#john can be power bottom or top or whatever he want

[ibahibut]

Fuck The High Table, love wins

[lithuilgreenleaf]

Some people say Elvis was racist; this is false

Go to the bottom for summary (tl;dr)

I sometimes see some wrongly directed hate for Elvis and just want to try to clear it up. I’m a POC (half-black and half-Indian) and I’m not even a big fan of his, and I’m not saying he didn’t do some of whatever you accuse him of, but I don’t want people hating on others with misinformation.

Elvis was not racist. He never said anything racist, and he admired and respected black people.

The only two allegations on record that I can find against him of racism are these:

One magazine in 1957 started a rumor that Elvis Presley once said, “The only thing Ne**oes can do for me is buy my records and shine my shoes.” This claim was debunked and proven false when a black reporter, Louie Robinson, investigated. He interviewed Elvis, who declared, “I never said anything like that, and people who know me know that I wouldn't have said it.” Elvis had never even been to the place where the magazine claimed he said this quote. Robinson found no evidence that the remark had ever been made, and on the contrary elicited testimony from many individuals indicating that Presley was anything but racist, including black people who knew him since childhood and black artists who performed with him. After his investigation, Robinson concluded, "To Elvis people are people, regardless of race, color or creed." (link) (second link)

“Fight the Power” was a 1989 rap hit by Public Enemy, which had the lyrics, “Elvis was a hero to most / But he never meant shit to me / Straight-up racist that sucker was / Simple and plain / Motherfuck him and John Wayne” (John Wayne was actually racist). However, Chuck D, the singer and writer of the song, later clarified his lyric associating Elvis Presley with racism. In an interview with Newsday timed with the 25th anniversary of Presley's death, Chuck D acknowledged that Elvis was held in high esteem by black musicians, and that Elvis himself admired black musical performers. Chuck D stated that the target of his line about Elvis was the white culture which hailed Elvis as a "King" without acknowledging the black artists that came before him. (link)

One time, Quincy Jones claimed Elvis was racist, but he had never actually met Elvis. He said that a white performer named Tommy Dorsey told him Elvis was racist, after which Quincy Jones refused to work with Elvis. However, it is on record that Tommy Dorsey liked Elvis on a personal level. Quincy Jones also claimed that every time he saw Elvis, Elvis was being taught to sing by Otis Blackwell, a black composer. However, Otis Blackwell never met Elvis in his life (according to Otis himself). On top of this, Quincy Jones is known to have said some questionable things over the years. Also, Quincy Jones had state din 2002 that Elvis was one of the innovator’s of pop music.

Part of the reason Elvis is sometimes accused of racism is that much of his visual and musical performance came from African American sources. People say that he “stole” African American music, and then became known as the “King of Rock and Roll” despite the many African American performers that preceded him.

Elvis acknowledged his debt to African Americans throughout his career, such as when he stated, “A lot of people seem to think I started this business. But rock 'n' roll was here a long time before I came along. Nobody can sing that kind of music like colored people. Let's face it: I can't sing like Fats Domino can. I know that.”

Elvis never liked being called the “King of Rock and Roll”. It was a title forced on him by others. He believed the real “King of Rock and Roll” was Fats Domino.

The reason for his singing African American music was that he grew up in majority black community and he grew up listening to black music. He often broke segregation laws by attending black clubs (often with the help of musicians like Ike Turner) and watched black musicians perform. He loved attending all-night gospel singings at the Ellis Auditorium in Memphis. The performances he saw there are where he later took some of his dance moves and songs from.

Basically, the reason Elvis Presley sang songs by black people and performed in their style was because he liked and respected their music and style. It was his own music too, to him, because it was an integral part of his life.

Elvis always looked up to black musicians.

Once, he recalled how he would listen to Arthur “Big Boy” Crudup—the originator of "That's All Right"(which Elvis later did a cover of)—”bang his box the way I do now, and I said if I ever got to the place where I could feel all old Arthur felt, I'd be a music man like nobody ever saw.”

Once, surrounded by the Las Vegas press, Elvis was asked a question by a reporter who referred to him by his common moniker: “the king.” Rather than accept the title and all the praise that would come along with it, Elvis alerted the media of Fats Domino’s presence in the room. “No, that’s the real King of Rock ‘n’ Roll,” Elvis said.

Elvis also expressed much love for Sister Rosetta Tharpe.

One time, Elvis refused to perform a concert when the organizers refused to allow the Sweet Inspirations (Elvis’s black female backup group) to perform with him. Elvis only agreed to perform once the organizers said the Sweet Inspirations could perform with him.

Black musicians admired Elvis right back.

B.B. King ("The King of the Blues"), who maintained a friendship with Elvis throughout his life, said of him, “Let me tell you the definitive truth about Elvis Presley and racism. With Elvis, there was not a single drop of racism in that man. And when I say that, believe me I should know”. King wrote in Elvis’s defense, “Elvis didn’t steal any music from anyone. He just had his own interpretation of the music he’d grown up on, same is true for everyone. I think Elvis had integrity.” Presley also helped King land gigs, overcoming racism.

Little Richard was also friends with Elvis. Although eh pointed out that Presley’s whiteness helped his career, he did say, “I love him. That’s my buddy, my baby. Elvis is one of the greatest performers who ever lived in this world.”

"Elvis created a new style all his own, and gave an injection to black music like no other artist had ever done." - Rufus Thomas.

Sammy Davis Jr said of Elvis, “I have a respect for Elvis and my friendship. It ain't my business what he did in private. The only thing I want to know is, 'Was he my friend?', 'Did I enjoy him as a performer?', 'Did he give the world of entertainment something?' - and the answer is YES on all accounts. The other jazz just don't matter.” He also said, “Early on somebody told me that Elvis was black. And I said 'No, he's white but he's down-home'. And that is what it's all about. Not being black or white it's being 'down-home' and which part of down-home you come from.”

James Brown once wrote, “I wasn't just a fan, I was his brother. He said I was good and I said he was good; we never argued about that. Elvis was a hard worker, dedicated, and God loved him ... I love him and hope to see him in heaven. There'll never be another like that soul brother.”

Muhammad Ali admired Elvis. “When I was 15 years old and saw Elvis on TV, I wanted to be Elvis,” said Ali. “Other kids in the neighborhood were listening to Ray Charles and James Brown, but I listened to Elvis. I admired him so much and I decided that if I was going to be famous, I’d do it just like him. He’s one of the reasons I wanted to entertain people and be loved by the people and make the girls admire me so much.” He later developed a friendship with Elvis.

There is evidence Elvis donated money to civil rights organizations. (link) (and charitable organizations)

tl;dr Elvis wasn’t racist, and he had no intention fo stealing music. He thought he was just another singer of those genres of music which he admired. He didn’t even think he was that good. He believed there were many black singers much better than him. He credited black people as the sources of the music he performed, and never thought he was king of anything. He loved, respected, and was inspired by black performers, and many of them loved him back.

The fact that interpreting black people’s music made Elvis more rich and famous than black performers was mostly the fault of the racist white public. He appreciated black music and black performers, who were role models to him, while the white public refused to listen to black people’s music unless it was performed by a white person. He did try to use his success to help black performers break racial barriers though, and his success did open the door for black performers to gain access to the mainstream public.

tl;dr again: Elvis had a sincere affection for gospel, soul, and R&B, and a willingness to acknowledge his debt to the African-American musicians who had influenced him.

Elvis had problems, but being racist wasn’t one of them.

If you hate him for other reasons, that’s fine.

[honorhearted]

|| THE BASICS ||

NAME: B.enjamin T.allmadge

NICKNAME(S): Ben, Tallboy, Benny-boy, 721, John B.olton 

AGE: Varies depending on the timeline, but I mostly write him around 23.

SPECIES: human

|| PERSONAL ||

MORALITY: lawful / neutral / chaotic ||| good /  gray / evil (He’s a good man, for the most part, but that won’t keep him from doing what’s necessary to achieve the end goal, i.e. w.aterboarding his best friend, and disobeying direct orders.)

RELIGIOUS BELIEF: C.hristian

VIRTUES: chastity / charity / diligence / humility / kindness / patience / justice

PRIMARY GOALS IN LIFE: Bringing the c.olonies to freedom, and then returning to t.eaching c.hildren and starting a family.

LANGUAGES KNOWN: E.nglish, L.atin, G.reek, H.ebrew

SECRETS: Considering how he’s a s.pymaster, his life essentially is one big secret. But beyond his job in the Ring, he doesn’t really have many secrets worth sharing.

QUIRKS: Ben cannot sit still. If he’s nervous or agitated, in particular, he always has to fiddle with something (typically, the saber at his hip). His accent also gets thicker whenever he’s angry or excitable, and he’ll cover his mouth with his hand when he’s emotional, almost as if he’s trying to tamp down said emotion or “hide” that part of him.

SAVVIES: Ben is very good at everything he does. He was an exemplary student at Y.ale, and despite his stubbornness and temper, he is a good t.actitian and works well with his team(s).

|| PHYSICAL ||

BUILD: slender / scrawny / bony / fit / athletic / herculean / babyfat / pudgy / obese / other  

HEIGHT: 6′0″

SCARS/BIRTHMARKS: There is a musketball scar on his right shoulder, as well as another musketball scar on his stomach. He also has various scars from his rough-and-tumble childhood, primarily the thin line on his forearm from breaking his arm, and a tiny mark across his eyebrow from a fight with a childhood b.ully.

ABILITIES/POWERS: N/A

RESTRICTIONS: Ben’s stubbornness and need to be in charge/have everything go HIS way can often blind him, especially in regards to what his friends truly need. He also shoulders his burdens on his own, believing that this is necessary for everyone’s survival. After nearly losing his life on the D.elaware, he became a complete control freak, and thus, he can’t 100% trust anyone to do anything, except for himself.  

|| FAVOURITES ||

FAVOURITE FOOD: Ben isn’t picky, especially after living on w.ar r.ations for so many years. He’ll take anything offered with gratitude.

FAVORITE DRINK: Syllabub -- though this is a rare treat, especially during w.artime. For the most part, he drinks ale or whiskey.  

FAVOURITE PIZZA TOPPING: Pizza doesn’t exist in his timeline, but in modern verse, probably something basic like pepperoni or “everything.”

FAVOURITE COLOR: Blue

FAVOURITE MUSIC GENRE: Folk (not much else to choose from back then lol)

FAVOURITE BOOK GENRE:  Anything enlightening or about innovation tends to be his favorite topic of choice, as well as s.ocial c.ommentary and action/adventure.

FAVOURITE MOVIE GENRE: No movies in the 1700s lol.

FAVOURITE SEASON: Spring -- he enjoys seeing the rebirth, especially after facing so much d.eath.

FAVOURITE BUTT TYPE: Ben is far too sheltered to know there are different types to choose from. He certainly looks (he’s not a n.un), but he also tries not to look.

FAVOURITE CURSE WORD: He seems partial to “a.rsehole” and “horseshite.”

FAVOURITE SCENT: The ocean. It reminds him of S.etauket.

|| FUN STUFF ||

BOTTOM OR TOP: Ben likes to think he’s a d.om, but he tends to s.imp really hard for his l.overs, and thus, will essentially do whatever they want (within reason). 

LOUD BURPER OR SOFT BURPER: Ben would never burp, if this was possible, so he definitely tries to smother them.

SINGS IN THE SHOWER: No showers, but in a tub or stream? Sure, occasionally. Though he’s certainly not good at it.

LIKES BAD PUNS: Absolutely. He has an appreciation for w.ordplay.

THEIR OPINION ON THE MUN: I imagine he hates me for putting him through so much angst, but on the other hand, he might appreciate that I let him have so many ships lol.

TAGGED BY: @luckhissoul ~ thanks! <3

TAGGING: @niksnarration​ (for whichever muse you want! <3) @cabbxges-and-kings​ @annastrxng​ @sideburnsandmelancholy​ @bertievi​ (for whichever muse you prefer! <3) @laviexenrose​ @anoseforrottenapples​ @mamuac​ (whichever muse you’d like!) @naktergal​ @general-lafayette​ @gen-washington​ and anyone else who’d like to do this! <3

[princeofgod-2021]

LIGHT OF LIFE 364

John 1:4

TOO LATE 27 – WHEN HE HAS SAID NO! 1

Isa 14:26-27 This is what I plan to do for this land. I will use my power to punish all those nations." WHEN THE LORD ALL-POWERFUL MAKES A PLAN, NO ONE CAN CHANGE IT. WHEN HE RAISES HIS ARM TO PUNISH, NO ONE CAN STOP HIM. ERV

Here is where you must admit: not all prayers can be answered.

Even though God gives men honour by regarding their cries with Merciful responses, there are those cases and issues that no man can wrest from Him; He has the only and FINAL say!

Act 1:6-7 When the apostles met together with Jesus, they asked him, "LORD, WILL YOU AT THIS TIME GIVE THE KINGDOM BACK TO ISRAEL?" Jesus said to them, "THE TIMES AND OCCASIONS ARE SET BY MY FATHER'S OWN AUTHORITY, AND IT IS NOT FOR YOU TO KNOW WHEN THEY WILL BE. GNB

Israeli Christians, at Jesus’ departure, were hoping that God will deliver them from the Roman empire and dominion on Pentecost day.

Pentecost was going to be epic and they believed it should culminate in a dramatic liberation of Israel from painful sorrows under Rome siege.

The day of Jesus’ resurrection saw many delivered from the Sting of Death.

Mat 27:50-53 Once again Jesus shouted, and THEN HE DIED. At once the curtain in the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook, and rocks split apart. GRAVES OPENED, AND MANY OF GOD'S PEOPLE WERE RAISED TO LIFE. Then after Jesus had risen to life, they came out of their graves and went into the holy city, where they were seen by many people. CEV

So why shouldn’t they expect that the day of Pentecost will be associated with the Liberation of Israel from Colonialism?

God always seems dramatic with His wondrous acts, isn’t He?

Act 16:25-26 AROUND MIDNIGHT PAUL AND SILAS WERE PRAYING AND SINGING HYMNS OF PRAISE TO GOD. The other prisoners were listening to them. SUDDENLY, A VIOLENT EARTHQUAKE SHOOK THE FOUNDATIONS OF THE JAIL. ALL THE DOORS IMMEDIATELY FLEW OPEN, AND ALL THE PRISONERS' CHAINS CAME LOOSE. GW

We shouldn’t forget Peter’s experience in Prison, the day before he was to be killed by Herod.

Act 12:7,10 Suddenly an angel of the Lord appeared, and a light shone in the prison cell. He struck Peter on the side and woke him up, saying, “Get up quickly!” And the chains fell off Peter’s wrists…After they had passed the first and second guards, THEY CAME TO THE IRON GATE LEADING INTO THE CITY. IT OPENED FOR THEM BY ITSELF, and they went outside and walked down one narrow street, when at once the angel left him. NET

We see God always doing beyond the unexpected, whenever He is ready to Display His Power.

