more.

“I wish I could say the same,” you mutter, “Y’know, you’ve been making my life a living hell since you moved in.”

He doesn’t answer, instead running a hand through his hair, the strands falling into place and away from his face. After a small nod, he opens the door all the way.

“Come on in,” he says, promptly walking inside and leaving you standing in the hallway all alone. You have no choice but to follow after him.

He snatches his cup of coffee from the counter, letting out a tired sigh as he collapses onto the couch and takes a big sip. You sit next to him and watch as he swallows slowly, humming contently, and only then speaking again.

“Why is that?”

You hold back another eye roll. “Well, you’re quite noisy at night,” you hesitantly begin, only now grasping just how awkward explaining this situation will be. “On Fridays and on the weekends, you’re… loud.”

And in an instant, you witness a complete shift in his entire demeanor right before your eyes. Like he’s possessed by something, his once sleepy eyes now bore into you with an intense gaze, and his lips curl into the smug grin you were expecting from the start.

“So you can hear me?” He asks as if you hadn’t just told him exactly that. You feel small under the weight of his darkened eyes, but you shrug, doing your best at feigning confidence.

“It’s pretty hard not to hear you,” you answer simply. “We share a wall, in case you didn’t know. I can hear everything you do in your bedroom.”

He raises a brow at your words as if they piqued his interest. But he doesn’t verbalize it; instead, he speaks in that same nonchalant tone you’re used to hearing through your bedroom wall, “You never told me your name. A bit rude, don’t you think?” He offers you his hand. “I’m Hyunjin.”

You scoff but shake his hand regardless, telling him your name with a sigh.

“You know what I think is rude?” You offer him a forced smile. “Keeping your next-door neighbor up all night with how fucking loud you are.”

Hyunjin doesn’t answer. His gaze traces a path from your eyes to your lips before lingering on your thighs. You instinctively cross your legs, fingers smoothing down the fabric of your shorts. Locking his gaze with yours once more after a few seconds, he cocks his head to the side.

“So I’ve been keeping you up all night?” He muses, and you feel a warmth spread across your cheeks at the rough rasp in his voice.

It’s almost as if he knows what you did last night and is teasing you.

Although you know that’s impossible, your words still get choked up. Hyunjin was undeniably attractive — whether it was looking as soft as he did while answering the door or as if he could devour you with his gaze alone as he does now. You couldn’t be blamed for feeling flustered, especially after everything you heard this man saying and doing.

“Well,” you clear your throat, crossing your arms over your chest. Showing your outrage at this entire situation is your best bet, so you allow for the anger you felt during all those sleepless nights to seep through your veins. “It’s kinda hard to sleep when you’re moaning like a porn star.”

But Hyunjin fully chuckles at that. “So I sound like a porn star?” He nods with an amused hum. “I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you.”

You let out a heavy sigh. Never mind anything you had thought upon seeing him open that door; Hyunjin is everything you thought he would be.

“Look, I didn’t come here to stroke your ego. You’re clearly doing just fine in that regard,” you grumble, and he scoffs beside you, leaning back on the couch with a smug expression you want to slap away from his pretty face. “I came here to ask if you could move whatever it is that you do to the living room, or maybe keep it down. I’m sure that’s not too much to ask.” 

Hyunjin clicks his tongue almost mockingly. “Oh, but it is too much to ask. I can’t really do any of those things. Sorry,” he shrugs, “The building has thin walls. You’re just gonna have to get used to it, I’m afraid.”

You stagger at his words, his lack of common sense seemingly higher than you initially gave him credit for. You’re unsure whether to laugh in sheer disbelief or cuss him out as anger slowly bubbles up inside your chest. How unfairly attractive he looks at the moment isn’t helping your case — he spreads his legs further as he shifts on the couch, bringing his mug up to his full lips and watching you almost uninterestedly with half-lidded eyes.

Fuck this guy.

“What is it you do that’s so important that you can’t at least keep it down? Can’t your girlfriend get off without your obnoxious dirty talk? Is that it?”

