#Fuck YOU how can I hate them if I only HEARD of them
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Nevermore Dashboard Simulator 2
🔄 many-coloured-grass reblogged
🌷 many-coloured-grass Follow
I don’t care what any of you are saying, I just think it is weird that people are joking that Lenore and Annabel are secretly into each other when they have shown constant distant for each other?? Go take a walk through the academy grounds
🔮 sorcery-sorcery-sorcery Follow
the fun police right here is trying to put me in gay detenion but Lenore and Annabel are blocking the way because Lenore has pinned Annabel against the wall
🌷 many-coloured-grass Follow
THE DEVIL HAS A CLAIM ON YOUR SOUL
#WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM? #THEY CLEARLY HATE EACH OTHER #WHY ARE YOU PEOPLE SAYING STUFF LIKE THIS?
8,689 notes
🎇 labyrinth-of-light Follow
[snapping out of remembering the horrific details about how I slowly suffocated under a black mass of slurry, not knowing if my siblings were alive or not, all because I smelt the scent of coal coming from the fire in the common room] oh I should have been at the club
13,477 notes
⚰️ were-all-dead-here Follow
906 notes
🔄 ghostlygal reblogged
🕯️ phantomwraith Follow
i can’t deal with this academy anymore! i mean i can, and i will, obviously. but i can't fucking do this anymore!
🖤 ghostlygal Follow
Area Man Who Has "Had Enough" Wakes Up Next Morning at 7:00 AM to Get Ready to Go to Class Again
7,347 notes
🌤️ serenest-skies Follow
I don’t know if it’s just the stress from the announcement that there’s only one new life, but I SWEAR I just saw Lenore drag Annabel Lee into a closet just now
#or I have started to lose my mind #with how today ended #that seems like a much more reasonable conclusion
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🔄 spookyxskeletons reblogged angelic-oddity
☀️ angelic-oddity Follow
God I wish I was that bell
☀️ angelic-oddity Follow
THIS WAS MEANT TO BE SAVED TO DRAFTS
☀️ angelic-oddity Follow
GUYS PLEASE STOP REBLOGING THIS, ISN’T MY SHAME ENOUGH?
☀️ angelic-oddity Follow
NO YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME
15,074 notes
🔄 fable-silence reblogged
🍁 fable-silence Follow
😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭I HAVETO GO TO CLASS AGAIN😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰😰
🍁 fable-silence Follow
my greek chorus ^
4,832 notes
🎊 impishimpulses Follow
My roommate, who just manifested into an six foot tall ochimusha and consistently calls me dearest: All the creatures in this maze seem to desire nothing more than to suck dry any life we have remaining, i just don’t understand this academy
Me [heard “suck dry” and got so hard i got nauseous]: i think i hauve the devil in me
3,496 notes
🔄 ferocious-fiddle reblogged
🧟♂️ gutzngore Follow
The Deans are literally Tweedledum & Tweedledee coded because of their sinister symmetry. but whatever
🎻 ferocious-fiddle Follow
OP I know this is a joke, but just remember that if you go knocking on enough doors asking to see the devil, eventually he’ll answer.
6,660 notes
🩸 bloodstained-petals Follow
I’m never going to listen to anyone ever again that tries to give dating advice along the lines of ‘The worst thing that they can say is no :)’, bitch I just witnessed that Ada girl get insulted so throughly in public after she tried to flirt with Prospero that she literally manifested into some screeching rotten hag
#like be real with me right now
706 notes
🔄 spookyxskeletons reblogged
🪸 drenchedkelpie Follow
The whole experience with the rats in yesterday’s lesson felt like having to escape a ficious pack of bloodthirsty hunting dogs, and I was but a simple and unexpecting deer
🪸 drenchedkelpie Follow
WHAT THE SHIT
☠️ spookyxskeletons Follow
3,969 notes
🔄 floatinghoax reblogged
🌺 etherealdances Follow
Kill them with kindness? WRONG. Spectre attack 👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻👻
1,002 notes
🔄 deadgirlwalking reblogged namelessghoul
⚙️ the-greater-the-ass Follow
Call me Wall Street the way I. The way I just crashed onto the floor because of that fucking Hungry Ghost
⚙️ the-greater-the-ass Follow
Have y’all just. Ignored everything that has happened the past few years or are some of you just fucking with me?
🌹 blushedandbloomed Follow
Is this some kind of wide spread prank that people are doing? Me and my roommate were talking about what memories of our family we had recovered and I mentioned how badly my brother was affected by his conscription during the World War II, and my roommate just looked at me like I was speaking another language and asked me what war I was even talking about
⚙️ the-greater-the-ass Follow
I’m sorry, world war number
WHAT?
🃏 demonic-betting Follow
I’M SORRY, WORLD WARS???
🌹 blushedandbloomed Follow
🪲 goldbug1843 Follow
@blushedandbloomed you cannot just react like that without any explanation about what on earth you meant by World War II
🌹 blushedandbloomed Follow
I MEANT WORLD WAR II, AS IN THE SECOND WORLD WAR, 1ST SEPTEMBER 1939 - 2ND SEPTEMBER 1945. WHY ARE YOU GUYS REACTING LIKE THIS?
🌻 hyacinth-hair Follow
Unless you are the Oracle of Delphi, why the hell are you stating an end date for a war that’s still going on?
🌹 blushedandbloomed Follow
BECAUSE I’M NOT??? WHAT YEAR DO YOU THINK IT IS?
🌻 hyacinth-hair Follow
1942, WHAT YEAR DO YOU THINK IT IS?
🌹 blushedandbloomed Follow
1950. I WOULD LIKE TO THINK I WOULD KNOW THE YEAR THAT I DIED THANK YOU VERY MUCH
⚙️ the-greater-the-ass Follow
IT’S LITERALLY 1934???
🥀 wilted-rose Follow
🌃 eveningstar Follow
This is getting out of hand
🪵 premature-burial Follow
I DIED IN 1916, HOW ARE YOU GUYS SAYING THAT YOU WERE ALIVE AROUND TWENTY YEARS AFTER THAT WHEN I DON’T EVEN KNOW IF THE WAR THAT TOOK MY LIFE IS EVEN OVER?
💤 sleepyirene Follow
LOVELY ARE YOU TELLING US THAT YOU DIED DURING WORLD WAR I?
🪵 premature-burial Follow
THAT IS WHAT YOU ALL MEAN BY WORLD WAR I???
🐸 hop-frog Follow
🌟 celestialwhispers Follow
I must be having some kind of vivid dream because there is no way this is right. In the most recent memories I currently have, the coronation of Edward VII recently occurred, and now I’m seeing people claiming that they died 1910-1950?
🌬️ loss-of-breath Follow
HOLD ON, QUEEN VICTORIA IS DEAD?!