Eph 3:20 Never doubt God’s mighty power to work in you and accomplish all this. HE WILL ACHIEVE INFINITELY MORE THAN YOUR GREATEST REQUEST, YOUR MOST UNBELIEVABLE DREAM, AND EXCEED YOUR WILDEST IMAGINATION! HE WILL OUTDO THEM ALL, for his miraculous power constantly energizes you. TPT

So, if God can do things this exceptional and amazing, we should know, when He won’t do certain things, that is isn't because He can’t do it but that He has chosen not to, and He has perfect reason for His decisions, though He may not share that with you.

Rom 11:34 For WHO HAS DISCOVERED HOW THE LORD THINKS or is wise enough to be the one to advise him in his plans? TPT

The concept for even fully understanding God’s thoughts and deeds is too high for man.

Isa 55:8-9 FOR MY THOUGHTS ARE NOT YOUR THOUGHTS, OR YOUR WAYS MY WAYS, says the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts. BBE

Then God goes further to affirm that it is HIS utterance that is the final say in all situations and for just reasons beyond man’s comprehension.

Isa 55:11 MY WORD, WHICH COMES FROM MY MOUTH, is like the rain and snow. IT WILL NOT COME BACK TO ME WITHOUT RESULTS. IT WILL ACCOMPLISH WHATEVER I WANT AND ACHIEVE WHATEVER I SEND IT TO DO." GW

But we’re rounding off with TOO LATE and JUDGMENT and we’re saying that in the same way, God has final Word and Perfect, Tenable and Unbiased reasons for His choice of whom to destroy or not and it is not subject to deliberations and reactions of Men.

It is however, very Righteous.

Rom 2:4-6 Or perhaps you despise his great kindness, tolerance, and patience. Surely you know that God is kind, because he is trying to lead you to repent. But you have a hard and stubborn heart, and so YOU ARE MAKING YOUR OWN PUNISHMENT EVEN GREATER ON THE DAY WHEN GOD'S ANGER AND RIGHTEOUS JUDGMENTS WILL BE REVEALED. For God will reward each of us according to what we have done. GNB

Next lesson, we inspect quickly how God could indeed be flexible over His Judgment and opportunities to seek Mercy, as we close this long discourse.

God bless you in His Tenderness and Compassion, IN JESUS NAME.

Join us on Monday as we conclude on this thought-provoking Subtopic.

Keep Shinning!

Brother Prince

Friday, June 09, 2023

08055125517; 08023904307

[grunge-mermaid]

grunge rewatches Doctor Who (part idk)

this has been in my drafts since at least December... maybe? who knows... time means nothing but I'm pretty sure it was before the convoy occupation. probably gonna rewatch season 2 this weekend so have fun, or scroll past, or unfollow, or you know, do whatever the fuck you want, I'm no one's mother

back by absolutely zero demand, after months of not watching Doctor Who, I am now back at it.

1x11 Boomtown

oh it's the slitheen again. I'm assuming that's why I stopped where I did last time?

MAE!!!!

*poor little cake soggy bottom, poor little cake soggy bottom*

sometimes I feel bad for Mickey

and then he opens his mouth

Bad Wolf count: 2

that's a really nice public bathroom

I know this is still primarily a little kids' show but can we not with the sound effects?

"nothing exciting but he's mine" and a shotgun wedding. you sound like a real prize, Cathy

Doctor who? count: 1

Bad Wolf count: 3

I forgot how much I liked Captain Jack

Bad Wolf count: 8

bondage jokes on a children's show. ok.

Rose: clearly Mickey doesn't want to hear about all your exciting adventures, talk about something else for a bit

Mickey: be a little more supportive. your girlfriend is trying to share something important with you, be excited for her

also, bit skeezy to suggest getting a hotel for the night and then go "btw I'm sleeping with your ex-coworker"

full disclosure: I was painting my nails, couldn't really type for the last bit

1x12 Bad Wolf

oh it's about to go down

Big Brother is not really this old, is it?

the Anne droid

is that the first Torchwood reference?

Doctor Who predicting Arnold Schwarzenneger as president in a reality show themed episode as an extremely absurd possibility

god what a hopeful time they lived in

Bad Wolf count: 10

montages create an artificially high Bad Wolf count

bad wolf count: 11

2005: critiquing reality television, lack of reliable information, climate destruction

2021: much, much worse

I might take back what I said about how much I like Captain Jack. the innuendos are just so over the top, it's so out of place in the show

fuck you, Roderick

god Chris Eccleston was so good

I stand by my opinion that he was the right choice to bring back the show, it was the right choice for him to do only one season, and David Tennant was the right choice for the tenth Doctor

but god damn, Eccleston was good

it's really hard to understand the impact of the Daleks returning en masse for the first time when they've come back so. many. times.

1x13 The Parting of the Ways

skip recap

skip intro

I really miss low-budget Who

I mean, the power ranger Daleks are cool and all, but look at these janky little pepper pots with whisks for hands

do not blaspheme

really gonna go down the jealously route with Rose vs Lynda? really?

Jack kissing Rose and the Doctor in exactly the same way will forever be one of my favourite Doctor Who moments, especially because it was a conscious decision on John Barrowman's part to do it that way

did something significant happen in Marbella in 1989?

oh god

the Doctor sending Rose away will always be one of the most heartbreaking moments of Doctor Who

why am I crying so much right now

Rose, speaking for every single person who ever left their home town and unexpectedly found themselves back home against their will

(have you ever been called a snob for coming home for the holidays while attending university? by a woman with a stroller who spent all day in her pyjamas at the Tim Hortons? that was a real eye-opener)

paused at A Critical Moment to go see if I could see the aurora (nope, foggy as fuck outside) and then got distracted by the internet and missed commentating on a good 10 minutes of the show whoops

the moment that started my obsession with dorky lanky beanpoles

ok Christmas Invasion and then I'm done for the night

2x00 The Christmas Invasion

that's an awfully warm and sunny looking London Christmas

gosh David Tennant was cute

he still is, and he's aged like fine wine, but what a cutie

Doctor who? count: 1

okay that's a slightly better way of dealing with the whole left behind thing, Mickey.

still kinda shitty that you don't want your kinda girlfriend to worry about her best friend who may or may not be dying, and that you don't want to hear about any of the good things she's experienced, but playful teasing is at least less manipulative than Boomtown

still not great, but it's an improvement nonetheless

honestly the spinning christmas tree of death is peak low-budget Who practical effects and I unironically love it so much

Dame. Penelope. Wilton. I love you.

anything that challenges the whole "the American president is the leader of the free world [*barf*] and therefore gets to deal with first contact in an alien invasion" trope is A-OK with me

I mean, the UK Prime Minister probably shouldn't either, except in this case it *is* their probe so have at 'er

shouldn't it be the Secretary General of the UN? Aren't they the closest we have to a global authority?

idk as a non-American whose country's entertainment industry and consumer economy infrastructure are increasingly eroded by American companies, American exceptionalism in media really grinds my gears

and I like it when non-American shows stand up to that

got distracted again. this time by making cookie dough and discord

but I'm paying attention again just in time for David Tennant being great with his Lion King soliloquy

cheers, big fella

this is the reason I use "jimjams" so often

look at this adorable dork of a lanky beanpole just so excited to still have a friend

no, Mickey, she's not gonna stay, especially if you get all manipulative like that about it

love that's there's a twist on the snowing at Christmas trope, kinda disturbed by what the snow is. as it should be.

and that's a wrap. thanks for reading (ie scrolling past) a half-assed recap that nobody asked for and that I barely paid attention to in order to write

[whosjunglejim4322]

Warnings: SMUT, husbandau!, aged up Johnny (by a little, he's around 32), sex without a condom, he fucks you back to sleep

You're usually not one to wake so easily. Well, truthfully, it's just your willpower in allowing yourself to be released from the peace of slumber that's weak. However, your body seems to know exactly what it wants before your mind does.

You're a little vexed to be pulled from your dream by the throbbing between your legs, the content in said dream being the cause for it. You can feel the slight slickness of arousal as you rub your thighs together underneath the comforter.

Instinctually, you reach over your husbands side, only to find an empty space where he'd usually be lying. Mouth agape, hair a messy halo around his peaceful, enchanting face, and all yours to rub up against and hopefully rouse.

You're a little upset, admittedly. Not at him, it's quite the normal occurrence for him to get up in the middle of the night to do some reading when he can't sleep; you just wish that you weren't so needy and desperate to feel the warmth of his palms against your skin. You wish your dream would have let him continue touching you, if waking up to his absence was the ladder.

Even so, not even your dreams can do him justice.

You begrudgingly pull yourself from the warmth of the bed, the floor cold against your bare feet as you walk to the door, and out the room. It's not hard to scout him from the top of the staircase, sat in his usual spot on the far right corner of the couch, a book perched between his long fingers.

He doesn't notice you at first as you descend towards him, too engrossed in his novel, black rimmed glasses perched on the elegant bridge of his nose. 

You really are sort of sad for the people who might not ever get to see him like this, bare faced and still heartwrenchingy beautiful in a loose tee shirt and sweats fit for bed. He makes your chest unbearably warm.

"I'm coming to sit on your lap." Your voice is quiet enough to not startle him completely, being any louder would be unnecessary anyways since it's just the two of you.

A warm smile tugs at the corner of his heart shaped lips, his adoring eyes finding yours in the dim light of the livingroom. He corners his page and leans over to place it on the coffee table, before opening his wide arms in a welcoming manner.

"What woke you, sweetheart?" He presses a kiss to the crown of your head as you settle against his sturdy frame, knees locked on either side of his hips, hands warm between the broad plane of his back and the cushions that he's reclined against.

"Mm, a dream." He feels you smile against his neck, and suddenly realizes exactly what type of dream it was, as your lips place a deliberate kiss to the soft skin just under his ear. He'd be able to guess your advances under any circumstances.

Still, he decides to feign obliviousness, the timbre of his voice sending vibrations through your chest as he speaks.

"Oh really? What kind of dream was it," His hands, wide and fever inducing, rub your back, up and down. "was it a nightmare?"

You shake your head, the tip of your nose gliding against the sharp edge of his jaw, absentmindedly admiring his familiar, redolent scent.

"It was a good dream, too good." His resolve to be teasingly indifferent begins to crumble when you wiggle your hips against his crotch like that, your underwear leaving such a thin layer between your pussy, and his dick that sits freely underneath his pajama bottoms; half hard and twitching.

His hands venture lower so he can cup the softness of your bum, a shiver of excitement slithering up your spine and raising the hairs on the back of your neck. Your body and senses alike will never not respond to him.

"Well, tell me what happened baby," You let out a gasp against his throat as he guides your hips to rut against him, spurring you on with a voice that is almost akin to a purr. "I bet it had something to do with us, hmm?"

All you can do is hum, too easily enthralled by the feel of his length and the friction the cloth covering it provides for your clit. It's still an overwhelming thing, knowing he's yours, completely. It's been two years since getting married, and you're almost positive it'll always be this all consuming.

He knows you so well too, content with taking influence over the situation. After all, it's one of his favorite things; to have you in such an intimate way, to love you in all the ways he knows will have you putty in his hands.

"Let's see..." He begins, pushing his hips up against you in a manner that is too slow, and too light for your liking. "did I have my mouth on you? Was I making you feel good with my tongue?"

Heat fills your belly, thighs trembling slightly. Your soft whimper is melodic in his ear, your face nuzzled against his neck. He shivers.

"Or maybe, hmm...maybe I was fucking you," He doesn't give you time to asnwer his questions nor does he speak as if he is demanding one. He's taking his time, working you up.

"I'll bet I was holding you just like this, huh baby? Bet I was making you cry over my cock."

Your body lurches from the surge of arousal that shoots through you like a lighting bolt, piercing all other senses and forcing you to whine out into the quiet room. The rise and fall of his chest accelerates.

"Please, will you fuck me?" Your fingers are grasping the front of his shirt, head moving from the juncture of his neck to his face, the puffs of air from his plush mouth, warm against your lips.

He cups your face, not needing to strain his eyes in the dark room to already know your eyes are pleading. He feels it in the way you quiver against him, too.

"Of course, whatever you want." He smiles into the kiss, expecting it, awaiting it eagerly.

Your arms settle around his neck, fingers carding through the soft hairs at his nape that are a little bit longer than usual since he hasn't been able to get a haircut. You say it makes him look pretty, so he's okay with it.

He senses your urgency when your tongue slips into his mouth. He responds quickly by skimming past it with his own, skillful fingers moving between your bodies to pull his length from his sweats.

He's properly hard now, twitching. It's no surprise, he's always been weak for you. Too weak, he finds it embarrassing, but he wouldn't change a thing. There's no one he'd rather be a fool for.

You suck in a breath when you feel him pulling your panties to the side, your mouths parting for just a moment as your foreheads rest against eachother. He feels your jaw go a little slack in the way it always does when he first slides it in, and he bites down on his lip.

When you sink all the way down, backs of your thighs pressed to the top of his, he lets out a satisfied sigh, clinging onto you tighter with arms that encapsulate you like a boa.

You're thankful he takes care of you, his long legs give him leverage and allowing him to thrust into you from the bottom as you grind down onto him with a shared rythym. Your soft whines in his ear have him groaning.

"O-oh John." Your cheek rests against his shoulder, hands slipping underneath his shirt and settling on his trim waist. His skin is so warm underneath your fingers, muscles bulging from underneath the smooth surface as he works.

"Feels good baby?" His voice falters just for a second, your use of his formal name still sending throbs of warmth through his veins even after several years. Such a simple notion, so powerful when it's passing your lips.

And of course you've taken note of this, expecting the sudden and momentary fervour of his hips as they buck up into you, jolting you both as you cling to him.

You cry out, practically buried in his chest. You can smell the soap from his earlier shower clinging to his skin, the scent of the dryer sheets you used in the laundry on his soft tee shirt. Little things.

"Feels s-so good, your dick is so good." You might be slightly incoherent to anyone else, voice hiccupy through his thrusts as he hits such a sweet spot inside of you, you squeeze around him.

"I know sweetheart, you take it so well, so so well," his tone is a bit rougher now, you can tell by the sloppiness of his thrusts that he's close. But he'd never allow himself to finish first when he knows you need him so badly, woke up just to come find him.

"My sweet sweet girl, want you to cum all over me." He can feel you flutter around him, the sound of your wetness leaving an ache in his belly.

You kiss him, hard, and for a moment all you know is him. The slip of his tongue in your mouth, his nose pressed against yours, eyelashes tickling your cheek. For a moment it is as if your body never got used to being in the arms of someone so incredible.

You rock your hips against him, suckling his kiss bitten bottom lip as his cock throbs inside of you. At this point you'd never be able to wear a condom with him unless absolutely necessary, too used the feeling every vein and ridge of his thick length, the way it pulses when you say his name.