Hyunjin shakes his head dismissively. “Don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Your dates, then. I honestly don’t care.” You roll your eyes, which elicits a small laugh from him. You have never wanted to punch someone so badly, all while also wanting them to rearrange your guts. “Whoever it is, whatever it is that you do, can’t we compromise and you be quiet, at least on Fridays? I get home from work exhausted and have to put up with your shit when all I wanna do is sleep.”

“Ah, but Fridays are the most important nights for me,” Hyunjin tells you with a condescending lilt in his voice. “That’s also not possible, I’m so sorry.”

“I see.” You suck in a deep breath, your eyes narrowing and hands curling into fists on your lap. “Then would it be possible for you to move your… activities to the living room?”

Hyunjin contorts his face, shaking his head while that grin is still etched onto his lips. “Yeah, no, that’s also not possible.”

“You’re extremely inflexible, do you know that?” You blurt out, “I’m not asking that you move out, I’m simply asking that you fuck whoever it is that you fuck every weekend somewhere else.”

His piercing gaze lingers on you briefly, as if he’s carefully considering his next words. Sighing, he sets his mug on the end table and sits up straight.

“Let’s make a deal,” he proposes, carelessly ripping a piece of paper from the open sketchbook that lay on the coffee table and jotting something down. “Tonight, you wait for me to start my activities,” he says with a poorly concealed chuckle. “And then you go on this website. Maybe it’ll clear up some things inside your pretty little head. Can you do that for me?”

He hands you the note, eyes darting down to your lips once more before meeting your gaze. The tone of his voice is the same that echoes through your bedroom during those nights — exactly like the one that coaxed an orgasm out of you just last night, and you absentmindedly squeeze your thighs together.

You need to get out of here.

With a small nod, you swiftly stand back on your feet and walk toward the door of his apartment that was left wide open. You quietly mutter a goodbye as Hyunjin says something about it being a pleasure meeting you, all while amusedly staring at you.

It’s only as you close your front door behind you that you look down at the piece of paper that you subconsciously crumpled up. Scrawled in a messy handwriting is simply a website address:

fivestarcam.com

You furrow your brows, walking toward your bedroom as you rack your brain for how a website could possibly give you answers. It dawns on you, then — all the trouble you went through, and yet, no solution to your problem.

Ultimately, you decide you’ve already wasted too much of your patience on this man today, throwing the piece of paper on your bedside table and going about your day, enjoying the tranquility of your apartment while you can.

Night comes too fast, the sun setting outside unbeknownst to you as you lie on the couch for nearly three hours, your focus solely on the plot of the movie playing on your phone. Soon enough, ten p.m. rolls around, and you drag your tired body toward your bathroom. You take a shower with no rush, knowing full well that by the time you walk into your bedroom, Hyunjin’s activities will already have started.

Sure enough, you’re greeted by a drawled-out groan as soon as you enter your room. With a heavy sigh, you throw yourself onto your bed. Your bedroom had always been comforting, your bed almost like a safe haven from all the stress life threw your way. Yet now it’s simply the place where you lie awake for hours, simultaneously vexed and uncomfortably turned on.

You lie still for a while, Hyunjin’s vulgar chatter like the background music to your spacing out, until you remember the piece of paper he gave you earlier. How would a website clear up any of your confusion? And, more importantly, why should you even care enough to find out? From the little interaction you had with the man, you know for a fact Hyunjin will remain unchanging in his obnoxious ways.

However, you’ve always been too curious for your own good, and the mere prospect of understanding this annoyingly enigmatic man even a tiny bit has you hurriedly picking your laptop off the floor and typing out the website address on your browser. Curiosity killed the cat.

The first thing that greets you is a message asking that you verify being over the age of eighteen. All you have to do is click a button, which seems counterintuitive, but you have little time to worry about that when your screen is filled with preview thumbnails of several live broadcasts.

You’ve heard of camming websites before, of course, but you didn’t know they were still a thing nowadays, what with the rise of Only Fans and other more independent ways to go about making money like this.