⚙️ the-greater-the-ass Follow
🌙 voyage-to-the-moon Follow
I am going to lose my marbles
🪓 namelessghoul Follow
WHAT FECKING YEAR IS IT
🪦 deadgirlwalking Follow
56,395 notes
#nevermore#webtoon nevermore#nevermore webtoon#fake tumblr dash#dashboard simulator#fake tumblr post#lenore vandernacht#lenore nevermore#annabel lee whitlock#annabel lee nevermore#white raven
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fail marriage au…………………….
having your first big blow out fight after marriage counselling. putting everything you ever found aggravating or disrespectful or wrong or even just a bit annoying on the table. art doing exactly the same. it gets mean. it gets personal. it gets ugly. you scream at him, scream like a banshee and he shouts back. veins you didn’t know he had bulge in his neck, his fingers flex as he wildly gesticulates. you throw something, a plastic tv remote that shatters against the wall. it all passes in a heated blur, you hardly know what you’re doing or saying but that blood is pumping through your veins and you’re alive and so is art. alive. furious, at you. you stalk up to him, and he stands tall above you, looming like a storm cloud. a sweet faced angelic storm cloud that right at this second you couldn’t fucking stand. you jab at his chest with your finger as you yell, lay into him. why couldn’t he tell you how he feels? why did he have to be so fucking passive aggressive? why was tashi the centre of his fucking universe? why couldn’t he be a fucking man and tell you what he really wants? be a man art. be a fucking man for once in your goddamn life.
his nostrils flare, his anger rising with every poke. he grabs your wrist, yanks it up and leans in close. stooping, showing you that he is bigger. he would stoop to your level. he will fight back. you feel his breath on your nose and seethe. he’s still minty fresh. stupid cunt.
“what i want is for you to shut the fuck up and stop acting like you know everything.”
“fuck off, you limp dicked sack of shit.”
“fuck you cunt.” he flicks those brutal syllables at you, chewing his words, opening his mouth so you can see his tongue forming them. you feel the severity in the pit of your stomach. you feel something else lower.
“fuck me? fuck you!”
and in that moment you drew together, moving as one, in the most violent kiss of the modern age. he squeezes your wrist, still held aloft. your other hand grips his shirt collar, pulling so hard it hurts his neck. good. you hope his delicate little neck gets a friction burn and a rash and you hope it stings forever. he tongues furiously at your mouth, mashing his lips into yours and licking the side of your mouth. eating your face like he eats pussy. which he hasn’t done in a while, another thing to yell at him about later. his other hand grips the back of your head, holding it still so you have no choice but to recieve his hot, angry love. you kiss back with equal fury. you want to make him suffer your love. don’t want it? tough luck. it’s his. and he will take it. he grunts into your mouth, it vibrates your tongue. you pull back, but he doesn’t let you. he forces you back nearer to him, spine curving in hateful ecstasy. he kisses you for a few more seconds before drawing back only a few centimetres to rest his forehead on yours and breathe. your lips are wet with him.
“i love you,” you breath.
he caresses the back of your head.
“prove it.”
me when i overachieve.
anyway this is apart of my failmarriage au and you should probably read this part first to understand whats going on here. or just follow the #failmarriage au tag that i have.
your breath shudders out of you. you'd never heard that tone from him before, or rather, never directed at you. not exactly cold but, chilled. serious and pointed. dominant.
your hands fall from his hair, sliding down his throat, his shoulders. you stare into his eyes - he stares back. you feel like you're on a razor thin wire. concede or push back.
you wonder what this will fix. but you don't think you care. you want him. you miss him. your heart is pounding just thinking about it. you take a step back, two, three, several paces.
"okay," you say. you dont even know what you're agreeing too, just that you want it, whatever it is.
before you even have time to linger on that thought though -
because art is already stalking towards you, undoing his soft leather belt and letting it drop to the floor. you couldn’t move. you couldn’t breathe. just watching in this kind of stupified silence as art unczips his pants and slides his delicate fingers under his waistband. In three strides, art was right up in your space, owning it, staring you down with a cool kind of control in his eyes, heavy cock in his hand, already hard and flushed and mouthwateringly beautiful. you couldn’t speak. you couldn’t think. all you could see was art.
when art spoke, his voice was an iron grip closing around your throat. each word as clear and distinct as a brand to your hot skin.
“get on your knees”
you sink to the floor. It felt like falling, your knees knocked out from under you by the invisible string of his command that binds you to him. breath punches out of your lungs as you let yourself go under. art was already reaching out and grabbing the back of your head and shoving his cock past your waiting lips, pushing all the way to the hilt as his leaking head slammed into the back of your throat.
“god,” art breathed out, vice grip holding you in place. “You’re beautiful like this” and you were lost. years of built resentment and anxiety dissipating like smoke as art took over your senses. the taste of him, the smell of him, the warmth of him, the silk soft press of his cock down your throat. It was everything you’d been longing for from him.
your hands fly up to grip art’s waist, fingers trying to find purchase, pressing him deeper, holding him deeper, worried he might pull out but not able to hold yourself back. when art didn’t say anything, didn't tell you to stop, you sank forward and started to suck greedily, tongue running over art’s throbbing length, trying desperately to take him apart, to please him, to worship him, to give him what he wanted.
you heard yourself whine, felt your body sway forward, but you managed to hold yourself still, keep your tongue flat, keep your mouth wide and waiting, holding art still against the back of your throat, wanting desperately to prove you were good. that you loved him. That you wanted, wanted, wanted him.
"give me your hand,” art breathes, looking down at you, and you think briefly of the ancient greek god apollo, and how if art was a deity, you.d gladly stay right where you are. lovingly holding him in the back of your throat.
your mind was already starting to go fuzzy with the heavy weight of art on the back of your tongue, salt slowly leaking from his pink slit, the slow stretch of his your lips around art’s shaft starting to ache in your jaw. , but, still you had enough awareness to look up confused, meeting art’s eyes in a question. but art didn’t offer an explanation. just looked down at you, hand held out, patiently waiting, like it wasn’t a question of whether you would obey; it was just a matter of when.
shakily, your hand reaches out to his. by instinct or by pure coincidence, its the hand with your wedding band on it. your fingers brush against each other, and then arts fingers, lithe and strong, an athlete's fingers, slide between yours. he brings your clasped hands together against his chest. if your throat wasn’t stuffed with cock you’d gasp at the gesture, the intimacy of it alone. your palm against his bare chest, his right pectoral. right over his thunderous heartbeat. his wedding band presses against yours.
“Im gonna move, okay?” he breathes down at you, and his hand squeezes yours. “If you want me to stop just squeeze my hand two times.”
you nodded, a slight movement, eager and unbidden. art ran a finger under your jaw, fluttering his fingers against you. you had to shuffle a little to keep as much of art in your mouth as you could as he exhaled and used his free hand to slide against the back of your skull, cupping it tenderly.
a little punched-out gasp falls from arts lips as he slowly rocked his hips, pushingas deep as he could go as you moaned around him. art took a second, waited for you to look at him, blink the tears from your eyes, before he started the slow glide out of your mouth. you laid your tongue flat against the underside of him, tracing the veins, unable to move forward to chase him back down your throat as arts hand kept you firmly in place.
when he was all the way out, spit slick and gleaming, he rested the flushed head of himself against your bottom lip. rubbed himself there, traced every contour of your mouth with the slit of his cock. glossing your lips with the sheen of his precum.
