Concept: Jaime having a lot of left over adrenaline from a fight so he fucks the reader up against the nearest wall
post-fight. - jaime reyes x reader (nsfw warning!)
it happens more often than Jaime admits, but less often than you complain to him about it for.
Jaime has you pressed against the back of the wall in some run-down alleyway, only half of his suit deactivated as he's rutting into you desperately, the sweat and blood still on the back of his armor, his sweat running down his sides as you cling onto his biceps for life, exhausted panting and whimpers slipping past your lips as you stare at him disappear into you with a lewd squelch each time.
"I'm sorry." He whimpers into your ear. "You just— looked so good, mi vida, I just—"
You moan as he presses his lips to yours, desperate to muffle the moans coming out of your mouth, yet wanting to keep listening to them. Maybe swallowing them would work.
It doesn't, but Jaime does get the reward of you biting his bottom lip as he feels you spasm around him, your orgasm ripping through your body as you gush around him, and Jaime only speeds up to chase after his own high, pulling from your lips to tell you how pretty you were, whimpering and moaning quietly over you, eyes raking your body to see how dazzling you were when covered in a layer of sheen from the sweat.
and when he feels his own orgasm rip through him, chest pressed to yours as he gasps into your ear, he makes sure to clean you up, tongue pressed to your you, drunk on the taste of you and him mixed together, hums from his chest shooting up your spine and causing your fingers to fly to his hair, whimpering.
and when he finishes, his suit finally comes off completely as he holds you in his arms, mumbling into your ear about how good you were for him, how he was sorry for taking the adrenaline out on you again, pressing you to his chest as he lets you fall limp in his hold and get some well-deserved rest, he presses a kiss to your forehead and takes care of the rest. After all, it's the least he can do for you.
reblogs are appreciated ( •́ω<;)✧
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That is certainly - a statement.
What about Jim, who both metaphorically and literally discovers a path for themself beyond what they were raised to be? What about Pete, who learns to overcome his toxic masculinity, his posturing and self-importance? What about Ed, whose entire story is about deconstructing the performance that is expected of him?
What about, oh, idk, our main fucking character Stede Bonnet, whose arc starts with him literally breaking out from the hetero marriage he was forced into despite never fitting in? Who tries (and initially fails) to build a community where he can be himself? Whose entire story is about discovering his own queerness! He starts out not even able to put a finger on WHY his marriage made him feel so suffocated, and then journeys through s1 until he reaches the emotional climax - "His name is Ed"!
Contrast that with Izzy, who has to be dragged into a supportive community kicking and screaming. Who rejects care and compassion, even at his worst, who has to be forced to accept help. He receives the leg and calls the crew a homophobic slur for it, ffs. Only after that, only when people refuse to let him push them away, is he able to poke his nose into something approaching positive human connections. And that's a powerful narrative, sure, in it's own way; but it's hardly the Ultimate Queer Experience, and it's definitely not the "only queer arc".
And Izzy never lets go of the old ways. He never abandons the Blackbeard-era pirate lifestyle for something more positive, not fully. And that's okay, because ultimately, his arc isn't even about himself.
It's about Ed.
Ed keeps repeating toxic relationship patterns, and Izzy is a part of that. He's linked (on purpose, and I wish it had been done more explicitly) to Ed's father; because Izzy represents the poison that was instilled in Ed from a young age, and that has become so entrenched in his system that he can't imagine a life without it. He keeps Izzy around despite being hurt by him because Izzy is predictable, and in that, is safe, even though he hurts Ed; at least it's a hurt Ed is familiar with and can rely on.
When Izzy slowly changes it's to show that Ed is growing beyond the little voice in his head telling him to reject softness, that he can never be loved, that We're just not these kinds of people. If Izzy can evolve from someone spitting boyfriend at Ed like it's a slur to someone congratulating him on getting laid by that same person, Ed can overcome his inner demons telling him the same thing.
That's the point of Izzy's arc. And this is why he has to die, because Ed can never be truly free as long as Izzy is around. So Izzy goes, quietly, peacefully, and releases Ed of the poison; apologizes to him, tells him I was so wrong, and I am so sorry, because that's what Ed needs to hear to move forward.
And that's such a kind, positive way to end the story of Izzy Hands.