Your eyes scan the page with agape lips. Men and women — some in their underwear and some already naked, some showing their faces and some wearing masks. And then, your eyes land on a particular thumbnail. At the Top Cammers of The Month section, on the number one spot, is a fully clothed man with familiar long black hair. Only the bottom of his face can be seen due to his camera angle, but that is more than enough as your gaze fixes on his full lips.

That’s undeniably Hyunjin. Your neighbor, Hyunjin.

Before you can make sense of your actions, your fingers are already hovering above the touchpad as you watch the thumbnail image change into a new one. Curiosity is eating away at you, and you can’t deny that your nosy mind is eager to finally see Hyunjin rather than only hear him.

Ultimately, you decide this is ridiculous.

But your twitching fingers brush against the touchpad just as you move to close your laptop, promptly clicking the live video, your screen now filled with the image of Hyunjin in his bedroom. He’s shirtless now, palming himself through his sweatpants — the same ones he wore this afternoon.

“You wanna know how clubbing went last night?” He says with a grin, and you now understand his incessant talking is merely him answering comments from his viewers. Various different names fly through the right side of your screen, some with tips attached to their comments and some simply drooling over Hyunjin as he essentially sits in front of the camera doing nothing.

A cocky smile is spread on his lips once you shift your attention back to him.

“I guess you’re good at following orders,” he chuckles. You then realize your laptop’s volume is on high, and the speaker’s noise permeates through your wall and into Hyunjin’s bedroom. Your eyes shoot open, and you scramble to find your earphones in your bed.

You’re gnawing on your bottom lip as you plug them in, suddenly too aware of the fact that he can hear you just as well as you can hear him. Hyunjin’s smile shifts into a small laugh, his hand wrapping around his length through his sweatpants, the firm outline of his cock straining against the fabric. You feel a tingling sensation spread through your body, your inner muscles clenching as you watch the way his hand squeezes along the thick outline, the muscles of his stomach contracting as he lets out a broken sigh.

This feels wrong, as if you’re nothing more than a pervert watching Hyunjin for your own pleasure. But then again, it was he who gave you the website address in the first place. Why else would he have done that if not for you to watch him?

“I have a special someone watching tonight,” he murmurs, and you can just imagine his gaze right now — his eyes hooded and piercing, locked onto the camera with the same intensity as when he looked at you earlier today.

Hyunjin’s hand reaches inside his sweatpants, withdrawing his cock from the constraints of the dark fabric before you can make sense of what’s happening. Your gaze remains fixed, unable to look away from the red, swollen head that stands out against his pale skin. With lazy movements, he begins stroking himself, the precum dripping from the tip easing the glide of his hand. You bite the inside of your cheek as more arousal leaks from you, gathering in your panties.

“Hope she likes watching just as much as she liked listening to me last night,” Hyunjin rasps out, and you immediately close your laptop, throwing it to the side before burying your face in your pillow.

He knows you got off to his voice. He has to know.

And, unfortunately, your brain is currently too clouded by lust to function properly, and the only logical solution you can come up with is to go knocking at his door tomorrow.

You stand in front of Hyunjin’s door at the same time as yesterday, a strange blend of anger and curiosity making you knock frantically until he answers with that annoyingly alluring smirk on his lips.

“Did you enjoy the show last night?” Hyunjin asks before you can even utter a word, his voice filled with a goading tone.

You push past him, walking into his apartment with a scowl. “Why did you send me that?”

He only shrugs, closing the door behind him before stretching his arms above his head with a sigh. “Needed you to understand why I can’t just stop doing what I do. It’s my job,” he reasons, “I figured showing you was more effective than telling you.”

A scoff involuntarily falls from your lips, and you fight back the urge to roll your eyes. “So you just sent me to a website full of porn without even asking me if that was okay? I don’t care if that’s your fucking job, I never asked you—”

“Did you stay till the end?” He asks, a lazy grin on his lips as his gaze wanders across your face. Clearly, he’d completely ignored every word that came out of your mouth.

“Hyunjin, are you even listening to me?”