“I love you.” he said - voice choked and you couldnt tell if it was from emotion or lust, maybe a combination of the two.
you felt something flare hot in your belly, but before you could utter a word, art was sliding back home, right back into the silk pallet of your throat. and you welcomed him greedily, lapping up every inch he gave you.
the whole while you held his hand, still pressed against his chest. you tilted open your jaw as wide as it could go, imagining you wanted to be a snake and swallow him whole. you took everything. you breathed through your nose when he was settled fully inside you - you sucked around him when he began to pull back, suctioning your mouth around him to mimic a pussy. a tight hole.
arent i such a good wife, you thought. no one could take his cock like you could. no one would drop to their knees and let themselves be used this way, but you would. to you, this was love. this was passion.
art lasted a few more minutes before he was dragging himself free from the warm hug of your throat -
“I want you spread out on the kitchen counter," art panted, jerking his chin. he reached down to wrap a loose hand around his wet cock, stroking it languidly. your throat ached with missing it. “I need to be inside you. I want to -” he swallows. “I want to fuck you."
you inhaled sharply. it was a word you didn't often hear from arts lips. especially in reference to sex. the crude word coming from him made your belly clench warmly. more, you wanted more of that.
you stared at each other for what felt like forever but was probably only a couple seconds, art’s cock still only inches from your face. you watched transfixed as art’s leaking head slipped between the tight circle of his fingers, flushed tip disappearing and pushing back through. It was filthy, it was gorgeous, and your whole body shuddered imagining what it would feel like at your entrance: the slow press, the slick head, the aching burn as it slowly pushed inside. because it would burn. the last time you’d had sex….. you didnt want to think about it.
Instead you hurriedly scrambled to obey. shoving the straps of your dress down as you went, feeling it pool around your waist as you bent against the cool marble of the counter. you’d never fucked here. suddenly that was a crazy thought to you. wasnt it a kind of ritual for a couple - to christen the house? your fingers curled into your palms as you pressed your bare chest down.
you felt art come up behind you and your breath hitched when you felt his palms skimming up the backs of your thighs. you hadnt realized you’d been trembling until that moment. something about his touch calmed you though.
ridiculous, to be shy when this was your husband. he’d seen your cunt a hundred times.
all thoughts fled your head when those familiar fingers parted the lips of your cunt - finding you wet. “baby” art’s strangled voice reached your ears as he felt through your delicate slit - he sounded beside himself with wonder. that you,d be this wet for him. this ready. he slid two fingers in easily - just a slight pressure at your entrance and there was a give of the flesh. and he was in - inside you. pumping steadily. “that’s it,” a kiss at the base of your spine, soft and special. “let me in. give me whats mine.”
yours, you dont know if you breathed it or just echoed it in your head. hips pushing back into him, opening yourself further. the stretch was full but it felt so right.
“god - you’re so responsive - how could i forget -” he was working himself up. his thumb nudged your clit, circled it with the pad before pressing down on it, his own goran covering up your keen. like it affected him more than it did you, to feel how you throbbed against him with need. “gonna put my tongue on your clit everyday and you’re going to let me. let me worship what i married, spread your legs and fucking take it-”
“oh god,” you’re whining. practically humping your cunt on his fingers. “whatever you want, baby. take it, its all yours.”
you clench around nothing when he suddenly yanks his fingers free, but you dont have to mourn the loss long, your empty spasming hole feeling the silken pressure of his cock in the next second. he grips your waist, wholly possessive as he drags you back onto him and, oh. Its so blissful. that tender ache in your cunt as its filled to the brim. You’d-
“fuck - i missed this - missed your pussy -”
yes, yes missed. you’d missed this.
art adjusts himself. spreads out his legs so he can really move, leans his broad chest over your back, covering you, smothering you, squishing you into the countertop but he doesnt care. you dont care. pinned beneath him and speared open like this - you’ve never felt more loved by him.
“so tight and warm - god - i never wanna leave -” he watches, pink lips parted where you’ve taken him. the flared open lips of your pussy hugging the base of his cock. a groan rips from his chest, loud, because he wants you to know, really fucking know, how overwhelmed he is, how much you make him feel, as he slowly drags himself out - only able to make it halfway before he has to bury himself back into that tight heat. your walls tighten and squeeze around him in these luxurious pulls and he feels spit pool in his mouth, the sensation enough to empty his brain. he rocks there, barely pulling free from the clutch of your body.
“treat me so well with this - little cunt - “ wet desperate kisses are pressed wherever he can reach, his mouth hungry for the salt of your skin. he pulls it between his teeth, some raw animal part of him just wanting to naw on you. he rubs his forehead against your shoulders as he starts to move his hips faster. finally pulling out all the way before he slams back in, knocking your hips into the hard marble, and he should say sorry, he should take more care, you’ll be bruised surely, but then his mind flits back to your therapy session - at the words you’d both said - how you felt - and the words exchanged in your fight. and he feels something kindle in his chest, sparked to life by the liquid heat pouring through him - you fucking - you’re so cruel sometimes and you dont even know - you dont even see what you’re doing to him, the power you hold, how much he’d give to you if only you’d fucking open up to him. get angry at him. demand more of what you want instead of fucking expecting him to read your goddamn mind.
he hadn’t felt the wet grip of his wifes pussy in months until just now. that couldn’t happen again.
he pulls himself to his full height - using his ringed hand to make a makeshift leash of your hair, wrapping it around his tan fist. anchors you back onto his hard dick again and again in hard punishing pulls that seem to punch moans from you.
“this is how i should have treated you from the beginning, huh? come home every day and bend you over the minute i step through the door. pound out all my frustrations on this tight cunt. use you to masturbate my dick.” he grunts - that viseral fury that’d you’d seen spark in him briefly before was back in full force now. you could feel it in the reverberating clap of his balls against your ass. the forceful grip on your hair, yanking your neck back, nearly pulling your chest off the counter, your tits bouncing. “maybe then you’d appreciate me.”
you dont know what part in you is broken that soaks his cock at his treatment instead of clamping up. his anger, his vitriol, it all speaks to a deep part inside of you that screams to be wanted. you whimper and bear down around him, meeting him instead of shying away.
“g - od - oh god, art - “
“would that make you my happy little wife?” he slows back down. drags his thick length in and out of you in purposeful rolls of his hips. “I bring all my shit to you and you devote this hot little pussy to warming my dick. you’ll take care of me, right? drop to your knees and give me a proper fucking welcome home.”
you cant think. your eyes are rolling back, your brain fogging. Its so good, oh god, how is it so fucking good. you’re drenched between your thighs, you can feel it running down your thighs. you can feel the hot raw part of your pussy that is being penetrated again and again on his cock as it retreats and then glides back in.