He's perfect for you, hits every spot like he's got you mapped out. His hands, big and warm come to grip your hips to help you fuck him, feeling your fatigue from the pleasure and lack of sleep alike.

"Cum for me baby, come on." He coos, kissing your neck so sweetly, in a way that makes your belly swarm with butterflies. Your clit rubbing against the area just below his navel as you grind on him combined with the warm plushness of his lips against your throat, has you meeting your end.

He holds you tightly, tighter than he has the whole night as you writhe in his inescapable arms, gasping out whines against the crook of his shoulder as you leak onto his cock. He feels the stickiness smeared on his thighs, and knows it's only gonna get messier.

He doesn't mind, not one bit, not when he can picture your expression so vividly in his head; eyebrows pulled together, eyes glossy and lips swollen. You're so beautiful, too beautiful, too overwhelming.

"O-Oh baby, you're so fucking-fuck, I'm close I'm so close." He's lost now, lost in the bliss just like you are. He's pumping into your sopping entrance, the glide effortless with the abundance of your release.

"M'gonna- oh shit I'm cumming I'm cumming."

His voice is cut off by a sound so sweet you feel your lower belly swirling with a fresh wave of arousal despite your fucked out state, panting against him while he throws his head back and groans your name.

You pepper kisses along his smooth skin as he twitches, the base of his throat, over his adams apple and just under his chin. He jerks lightly as he stills inside of you, cum surely to be coating his entire length by the time he pulls out.

You're spent, still you search for his lips, missing and accidentally kissing his soft cheek before he turns his head to meet you halfway.

Your heart soars in your chest, he smiles against you and rubs your thighs soothingly, as you find your rightful place under his chin and tucked against him, your safe place.

He smiles to himself, stroking your skin.

"I love you." He states is earnestly, steadily despite his heart beat that still thunders. You're vaguely aware of the rumble in his chest as he speaks, but you're not sure if you're dreaming or not.

He looks down, and you're already asleep.

"Alright, let's get you to bed."

[mishasminions]

The Last Time I’ll Write a Long Post About Supernatural (15x18-15x20)

15 YEARS OF WATCHING THIS SHOW. 11 YEARS OF RUNNING A BLOG ABOUT IT. IT’S BEEN QUITE A RIDE.

[15x20 Speculation + evidence at the bottom]

First off, I just wanna come clean and say, after all these years, I still think they should’ve ended at Season 5.

If you’re going to come at me with “Then why’d you stick around to watch it if you didn’t like it?”, your question is immature, and the answer is simple: I just want to know what happens next (I also love the main characters and their actors too). You can watch a show and still think it’s shit.

Call me a clown, but despite all the disappointment and trust issues that this show has given me, I would still look forward to the day where it might just turn itself around and bring back the quality it once had, or realize the potential of each story it was trying to tell, or at the very least, do justice by my favorite ship.

Never happened.

They’ve had a few good episodes here and there. I can’t imagine the SPN Universe without The Man Who Would Be King, The French Mistake, and Scoobynatural. Seasons 6-10 were enjoyable at times. I blocked out most of 7 & 11-15. 

If you’ve been following this blog since its heydays in 2010-2014, you’d know I’d try my best to defend Destiel and this show’s decisions regarding it no matter what.

Because you know what, as a CONCEPT, this show is good. If you take a look at all the worlds its storylines have birthed in fanfiction/fanworks, you’d see how much Supernatural has wasted its own story arcs. The writing got shittier as each season progressed, and they’ve obviously given up in production as well because the quality in the execution has noticeably gone down too, but if you take a step back and take a look at the bigger picture, you’ll see that this show still tries to make sense of itself.

[If you’re still following this post, please bear with me, I know this is long, but I just want you to understand how jaded and pessimistic I am with regards to this show, so maybe you can buy into whatever hopeful thing I’m about to say later on.]

SO LET’S TALK ABOUT DESTIEL

Never in my wildest dreams did I think that they would give us Castiel’s “I love you” speech. To the point where, if I weren’t so desperate for it, I would argue that it was completely out of character for him to word vomit the way he did (but I’m not gonna diss on that right now because I’ll take what I can get).

I’ve valued every meaningful and obscure exchange that Dean and Cas have had in the earlier seasons, and I was willing to accept their relationship as just that--undefined, without any clear boundaries as to what they really are. And I think that was beautiful on its own.

But now, they’ve chosen to define it.

After they’ve driven every possible wedge between Dean and Castiel in seasons 11-15, to try to explain away their feelings as something they offer to a collective.

Dean can’t mourn and pray for JUST Cas, he has to mourn and pray for EVERYBODY--even Crowley, even some chick he just met, because god forbid he cries about just the guy who has given up everything for him--that would be “too homo”.

They’ve even set Cas on a path to abrupt fatherhood just so he can care about something other than Dean. Make it seem as if Dean wasn’t his purpose through and through.

And after all these years of this stupid show trying to deny it, they choose to acknowledge it at the worst possible circumstance, at a time where they’ve been so far apart, that it seems so foreign for them to suddenly come together.

But here we are. And they’ve chosen to tell us.

Chosen to tell us that everything that Castiel has done leading up to his death, he has done it because he was IN LOVE WITH DEAN WINCHESTER.

Chosen to tell us that the ONE THING THAT WOULD MAKE CAS HAPPY IS DEAN WINCHESTER.

Chosen to tell us that BEING WITH DEAN WINCHESTER is something that CAS WANTS BUT KNOWS HE CAN’T HAVE.

And they’ve also chosen to tell us nothing about how Dean feels.

Sure, finding out your angel made a deal, the stipulations of said deal, his newfound happiness philosophy, his long-winded monologue of why he loves you and why you’re worthy of his love, and to top it all off he tells you that being in love with you is enough to make him happy while he subtly hints that he’s always wanted to be WITH you romantically, was a lot to process in the 5 minutes after you’ve just had an existential crisis.

It’s whatever, right? Let’s culminate 11 years worth of tension and feelings in 5 minutes. Let’s waste the entire episode with cringey expository dialogue, and irrelevant sequences. The whole season was a waste anyway.

You know what Supernatural? FUCK YOU FOR THAT. They deserved better. WE deserve better.

And I would love nothing more than to hurl every possible insult your way,

But for the last time, I’m going to HOPE that you’re finally going to try to make it better for the fans that stuck by you all these years.

No more baiting new viewers, no more placating casual viewers, no more excuses. 15 years. Bring it home for the people who have actually been around.

SO HERE’S HOW I THINK 15x20 IS GONNA GO

There’s two ways this series is gonna end. Horribly or Spectacularly.

First let’s all take into consideration what Andrew Dabb says about it:

So, let’s start with

ENDING HORRIBLY

In this scenario, Misha is telling the truth about his last day of filming being 15x18. His “camping trip” during the last few days of filming 15x20, was actually a camping trip. He doesn’t go to Vancouver to shoot.

Jensen wasn’t “being careful” during the zoom interviews that it was just him and Jared quarantining for the shoot, it really was just him and Jared (althought most of these were done pre 15x19) Supernatural isn’t smart enough to do misleading PR, and they’re once again oblivious to the potential of their own story.

Misha hasn’t posted a “Goodbye Castiel” tweet because he’s probably saving it for last episode or he forgot because it was overshadowed by the Destiel trend that night.

So what we get is:

Sam and Dean are on the road again, up against the monster of the week. Only their world no longer has actual Supernatural beings anymore, so the monsters they’re fighting are humans.

Humans end up killing the Winchesters (despite having gone up against literally every powerful being imaginable INCLUDING God himself). Dean and Sam end up in heaven and relive their greatest hits.

Meanwhile, Castiel rots in The Empty because he died after realizing that he was happy and gay. Jack doesn’t bother rescuing him—his surrogate dad, the guy who made this specific deal to spare him—even though it was so easy for him get Cas in and out of The Empty when he had a fraction of the power that he has now.

Dean never speaks of Castiel’s confession because despite all the hints of a profound bond in the earlier seasons, and the fact that Dean has never cared for anyone (who isn’t his actual brother) as immensely as he does Cas, Supernatural just can’t have its main macho character be “suddenly bisexual” because that would hurt the male ego or some shit.

His heaven would probably be living happily ever after with his family. “Family” meaning Mary and John Winchester--two of the shittiest parents ever (but they’re not going to include them in this episode like they were supposed to because of Covid) and Sam.

Sam also gets a dog. As usual.

I wouldn’t put it past Supernatural to do this. After everything they’ve pulled, this would be right up their alley. I actually expect this ending.

Anyway, onto the next possible ending

ENDING SPECTACULARLY

In this scenario, Supernatural tries to stick the landing, and Jensen’s whole “It didn’t sit well with me at first, but then I took a step back after talking to Kripke, and realized that I had to view it from an audience perspective, I am now really excited about it” (DC Con 2019) anecdote about his thoughts on the final episodes, were actually about Dean potentially ending up with Cas. (Which would totally make sense because Jensen at first didn’t see Dean as anything but hetero, but as of late, he has been throwing in Destiel jokes of his own, so he seems to have warmed up to the idea)

Backed with Misha’s tidbit (DLConline 2020) that he and Jensen had conversations about Destiel, and that they wouldn’t have gone through with it if Jensen wasn’t onboard with it, but Jensen didn’t push back at all. (Why would they need to check with Jensen if it was just Cas going all in?)

Robert Berens (writer of 15x18) also wrote the script at the beginning of Season 15, but made Misha privy to the concept a year prior (Season 14), so they went into this season knowing about Destiel going canon.

This one’s a reach, but this scenario also supposes that Misha was lying about his whereabouts during the filming of the final episode, and him saying that 15x18 was his last episode is part of the diversion to avoid taking away from the weight of Castiel’s death.

And that Supernatural is actually self-aware of its own material (similar to how they have wrapped things up in the past—lots of expository dialogue, poor execution, but fulfills the story arc)

Since Season 15 is basically a Meta Season (Chuck/God as a writer, pretentiously calling out how he created the worlds, its characters, and basically invalidating the past 14 seasons), and 15x19 is supposedly the finale for Season 15, written by two of the worst Supernatural writers, Brad Buckner and Eugenie Ross-Leming (Bob Singer’s wife), then we can assume that 15x19 is where the shitty writers kill themselves--as Chuck, of course.

So we get a badly written episode that produces a bad ending, or as Becky put it, “All action, and no Cas”

So we get the bad writers season ending at 15x19.

And 15x20 is where Sam and Dean write their own stories, and where the cast had a hand in pitching ideas for it.

Dabb has mentioned that 15x20 (Act Two) is a SERIES finale, where they try to resolve the characters’ journeys.

Because as everyone has acknowledged, Supernatural isn’t about the story, it’s about the characters.

So here’s what we can get out of it:

With no more Supernatural beings left to fight, Sam and Dean are in a stalemate. They’ve resigned themselves to fighting to the bitter end, but the “end” has passed, and they’re still standing.

So they try to figure out who they are now, and what they want out of the life they still have.

Sam still wants a normal apple pie life. Before Dean dragged him out of college to go hunting with him, he had a whole life planned out for him. Become a lawyer, settle down with a nice girl, and get a dog. He gave all that up because they had work to do, but now the work is finished, he can finally go back to wanting that for himself again.

Dean finally realizes his self-worth after Cas saves him again. His prayer to Cas in purgatory may have helped him come to terms with his anger, but the whole “you’ve done everything you did for love” speech finally put him in his place, and he learns not to hate himself anymore.

But of course, he cannot fully reconcile with himself if he doesn’t get Cas back, and tell him how he feels.

Because Dean actually wants something for himself this time. Something he knows he can finally have if he can just salvage it.

So maybe this time around, with the help of Jack (off-screen), Dean saves Cas. Grips him tight and raises him from perdition.

They bypass The Empty deal by turning Cas human, and he lives the rest of his days with Dean.

Dean and Cas know they deserve to be saved, and they know that they deserve to be happy.

(Wishful thinking, maybe they kiss a little)

Anyway...

I’m just saying, there’s NO WAY that they’d have Cas go through that whole rushed speech, if they weren’t going to do anything about it later on.

But again, after 10 years of disappointment, I wouldn’t put it past Supernatural to pat themselves on the back and say, “Okay, we sort of gave them what they wanted. We’re good now”

If that’s the case, Supernatural, I’m sorry I wasted my time on you.

Here’s to hoping 🤡

[deppsessed]

Tied and untamed

Pairing: Johnny Depp x Reader

Anonymous requested: Johnny x reader. The reader admits that she’d love to have sex with captain Jack Sparrow while watching a POTC film... 

NSFW. Smut. 18+ only. Proceed with caution! Mentions of roleplaying, cursing, restraints & unprotected sex. 

@kittenlittle24​

We’re sitting on the couch. I’m watching Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl. Johnny has his nose buried in a book and hasn’t moved for the past hour. He’s never sat through one of his films and whenever asked about it, would be adamant that he’d rather be tortured than forced to watch himself. Having him in the room was progress, even if I knew for a fact that his attention was deep in his book and there wasn’t much hope in breaking his concentration.

It was quite a shame, really.  I love watching his films, even if he’ll argue that having the real thing in front of me is better than the sight of him on a screen.

“You know, I’ve always found Jack Sparrow incredibly hot.”

He looks up from the top of his book and frowns at me.  

“You know, I’m sitting right here. Am I not good enough?”

I laugh at him and lean up to kiss his cheek. He always acts as if he’s so offended when I tell him things like that, as if it’s a competition between him and whatever character is on the screen.

“I’m just saying, if he wanted to take me for a ride on the Black Pearl, I’d let him in a heartbeat.”

---

Not a single word had been mentioned about my Jack Sparrow admission since I’d brought it up. Either he’d brushed it off, or was thinking of a way to use it against me. I’m busy finishing brushing my teeth and turning off the faucet tap when I hear him call through from the bedroom.

“Are you done yet?”

I move on through to stand at the door of the ensuite, and have the perfect view of him sitting up in bed shirtless, the covers over his lower half.

“Come on, come over here to Jack.”  

I’d recognise that voice anywhere and can feel the heat of a blush rising into my cheeks. Is this really how he plans on teasing me about it?

“You’re making fun of me for earlier. I knew you would.”

I walk into the room and fold my arms over my chest, standing at the foot of the bed.

“I am not. You told me that you wanted to have a night with Captain Jack Sparrow, this is me indulging you.”

He reaches out to grab ahold of my arm, pulling me down onto the bed so that I land on top of him. I alter my position, so that my legs are on either side of him in a straddling position. “See? Isn’t this much better?”

He leans up, capturing my lips in a feverish kiss, his tongue exploring my mouth with confidence and dominance. He pulls back and scrapes his teeth over my bottom lips harshly.

“I have an idea… Go and see if you can find any shackles.”  