“I was thinking about you, y’know?” He continues, taking a step toward you. “Was really easy to come when I knew you were watching me.” He cages your body against the door with his, both hands resting beside your head. His dark gaze locks onto you, causing your breath to hitch. “All I could think about was how you were secretly listening to me all this time. Such a dirty girl.”

Hyunjin clicks his tongue, shaking his head in feigned disappointment. You want to tell him you weren’t secretly listening to him; you were merely thrown into this situation against your will. But his gaze shifts from your eyes to your lips, lingering before roaming over the swell of your breasts, causing your thoughts to blur and your words to die in your throat.

“Kept thinking about how I never heard you,” he says, almost as if he’s wondering aloud. “When was the last time someone fucked you properly?”

His gaze finally travels back up to yours, and the fog of desire clouding his eyes is unmistakable. The moment you knocked on his door, you knew this would happen. You weren’t naïve, and Hyunjin wasn’t stupid; the moment you pushed past him and into his apartment, you both knew where this was going.

“Don’t have time to go on dates,” you murmur as Hyunjin leans down, humming low on his throat.

“Well,” he whispers, the warmth of his breath tickling your face. “You got to listen to me, got to watch me… Don’t you wanna know what it feels like?”

You can only nod, and Hyunjin immediately presses his lips to yours in a searing kiss. He wedges his knee firmly between your thighs, as if he’s silently demanding that you give in to him. Little does he know you’re already way past that point.

Breaking the kiss, Hyunjin studies your features for a beat, the pad of his thumb gliding across your bottom lip as you look up at him with pleading eyes.

“You really want this?” He asks, and you can’t help but feel he does it simply for the pleasure of hearing you beg.

But you happily comply either way.

“Please,” you breathe out, and Hyunjin chuckles, firmly pressing his thumb into your mouth and watching as you wrap your lips around it with a contented hum. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

Hyunjin pushes his thigh against your core, the seam of your shorts creating a delicious friction against your clit. You can feel the warmth of his body as he presses up against you, and a sigh falls from your lips, your hands gliding up around his shoulders. You have no reservations left in your body; the only thing replaying inside your mind at the moment is the image of Hyunjin’s cock on your laptop. He was right. You were dying to know what it would feel like.

His strong hands firmly gripped onto your hips, guiding you to move against his thigh, each back-and-forth motion increasing the pressure on your aching clit. It felt too much, yet not enough at the same time. But just as you’re about to plead for more, Hyunjin’s pressing his lips to yours again and swallowing down your voice. His tongue slides against yours, the taste of coffee and smoke lingering in your mouth as he grazes your bottom lip with his teeth, pulling gently before letting go.

You feel your mind go fully hazy as Hyunjin lifts his thigh, bringing you up to your tiptoes, his muscles flexing and prompting you to roll your hips faster, harder.

“Who would’ve thought, huh? Just minutes ago you were acting like I was the worst person alive,” He lets out a low chuckle, amused, and your grip on his neck tightens as you feel the familiar vexation he brings out of you bubble up inside your chest. “Now you’re humping my leg like a bitch in heat.”

“Shut up,” you choke out, your brain too lust-hazed to conjure up a better response. You don’t particularly care what he thinks of you so long as he keeps his bruising grip on your skin, guiding you to roll your hips against him.

Hyunjin trails kisses down the skin of your neck, settling at the dip of your collarbone and sucking on the skin while you eagerly quicken your speed. His teeth nip at the sensitive skin, undoubtedly marking you, while his thigh begins to bounce against your cunt, and you can feel the familiar aching warmth of your orgasm beginning to tighten in your stomach. But just as you’re about to be hit by the release you’re so desperate for, Hyunjin’s hands leave your hips and slide down to your ass, any stimulation you had before coming to a halt as he picks you up and makes his way to the living room.

“What the fuck?” You all but yell, earning you a hearty laugh from Hyunjin. “I was close, you asshole.”

He roughly throws you onto the couch, a condescending pout etched onto his lips.

“But that’s no fun for me, is it, baby?” He hovers over you, spreading your thighs apart and slotting himself between them. In stark contrast to his words, he gently lifts your shirt over your head, feather-light touch sending shivers down your spine. “Greedy girls don’t get to come.”