“Im gonna cum.” is all you can say. “art, im so close -”
“fuck,” he stops his movements. grinding his hips into yours, churning his dick inside you. his mouth skims your ear, he lets go of your hair to grip you around the throat. “tell me you love me. tell me you love me when you cum, baby, or i swear to god, i cant do this anymore -”
“I love you!” the words are the truest they’ve ever been in years. you’re on your tippy toes, squirming, trying to get away or trying to get closer, you cant tell. probably closer. you want art to carve apart for himself inside you - brand himself on you forever so you can never leave, never forget, never doubt this marriage. “I love you, i love you, i love you, i love-”
“I love you too. fuck - i need you to cum. cum on my cock and show me you still want this -”
you shatter apart. a million stars exploding in a galaxy. arts strong arms come around you like a band, wrapping you up against him as you shake. your breaths come out harshly in sync. the beats of your heart a fast thrum between you.
you turn your head, desperately seeking, and he’s there, already leaning down to take your lips in a kiss.
the weight of him still inside you is one you take comfort in. you dont want him to leave your body. you dont want this to end.
“stay,” you whisper against his mouth.
his hand cups your cheek, strokes his thumb over the swell of your flushed skin. “always,” he says back.
#ask#poppy fic#frens <3#LMAO THIS TOOK ME HOURS AND ITS NOT EVEN 3K#wipes sweat from forehead#failmarriage au#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson smut#challengers x reader#challengers smut
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Day Five: Minho - Part Two
Pairing: Lee Know x Reader
Warning: Rejection & Smut.. that's it [18+ ONLY. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.]
Word Count: 1.2k
Previous Smut Stories
Anxiety flowed through your body as you stood in front of your best friend. Lee Know and you had been friends for years, very platonic until last year when suddenly you began seeing him in a different light. You hated it, you felt like you were becoming some love sick puppy and you could barely even be around him anymore. You wanted - no need to confess to him. You had to let him know how you felt or your body was going to explode, well at least that's what it felt like.
“Are you okay?” He chuckles, bringing you out of your thoughts.
“Uh, yeah.” You awkwardly laugh. “I just.. I need to tell you something but I don't want things to change.” You whisper.
“Well, as long as you don't confess to me nothing will change.” He laughs. You stand there, your heart and stomach drop. You can tell he notices the change in your demeanor after his sentence.
“Y/N..” he starts as tears well up in your eyes.
“No, no.” You sniffle. “Don't. I've heard enough. It's all good.” You say, forcing a smile. “I'm gonna go.” You finish, turning around to walk away, your heart feeling shattered.
Over the next few weeks, you distanced yourself from Minho, you couldn't face him. Not after how embarrassing that whole situation was. He would text you to hang out or call you. Sometimes you'd answer sometimes you'd ignore it but you always had an excuse as to why you couldn't go out with him. And one night you went out on a blind date that another friend you had set you up on.
Han Jisung was cute, very sweet and funny. You had a great time with him and you were definitely excited to see him again. When you got home, you closed your front door, setting your purse down on the table, when there was a sudden banging at your door. It took you by surprise, making you jump before looking through the peephole.
“Minho?” You say, unlocking the door to open it for him. He's soaking wet, his chest heaving as he stares at you. “What are you doing here?” You ask.
“Were you on a date?” He asks.
“I was.” You confirm. “Why?”
“Don't.. Please don't do that again.” He says.
“Again, why?”
“Because, I fucking miss you. It's been weeks and I need you. I realized how fucking in love with you I am. I need you.” He yells. You're shocked. This was the last thing you had expected. Your mouth hangs slightly open as he stares at you. You don't even know how to respond.
“Fuck it.” He gasps, stalking towards you. He crashes his lips to yours, pulling you in closely to him. His hands and arms hold you tightly as your mouths move together, teeth clashing as he sloppily slides his tongue into your mouth. His hands begin to roam your body.
You break away from the kiss, just long enough to close your door before you kiss him again. You pull him towards the bedroom, your hands gripping the collar of his sweater as you turn both of you around, pushing him down onto the bed. He licks his lips as he watches you crawl onto the bed, straddling him. You sit up, lifting your shirt up and off, throwing it wherever. Minho's hands roam your stomach and back, reaching up to unhook your bra. Your tits fall out, Minho groans loudly, as he cups them, sitting up slightly to wrap his lips around your nipple, gently sucking. You start grinding yourself on him, slowly feeling his cock harden through your underwear. Your skirt rides up, his hands grab your ass, shaking it before landing a hard slap on it.
“Fuck me.” You breathe, grinding yourself on him even harder. Minho swiftly rolls you both over, him now laying on top of you. He lifts up your skirt before hooking his fingertips into your underwear, pulling them down and throwing them somewhere.
“In a minute.” He whispers, settling in between your legs. He licks a long strip up your soaked cunt, moving his tongue between your lips, flicking your clit. You cry out loudly as you try to buck your hips. He pushes you back down, holding you down as he sucks on your clit while twirling his tongue around. It felt so fucking good, you thought your whole body was going to explode.
“Fuck Minho.” You whimper, grabbing onto his hair. You grind yourself on his mouth, your orgasm quickly approaching. “Fuck.. shit oh my god.” You cry out. “I'm cum.. I'm fucking cumming.” You moan, your eyes rolling back as he kitten licks your cunt, trying to make your orgasm last as long as he can. He sits up, pulling his sweats down, letting his hard cock spring free. You lay there with your legs open, your chest heaving and your body weak as he lines himself up with you, pushing his cock deep inside you.
“christ.” Minho groans, enjoying the feeling of being inside you for a moment.
“Please.. please.” You beg.
“What, kitten? What do you want?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.
“I want you to move.. to fuck me hard.” You pant.
“I think we can do that.” He smiles, pulling himself out of you slightly, just before ramming himself back into you as hard as he can. You scream out in pleasure as he picks up his pace, snapping his hips hard into you.
“God.. you fuck me so good.” You cry out. Minho lifts your legs, putting your ankles on his shoulders. He holds your legs closed as he slams into you over and over, groaning loudly as he watches you. He loved the way you looked as he rammed his large cock deeper and deeper inside of you. You squeeze your fingers between your lips, touching your throbbing clit, rubbing it as he continues to fuck you.
“Cum on my cock, kitten. Be a good girl for me.” Minho pants, watching you bite your lip as your fingers work circles on your clit.
“Oh fuck.. I'm gonna cum all over your cock.” You moan, your fingers moving faster.
“Fuck, hurry, I'm gonna cum.” He cries out. You move your fingers faster, your second orgasm coming on at an alarmingly fast rate.
“Cum in my pussy, please give me a fucking cream pie.” You cry out, clenching yourself around him. Your orgasm explodes through your body at the same time as Minho, your clench around his cock as he cums in your cunt. “Fuck sakes.” He groans, pumping slowly in and out of you as he works through his own orgasm.
Once both of you are done, he pulls his cock from you, laying down beside you, the two of you both trying to catch your breath.
“Wow.” You gasp, staring at the ceiling.
“Wow is right.” Minho whispers, turning his head to look at you.
“I'm sorry.” He whispers. “I didn't realize at the time..” he pauses.
“Don't. It's in the past.” You smile.