He looks up at me with a grin, his eyes lighting up in unadulterated mischief. It takes me a moment to work out what he means by ‘shackles’, but then I remember the films. He means handcuffs, like in the scene where Jack gives up every ounce of control and lets himself be cuffed to the Black Pearl by Elizabeth. I know for a fact that we don’t own anything of the sort in the house, but come up with a quick improvisation.

“Wait there, just a moment.”

One of his scarves that he always has lying around the room is the perfect quick solution. He’s looking over at me with an adventurous grin as I’m holding it in my hand.  

“Am I tying your hands behind your back, or to the bed posts?”

He licks his lips.

“Mm, now you’re talking… Whatever way you want to take me, love. I’m yours.”

Everything about him is Jack Sparrow right now, from the character voice, to the smirk on his lips, and the glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

“Behind your back.”

I’m not sure where the surge of confidence is coming from, but I’ll take it. Johnny complies by putting his wrists together for me to wrap the scarf around, binding them. I make sure to tie a tight enough knot too that I’m confident he won’t break free from.

“But since I’m all tied up, you’ll need to strip down for me yourself…”

I take no hesitation in lifting my shirt off from my body and tossing it to the floor. I don’t know what’s going through his head or what tricks he has up his sleeves, but it’s exciting and intriguing. I’m pretty sure that Johnny knows it too.

I come to sit on top of him, fully aware of his gaze taking in my body. I can almost see the frustration in him too at the fact he can’t touch. There’s something that feels gratifying in being handed over this much power and trust at once.

I nip at the skin at his neck, sucking on it enough to be certain to leave a red mark and begin to kiss down towards his collarbone, down to his chest and towards his stomach. With every brush of my lips, every groan that I hear rumbling from the back of his throat, each thrust of his hips grinding against me, as if he’s encouraging me further, the confidence grows. As I reach his navel, I contemplate just what my next move is going to be. Will I continue to tease him a little more to push him? Or will I be a little adventurous? I look up at him with a devilish grin.

Johnny has other plans.

I’m not quite sure how he manages to do it, but he somehow manages to flip positions so that I’m beneath him. He’s staring down at me with a triumphant grin. He must have been planning this all along.

“You’ll remember this,” He moves his hips to grind down against me, and leans down into my ear. “As the night that you almost tied up and tamed Jack Sparrow.”

He begins to kiss my neck, his teeth scraping along my skin, sending immediate shivers down my spine.

“Less talking, more action.”

He finds the junction to my neck and shoulders and bites down hard.

“Sparrow.”

I roll my eyes at him. When he’s in character, he’s immersed, it’s as if it takes him over.

“Sparrow.”

It’s as if the name is a source of encouragement to surge him further. He’s pressing his already dangerously hard cock against the inside of my thigh, as if he knows it’s taunting and driving me wild. He’s soaking up every moment of it too.

“God, you’re so hot.”

“Glad you think so.”  

He winks playfully at me and moves his hips so that his cock is brushing through my folds, and gof does it feel amazing. The suspense is toe curling. I need him inside of me.

“Johnny-”

“Jack.” He corrects firmly. “You asked for it, love, remember?”

“You’re driving me crazy.”

I bring my hands up to rest at his back, my fingernails gently digging into his skin, not enough to hurt him, yet.

“Then my plan is working.”

I still don’t know what this ‘plan’ is, but the thought of it is driving me wilder and wilder by the second.

“Fuck me,” I hiss, digging my nails further into his skin and dragging them down his spine. I’m sure of the fact that I hear a little out of character whimper from him.

“All you had to do is ask, savvy?” He grins conceitedly. “How hard? I’m thinking of pounding into you and making you cum until you’re screaming and begging for me to stop.”

Being in control suits him. I’m not even sure if he realises how much of a turn on for me it is, or how much I want to feel him inside of me. It’s starting to become painful just how much I want him.

“God, John, I need you.”

I’m unashamed at the fact I’m practically begging for him to take and bury himself inside of me.

“I should punish and make you wait for bringing up this other man again.”

He wouldn’t date.

Hands still tied behind his back, he moves so that the head of his throbbing cock is pressing against my entrance. Without any warning, he pushes inside in a way that is anything but gentle, and barely gives me a moment to adjust before he’s thrusting and pounding into me.

“Fuck,” I whimper, moving my hands to tangle and pull in his hair. The sounds of skin slapping, moans, and pants start to fill the room. It feels amazing.  I’m completely powerless to him and the hold that he has. He pulls himself out, only to ram himself back in and fuck me even harder than before.

“You feel so good, fuck.” He growls under his breath. “I love you underneath me like this…” Each word is met with another rough thrust. I know that at the rate and speed that he’s going at, the two of us aren’t going to last long, but it also feels so good that I never want the pleasure to end.

His lips are pressing kisses to my breasts, before he takes a nipple between his teeth and tugs hard. I pull on his hair roughly, feeling my walls begin to tighten around him.

“Don’t hold back for me, sweetheart. I want you to cum for me and hear how well I’ve fucked you.”

I’m not sure whether it’s the thrusts or the words of encouragement that pushes me over the edge more. The familiar heat rushes to my stomach, followed by the intense rush of pleasure and the shaking as I spill over him.

“Good girl.” He brings his lips to mine in a passionate kiss. His own thrusts are beginning to slow down and become sloppy, to the point where he can’t keep up with himself. He groans as he reaches his climax too, and spills out deep inside of me.

I lie there for a moment trying to catch my breath and come down from the intense orgasm that I’ve just experienced.

Johnny still has another trick up his sleeve. With a sharp tug of his wrists, he unfastens the tie and shows me his free hands.

“Next time, we’re going to need better restraints.”

He mumbles and rests his hands on my hips.

“My turn.” He pulls out the scarf to it’s full length and grins wickedly at me.  “After giving you such an earth shattering orgasm, I think I’m worthy of watching you ride me.” He slides down from being on top of me and waggles his eyebrow suggestively.

I roll my eyes at him fondly, I’m hardly going to deny him, but can’t resist throwing in a cheeky comment. “Aren’t you supposed to be too old for this?”

He laughs and shakes his head. If anything, I’ve probably just fuelled him for the night even further. “Never.”

[augment-techs]

What Your Favorite Boom! Comics PR Ship Says About You

Jason/Trini: That issue cover with them kissing full on the mouth wearing each others colors has been your screensaver at some point in the recent past. Jason/Kim: You don’t understand why Kim ever fell for Tommy when Jason was right there. Kim/Matt: You still retain some affection for Matt from his GGPR early days and were one of the few people that actually felt bad when he died in Shattered Grid. Also, chances are, you remember that Dear, John Letter episode from the live series and think he’s the guy. Zack/Trini: You believe that the Power Rangers: Pink series is better than anything going on in the current continuity and, truth be told, this is actually pretty healthy as future scenarios with these two go. Trini/Kim: You believe in the inherent eroticism of two powerful young women having the greatest lesbian power dynamic of all time. Billy/Jason: I can’t prove that you have a blog of fanart in different fandoms that revolve around short boys/tall boys or smart kids/jocks, but I can say it is a distinct possibility. Jason/Tommy: You don’t understand why Tommy ever fell for Kim when Jason was right there. Tommy/Kim: You are a sucker for first love stories and cried your fucking eyes out at the beginning of Shattered Grid when they were gonna kiss and Tommy got stabbed in the back. Bulk/Skull: You are a firm believer in Best Friends to Soulmates and The One Person You Can Count On. They didn’t create the Those Two Guys Trope by chance and you see the inherent queerness in their existence. Skull/Candice (aka Zelya of Eltar): You are a closet masochist who knew what you were getting into liking this pairing, and was so pissed when you realized the writer lied about his planned ending with them; one page WAS NOT ENOUGH. Zelya/Kim: Lesbian flirting through nick-names. Enough said. Zack/Trini/Jason: Let’s all be honest, they’re all super queer and needed to be away from home to fully realize just how hot they all are. You’re praying that their getting a sentient alien tiger that they all respect and take care of means that their “moving in” together actually means something. Aisha/Rocky/Adam: You are a firm believer in the Rule of Three and Childhood Friends to Lovers. Rocky/Adam: You aren’t saying there’s anything wrong with how much these two touch or end up in close proximity, but they are totally gay and Adam needs something better than being hit on by an alien that tried to help take over the planet who is at LEAST a hundred years too old for him. Rocky/Matt: You love the jock/himbo aesthetic; if you need proof, please remember that most times they interact? They’re usually sweaty and talking about sports. Aisha/Kim: Same thing as Trini/Kim, except you also have a kink for power imbalance and rookie vs veteran dynamic. Kim/Skull: You loved that one issue in GGPR where Kim was trying to get over Matt and Skull proved to be an absolute gentleman when it counts. Or you possibly carried over your preferences from the original series. Whatever you like to tell yourself. Bulk/Jason: You love when two hot heads with issues who present as Tops are actually a Bottom and Switch with WAY more in common than not. Jason/Lauren Shiba: You are totally okay with two damaged people finding solace in each other on the brink of total destruction. But... *KNOCK KNOCK* FBI, OPEN UP! Jen Scotts/Kim: You have a fetish for brunettes that could stomp you to the ground and radiate pure bisexual icon energy through any situation. Coinless Bulk/Ranger Slayer Kim: You believe in the course of true love being found through trauma and unwilling betrayal and one person in the whole world believing that you deserve forgiveness. Or you just like character growth bringing two people together. Black Sentry Adam/Scorpina: You just love the idea of SOFT! MEN! GETTING! PEGGED! Black Sentry Adam/Coinless Spy Skull: You didn’t want their lives in Drakkon’s palace to be completely devoid of affection. Which is fair. Zordon/Rita: You are a firm believer in the inherent eroticism of two enemies still somehow trusting the other after all they’ve put the other through. Or you have major, major daddy issues. Rita/Zedd: You didn’t see anything problematic about the original series in that Rita basically drugged and date raped a guy to make him tolerable. You also saw no problem in this backfiring on both parties involved after the Z-Wave and hope the comics continue in this vein. Zordon/Zedd (aka Zophram of Eltar): You have shipped Xavier/Magneto at some point in your life. Goldar/Scorpina: You read that one Annual where they basically had a date at the fair and refuse to think of them as heartless monsters ever again. And who could blame you? Grace/Terona: You are a firm believer in the inherent eroticism of mutual trauma turning to romance--on the moon. Billy/Matt: You have a fetish for intellectuals taming and/or fixing hot head alpha males. Zack/Violet: It’s like the Lois-Clark-Superman dynamic, but in reverse. You’re totally okay with nothing happening until the last second. Skull/Billy: You just want good things for these childhood friends turned bully/victim turned hero/admirer. And really, who wouldn’t? Lord Drakkon/Anyone at ALL: *knock knock* FBI, OPEN UP!!

[yrmixedfeelings-blog]

tiny portions

January 31, 2022

· Audio: Tiny Portions

Image: Interior of St. Marks Bath after the closure. 1993. Photo by Ira Tattelman. Via. 

In Motion of Light in Water Sam Delany describes seeing a mass of gay men for the first time. It was in the 1970s on his first visit to the St. Marks bathhouse. He walked into a “gym-size room” drenched in blue light, where he made out 16 rows of beds and about 125 men — “an undulating mass of naked, male bodies, spread wall-to-wall.” What astonished him was something he labored carefully to describe. 

“Let me see if I can explain,” Delany writes. In the fifties the image of homosexuality was one of “solitary perversion. It isolated you.” But “what this experience said was that there was a population — not of individual homosexuals, some of whom now and then encountered — not of hundreds, not of thousands, but rather millions of gay men...” 

Image: St. Marks baths illuminated sign, New York City, c. 1917. Via NY-Historical Society.

He felt a similar fear when the police raided the trucks parked at the docks beside the West Side Highway. The cops might drag a handful into the wagon but what you’d see is what they didn’t catch: hundreds of men fleeing through the cargo and down the street. It was this image of gay masses that produced in Delany a kind of frightened awe, a major difference from the monadic perverts populating the public imaginary.

“Institutions such as subway johns or the trucks, while they accomodated sex, cut it, visibly, into tiny portions. It was like Eighteen Happenings in Six Parts. No one ever got to see its whole.” 

The piece he mentions, Eighteen Happenings, is the 1959 Allan Kaprow performance that “engaged the audience” (in 2022 I might as well be reading an Ikea brochure) by giving them postcard cues that told them how to participate. There were 6 sections with 3 “happenings” that occurred simultaneously. Like a silent rave. Is there a better image of neoliberalism, or whatever nominal hellscape we’re living in, than a silent rave? A dance party without common music, where everybody moves to sound that may or may not be what everybody else hears, and music delivered individually rather than carried by vibration, tactility, interference by other bodies? This is what I hate about substack but I digress.

The deconstructed rave reminds me of Matthew Crawford’s description of working out at the YMCA across from Berkeley High. It was 1979, the weight benches were red sparkly vinyl and the room seemed mostly neglected, save the die-hard dudes loading the squat racks every day. The common music came from a cassette player in the corner and people would either vibe to it or complain, but it was linked to somebody. Decades later Crawford stared at a floating speaker in the ceiling at a university gym wondering who the fuck was in charge. When he asked about the music, the student desk clerk said he “didn’t want to impose his choice on others.” We’re all suffering from the absence of a certain kind of imposition. 

When Delany saw these masses of gay men he felt fused with an overarching whole. “Whether male, female, working or middle class, the first direct sense of political power comes from the apprehension of massed bodies.” 

I can’t stop thinking about Delany’s careful scene because it’s the closest I can get to a description of the present. Except the lubricated seventies are the past and the austere, lonely fifties are right now. 

Images: Top, St. Marks locker room after closure of the baths. 1993. Photo by Ira Tattleman. Bottom, official court order, 1985. Photo by Rene Perez.

I don’t want to acclimate to the loss we’ve suffered since the onset of covid. In pandemic time a totality has been pared down — to individual nuclear units, to a rotating few people, to the actual interior of your house. Even the zoom screen delineates the property lines of the liberal self; we can only rub outer dimensions of identical geometries. In person, interactions are cut up into tiny portions. One-on-one hangouts because risk is low. Everything has become so dyadic, and for me, this means more risky. I want a dyad to be enhanced by its social lubrication. I wanna see you free associate with your object world, and not in a judgmental way, just for the feeling of lubrication. 

I’ve tried to describe the grief I feel from this degree of social loss. The best I’ve done is to say I miss feeling hot in circulation. Or to recall the demonic feeling of walking into a sea of dykes at Ships in the Night, where everybody’s fine and mean. (I was heartened to hear daemonum x mourning in a similar way here.) The only sea I’m seeing right now is a heterosexual one at the university gym, or traffic, which is just a scaled-up zoom room. US social life was stripped down before Covid, and without this virus it would’ve been right for someone to complain about the meagre collective sense on offer. Liberalism’s isolating effects have only been enhanced. Someone recently asked “How are things in your world?” with an air of utter separation. We live in the same town. But we also live in the world and the world is shared. I want connection without property lines, which is not the same as bad boundaries. 