You feel your insides clenching at his words, and although you despise the effect he has on you, you’re already here, laid out before him, so you might as well indulge him. You gently push Hyunjin back until he sinks into the sofa, legs lazily spread apart and half-lidded eyes fixated on you. As soon as you clutch at his shirt, he promptly tugs it over his head in one fluid motion, and you attach your lips to the bare skin of his stomach, trailing kisses down the expanse of his torso.

You waste no time tugging his sweatpants down and out of your way, his cock now hanging heavily before you, just as pretty as it had seemed on that little screen. Hyunjin’s hand soon wraps around himself, stroking lazily while you watch the precum dribble from his tip. Tentatively, you grab the base of his cock, bringing your tongue to the head and tantalizingly lapping at it. Hyunjin lets out a quiet gasp, his own hand leaving his length and tangling in your hair, guiding you forward toward his cock. You part your lips and suck the head into your waiting mouth, hands now stroking his length at a slow pace while you lick up his slit, the salty taste lingering on your tongue. You hold back a chuckle when you feel him twitch under your touch, a soft whimper falling from his throat.

Hyunjin’s hips buck up into your lips, and you promptly open your jaw wider and slide his whole length down your throat slowly. You weren’t lying when you said you had no time for dates, which is why you find yourself struggling a bit. It truly had been a while since you had a proper fuck, but you would never give Hyunjin the pleasure of hearing you admit it. Breathing through your nose, you’re finally able to move up and down his cock, swallowing all of him. Your eyes well up as his fingers tug harshly at your hair, shoving your mouth back down the entirety of his thick length. A choked-out whimper falls from your throat, and you instinctively move your gaze toward his.

“God,” he rasps out, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip and eyebrows knitting together. “You take me so well.”

You promptly remove your lips from him with a loud pop, precum and saliva dribbling down your chin as you struggle to suppress a laugh at the utter indignation on his face.

“I doubt you could fuck me if I let you come,” you shrug, and Hyunjin’s expression softens, a scoff falling from his lips.

Before you can say anything else, he’s already pushed you back onto the couch, easily flipping you over so your face is pressed into the cushion. He snakes a hand under your stomach and lifts your hips, quickly working to rid you of your shorts before pressing his cock against your clothed ass.

He leans down, lips pressed against your ear — much like it was in your fantasy back in your bedroom — and whispers, “You need me that badly? I can feel how soaked you are, and all you did was hump my leg.”

You grumble under your breath, but it goes ignored by Hyunjin as he grips your hips and slides his cock under the fabric of your panties, stroking himself along your soaking slit with a low groan. You can feel your underwear gradually dampen more as his precum mixes with your own arousal, the sheer cloth clinging to his cock with each thrust.

Hyunjin’s hand splayed across your lower back, causing you to arch your body and press your hips back instinctively. He chuckles, hand coming down onto the supper flesh of your ass with no warning, a sharp whimper falling from your lips.

“I told you greedy girls don’t get to come,” He reiterates, clicking his tongue and grabbing a large handful of your ass before tugging your panties down your legs. You quietly hoped the trees outside obscured enough of his window, otherwise you’d be in for some interesting elevator rides with your other neighbors. With a hiss, Hyunjin’s thumb presses against your clit before gliding along your wet folds. “Soaking wet,” he mutters, eyes glazed over while he watches your slick coat his finger.

You simply hum, not wanting to stroke his ego any more than you already had by begging him earlier. But you’re unable to contain the gasp that leaves your lips as he pushes his hips forward, the swollen tip of his cock gliding against your warm core once, twice, all while Hyunjin’s hands travel across your ass and thighs. You’re sure he’ll tease you until you give in and beg, but it seems his facade is quick to crumble. He impatiently wraps a hand around his length, finally guiding himself toward your entrance, seamlessly gliding into you with a heavy sigh.