“I love you.” He grins, leaning in for a kiss. You were on top of the world.
#straykidsland#lee know smut#lee minho smut#skz smut#stray kids smut#kpop smut#lee know#lee minho#minho smut#minho#skz#stray kids#kpop fanfic#kpop writing#kpop scenarios#kpop imagines
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-✫CINDERELLA | JJK✫-
— pairing | idol jk x singer y/n (feat. 127's idol mark lee and mentions of idol jaehyun)
— summary | The Golden release party was filled to the brim, the whole night being about Jungkook and the release of his first solo album. It's hard for him to focus when you look that damn good and when other guys are checking you out.
— warning | smut, name-calling, rough sex, jealous jk, choking, unprotected sex (please use condoms i'm begging), creampie, oral (f receiving)
— word count | 1.3K
— song | Cinderella - Mac Miller
You and Jungkook had been fucking around for a few months. So naturally when it came time for his release party, you were one of the first to be invited.
Jungkook didn't think he was jealous, But then again people do have a hard time acknowledging their flaws. Seeing Mark chatting you up at the bar in the loft made his neck heat up. Mark Lee was a guy you went on a few dates with when you first got to Korea. He was a nice, funny guy but you two just didn't click like you and Jungkook did.
"You look great Y/n, How've you been. I haven't seen you in a while." He explains with a smile. "Thanks, Mark you're too sweet. I've been good. You?" You respond before taking a sip of your drink. "I'm good too, you know working, company's got me pretty busy." You nod. "Yeah I heard, Jaehyun told me all about you guys' tour, I'm surprised you're even here." He chuckles shrugging. The silence between you two is comfortable before he clears his throat. "So, um you seeing anybody." Before you could respond you hear a voice behind you. "Mark! Thanks for coming out man! I know how busy you and Jae are having you here means a lot bro!" He nods "For sure man," a little irritated that Jungkook interrupted. Jungkook puts his arm around your shoulder. "I see you met Y/n." You look at him and he smiles. "She's great right?" He asks before planting a kiss on your cheek. You look at him eyes widening a bit before looking back to Mark. "Yeah, we met last year... So, just catching up." He smiles lightly at you. "Well I'd hate to interrupt but could I borrow you for a second Y/n?" You hum giving Mark a small smile before Jungkook takes you by the hand pulling you away.
He walks up the stairs past idols hyping him and congratulating him on his release. He thanks them genuinely and you smile trailing behind him, his hand still in yours. You reach his bedroom and he pulls you in.
He backs you up to the shut door and kisses you deeply, almost hungry. "Jungkook," You say breaking the kiss. "Why were you talking to him?" He asks kissing you again. You bring your hand up to his face pulling him in while he kisses you, you wanted him just as badly. You use your free hand to undo his pants. Breaking the kiss, Jungkook kisses your neck. "You're jealous." You say your breathing hitches as he sucks your neck leaving a hickey. "I just don't like to share." He says quickly before going back to kiss your neck. "You aren't my boyfriend, Jungkook," you remind him. He hums, "We can change that." He whispers in your ear sending shivers down your spine.
He grips your waist pulling you closer before he lifts you. He kisses you sloppily, your tongues dancing together. He sets you on the bed shuffling your tiny dress up and pulling your panties down. You watch him kiss the inners of your thighs teasing. He grazes his thumb against your clit and you whimper. "He does it better than me?" He speaks softly. You shake your head quickly, his eyes are low as he smiles. "Words baby." He warns. "N-no he isn't! Please Jungkook, touch me." You beg him getting needier the more he traces his fingers along your skin. "I need you, only you." You say desperately.
He plunges two fingers into your wet cunt. "So wet baby." You moan as he curls his fingers inside of you, hitting the spot you love so much. His lips close around your clit as he fucks into you. You grab a handful of his hair as he eats you. "Fuck fuck fuck." you breathe out, getting so close to falling over the edge. You pull his hair as his tongue swirls around your clit. He moans like eating you pleases him (It does). "I'm going to come, please Jungkook I'm so fucking close," You cry out. "come for me baby, come on my tongue," He says quickening his pace. "Right there, right there, f-fuckkk." You come all over his tongue and he continues licking your clit until you come down. "S-stop I'm so sensitive." You push his head away as he smiles. You sit up on your elbows, looking at him at as he sits up. You notice how hard he is, his pants a little tighter displaying his thick cock. A little wet spot where his dick in tucked in his pants.
"Kook you're dripping." You tell him. "I know I almost came in my pants." He chuckles and you smile. "I'm serious, I only want you," you speak. "Say you'll be mine." He speaks crawling over you. "I'm yours, Kook." You say examining his face your eyes trailing from his to his lips. "Fuck me, Daddy." You say suddenly. He kisses you hungrily. "Fuck I'm gonna ruin you, baby." He sits up quickly taking his pants off and tossing them somewhere in the room. His cock is painfully hard, his tip red and leaking with pre-cum. He strokes himself a few times before lining himself up between your legs. He pushes his cock inside slowly giving you time to adjust to him.
you moan pornographically, and he shushes you. "Quiet baby, you don't want everyone to hear, do you?" You don't respond caught up in the feeling of being stretched out by him. "Move please Kook," you moan. "Suck a little slut begging for my cock, look at you." He starts fucking you at a steady pace. "Yes! Yes, Daddy please." He fucks into it a few times before pulling out. You groan at the loss of pleasure, whining. "Turn around." You quickly obey. He slides back into you fucking you deeply and quicker than before. "Fuck baby it's like your pussy was made for me." He throws his head back his orgasm coming closer. He pushes your head into the mattress making his strokes longer and slower, he feels deeper than ever before. "Oh shit, Jungkook, I-I'm gonna-" You come on his cock shaking as he fucks you and he groans as he empties himself inside you. "Fuck, baby." He slowly pulls out flopping beside you.
You look at each other and smile both chuckling lightly. "You're so pretty." He says softly. You blush hiding your face with your hands. "Don't be shy, my little Boston Creme." You hit his chest. "Really." You say laughing.
Suddenly you hear a knock at the door. "Jungkook!" It's Taehyung. "Come on bro, You're the man of the hour, you can fuck your little girlfriend later." He shouts through the door. You giggle as he rushes to get up. "Come on baby. They've noticed we left." He says putting his pants back on. "I'm sure they heard us Jungkook, we weren't exactly quiet." You remind him.
"Good. Mark will know you're mine." He flashes a smile helping you straighten out your dress. "You can't be this jealous all the time Kook, I told you I only want you.'
"I was not jealous." He protests.
"If that's what helps you sleep at night baby," you say with a chuckle. You leave the room and join the party. After a while you find yourself talking with Mark again. "So you and Jungkook." He starts, "Yeah, we're pretty close." You say innocently. "I can tell." He points to your neck and you quickly look in the mirror on the wall. A purple hickey clear as day on your neck. Your eyes widen as you look. Jungkook finds himself behind you again. "Sorry not sorry baby." He says hugging you from behind.
You smile to yourself, happy everyone knows you're his and his only.