Some of Jack Halberstam’s recent work (on Alvin Baltrop’s photos of the NY piers) is premised on the idea that we don’t live in the same world, or moment, as Sedgwick and Muñoz were living in when they wrote about “worldmaking.” He studies Baltrop’s photos of queer people and “collapsed architectures.” I think queerness and dereliction have always been intertwined. Fucking in abandoned places. Outerspace and post-apocalyptic vistas. Finding the interstices of capital or whatever’s the opposite of spectacle. As long as we live in this version of a world it’s fine for architectures to be collapsed. But I don’t want my social world to resemble this aesthetics of collapse, settling with the drywall dust or razed for a new Costco. So I’m gonna keep remembering what it was like before, resisting the presentist amnesia that the before was where it was at, and knowing that every encounter has the potential be more rich than the circumstances would have it.

-lazz

[americachavez]

did cas really tell dean to kneel before their new god? did that actually happen? i thought him beating the shit out of dean in that alley was the most unrestrainedly horny thing this show had ever done ACTUALLY you know what scratch that new question: top horny moments from the cw's supernatural (2005 - 2020)

getting this ask feels like my sins of the last week have been weighed against the Trials I Have Gone Through since the premier of supernatural on the wb in september of 2005 and I’m not sure if it is a punishment or reward

some notes before we begin:

the ep with dean’s male siren was like, conceptually horny but not actually that horny because the dude was uglie. I’m sorry to this man

all you sam girls out there. I respect you but I do not respect jared padalecki who is JUST tall and has zero sex appeal. but those eps where he’s like, drinking ruby’s blood and then eating her pussy are. you know. I’ll give you that

I am ONLY UP TO SEASON 10 so fair warning this is not comprehensive but the horniness does seem to drop off sharply after the mark of cain is no longer in play lol gotta love a good demon murder tattoo plot

this is easily the most insane thing I’ve ever done, including the destiel manifesto

S1 EP12: the scene where dean gets healed by the faith healer, on his knees with a hand in his hair and looking somewhere between religious ecstasy, brain death and an orgasm. starting this list off great

S1 EP22: azazel possessing john winchester. no I will not explain further if u know u know <3

S3 EP10: dean being taunted by a dream version of himself, this is where we first got the daddy’s blunt little instrument line. still burned in my hippocampus a good 13 years later thank yew

S4 EP1: dean crawling out of his own grave covered in grave dirt. hot. the HANDPRINT. HOT. also tangent but this reveal after the s3 finale was WILD back in 2008 I hollered in my dorm room after canvassing for obama. simpler times man

S4 EP 1: cas’ intro scene. the barn. the shadow wings. the hair??? getting stabbed in the chest by the man you just pulled out of hell. getting aaaallll up in that personal space. his little eyebrow. “you don’t think you deserve to be saved.” OUTRAGEOUSLY FLAMING

S4 EP02: “I dragged you out of hell I can throw you back in.” <<< this angel tops. mark dean down as scared and horny etc

S4 EP16: this ENTIRE EPISODE but specifically the part where dean tortures alastair as some kind of foreplay and then alastair kicks his ass. carved you into a new animal. jesus.

S4 EP16: wait I forgot about the part where cas also gets his ass kicked and looks all....hm. dazed and covered in blood while he’s on his knees and about to die. yeah.

S5 EP4: I mean this entire ep is unfairly horny considering everyone is dying of a zombie plague and hasn’t showered in like, 4 years but if I had to pick one hmmm. the dean/dean interrogation scene with the panty kink yeah I know it’s not original but hm. it happened. also misha collins just being able to convey that CAS IS A FLEXIBLE SLUT with a single roll of his shoulders. who SAYS this man can’t act!!!!!

S5 EP18: the ALLEY SCENE. DEAN DOESN’T FIGHT BACK. CAS HOLDS HIM UP OFF THE GROUND AND THEN THROWS HIM ACROSS THE ALLEY. WHY DID EVERYONE THINK CAS COULDN’T TOP. you all had brainworms.

S5 EP18: when cas locks dean in the panic room to stop him from saying yes to michael and “well cas not for nothing but the last person who looked at me like that I got laid” I hate this show. wait I think the blow me cas line is in this episode too what the fuck were they on here

S6 EP5: the scene where dean gets turned into a vampire. between the old dude who I think calls dean a pretty boy (??) and soulless sam....watching??? no ******* but there were just some absolutely foul energies in that scene and I still do not understand WHAT they were thinking

S6 EP20: cas doing a double smite on two demons by slamming them to the ground and then shoving another demon back in its vessel and then smiting him in the same motion. TOP. ENERGY.

S6 EP22: season 6 is possibly cas’ horniest season because he’s like, going through angel puberty after getting his first boner for dean, but the final cas eps are. whoof. cas eats a bunch of souls and proclaims himself to be a new god in order to handle said boner, and then the season ends with cas telling them to bow down and profess their love to him, their new lord, or he will destroy them. note: the way this is framed makes it look like cas is only staring at dean while he says this, even though sam and bobby are also there. the season ends with dramatic zooms on both cas and dean’s faces respectively. this made me actively regret ditching this show after s5 lol

S8 EP??: literally EVERY SINGLE PURGATORY FLASHBACK. cas dean and benny are all purgatory hot in the “pop 10 cranberry pills and risk the UTI” kind of way but also. dean being the hot girl bottom between two tops who hate each other. I really. whew. I need to go take a shower.

S8 EP17: if I get canceled for including the crypt scene on this list I blame you bud. but dean on his knees begging a brainwashed cas to stop killing him WAS sexy. how many times has dean been on his knees in this list wait there’s another one coming up next jsldjfsldkjf

S9 EP2: abaddon getting dean on his knees (YEAH) and pulling his hair and praising him for always coming when called HELLO???? the only thing that ruins this is dean says “I can’t tell if we’re gonna fight or make out” because this is the CW and they won’t let him say fuck

S9 EP6: ah. this entire episode is Emotionally Horny but the horny horny part is when they’re in the car and dean is telling cas to unbutton his shirt and. watches. I know this was on my destiel manifesto but I need it here too

S9 EP9: cas, covered in blood, slitting another angel’s throat and eating his grace after getting tortured. that shot alone made me understand why this website was so goddamn horny for misha collins for nearly a damn decade

S9 EP11: MARK OF CAIN BABEY. cain watching dean beat up a bunch of demons as an audition for taking on the mark, while crowley also is a fucking voyeur to the whole thing. cain is also a hot silver fox with daddy energies. I said what I said

S9 EP 16: dean getting the first blade. he’s chained to a pillar and being menaced by a foppish dandy who wants to add him to his “collection” (WOW). dean then kills him with the blade and whew. murder is sexy sometimes

S9 EP21: dean being pinned against a wall by abaddon’s power, then using the mark of cain to break her hold, calling the first blade to him psychically and then killing her. god the mark of cain is hot

S9 EP23: dean waking up with the demon eyes NUT

S10 EP2: demon dean beating up that dude with the boring backstory and kicking his ass. really was a go on baby I got your flower moment because I hated that dude and I love demon dean

S10 EP3: demon dean being chained up and taunting sam about how his brother is gone, then hunting sam through the bunker. demon dean in general was VERY fun for me, someone who loves trash

S10 EP9: dean going berserk and killing a bunch of pedophile rapists/child abusers. I’m sorry I know this show is trying to preach morality at me about monsters and unnecessary murder and humanity or whatever but we blew past that like 8 SEASONS AGO. also the mark of cain is sexy

S10 EP14: the rest of this list is really gonna be mark of cain stuff isn’t it look I’m here to have fun. cain and dean’s fight. cain continuously tossing his mane of hair back and taunting dean with the picture of what he’s going to become, who he’s going to kill. dean begging cain to tell him that he can stop, and then ultimately killing him. rip daddy.

S11 EP4: again I have not watched this however. every shot of this episode is PRESTIGE TELEVISION because driving a muscle car is sexy. and especially the shot of dean all beat to hell and begging his car to start and giving her a little kiss from his fingers to her dash. ugh. masculinity.

S12 EP10: the bearded salt-and-pepper daddy look returns, only it’s an angel this time and he’s wearing a vest and shirtsleeves and he swordfights with a hot redheaded lady in a suit and an eyepatch. this show is good sometimes!!! and oh fuck lol I just realized this is the same guy who played krissy’s hot hunter dad in s7 probably the first guy who’s hotter as an angel than a hunter. huh.

S12 EP 11: dean riding larry the mechanical bull to “broomstick cowboy.” I have no idea where this factors into the ep but I have seen. the youtube clip

S13 EP23: from what I can tell s13 is way more emotionally horny than boner horny, although dean burning cas’ body was sexy. but the horniest part was dean saying yes to michael and then michael taking over and saying “thanks for the suit.” we are going to ignore the silliest fight scene in existence as well as the final shot ending on a FREEZE FRAME like a goddamn tiktok

S14: not gonna pick a specific moment because I have not watched yet!!! but michael dean is hot. idk why michael is weirdly hot and I cannot stand any iteration of lucifer on this television programme. it should be the reverse but I’m forever an older sibling stan apparently. someone who is catholic could probably explain this better.

S15 EP13: genevieve padalecki and danneel ackles fight flirting as ruby and anael I CANNOT BELIEVE THEY HELD OUT ON THIS TILL THE LAST SEASON

I know I am missing things but this is already an absolutely incomprehensible screed. I know I’m missing shit from the latter seasons but give me time I’m pacing myself

[shesawriter39049]

|FEVER| M|

Pairing: Namjoon X Reader

About- Namjoon just has a kink for letting you do whatever the hell you want with him...Whether that be putting him in a hot pink suit shirtless! Or, telling him he’s a good boy as he fucks you into oblivion!

OR- Namjoon and yourself hooked up 5 months ago when the boys were in London on Tour, and you were the creative director for there British GQ & Harper’s Bazzar Cover! Now, months later he’s prepping to release his second mixtape “RM vs Rap Monster”. Opting to go a complete 360 from his first release Mono in all realms. So, with that being said BigHit thinks he needs someone with a little more... “umph” Take a wild guess as to who they call...

WC:1.2k (Sneak peek)

WARNINGS: Switch OC (Top & Bottom...but there's no real dom/sub tones here) Service top/power bottom Namjoon, praise kink, Fingering, Unprotected sex(Back shot), come play, dirty talk, light choking, light overstimulation, (This is lowkey a little softer than it sounds) The OC kinda leads this, but Joon isin’t the cliché “sub” he just likes letting her take control.

NOTE- Just my take on the OG cliché Artist X Stylist AU (Though she’s more of a full package, Art Director/Stylist/Photographer ETC) I have tried to add some minor elements to make it a little more realistic. I will say I typically stray from “Idol-verse” just because if we’re being real, the cultural difference alone sometimes stunts my creativity...BUT I just had a little fun with this one...so I hope you all enjoy it. Also, I don’t go into much physical details but in my mind regardless of race, aesthetic wise the OC is a huge contrast to what he’s use to which is part of her appeal. I picture a tatted Barbie of some sorts...

SIDE NOTE: No shade, but shade, I was lowkey inspired to write this bc I have very strong opinions about the creative team at BH....