He stills for a second, gaze transfixed by the way your cunt stretches around his thick cock. Until he suddenly pulls out of you before snapping his hips forward again, then again, until he sets a rhythm of deep, fast strokes that have you rocking back and forth on the couch. Pulling yourself up to rest on your forearms, you choke out a loud moan, Hyunjin’s cock twitching inside you at the sound. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” He groans, strong arms encircling your body once more, this time pulling you close to him until your back presses against his chest. Hyunjin’s thrusts grew more forceful, the sound of skin slapping together echoing through his small living room as he relentlessly pumped himself into you. His hand wraps in your hair, yanking your head back and humming against your ear, “Go on, you can moan for me,” he hisses, “I know how good it feels.”

Fuck. His ego is surely something you would never get used to.

But you let go, freely groaning at the feeling of his cock pistoning into you. You can feel the curve of his grin against your cheek.

“Like that, I know how much you like it,” he rasps out, “Just as much as you liked touching yourself to my voice like a little slut.”

“Fuck off, you—” you huff, your words cut off by a drawn-out mewl as Hyunjin’s fingers firmly pressed down on your clit, flattening the swollen bud. You couldn’t control yourself after that, desperate whimpers and choked-out moans falling from your lips with each harsh thrust of his hips.

Your sounds seem to stir something inside of him, and his movements grow more erratic, his fingers circling your clit hastily. A crescendo of arousal and pleasure envelops you as more curses tumble from Hyunjin’s lips against your ear, his hand gripping your cheek and pulling you into a messy kiss.

You clench around him, body shaking with the force of your climax as you seek Hyunjin’s arm wrapped around your body for purchase. He continues pounding into you, and you feel yourself squirm, your vision going blurry from the stimulation.

“Gonna come,” he hisses against your lips, “Where do you want it?”

And you’re too far gone at this point, whimpering, “Anywhere you want.”

Hyunjin curses under his breath, pulling out while his hand finds your lower back once more, pushing you onto the couch before flipping your pliant body over so you’re facing him. You watch with hazy eyes as he strokes himself feverishly over your body, his cum soon shooting onto your breasts.

His unreadable gaze lingers on you for a beat and a half before he nonchalantly tucks himself back into his sweatpants and heads toward the hallway. You sit up on the couch, limbs aching, and chuckle to yourself. This was not your proudest moment, but you surely didn’t regret it.

You don’t expect aftercare from someone like him, so you resign yourself to searching for your discarded shirt. But Hyunjin’s tall frame appears before you, towel in hand before you can even stand up. His touch is gentle as he cleans your chest, and although the gesture is somewhat sweet, it feels extremely awkward.

“Really liked fucking you,” he tells you with a grin, “But you gotta leave now. I’m going live later, and I also gotta go to the club tonight, so I have to rest. But it was fun.”

And you simply scoff at his words, rising to your feet to dress yourself as quickly as possible. It was a bit baffling how he could fuck you the way he did, then tell you he’s off to pick up more girls at a club immediately after. But what did you expect? Hyunjin’s ego and arrogance were clear to you from day one.

“Why the fuck do you go clubbing so much, anyway?” You question as you head toward the front door, and Hyunjin chuckles behind you. “Is that your hunting ground or something?”

“You could say that,” he simply says.

As you unlock his door and step out into the hallway, Hyunjin’s voice calls out to you. Turning to look at him, you’re met with that familiar smirk adorning his lips.

“We can do this again anytime you want,” he assures, and the mere thought of letting him touch you again makes you roll your eyes in disdain.

“Yeah right.”

If only you knew then just how awfully torturous it would be to listen to him, knowing what he was doing — most importantly, knowing what it felt like to have him.

Lust completely clouds your judgment when it comes to Hyunjin, and you soon find yourself coming back to his apartment until it becomes an annoyingly pleasurable habit.

Every day, when he hears you get home from work, your phone buzzes with a text asking that you come over and help him ‘warm up for his job.’ The nights of suffering in your bedroom have transformed into watching him from the corner of his room, enthralled with the way he can make himself come on camera so eagerly and later fuck you with just as much vigor.