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(@bulltuskbutch you asked to see where this was going so 🫣)
dad who gets home on a regular day, expecting the usual routine of hanging out with its son, making food for the both of them, then telling him its going out, knowing its boy doesn't ask questions, he's too old to care what his dad does on its personal time.
dad who's still ashamed it has so many one night stands each week. not ashamed of having sex, or doing it with guys, no... just of all of them being much younger boys who look suspiciously similar to its own son. it did stop for a while, after the first time it moaned its son's name when it came. but the urges were so strong it was afraid it might end up touching him for real, so it's back to a routine of fucking boys with the same skintone and dark curls. sometimes it even works up the courage to ask if it can call a boy a different name... thinking about raping your son while fucking another guy is okay as long as you never actually act on it, right?
dad who's surprised to find the house empty and dark, who calls for its son as it makes its way through the rooms, until it sees the faintest bit of light coming from the unused basement. there's noise coming from there, too, so it starts down the stairs in a hurry, afraid something might have happened to its son. something hits it in the back of the head, and the last thing it sees as it tumbles down is a pool of blood spreading on the floor in a corner of the room.
dad who wakes up some time later, tied to a chair under the bare lightbulb hanging from the basement ceiling. it blinks, vision coming into focus just as it takes in the sight before it. its son, covered in blood, hair matted to his forehead with sweat, crouched next to a few bodies slumped against the wall. it takes the dad too long to recognise the faces, left pristine in contrast to the bloody, lacerated bodies: the boy it fucked a week ago, who let it call him by its son's name; one from a couple of months back who looked so similar to its son it cried after it was done fucking him; another it had forgotten about, not even from the city. and, closest to its son who has his hand in the boy's hair, pulling his face back, the boy it was supposed to meet tonight.
'hi, dad.'
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To all my best friends, only twelve leagues and one text message away
1. Dearly Departed, Brockhampton. // 2. The Year of Magical Thinking, Joan Didion. // 3. unsent project. // 4. I am in Eskew. // 5. His dark materials. // 6. Where did you go? Hishaam Siddiqui. // 7. parts in motion, Vera Much. // 8. Your Name Engraved, Herein. 9. Hmu, spacegirl GEMMY.
Description follows
[ID: song lyrics reading, "What's the point of havin' a best friend if you / end up losin' him?" end ID]
[[ID: a photograph in the style of an early digital camera of two teenage girls cuddling under blankets on a couch watching something on a computer. end ID]
[ID: a poem reading, "Life changes fast. / Life changes in the instant. / You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends. end ID]
[ID: a fuzzy photograph in the style of an early digital camera of three people huddled around a fridge. All of the people have brown hair, glowing golden from the lighting and only one of their faces is turned toward the camera. end ID]
[ID: a text entry on a pink background reading, "To: Harry I / i've written 43 / poems about you. / come back and i / won't have to write anymore. / -asle" end ID]
[ID: a photograph in the style of an early digital camera of a couple in a photobooth with only their feet and legs visible behind the curtain. one is sitting on the other's lap. ]
[ID: text reading, "The problem is, my love, is that I can't sustain the fact of your death. / I can convince myself that it's true, force myself to picture your rotting, ruined face dumped in a mass grave somewhere out in the world... / ...and then my phone buzzes and I'm still expecting an unexpected message from you, telling me what corner of the globe you've holed up in, the foods you're eating, the card-players you're outwitting." end ID]
[ID: a photograph of two people in an aquarium, shot from behind. they stand in front of a large window showing a tank of water and seaweed. the two pose as if dancing grandiosely with no one else around. end ID]
[ID: a paragraph reading, "And it was comforting to think she and Will had another thing in common. She wondered if there would ever come an hour in her life when she didn't think of him- didn't speak to him in her head, didn't relive every moment they'd been together, didn't long for his voice and his hands and his love. She had never dreamed of what it would feel like to love someone so much; of all the things that astonished her in her adventures, that was what astonished her the most. She thought the tenderness it left in her heart was like a bruise that would never go away, but she would cherish it forever." end ID]
[ID: a photograph from behind of a group of people walking together down a city street. two of the people have their arms around each other shoulders. another two link arms. the image is slightly blurry. end ID]
[ID: a couplet reading, "One day I woke up and we no longer spoke the / same language. I haven't heard from you since." end ID]
[ID: a photograph of two people, focused on one in the foreground. A young woman looks lovingly towards something out of frame, her face resting on the meat of her hand. In the background a man looks away towards another subject. The lighting is dreamy and yellow. end ID]
[ID: lyrics reading, "Show me it all / Tell me what's wrong / You got your hard drive stolen / Your phone's been broken / Play me a song off of mine / Show me it all / Show me a rise / Show me a fall / Pay me no mind / Paint me in gold / I don't mean to pry, but give me a call" end ID]
[ID: a gif from the movie 'Your Name Engraved Herein' of Birdy and A-han riding a motorbike through the streets at night. Both smile widely as they breeze along, Birdy sitting behind A-han with his shirt off over his head, yelling happily. End ID]
[ID: lyrics reading, "They say everything has reason / Life fluctuates like seasons / And maybe someday soon we'll both find our reason / But bitch you're still the bro / Never letting go / Of the friendship bracelets we made when we were twelve // I'll be waiting by my phone / For you to hit me up / For you to hit me up / Hit me hit me up" end ID]
[ID: a photograph of a plaque on an outside wall reading, "LIFE HAPPENS BUT I STILL CARE FOR YOU. I HOPE YOU'RE DOING WELL." end ID]
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