*** Let me know if you guys want the full thing or not...I kidna flaked on posting because it is such a cliché lol

SONG- FEVER DUA LIPA  FT ANGELE

~~~~~~~

“Well, it’s a yes for me” Eyeing him in this Hot pink-fitted Burliti suit, which you paired with a very sheer black Arnar Mar turtle neck. The minute you saw the piece on the runway you’d been dying to get it on someone with melanated skin, and it just so happens, the boys are fresh off the US leg of their stadium tour! So, lucky for you, baby boy’s been in the sun a lot, and Namjoon’s currently a sinful shade of brown and you're totally here for it…

Then to top it off, the mesh material of the turtle neck creates the perfect silhouette around his offensively toned chest, outlining the muscles sinfully. Eternally snorting at the way the fans are gonna thank and curse you out all at the same damn time once they see the looks you’ve pulled for this man!

And yes, you had your crew bring extended shades of foundation and concealer, because his face and neck will match if your name is going to be attached to these damn photos! 

Head tilted to the side as you silently observe the way he rakes over his reflection in the mirror, it’s a sixth sense you’ve acquired as a stylist at this point. Half of your job is essentially being a hype man/self love coach, real shit, a lot of these artist aren't always as...confident as one may think!

And just like clockwork Namjoon runs his palm down his thighs, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles on his pants for the umpteenth time in the span of oh I don’t know 30 seconds? Which in turn prompts you to say….

“You look good Joonie...” Musing over your second glass of Don, the compliment was genuine, tone warm, soothing even, not a hint flirtation insight because that wasn’t your motive. You weren’t trying to get him flustered you’re just trying to gas him up a little, you wanted to see Namjoon get alittle cocky and feel himself!

Ears perking up like an overgrown puppy, head whipping in your direction “Yeah?” The way this man’s eyes just lit up like the soul skyline. I just-goddamn, an almost bashful smile toys on those plush lips of his, and you can’t help the way your chest flutters with nothing but fondness.

“So fuckin cute” Flutters off your lips, as you hide a smile of your own behind a half empty whine glass. The delivery was so faint it almost go lost in the background music floating through the air. However the slight flush hitting his cheeks let you know Namjoon heard you whether he wanted to admit it or not!

”Mmmhmm, the color looks fuckin insane against your skin, not to mention, the way everything's going to pop once we tone your hair a little! “ Eyes drinking him in from head to toe, though there was nothing suggestive playing within your iris. Very much aware of time and place and right now your genuinely looking respectfully! Seeing if any alterations are needed, making sure you like where everything sits along his frame. Making notes in your phone of places you want to pin and adjust later...snapping a couple shots here and there. 

Licking his lips anxiously as he plays with the lapels on the blazer “But like-I mean-I- dont’-It doesn’t look like I’m... trying too hard or anything?” Brows furrowed in the center of his face, jaw tight, wincing slightly at his own words, almost as if he was afraid of your response. The vulnerability within his delivery was more than evident, and no matter how common this is with artist, it’s still just as devastating! Regardless of how much he tried to play it off as if he was just making casual conversation, you can see how blatantly uncomfortable he is . Gazing back at you wide eyed, and uncannily exposed, pointing at the outfit in question. Licking his lips anxiously as he plays with the the blazer, switching posses subtlety trying to get a better feel for the suit.  

You stayed silent for a minute, taking the time to actually process before speaking which is rare, not gonna lie. Gaze piercing as you hop off the bed, wine, and accessories in hand, swaying closer. “It’s fashion”. The baited pause almost implied that’s all you had to say, as if one-word was self-sufficient, and in your mind it was...but you knew better than to just leave it at that.

“Art at its finest Mr. Kim” You smile something a little devious, and he flushes even deeper as you slowly start to invade his space eyes locked with him meaningfully. You can physically see the shift, the closer you get, Namjoon starts fidgeting slightly under your gaze but he doesn't back down.

“It gives you room to play, create...it’s something that let’s us connect to people without saying a damn thing.” Suddenly the hand that wasn’t holding your alcohol has become a prop, flailing around haphazardly as you spoke, pointing at the various pieces hanging on clothes racks in your suite! The penthouse has essentially been transformed into your own personal walk in closet for the next 5 or so days! “It’s a statement. A opportunity to tap into a side of yourself that maybe you can’t always verbally articulate to the world around you! More importantly, it’s supposed to be fun, it’s literally something that can be removed within seconds! I mean we all have to wear clothes so why not just enjoy it?”  Head cocked to the side as you appraise him, brow quirked, eyes warm, yet there's a clear challenge playing within your gaze.

Namjoon’s watching you intently, almost as if he’s taking mental notes as you speak...the heaviness within those dangerously honed eyes of his could almost be unsettling to some, but you quite like it. Made you feel as though he actually gives a flying fuck about what you’re saying.

“In my opinion the only time it looks like someone’s “Trying too hard” Making little air bunnies with your spare hand “Is if they look uncomfortable in what they’re wearing, confidence is key, and I know you know that better than anyone RM!” You muse batting your lashes in Namjoon’s direction, and he dimples back at you, eyes sinking into tiny crescents, face rivaling the color of his suit, trying to hide said smile behind his own glass of champagne.  

“I could put you in a damn clown suit...” Words trailing off your tongue lackadaisically as you grow distracted searching the bar for a specific chain from John Hardy. “Which” Focus snapping back in his direction making the later splutter a little “Would be fire as fuck if I did by the way, but-”  Namjoon ended up cackling midsentence, almost choking on his drink in the process, fist pounding against his sternum.

Yeah..killing the leader of Bangtan wasn’t really high on your list tonight....

“Ayee, none of that shit...” Smacking him in the back a little more so just to be an ass because he wasn’t even choking anymore “Don’t die on me until we at least get this damn photoshoot done, I had to cancel my trip to Jamaica for this shit!”

Now he’s damn near choking and his laugh was contagious, it’s just.. loud, carefree so yes, your cackling, and there's nothing cute about it. But you honestly don’t care, you let yourself get lost in it! Finally able to feel the atmosphere in the room start to shift to something a little less scripted and a little more organic...

Throwing his hands in the air as If he’s waving a nonexistent white flag “I’m sorry, noona” There’s a pout playing in his lips, not exactly aegyo per say, but it’s fuckin adorable “Blame PD-nim, it’s his fault we had to do this so last minute” Wheezes from his throat, in the form of a slight whine, almost rivaling Jimin if I’m honest.

You already know he was laughing more so due to your delivery, specifically, your casual use of profanity over anything else. This is actually something you use to be self-conscious about, especially at your first shoot with the boys, at the shoot for GQ . Well aware it wasn’t as common in Asia for people especially women to use “fuck” like a comma. So you were hoping they wouldn’t be offended, or uncomfortable by your dialect, and, thankfully they didn’t seem to mind. Much like Joonie over here, they found it entertaining over anything.

“Yeah, a huh, sureee...” Eyes rolling to the back of your head playfully as you start lightly altering the suit in question with clips and pens. “Stay still babe” The pet name slipped off your tongue effortlessly, honestly, that's what you call most people in your life. However you were far too focused to notice how wide eyed and flustered the man before you became upon hearing it directed at him so casually.

A faint little “Sorry” muses off his lips as he gnaws on his inner cheek, trying to stay still as you ghetto-rig hems into place until you can get this under your sewing needle.

“ No, but real shit…” You sigh, taking on a slightly more serious tone “If you step in front of that camera like you own the bitch, regardless of what your wearing..., then they can’t tell you shit! If your comfortable there’s no such thing as trying too hard” You shrug nonchalantly like that was the simplest concept known to man, downing the rest of your drink “Alright, that’s all, thanks for coming to my Ted talk” Waving him off as if you’re about to leave the room and he pouted playfully, jokingly begging you not to leave him yet...it felt good to be able to banter like this. The shift continuous shift within the atmosphere was more than welcomed…

Hesitantly you watch his eyes find their way back to the full length mirror, which promptly smacks you back to reality!

Unfortunately you didn't fly all the way to Seoul just to drink,  and shoot shit with Namjoon for hours on end,  your actually here to work…

Sooo...

“Alright” Placing your arms on his shoulders, giving him a reassuring squeeze as you peer over his shoulder. Meeting his gaze through the glass, chin resting gently against the blade. “Back to the reason you came Mr. “I’m sooo anxiously” Shooting him a teasing little smirk in the process “The suit, yay or nay”

So, here’s the thing technically the official fitting is tomorrow, and as far as his team knows he’s in the studio with Yoongi and Hoseok finishing up a song!

Which of course raises the question as to why he’s here..alone..mind you..no staff or security in site.

Just Kim Namjoon and yourself.....

~~~~

Heyyyy, Lemme know if you guys want this or not, it will leave kinda open ended because it was supposed to kinda be a 3 part mini series initially. Part 1 ends the morning of the shoot, the full thing is set to be around 6/7k! Spoiler, the company is going to want to keep her around for more than just Namjoon’s solo project....

Also, YES...I did see that they actually put Tae in that Burliti suit (I wrote this long before that shoot was released)...I actually hated the way it was styled it though...I never thought I’d say this but MGK’s team did a better job than BH....

[angelisverba]

come out, come out wherever you are

in which y/n agrees to do something really stupid, and harry is a bit of a shit

word count: 5k

pairing: vampire!h and y/n (different au from my other vamp!h fics, though)

warnings: drug use, mentions of drinking and alcohol, mentions of blood (duh, he’s a vampire). 

author’s note: okay so i know that i put vampire!h in the pairing, but this h is a wierd succubus x demon x vampire mix where he can feed off the emotions he wants to?? i’ll explain it in the story. enjoy your reading :)

She shouldn’t have agreed to play hide and seek in a cornfield.

At night.

During a full moon. 

On Halloween.

Y/n’s logic always disappeared when she was… under the influence. Whether that be with alcohol or other sorts of… fun substances. That was not to say that she was an alcoholic, or a drug addict, she just… hated to be a party popper. When her roommate invited her to college parties, she didn’t say no to the red solo cup because she knew that some way or another, she would end up giving in by the end of the night. Or when it was just her and her closest friends passing around  a freshly rolled joint, she didn’t say no because she didn’t want to be the odd one out.

Plus, it didn’t hurt that she enjoyed it… most of the time. 

This? This was not one of those times.

*    *    *    *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

Josephine, her roommate, had barged into her room with a smile over her lips as the brightness of her phone lit up her face from the bottom up, casting spooky shadows since y/n’s room was dark and she was falling asleep. 

“Y/n, look!” She said, turning the phone so beams that felt like they came from hell illuminated y/n’s pinched face, marks from her pillow decorating the place above her lip. She mumbled something, and Josephine kept speaking, “Travis just sent me an invitation to one of the frat’s Halloween parties! Come with me, it’s gonna be so much fun!”

And to get her to leave her room, she agreed. She must have, because the next morning as she was getting ready for her 10 a.m. literature class, she was bombarded with a series of costume ideas and questions about what was considered cheesy or overdone. Josephine had made it clear that it was okay that they didn’t match, especially because of their differences in clothing choices. Jo was more risqué, and y/n liked to dress in what she felt comfortable in. 

It didn’t take her a long time to figure out what she was going to go as for Halloween. That same morning, just before she walked into class, y/n stopped to stare at a framed art print in the hallway. 

La Belle Dame sans Merci by John Keats was a poem that she knew by heart, and the painting was one that she could get lost in for hours. Stopping to stare at it before walking into class was not an unusual occurrence for her, but that time an idea came to her, almost like it was written in the long locks of her red hair. 

Y/n would go as a Victorian princess. The dresses had always fascinated her, with the intricate lace details and elegant rippled of muslin fabric that flounced in a puff around the hips of Countess, or trailed behind the average cottage girl as she frolicked in fields full of daisies. She could picture it in her mind, and it made her giddy to know that there was a possibility she could look as pretty as one of the poet’s muses. She spent the entirety of the class switching from writing notes to browsing the five pages worth of gowns on Amazon, looking for something pretty yet within her price range. 

By the end of the period she’d had what she wanted in her cart. A baby-blue wisp of a dress with intricate lace detailing at the neckline that curved like the top-hald of a heart to cup her breasts. The sleeves bunched around her arms mid-bicep, and scrunched again around her wrists, the transparent fabric looking as if her arms were wrapped in the sky. Built in ribbing created a corset that added an extra curve to her waist to make way for the heaps of fabric that exploded from her hips and cascaded down to the floor like the foaming spray of a waterfall. 

It fit like a dream. When it arrived a few days before the party she dropped everything she was doing to try it on. The moment Josephine patted her shoulder to tell her that she was finished zipping up the back, y/n twirled around in the limited space of their dorm room to see herself in the narrow mirror at the end of her bed. 

Every penny she had spent on it was worth it. Sure, it was snug around the bust and refrained her lungs from expanding the extra millimeter they needed, but it made her feel… nice. Pretty. She liked the way it cinched her waist, how her wrists looked dainty covered in the lacy ends of the sleeves, and the way her breasts looked… accentuated by the frilly detail. 

Jo had squealed once she had a full look at her friend, and wouldn’t stop talking about how good they were going to look walking in together. She was going as Cat-Woman, complete with the latex suit, boots, mask, and all. She looked every bit as fantastic as y/n, only on opposite ends of the Halloween costume spectrum. 

Building up to the day of the party, the pair talked make-up and hair details, both of which Josephine would be taking care of because she was better at them. At one point, y/n thinks she even dreamt about making a grand-entrance, boys and girls gawking at how amazing she looked, and the most handsome guy stepping forth to profess his undying love for her. 

Which wasn't really how it went the night of, but she attained the same satisfaction. 

The party was located a little ways away from the city, at a plantation-style frat house in-front of a huge cornfield. Carved pumpkins with candles illuminating them from the inside out lined the pathway up to the front-doors, the trees nearby created crunchy pathways of orange and yellow leaves, and the moon was out; yawning tiredly, but glowing an eerie yellow color over the scene. 

It looked like the opening scene of a horror film. 

Y/n did receive a lot of stares, though. Most of them were from guys whose beady little eyes pointed straight to her chest, and the ones she got from girls were on the nastier side of envy. She could tell. But, oddly enough, she liked the attention. 

Josephine y/n’s hand and led her through the mass of costumed-bodies. There was a variety of ‘sexy’ professions (the usual: nurses, cops, cowgirls, and school girls) and those that come from fandoms (Hogwarts’s students, Eleven from Stranger Things, Mia Wallace from Pulp Fiction, multiple heroes from the Avengers) or those that came for shits and giggles (T-rex blow-up costumes with tiny hands, Joe Exotic, sumo-wrestlers, those things that sway outside car-dealerships, and even a Trojan condom packet). There was a lot to see, and honestly, it was beginning to overwhelm y/n.

Not only was it slightly disorienting to see everyone disguised, the interior itself was something to look at. Chandeliers and velvet sofas, gold lamps and fancy carpets and curtains. The epitome of privilege. She felt trampled, every once a while there was a tug on the ends of her dress. 

“How about a shot to start off the night, y/n?” Josephine asked her, hooking a latex coated arm around hers. The music was a rumble on the backs of their heads, shaking them through and through as some nameless rapper sang of drugs, sex, and money. What it always came down to. 

She agreed, and took the plastic shot cup. On normal nights, she would’ve usually required some type of coaxing, but not then. Y/n was almost looking for the hangover the next morning. She wanted fun. 

Three shots later and her fingers were dragging in front of her face. Her knees were wobbly and cheeks tinged with spirits. Everything was funny and if you asked her what two plus two was she’d tell you five. There was a new swagger in her step, and some might say that was the influenced hand-eye coordination, but to her it was newfound confidence. She felt good, she looked good, and she was having a damn good time. Laughing, making the best conversation she’d ever made, and when Jo suggested they go dance, she danced the best she’d ever had.

And sure, she was drunk out of her mind. A light weight. Everything was under a glamourized rose filter. It only made sense that the crowd parted like the Red Sea at God’s feet. 

Y/n’s lungs stopped working the moment her eyes locked with his. 

He was her counterpart. Literally. 

Dressed in a navy blue Victorian prince’s suit decked in gold trim and gold medals pinned to the breast. The tan pants that hugged his muscular thighs like they were made just for him, and his hair was slicked back. Jaw a sharp, smug line that worked as he popped a piece of pink bubblegum between his molars. A gleam of appreciation sparking in the forest of his eyes as they raked a path on her figure.  

It was like the work around them stopped, put on pause by some higher power so they could relish the moment of their discovery. What was that shit called? Divine Intervention? The millisecond before and after and between the time Eve’s teeth sunk into the taught skin of that forbidden red apple, and the snake’s tongue slithered out to see her. He was a stranger to y/n, but it seemed as if the feeling he stirred deep in the core of her being was one she’d always known, one from a past life. Besides her, Jo stopped doing whatever lucrative dance she was doing to see what had caught her friend’s attention. Y/n stood, tongue dry, feet glued to the ground as the handsome stranger approached her, a clear path in front of him. 

Then, he takes one step  forward and whatever conversation he had been involved with before was no longer of importance. Besides her, Jo stopped doing whatever lucrative dance she was doing to see what had caught her friend’s attention. Y/n stood, tongue dry, feet glued to the ground as the handsome stranger approached her, a clear path in front of him. 

“Oh,” Jo huffed in her ear, “he’s hot.”

“I-Is he?...” Y/n’s question died on her tongue.

“Coming right for you, girl. Good luck,” Jo pressed a kiss to her cheek and disappeared in the crowd. 

The stranger stops closer than she would have thought him to; a finger away from her nose, and when he spoke, she could feel the vibrations of his speech through her breasts where they nearly grazed his chest. 

“I don’t believe we’ve ever met before... princess?” His voice is deep, raspy and filled with grooves like the bark on a tree. He mocks a bow (given their costumes) and their nose touch before he straightens again. Up close, y/n can see the flecks of gold in his eyes, and she hopes her mouth doesn’t stink (it probably does, given the alcohol she’d had). A chilled palm grips her bicep, and the fabric of her sleeve sinks under his touch, “Would you like to get off this shitty dance floor and speak somewhere else?” He asks her. 

Her heart is pounding and she wonders if he can hear it because she certainly can, rushing in a taunting, roaring stream past her eardrums. Y/n nodded her agreement; yes, she did want to speak with him. A thrum of warmth comes from where he holds her, and he tugs her so that she’s standing in front of him, her back touching his chest as he pushes her through the crowd. 

Her fingers shake as she lifts the fabric of her dress to avoid tripping, and her saliva goes thick. Not because of what might happen, but because the man who ripped her bicep tenderly, like she was made of the most fragile china, was the most good-looking man she had ever seen. Her mind ran images of things to compare him to, and almost all of them were of the Greek statues put up in museums for all to admire. 