✫ ------------------------✫
a/n: Thanks for reading, I'm only a writer's high rn hehe... feedback and requests are appreciated.
#jungkook jeon#jungkook#bangtan jungkook#jungkook smut#bts jungkook#bts army#jeon jungkoooook#bts#bts smut#jeon jungkook#bts jungkook smut#bangtan smut#bts recs#jungkook x y/n#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you
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bae i luh you
peaches asked, so i delivered because who am i to say no to a god?
bf!chris x gf!reader
warnings: fluff, HATING ASS HOE, suggestive, swearing,
-
the bass was BOOMING in the tara's living room. today was nicks second space camp drop and ms. yummy insisted on celebrating with a party because of course.
as y/n stepped into the house she was assaulted by the smell of alcohol and sweat.
someone needed a fucking speedstick because DAMN!
anyway, she was brought out of her thoughts by her boyfriends arm being snaked around her waist as she walked.
"you alright chris?" she asked.
"yeah im good. im just not trynna get fucked up tonight, so you gotta stay close." he reassured her.
"i wasn't leaving your side anyway." she said, grabbing his hand and making her way to their crew. "SUP SLUTS?" she shouted and everybody cheered.
and the night went on just like that.
taking a shot for solidarity, partying with their friends, and losing themselves in the night. everyone danced and enjoyed each othe
r. chris and y/n particularly enjoyed each other.
suddenly y/n's new favorite song came on. as soon as she heard that "i say HOOOOO BABBYYYYY" a switch flipped.
the moment was no longer about enjoying the feeling of chris being semi-hard on her ass. it was about letting the whole house know that he was hers.
and wreck-it ralph himself couldn't break that.
so she did what any self-respecting woman would do. she began screaming the lyrics to him while moving her body and making heart hands.
bae i love you
you my everything
im yo main bitch
fuck a wedding ring
chris just laughed and began singing along with her, pulling her body to his, so their noses were touching.
in this moment, y/n realized how much she loved chris. what she'd do for him. she'd keep every secret. she'd lie for him. she'd kill for him. she'd die for him. she'd live for him.
did it scare her? fuck yes.
she was supposed to be a pimp, not a lover girl. and she only knew this man for a year. but if president sexyy can be tied down than so can she.
i only knew him for a week
but i swear thats my boo
i might let the nigga trap me
bitch my summer through
but dont give a fuck
do anythang for you
the couple was in la la land (ryan gosling hit me up!) as they danced and laughed and loved up on each other.
to the untrained eye, it was disgusting. but to their friends, it was the moment they'd all been waiting for.
matt smiled with pride at the side of chris being with who he really wanted to be with, rather than who he think people want him to be with.
nick was shocked at chris being so openly in a relationship after physically cringing at the mere thought of sharing a scooter with a girl, but happy for him nonetheless.
tara was damn near in tears, seeing y/n being her true soft self.
jake was wishing he had someone he could be gross and cute with.
tril (who introduced the pair) was just glad chris was finally getting non-toxic pussy and y/n was getting the dick she deserved.
but of course the moment had to be ruined.
there's always a bitch ass bitch trying to kill the vibe.
or should i say, a bitch ass bum.
as soon as the couple saw who'd been standing there staring at them like monkeys in a zoo, they made eye contact and simultaneously busted out laughing.
"what do you want bruh?" chis asked, sighing in an attempt to control his giggling.
"you're fucking with her after we just broke up two weeks ago?" she nudged her head in y/n's direction, which only changed her mood from wildly entertained to mildy irritated.
"i'm not just 'fucking with' her." chris responded bluntly. "she's my girlfriend. my girl. friend." chris made sure to enunciate his words because he knew this girl was a little slow. "something you would have had to been for us to 'break up'. which we never did. because we never dated." he pulled y/n into his side and made sure she was good before he looked back at his old talking stage.
y/n was more than good. her pussy flooded when chris called her his girlfriend.
nigga we go together
tell them hoes we go together
"but-"
this bitch still fucking here?
"but nothing hoe." y/n butt in, deciding to handle this situation herself. she stepped to the girl and looked her good in the eyes, to make sure she felt every word. "he just told you he has a girlfriend so get the fuck on and find something safe to do."
the girl cowered and walked away without another peep. leaving chris and y/n to embrace each other with passion and love and lust and all the other good feelings.
it was official. everyone knew they were together.
everyone knew that they were each others.
what more could a retired pimp ask for?
niyah speaks
luh part two to feed yall for the week
taglist: @mattslolita @muwapsturniolo @mattssluttygf @zniyadgaf
remember that if no one loves you, mommy loves you (and by mommy i mean me)
#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#christopher sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#chris sturniolo fanfic#Spotify
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you made me miserable
guys, this is short im sorry buuut i could make it up to you by writing the teams reaction to the songs?? fair deal? I think so
1 month.
It had been one month of no contact with Spencer. I've been declining his calls, hell i've even ignored him when i heard him knocking at my door thank god i wasn't at that level of popularity where paparazzi follows me everywhere. Hm. I wonder if his team has mocked me for that too. I can already imagine it, it's almost hilarious.
Anyway
I've written three songs about him about them not because they won because i wanna humiliate them have the internet speculate who the songs are about (even though they'll never know its him)
Some thoughts cross my mind as i begin to upload the tracks
Am I being dramatic? I mean the internet has said worse, maybe i should sleep on it-
No
No no no y/n stop it your feelings are valid i think to myself. I impulsively upload the tracks to all websites
Track 1 : snow angel
Track 2: lost cause
Track 3: happier than ever.
The main parts of each song is the part i want him to hear, for example
Snow angel: I tried so hard
I came so far
I met a boy
He broke my heart
I blame him 'cause
It's easier
Track 2: lost cause
I used to think you were shy
But maybe you just had nothing on your mind
Maybe you were thinkin' 'bout yourself all the time
I used to wish you were mine
But that was way before I realized
Someone like you would always be so easy to find
So easy (so easy)
He-hee, mm-mm-mm, mm
Gave me no flowers
Wish I didn't care
You'd been gone for hours
Could be anywhere
Ooh, ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh
Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah
Track 3 : happier than ever
You call me again, drunk in your Benz
Driving home under the influence
You scared me to death, but I'm wasting my breath
'Cause you only listen to your fucking friends
I don't relate to you
I don't relate to you, no
'Cause I'd never treat me this shitty
You made me hate this city
And I don't talk shit about you on the internet
Never told anyone anything bad
'Cause that shit's embarrassing, you were my everything
And all that you did was make me fucking sad
So don't waste the time I don't have
And don't try to make me feel bad
I could talk about every time that you showed up on time
But I'd have an empty line 'cause you never did
Never paid any mind to my mother or friends
So I shut 'em all out for you 'cause I was a kid
You ruined everything good
Always said you were misunderstood
Made all my moments your own
Just fucking leave me alone
Now…was spencer ever driving drunk in his car??? No was he just sitting in his car drinking while he called you complaining about how he fucked up and misses me?? Yess
And now we wait.