It’s a nice arrangement, but definitely not one you see yourself in for the long run. Hyunjin might kiss you and hold you close as he fucks you, but you’re not foolish enough to anchor your feelings to someone like him. It’s not his job that’s the problem, but mostly his attitude toward life. He belongs to nobody, while you yearn to belong to someone. Routine is the last thing on his mind, while you revel in its comfort. You could never be with someone like him.

But it is a nice arrangement.

So you find yourself back in his bed again today, his heavy cock in your mouth as he tugs harshly on your hair, painting the back of your throat with his cum. Except this time, he doesn’t immediately ask you to leave.

“What?” You ask, “Don’t you have to go clubbing or something?”

“It’s my day off,” he shrugs, his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close and falls back into bed. You furrow your brows, detangling yourself from him.

“Day off? From what, picking up girls?”

Hyunjin chuckles, eyes sleepy. “I work at the club,” he simply says. “I’m a host, I just act like I go clubbing when I talk about it during my lives ‘cause my viewers can be a bit stalkery.”

“What?”

“Have you heard of The Siren?” He asks, and you hum, recalling a faint memory of some of your co-workers mentioning the club in passing. “That’s where I work.”

You nod slowly, still confused. “What exactly does a host do?”

“Well, basically, I get to make money just by making lonely women feel wanted.”

You can’t help but scoff at his crude description. “And do you fuck them?”

“Well, yeah,” he answers like it’s obvious. “It’s part of the job.”

“Fucking hell,” You let out a hearty laugh, to which Hyunjin shoots you a questioning look. “Your sex drive really should be studied.”

His lips upturn into a smirk, and his arms reach for you again, beckoning you back into his embrace. “No need to be jealous, baby. I only fuck them if they’re willing to pay, and I’m expensive.”

You roll your eyes, allowing him to pull you into his chest. He threads his fingers through your hair, and you can’t help but feel… awkward.

“You’re kind of an asshole, Hyunjin.”

He hums. “Sure, but you still let me fuck you.”

You two stay that way for a while, his fingers massaging your scalp as he presses a kiss to your head now and then. It feels disorienting, like a sudden shift from everything Hyunjin had been until now. He was never caring or sweet, he never kissed you if you weren’t fucking, and he surely never cuddled you. Your face involuntarily contorts into a grimace.

You detach yourself from him, getting up from the bed and telling him you’ll see him later. But Hyunjin is grabbing at your arm with a smile.

“Come on, don’t be sad,” he giggles as you try to free yourself from his grip. “I’m really not the type of guy you should have fallen for, anyway.”

You still at his words, face contorting into pure befuddlement. “Fallen for? Who the fuck says I’ve fallen for you?”

And Hyunjin simply scoffs, letting go of your arm as his smile shifts into his characteristic grin. “Well, there’s a reason I’m number one among the hosts at The Siren.”

“Hyunjin, those girls aren’t exactly after you for your personality,” you deadpan. “You’re really nothing worth falling for.”

His grin slowly fades, and it’s his turn to have confusion take hold in his eyes. “What?”

You can tell he wasn’t expecting this. Almost as if he was expecting you to have truly fallen for him simply because he… is him. And you can’t help but chuckle at the situation.

“Hyunjin,” you call out to him sweetly, and his gaze is back on you immediately. “You’re a nice fuck, but that’s really it. Don’t worry about me falling for you.”

You can swear you see a flicker of hurt in his eyes, but it’s likely only your imagination. He opens his lips to speak but promptly closes them again. He simply stares up at you from where he’s sat on the bed and almost looks sweet. If you didn’t know him, you would undoubtedly be charmed by this convincing facade. You have to give it to him; you do understand why he’s number one at his job.

“But…” He trails off, shaking his head. “But I’ll see you again tomorrow, right?”

“Sure,” you shrug. “We can keep fucking until I find something better.”

You run your fingers through his long hair and make your way to the door, leaving him with an expression frozen in bewilderment.

Hyunjin might kiss you and hold you close as he fucks you, but he’ll never be yours.

But that’s not a problem, as you surely will never be his as well.

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist, @jazziwritesthings

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