He leads her past the crowd and the kitchen where everyone was making drinks, past the wrap around stairs on the inside of the house, and even past the calmer sitting areas where couples were making out or groups of friends passed a smoking joint. He leads her right through the open back doors of the house so they faced the seemingly endless cornfield and the barn that was a speck behind it. The deck was less populated than the couches where kids smoked weed, but y/n guessed that it wasn’t to his liking because instead of turning off to the side so they could have a much less strained… conversation, he continued to walk- this time standing beside her instead of behind her. 

Grass crunched under their feet as they got closer to the stalks of corn. Confused, y/n spared a glance to what she was leaving, and then to him. He stared straight ahead, but she caught his eyes flickering in her direction, and a smirk quirking cockily on his lips before they returned to the yawning face of the moon. 

There was a short wooden fence separating the house from the cornfield that reached her hip, and he stopped there. 

“Finally,” he sighed, “Some peace and quiet.” He makes a gesture to the fence, and pops his gum. 

Dizzied, the tequila still in her head, she watches his tongue gather the gum back into his mouth, his lips shining with his own spit. Y/n doesn’t register that the movement towards the fence was his way of telling her to take a seat on the wooden bars. 

“C’mere,” he murmured. Placing his hands on her waist, he lifted her up so she could sit on the wooden fence, and her hands went to his wrists instinctively, trying to keep herself steady. 

Suddenly out of breath, her eyes shot straight up to his. There’s no way he can’t hear my heart right now, she thinks. He’s so close to her, his breath on her face. He smelled like pink bubblegum, cologne, and a liquor much more sophisticated than what she had to drink. His eyes held the same spell that she felt she was under. 

“What’s your name?” He asked, his hands still on her waist. He didn’t look like he was in a rush to step away from her, and that was okay because she didn’t want him to. 

“Y/n,” she whispered. It was physically impossible to raise her voice any louder. The stupid corset was making it harder for her to breathe, along with the added pressure of being in his presence. “You?”

“Prince Harry, at your service,” he smiled then, and y/n got a glimpse of shockingly sharp canines. They had to be fake. Longer than most in length, and she swore she saw one of those cartoonish-diamond glitter at the knife-like tips of his teeth. 

She pointed to his mouth and said, “Are you a vampire prince?”

He looked at her strangely, his brows furrowing and his tongue running along the inside of his cheeks. Then, he laughed. “Something like that.” 

“I-” She was gonna say something along the lines of ‘I think you’re a very good looking vampire prince’ until he cut her off.

“How about we play a game?” One of his hands lifted from her waist, and she let go to steady herself by grabbing onto the plant. Y/n hoped that her dress wasn’t getting dirty, but the moment that Harry brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear it flew out the window. 

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she leaned into his touch like a purring kitten. She blamed her blatant carelessness on the alcohol. “A game?”

“Yes, y/n. A game,” he muttered, watching the way her eyes twitched under her eyelids. 

“Which game?” Her eyes fluttered open again, and her breasts pushed against the corset as she took a deep breath, “I thought you wanted to talk?”

“Oh,”he glanced down, to her lips and for half a second, to the repressed mounds of her tits,  “I promise the conversation is going to be much more interesting after a game of hide and seek.” 

“Where would we even play t-that?”

“Right,” he pinched her chin with two fingers so that her lips smushed together, and gently tilted her head towards the field of corn. “There.” 

That’s how she found herself, running for her life in the middle of a corn maze, at night, on Halloween. 

What had started off as her giggling and running had soon into a panting, scared-shit-less run for no reason. Maybe it was because she just couldn’t get Harry off of her tail, or maybe it was that she was running with no direction into a cornfield she was sure was lost in. Maybe it was a combination of all those things. 

Harry yelled, “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” and it only made her want to cry. 

It was strange, really. Y/n didn’t know where this fear was coming from, it started out with them actually having fun, the tips of his fingers tugging at the fabric of the skirt before he let her run a bit, calling out how he was going to get her, how he was gonna catch the princess and she was giggling, turning to see him disappear when she turned. 

Then he went quiet. The footsteps stopped. And his tone of voice dropped to something much more… sinister. 

“Come out, little one,” he said, a clear whisper poured directly into her ear. 

Y/n turned, and she felt him getting closer so she tried to run faster. But she was getting so, so tired, and it felt like she couldn’t get any air into her lungs. All she knew then was the moon, with her tired face, and the intimidating, tall stalks of corn. 

Harry supposes that he’s doing her a favor. A lot of people wish they could run through a field wearing a dress like the one y/n has on. He was a bit of a shit, sure, setting her up for failure given he had abilities that she did not possess, but, he knew just as he knew the sky is blue- that she liked and wanted to walk into the corn field. Now, it wasn’t because Harry happens to be really good at reading people, no.

As an empath- one of the terms in the fine print of the being he was- he was able to connect into the funnel between her veins, the curved out thrum of what she was feeling. The witches he knew compared it to reading an aura, but it was much more than that. There was no need for interpretation of colors because it was like he was her, feeling what she was feeling. And she liked it.

Up until, of course, he switched up his game. 

After a few minutes of running around and playing with her like she was a mouse, Harry decided that he wanted to scare her. He wanted to give her a taste of himself. He wanted her to be scared- to not like him. Because he was something that shouldn’t be liked. It was a sick thing, really, that he happened to be so good looking when he was a literal monster. Harry fucking drank human blood. He wasn’t something that should be thought of as Greek statues. 

The part of him that remained human throughout the years felt bad for doing this to her. But, he had to. It made him feel better when he sunk his teeth into a victim’s skin. Almost like… he’d warned them, and it was their fault that they hadn’t taken the signal.

A scarecrow loomed overhead, and her lungs were running out of air, so he decided to go ahead and make his final jump on her. 

When y/n broke through the final turn to reach the very small clearing in the center of the field where a scarecrow stood in between a few bales of hay, she felt his breath at the back of her throat, and her knees buckled. 

She’d never really been much a screamer during a jump scare. Instead, she sucked her breath in, really loud and sudden, and because she was having such a hard time breathing, that instinctually breath caused black dots to litter her vision and suddenly those weak knees contributed to a faint. 

Harry caught her, and picked her up, huffing a small laugh to himself as he laid her across the piles of hay. 

She really was a sight to see. Flushed, hair a mess from all her running. Her lips were dewy and her waterline was agitated, he could see the moisture in the place where her eyelashes sprouted. 

With a few pats to the cheek, her eyes fluttered open, he was still hovering over her. Harry did not make a move to scoot back. 

“You’re awake, princess,” he said, smirking.

Y/n blinked, her eyes wide, and… gasped when Harry pressed a kiss to her cheek. His lips were cool against her heated cheek, and the curved ends of his slicked back hair tickled her chin. 

“You chased me,” she gulped, “for a long time.”

“Yes, I did. And you liked it. Didn’t you, little one?” He allowed the tip of his nose to follow the line of her jaw, testing the waters. She liked it, he could feel the shudders it sent to her heart in his bones. 

“I did.” Her eyes furrowed at her own admission. Why was she being so carefree? Why was she allowing herself to continue to stay in this cornfield? What was stopping her from questioning further what the fuck was going on? Her attraction, and his implied interest, that’s what.

Harry’s tongue slipped out of his mouth, and licked at her jaw before he placed another kiss to it, “Good. What do you say we have some more fun?” “What kind of fun?” Her head titled, and he was given direct access to what he wanted. Her neck. The column of her throat was pulsing with the beat of her heart, and the veins he could almost taste criss-crossed beneath her skin. 

“Fun is fun, pet. But if you must know, the kind of fun I’m talking about involves a lot of mouth to mouth,” He moved so his face was directly in front of hers again, and his palm gripped her waist beneath him. Unconscioslu, her legs parted and Harry had more space to slide both of his thighs between hers, one of his knees resting on the bales of hay she rested on. 

Y/n was no longer worried about the state of her dress, but rather, where his mouth would land, and where she would put her hands. Her eyes bounced between his, but they struggled to remain still under his intense hold. “O-okay. I’d like that.” 

“The prettiest princess I’ve ever seen,” he mumbled into the hollow underneath her jaw. And it was true. He’d seen a lot of royalty all throughout his wretched life, and none of them had been as pretty as she was. He felt a shiver of arousal go through her at the same time the air came fresh into his lungs, and it felt like he was going to explode from the inside out. 

“I think you’re the most handsome prince I’ve ever seen.” 

Y/n wanted to slap a hand over her mouth the moment those words left her lips, but Harry only chuckled and the vibrations felt heavenly against her skin. 

“You've been seeing other princes’, little one?” Harry teased, his mouth tracing their words against her lips. He pressed forward and kissed her; just a peck, testing. Again, she liked it. 

“No, just you,” she shivered. Her words were coming out in pants now. The fabri of her dress was too thick and too abundant to allow for any frisky actions, but his mouth was enough. One of his fingers was running over the tops of her breasts. Her mouth opened, she wanted more. Harry tasted of pink bubble gum. She wondered where it went. 

He chuckled and kissed her once more. “Then how do you know you know I’m the most handsome?” 

“I just do,” she said, arching into his touch. His finger was hooking into her sleeve, and he let it snap into her skin. 

“You do?” He licked her bottom hip, and she whined. This game, whatever it was, she wanted it to be over. It was too much for her to handle. 

“Yeah,” y/n said in a dreamy, far-off voice. “I mean, yes. Yes.”

Harry relished in what she felt, and soon enough, his cock twitched in his trousers. He never let himself become… involved in his meals emotions, but it was different with her. She was tender, and sweet. Willing and not a nuisance that he drowned out before biting. 

“Am I handsome enough... for you to let me bite you?” And that was another thing. 

Harry never asked for permission. Y/n was drunk enough that she’d wake up the next morning and think that he was just some kinky dude who’d left a sick hickey on her throat, as all of his ‘victims’ were, but still. Harry had asked for permission. 

“Bite me?” She was confused, head fuzzy with the same feeling that was heating in her groin. The lacy knickers she wore were probably soaked through. The bale on her bum was beginning to hurt. 

“Yes, princess. Bite, right,” he licked a stripe right where her pulse was the strongest to accentuate his intentions. “Here.”

“Okay, Harry.” 

He was handsome. And she was horny (with a mix of other things), she didn’t see a reason to say no. 

“Thank you, pet.” 

It was the same as it always was. Harry nuzzled into the spot, sniffing like a dog meeting a new friend, and with no preamble, he bit into her. The tips of his teeth pierced her flesh, and he allowed them to retract once the blood started to flow. When the first drop touched his tongue, he groaned. She was good, one of the best he’d ever had, and the heady flavor was just as sweet as she was. He was so caught up in his own satisfaction that he didn’t notice the moment her hands bunched the fabric of his suit from the late 1700s into fists, or her body going tense before he slowly relaxed, her heartbeat an irregular mix as she decided whether or not she should be panicking. 

But, he knew that she continued to enjoy what she was doing. 

“H-harry, I-”  She went limp in his arms, and the small squeak that left her mouth was the mermaid’s song that enchanted Harry. 

He knew this wouldn’t be the last time he’d see her again. 

*     *      *    *    *   *   *   *    *   *   *    *   *    *   *

hi! happy halloween babies! or better yet, happy harryween! i hope you enjoyed this peice, it was for sure out of my comfort zone and something new for me. if you haven’t yet, please check out my fanfic on wattpad in which harry owns a more aesthetic version of playboy mag. you can read it here.

[justformyself2]

Rainstorm

Yep. I'm a grown adult, but i feel like i need to tell you not to tell my mom. That is all I'm going to say.

WARNING: +18 READING. Probably some grammar mistakes ♥

John Krasinski x Reader.

Masterlist for more

You remain in the same position, missing countings of having to re-read the same phrase at the top of the page. He is watching you, and it burns, mostly because you were about to give in and were, still, putting up a stupid fight against yourself.

He wasn't playing your games anymore. There was another field being stepped on, other than the childish silent treatment phase, followed by the disgraceful conversation.

You disguised yourself in doing other 'chores' instead of enjoying every little bit of time left with him before LA could come in between and settle you two into the silent treatment for good.

John gets up from behind the desk on the other side of the room, where he stayed most of the time, where you had caught him ignoring his laptop more than once to look at you. He simply marks while making you catch on fire.

So that was the subtle game he was playing, testing you, bending you like a fragile stick, not even using much strength.

Him putting on that black tank top, generous with the view of his new figure, a result of intense hours of training for another movie. It wasn't as if you didn't like him either way, but the combo of letting the beard grow gave him a darker tone you weren't expecting to enjoy.

Another thing you wouldn't expect is his anterior baby boy face to try to get you back with sex, but this new him you didn't know, you only assumed, because that's what you wanted him to do, putting out the dripping agony between your legs.

He could have, probably or definitely, observed the way you clenched early this morning when he got back after jogging, dripping in sweat, taking his shirt off, entering the kitchen, a place supposed to be a neutral zone. 'Unintentionally.' he pressed his body against your back when reaching for a green juice on the fridge while you were trying to grab the chicken breast.

His fingers cupped your waist, and the warmth stayed there. The tingling, his back, and every little patch of skin walking away from the kitchen trapped into your mind. How did he get so many muscles?

With each and every little innocent touch, every other time you were sleeping on the only bed left on that chalé you rented, far away from the mess of New York City, and he would press his hardness against your bottom, became harder to redeem your choice of staying mad, and remembering to stay that way.

He should have known better than siding with your mom against you, especially in intimate conversations, but every now and then he got carried away by your mother's ways, inviting and manipulative.

Talking about inviting and manipulative, you watch John changing his route towards the bed where you were and walking towards the window on the right.

"Shit, it is going to pour out here."

You could curse.

Deciding the actually leave the book and getting up, you seek shelter from leaving the environment when a loud thunder strikes and the lights go out, stopping you in the hallway towards the small living room, shared with the kitchen.

The fragile moonlight coming through the windows was enough to, at least, guide you two close them when the wind started to get intense.

"Maybe I go should check the fuses?"

You didn't think he was serious, and he didn't seem to be when another violent thunder struck.

Was he checking if you still cared about him enough not to send him outside to get hit by lightning?

He closes the last window in the living room part.

"Are you insane?"

There is still a little bit more annoyance in your voice than you wanted.

The kitchen curtains start to be lifted like they are electrified, making you, in a stupid, impulsive way, run towards them and ignore the existence of the step up to the kitchen part.

Your knees hit the edge floor, as also did the palm of your hands, absorbing the fall.

"FUCK!"

"Baby, what happened?"

"WHO THE FUCK PUT THIS FUCKING STEP HERE?"

"Fuck, I can't see a damn thing. Where the fuck did I put my phone?"

"Why do you need a phone?"

"For the flashlight."

"I'm five steps away from you, seriously."

You sit to start rubbing on your knees in a tentative to ease the pain.