#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#criminal minds incorrect quotes#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x famous!reader#spencer reid x singer!reader#spencer reid angst
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And It's Too Cold//It's Too Cold
Lewis Hamilton/Nico Rosberg | Angst | Smut | 1695 words | on ao3 | in Google Docs
Songfic Based On: Sweater Weather, The NBHF
Nico was in the cooldown room when it happened. Towel in hand, he was wiping the cold droplets trickling down his torso when Lewis burst open the door. (They didn't even use the cooldown room at the same time anymore.)
“Nico.”
The name left his teammate's mouth for the first time in weeks. Nico's throat didn't have to tighten like that— he wasn't going to speak anyway.
“I need to talk to you,” Lewis said, something desperate in his voice that Nico wasn't sure was real.
All I am is a man
Nico’s words were careful, deliberately stern. “What do you want, Lewis?”
I want the world in my hands
“To talk to you- about the race.” Abu Dhabi. 2016. “You won. Congratulations. I still won the championship.”
That seemed to snap something inside Lewis. In a swift motion, he lunged at Nico. But his childhood friend was much too familiar with his tactics, he knew about his speedy attacks and had swift reflexes to match. All those teenage years spent wrestling on hotel beds weren't for nothing.
“I don't fucking care!” Lewis shouted, his collar grasped in Nico's hands, Nico pushed all up against the wall. “I don't fucking care that I won the race!”
“You seemed to care a fuck lot about it on the track, mate,” Nico spat.
Lewis jerked his shoulders, hitting his head on the wall in the process. “Why can't you see, Nico?! Why can't you understand? I can't take this anymore.”
I hate the beach
But I stand in California with my toes in the sand
“Take what, Lewis? Because all I've been doing this year is take and take and fucking take. You haven't taken shit compared to what you've put me through.” His eyes were burning now. He needed Lewis out of here.
“I can't take this— you pretending I don't exist. I will take the accidents and the crashes and the goddamn fistfights, but I can't,” —his voice broke, eyes welling up, and Nico had the urge to wipe them before any tears fell— “I can't take this, Nico.”
Use the sleeves of my sweater
“You really think you're the only one suffering? How self centred, how typical of you, Lewis.”
Let's have an adventure
“...What?”
“You think this doesn't hurt me? this non stop fighting and competition, and never making up? Open your fucking eyes. I don't like this any more than you do.”
Lewis' hands dropped from his shoulders, chest heaving. The air between them was electric, too dangerous to breathe in.
Head in the clouds but my gravity centered
“Then why do you do it?” It was the smallest voice Nico had ever heard.
Because it's better than admitting the truth. Because it has less consequences than saying 'I love you.' “Because you started it.”
Touch my neck and I'll touch yours
Dark eyes trailed from his wet hair to the damn skin of his torso, not in a lewd way, but like a man recalling all that he has to lose. When he looked back up, there was a hope in his eyes that Nico couldn't bear looking at. “And will you stop if I stop?”
You in those little high waisted shorts, oh
This was a terrible idea from the beginning. The Karting, the trip to Greece, the ride-or-die friendship, all of it— terrible.
Oh, she knows what I think about
“Stop fucking thinking so much, Nico, it can't get worse than this.”
It really couldn't.
And what I think about
The answer came in the form of a desperate hand grabbing the back of Lewis’ head to bring him closer.
It was a gunshot, the way their lips met each other's. It was the sweet shock of love after a lifetime of yearning. It was like their first sip of too-strong whiskey at fourteen, knowing they've crossed a line they can never go back to.
One love, two mouths
Lewis’ surprise melted into eagerness in a split second. Nico tilted his head and grabbed his bicep. Lewis had grabbed Nico's face with both hands like he was something dear and precious.
It really was a terrible idea, and nothing could ever fix it; but if they were going to burn they'd go down singing in the flames.
One love, one house
“Take off your shirt,” he grunted. Lewis obeyed.
Smooth brown skin burned under Nico's freezing palms. He grabbed a handful of the pecs, moaning into the kiss.
No shirt, no blouse
“Is this—” Lewis pushed him away. God give him dignity, Nico almost whined. “Is this a confession thing? Or a goodbye thing? Because I have no idea what I'll do with a goodbye fuck.”
Just us, you find out
Nico had no idea either. He didn't want to leave Lewis. But for now, the only thing on his mind was the throbbing heart under his hand. They were here. ‘Leaving’ seemed like something out of a hazy dream. “I don't know.”
Nothing that I wouldn't wanna tell you about, no
Lewis had this look on his face— like he wanted to run away but his feet wouldn't take him. Nico wanted to tell him that there was nothing he could have done to change anything. There was nothing that could have ended up with them anywhere other than where they are. He didn't say anything.
'Cause it's too cold for you here
“Do you really? Or is this another game?” Yes, Nico wanted to yell. He knew what Hamilton was asking. 'Do you really love me?’ and he wanted to yell, Yes, yes, yes. I do love you. I do. I'm sorry. All he could do was nod.
And now, so let me hold
Both your hands in the holes of my sweater
Lewis put a hand on his cheek, kissing him again. Only this time it was so much more gentle, yet hurt so much more. Somewhere in his subconscious Lewis seemed to have realised that this was probably the first and last time they will ever do this; and he did it like he wanted to remember.
And if I may just take your breath away
There was so much Nico wanted to say, and he couldn't say any of it. He wanted to scream.
We will never be the same again, he wanted to say. I will never love another like you. A moan. You've destroyed all that I was. A sigh. Do not destroy what I am. Hands caressed his body, so soft it was painful. Build me a pyre, and I'll still whisper your name as I burn. A prayer. I love y—
“How do you want this?” Lewis whispered, hands working him out of his pants.
I don't mind if there's not much to say
Nico grabbed his shoulders, using the stability of Lewis’ hands on his thighs to wrap his legs around his waist. He relished in the way Lewis groaned, he would never hear it ever again.
Sometimes the silence guides a mind
To move to a place so far away
Lewis was gentle, so gentle. They both loved like an ocean. With Nico it was a tsunami; desire coursing through his veins as he groped, wrecked, swallowed everything that came in his way. And with Lewis it was this; sweet, gentle and relentless like moonlit waves in the darkest hours of the night. What choice did either have but to drown?
The goosebumps start to raise
���More,” he whimpered, arching his back against the wall. The soft gaze with which Lewis was watching him was more violent than any fistfight they've ever had.
And then I watch your face
Put my finger on your tongue 'cause you love to taste, yeah
It hurt— even with how tender Lewis was being. Maybe more so because of that. He harshened the pace at Nico's request, hiding his face in the crook of his neck. Their hearts beat in sync, thudding against the ribcages pressed together.
These hearts adore, everyone the other beats hardest for
Strangling begins with holding. Cannibalism begins with a kiss. They both bring grief and hurt and madness; what is love if not just tender violence?
Inside this place is warm
Outside it starts to pour
He reached the peak of his pleasure first, spilling onto their abdomens. Lewis followed right after.