"What if I trip on you." You hear his voice coming closer.

"I'll kill you, but I'm fine. I just need a minute." Another thunder strikes lighting up the room, and he spots you for a couple of seconds.

"Do you think you can close the windows?" You ask, hearing the sound of the trees being shaken by the wind.

"Fuck the windows."

There is the sound of his steps coming closer, and you know he crouched down by the vibration of your own body recognizing his, something that wasn't new, but got enhanced by the darkness you two were under, as also did his smell.

It isn't fair.

"John-"

"Shush, come here."

You feel like a child, putting up your arms around his shoulder, after some guidance from his own hands that afterward cupped down the sides of your breasts down towards your waist, and finally, he easily lifts you, keeping you locked against his chest. His hand makes a slow wandering on your back, and you found yourself subconsciously doing the same thing on his naked arms.

"Don't shus-"

He is quicker than your words, and you wouldn't complain, conquering your mouth as his in a battle you didn't want to win.

The wind whistles through the windows, but you could let it bring down the house if it meant John would continue to bite down your lips while moaning.

No underclothing could prevent him from reaching any part of you without ceremony, but he is slow in a way you have to take his hands and put it in on your breasts, making him chuckle.

"For someone who is mad at me."

He takes advantage of your needs, but two could play the game.

"I can stop if you want, and we can go back the way we were."

You bluff, placing all the convincing in your voice since he couldn't see your face, but you could tell he had that jerk smirk.

His answer came in the form of his fingers invading your pajama shorts, you foolishly try to move away, lazily, and his other hand puts you in place while you feel his thumb caressing your clit.

"Are you sure that is what you really want? You know, you just have to tell me."

His low deep tone fogs your brain completely, and he is quick to realize this fact, so he goes back to attacking your lying mouth, left with no other task than moaning for him, but your hands were eager and truthful. You conquer his moans by stroking him through the sweatpants.

"Oh...Fuck! I was starving for this. You really have no idea, looking at you every day, walking on this fucking see-through shirt practically all-day and denying me to touch you, to kiss you."

He bites your shoulder, releasing another moan when your hand reaches under his underwear.

"It is not like you weren't trying to torture me too, eye-fucking me all day, walking around the house semi-naked, dripping in sweat. I will never forgive how fucking hot you look with a beard. I thought I would hate it, and now I just want to feel it in the middle of my tights."

"So we think alike."

"I think we not gonna make it to the bed, and the couch is too small."

"Then floor it is."

Retrieving yours and his hands, he proceeds to grab you by the ass with both hands, lifting you.

Your legs know the way around his waist, and his mouth knows the way towards your breasts. Over the thin fabric t-shirt, he displays fragile bites while crouching down with you on his lap.

When your bottom touches the floor, carefully, you feel his hand on both sides of your body, ready to get rid of your shirt, and with your help, it comes out easily.

John hums in approval, and so does you when his hands are replaced with the warm wetness of his mouth over your nipples.

The summer rain starts to fall heavy outside while your back starts to rest down against the wood floor slowly.

With your spine flat on the floor, he decides to start to travel down with less routine than you expected, undressing you of your shorts.

John could be methodical, but it seems that he didn't lie about being ravenous for you, but he couldn't skip the foreplay, that would be the true sin.

He goes down towards your navel, and you couldn't decide if it was hotter with the absence of the lights or not; It did enhance each feeling, every swirl of his tongue, every wet sound and taste, but you craved to see his hazel eyes, burning with pure lust to see you squirming under his mouth.

You don't know who or what to thank when the moonlight persevered over whatever cloud blocking it, lighting up the room decently enough to let you capture, even if wouldn't last long, the glistening of his tongue entering you at the exact moment.

You wanted to open your eyes, tell him to look up at you, but you underestimated the power abstinence could have. Now you could really comprehend his lack of ceremony.

"Fuck! Shit... John!."

Through your closed eyelids, you welcome back the darkness, missing the opportunity given by the moon, getting clouded like your thoughts. She would have to be merciful when you could even miss your name. She would have to be more merciful than John, which adds a finger to his torture, curling it up inside you, moaning against your clit.

You coming undone was a matter of seconds.

He tries his best to put you in place when the orgasm hits, but he ruins it, retrieving his stokes and tongue at the peak.

"What the fuck!" You don't' even have the strength to get your torso up.

"Oh, you really thought you were getting away with being punished?"

He grabs your thighs, while you layed, spread open for him. You really could escape in the dark and lock him outside the bedroom to figure out the rest with his hand.

When the thought started to sound like a plan you find the strength needed to get up at least your torso, but with your rough movements, he quickly catches up, gripping hard on your thighs and bringing forward towards his lap.

You figured he waited for you to leave since he was already in the position to land you on top of his hardness, as you were.

"You son of b-."

He grabs your ass, forcing it down on him, causing an inevitable moan to occur since you were already sensitive.

"Be a good girl for me, and I will compensate you, baby. I feel like I shouldn't have to tell you this so many times. It is like you want me to punish you."

The moon now betrays you, showing up in a time you were vulnerable, letting him picture your face while your body melted in his arms, and all of him that was so fucking inviting and undeniable.

"Do what you want with me."

With his eyes boring into yours, John lays you down, proceeding to get out of his remaining clothes completely. You couldn't believe how insanely good he looked; the moonlight could be fooling you.

Watching his cock pops out of the underwear, you could feel the wet agony forming between your legs all over again, like the heavy rain outside.

There isn't another word when the connection of your eyes was held strong, until he inclined forward, placing himself where he belonged, inside you, and your vision got compromised as he merciless pounded his pelvis against yours.

"Christ!"

He growls like an animal, just from being inside of you.

"Make it last, Krasinski."

"Don't worry about it." He chuckles.

Getting a better position with his arms on the sides of your head, he places one under your neck for comfort.

Your legs wrapped around his waist deepened his movements, and soon he was hitting places unknown to you.

"Oh... fuck, that's it right there, don't stop."

You couldn't control, taking advantage of the rain, muffling your pleadings, and also did he, what ironically made you mad at the rain.

He wasn't much vocal, and it didn't bother you till now when his moans were eating your brain out from logic.

"God, you are getting wetter by the second." He says, then kisses your lips before closing his eyes, increasing the strokes. "Is it cause you are now how you are supposed to be? Full of me, and only me."

Now you were the one hungry for his mouth, grabbing on his beard slightly hard to bring towards your face. His tongue is avid, his free hand goes towards your clit, and it's too much.

His mouth parts from yours.

"Cum on my dick, baby, cum for me so I can fill you up like you want me to."

You cry it out, feeling every cell of your body ready to obey him, to please him, and it doesn't take too long when your legs started to shake, and this time he goes all the way with it, letting to lose a bit of movement only when his own orgasm reached. You kiss him, deeply, while he still thrust into you randomly.

His moans vibrating in your mouth, till he quiets down, parting the kiss.

He smirked at you.

"Do you remember when you told me that fucking during a rainstorm was your fantasy?"

[natromanxoff]

Queen live at National Bowl in Milton Keynes, UK - June 5, 1982 (Part-1)

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It was originally intended for the band to play this concert at Arsenal Stadium in Highbury, but it was moved to Milton Keynes for the same reason the Leeds show wasn't played at the famed Old Trafford. It's also worth noting that the band wanted to play at London's famous Royal Albert Hall as well, but the plan was never orchestrated as there was much fear that the weight of Queen's lighting rig would make the ceiling cave in. An early tour itinerary listed two London shows (June 4 and 5) on the agenda. The Teardrop Explodes were among the bands (the same line-up as last week in Leeds) who opened for Queen at this show. Their guitarist, Julian Cope, stood before about 40 thousand Queen fans and introduced the next song as being probably the best song they had ever heard, prompting someone near the stage to throw a toilet seat at him, which missed (people are known to bring cameras and certain substances to concerts, but toilet seats?). Lemonade bottles were then thrown at the guitarist which he tossed back into the audience. The complete Queen concert was filmed. A shortened video was shown on UK TV on a show called "The Tube" in January 1983 (omitting Action This Day, the bit of Las Palabras de Amor, Back Chat, Get Down Make Love, part of the guitar solo, Crazy Little Thing Called Love, Another One Bites The Dust, and Sheer Heart Attack), and on MTV in the US in August 1983 (the latter was a simulcast, with the audio being broadcast on FM radio in stereo, on the west coast, at least). The video was edited by Gavin Taylor, who was later invited by the band to direct the now famous video at Wembley Stadium in 1986. An even shorter version (about 50 minutes long) of the Milton Keynes video was shown on UK TV in 2001 (and many times since). Both the Milton Keynes and Wembley shows would eventually be released on DVD uncut. The 2004 official release of this show (both on CD and DVD) is called "Queen On Fire: Live At The Bowl". The DVD is a beautiful document of Queen's show at the time, packed full of classic Queen moments. There are also extras from 1982 shows in Vienna and Tokyo. After a great version of Play The Game, Freddie essentially apologizes to the audience for much of the latest album's content: "Now most of you know that we've got some new songs out in the last week. For what it's worth we're gonna do a few songs in the funk/black category, whatever you call it. That doesn't mean we've lost our rock and roll feel, okay? I mean it's only a bloody record. People get so excited about these things! We just wanna try out a few songs. This is Staying Power." For some reason part of the speech was removed for the CD release of "Live At The Bowl." Without a doubt this is his definitive live delivery of the song, pulling off all of the stops. Mercury is at his peak tonight. Somebody To Love has been a vocal adventure of Freddie's for the past couple years. His intro is different every night, as is his solo spot towards the end. The version captured here on film is surely one of his best. Before launching into the familiar piano theme, he asks the audience in a moment for the ages, "Are you ready?" And in excitement, "Huh? Are you ready brothers and sisters?" Part way through his vocal exchange with the audience in Now I'm Here, Freddie says, "C'mon, we're gonna make you sing like Aretha Franklin." At the end of the successful duel, he jokingly says, "Right, you can join the band!" The r&b influence is never more evident than it is here, and it makes for a classic version of the song. Brian breaks a string just before his guitar solo in Dragon Attack. While he switches to a Red Special copy, John Deacon gets to play the bass solo as it's heard on the record - the one and only time he has the chance to do it. It's on the fly, and he nails it note for note. "Las Palabras de Amor" was released as a single a few days ago, and Brian plays a small bit of it on his 12-string acoustic before Love Of My Life. He then mentions how the band won't be playing their "song of peace" tonight, as he calls it. This remains the only show where the Hot Space ballad would be referenced. Brian's guitar briefly cuts out during his solo spot, a moment that was edited out of the 1983 TV broadcasts (and slightly edited on the CD release) but seen uncut on the DVD. Brian's guitar tech is seen rushing on and off stage within seconds, having quickly resolved the issue (it was likely a sticky pickup switch). About half way through Sheer Heart Attack, Brian sneaks in the riff from I Go Crazy an octave up, and much faster, to match the tempo of the energetic News Of The World rocker. The song would be dropped from the set after this show, only to emerge again late in the pending North American tour. This would be Morgan Fisher's last show with the band as the touring keyboardist. A number of theories abound about his departure, including butting heads with Mercury's personal manager Paul Prenter or his apparent fear of flying, but it was simply a case of him moving on to other gigs (Fisher confirmed in a 2009 interview that he has never been afraid of airplanes). The CD and DVD releases would be patched up a bit, most notably in the third verse of Fat Bottomed Girls where Freddie's voice cracked badly on "locality," as well as for "now I'm here, now I'm there." Roger's timing with the guitar delays at the end of May's solo spot was bit off at the show, but this is fixed up as well. The sound quality as a whole is much better than the broadcasts, but there are a couple differences in the mix - some of Brian's backing vocals (particularly at the end of Somebody To Love) can be clearly heard in the broadcast mix but were brought down for the official releases, and compression has been added to Roger's snare drum, giving it a much fatter sound compared to Queen Rock Montreal. Brian May and Roger Taylor are interviewed before the show, as shown on the Bowl DVD and the original TV broadcasts. Brian reveals that he really enjoys playing Play The Game. He explains, "You've done your leaping about, and you've made your statement on your entry. And then you can settle down and start really playing something." Roger says his current favourite is Under Pressure. On the day before this show Freddie's boyfriend at the time had bitten him between his thumb and forefinger during a fight, causing it to bleed profusely and require stitches. On the DVD, Freddie is seen tossing the bandage around just before coming on stage. The sixth picture was submitted by Fabio Minero, and the eighth is from Alessio Rizzitelli. The second set was taken by Brenski.

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Fan Stories

“At the time, I was living on the Mull Of Kintyre on the West coast of Scotland. I remember being elated at getting tickets for the last gig of the UK tour. I always tried to get 'last night' tickets, because the band were famous for always going a little more 'over the top' on each of their tour's final nights. So, we drove down from Scotland, which took an eternity with fuel and meal stops, and stayed at the in-law's on the south coast of England. The next day we set for the 'new-town' of Milton Keynes, about 100 miles or so, away. We got there quite early before the gates opened and the weather was unsettled, lightly raining for about five minutes nearly every other hour. The support bands for the day were 'Teardrop Explodes', who had a fairly big hit with a song called 'Reward'. I quite liked Julian Cope and his band, but this WAS a rock gig, and the audience weren't generally as receptive to this brass backed 'new romantic' style of music. The customary sea of lemonade bottles headed towards the stage ensued. Now it was over twenty years ago, and the memory starts to fade a bit after a while, so I'm not sure whether 'Heart' were next on, or 'Joan Jett and the Blackhearts'. Either way, both bands played well, and were most enjoyable. Joan Jett had recently had a very big hit with 'I Love Rock'n'Roll' (very recently covered by Britney Spears), and the crowd loved that one. This was prior to 'Heart' having a major hit in the UK, but they were at that time an established and well known band. Looking at the stage, there were these items that looked like little vehicles hanging from the gantry, we later found out that these were individual self contained lighting platforms with a guy sat in each directing three spotlights wherever they were required to do so. The Queen set itself started with an extended backing tape from the intro of Flash Gordon. Most of you will have seen the video of this gig, so I won't labour on about what they played too much. Only that the crowd, as a whole, weren't into the 'Hot Space' numbers that much. Personally, I was watching my favourite band, so I didn't really care what they played, as long as it was theirs. The bits cut out of the video, included an intro to 'Las Palabras De Amor' from Brian, (just before 'Love Of My Life'), though they never actually played the whole song, Brian announced that they were not doing their song of peace tonight. Brian's two-day guitar solo was edited out, as was 'Fat Bottomed Girls', the intro harmonies on this did come across as pretty iffy, and of all songs, they also edited out 'Crazy Little Thing Called Love', much to my disappointment, as I'd heckled Freddie about his ability as a guitarist, and 'stone me', he only went and answered me. Knebworth '86 was a much better show, but I know I'm lucky enough to have had the honour to be able to compare them.”  - Steve_C/Kes

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