Coming down
One love, two mouths
They stayed like that for a while; chests heaving, foreheads pressed together, hearts broken like the promises they made at fourteen.
One love, one house
No shirt, no blouse
“Don't leave me, Nico.”
Just us, you find out
Why do you speak to me and why do I try to understand? he thought. We no longer speak the same language.
Not a word was uttered.
Nothing that I wouldn't wanna tell you about, no, no, no
“We can fix this.” That damned hope.
'Cause it's too cold for you here
“Put me down,” was what Nico chose to say. Lewis did, searching his face desperately for an answer.
And now, so let me hold
Both your hands in the holes of my sweater
Nico picked his pants off the floor, pulling them on without another word. Lewis spared them both the pain and stayed silent as well.
'Cause it's too cold for you here
He was wiping his torso with a spare towel when Lewis finally spoke.
“You promised, Nico.”
Nico looked at him, no longer caring about the wet streaks on his cheeks. “We made a lot of stupid promises.”
And now, so let me hold
Both your hands in the holes of my sweater
“You said we'd race together. Forever. You said you wouldn't race without me. Then why should I?”
Wasn't forever such a sweet lie? It wasn't nearly as long as people thought it was.
Both your hands in the holes of my sweater
“I'm leaving racing for good, Lewis.”
And it's too cold, it's too cold
Lewis was silent for what seemed like hours. “I love you.”
With a single whispered phrase, Nico shut the door behind him. “It'll pass.”
The holes of my sweater…
#f1 fic#f1 ships#f1 rpf fic#brocedes#lewis hamilton x nico rosberg#sunshine and britney#madhav ke lekh#brocedes angst#brocedes smut#formula 1#formula one#f1
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TW for discussion of homophobia.
Hi, Nora! In the spirit of pride month I want to tell the story about how becoming a demon phannie has deprogrammed my bigotry when I was a teen.
I grew up with homophobia being the norm amongst the kids. In my country it was quite precise though, a bit different from what Dan described in BIG. We didn't use "gay" as a synonym for "bad". Boys wouldn't be called gay for crying or liking theater or just being well-behaved. Not in my school at least.
No, there was a clear-cut definition that gays were only the boys who liked boys. But if you fit that definition, if someone knew you fit that definition, then god help you. You would be constantly mocked, bullied and beat up at school. The headmaster would call your parents and tell them to fix their broken little pervert. Your parents reaction could fall anywhere from a stern talk and calling you a disgrace to a beating and sending you to a military type boarding school. Treating a teen this way was perceived as completely normal. Nowadays the kids have thankfully become way more accepting despite our governments best efforts. But now you can also add a visit to the police station to the pile.
Sapphics just didn't exist, as always. That's why when I told my friends "I genuinely think boobs are more attractive than dicks - they are more esthetically pleasing to look at" the only reaction I got was confused laughter and strange looks. No, I did not realize what that said about me back then. It was just foreshadowing.
I remember my parents occasionally saying that it's a sickness and shouldn't be allowed to be demonstrated in any way. Peppering it with the usual "they can do whatever they want behind closed doors". And if people got beat up on the streets for being gay...well they just brought that on themselves by flaunting their sexuality, didn't they?
I lived with that worldview until I was 15 or 16.
Then I started finding out that some famous people were gay. But it only got me to the point of "I like his art, so I won't stop consuming it, despite him being gay". In my mind if you were gay and wanted people to tolerate your existence, you had to be talented in order to justify it. And have the decency to not act gay in public. Yeah, I know, bare with me.
When I found Dan's channel in 2015 I instantly fell in love with his videos. Soon I also started watching Phil and then the gaming channel.
My gaydar was non-existent at the time and, ironically, I was conditioned into thinking that gay people just like to announce that they're gay to everyone. So, since Dan and Phil never did, I just took their word for it. For almost a year I just enjoyed watching their content without a second thought.
Then one day I saw the compilations. The radio show clips. The old videos. That was all it took really. My brain couldn't compute, couldn't connect the "sick perversion" I heard so much about to what I was seeing on my screen. It wasn't unnatural, or disgusting or deliberately demonstrative. It was fucking beautiful. They simply couldn't help being extremely adorable.
Starting from that day the thought "keep it to yourselves" never occurred to me. I just wanted to be a fly on the wall.
I never dared to write fanfiction or make compilations or, god forbid, directly ask one of them in a qna. I was happy to just lurk and snort that yaoi cocaine in silence.
In hindsight, Dan and Phil were the reason I didn't instantly hate myself after having the first crush on a girl and realizing I was bi in 2018.
Later I got into breadtube and realized just how insane and baseless all those conservative talking points were. But DnP were the sole reason I left that eco-chamber in the first place.
So thank you to Dan and Phil and thank you to all fellow demons 💜
fujoshi-ism saves lives is the thing
no but isn't it odd the way things work out.. the fact that dan and phil were able to help you like that is amazing, and also it's very funny that they did it through the power of rpf
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Without You | Bada Lee/ BEBE x Fem Reader | MINI SERIES
Summary: after noticing the youngest girl is gone, you split up to find her but encounter a rampage and run to hide.
Word Count: 805
A/N: expect more frequent updates on this series!!🤍🤭
•STUCK•
After taking turns at night, it was finally a bit brighter outside and you were able to rest. You were leaning against Bada. You felt someone nudge your arm and your eyes fluttered open.
"Sowoen is gone," she said. That got rid of any drowsiness in your body. You looked at the back only to find everyone as equally confused and worried as you.
"What!? where could she have gone? Did you guys hear anything?" you asked as you began to panic.
"No, I only noticed she was gone when I tried to find her arm for comfort but she was no longer there. Unnie, we have to find her," Cheche said. You were shocked. It was the first time she referred to you as unnie. You thought she hated you.
"Okay, Let's calm down. She shouldn't be too far. We will just look around for her. We can split and look for her," You said and they nodded.
"Alright... Tatter, Kyma, Cheche, and I will go that way. Bada, Lusher, and Minah will go that way" You all started to get out of the car when Bada held your hand.
"I want to go with you," Bada said as she pulled you closer.
"Bada, this is not the time or place. Our youngest one is missing and we don't know what happened," you said trying to reason with her. At the same time, you were looking around to see if you could find some sort of clue.
"But why can't you and I go together? We can split evenly and then-"
"Bada, stop! We are always attached to the hip. Going to find Sowoen for a few hours will not hurt us. We are the oldest and they need us. I will go with them and you will go that way. Get it together," You walked to your girls leaving Bada dumbfounded at your words.
You started looking around with the girls walking behind you.
"What exactly are we looking for?" Kyma said.
"for anything suspicious or any clue. Look at the floor when you walk too," you said and they nodded.
"Holy shit! look!" Tatter yelled when she saw how a large crowd of people ran towards you.
"Run... RUN!" You yelled and they started to sprit behind you.
"Unnie! Look!" Cheche said as she pointed at a gas station you had just passed. Sowoen's favorite sweater was stuck to the door.
"Fuck!" You yelled and diverted your pets from the original path. You ran inside the store and the girls ran behind you. You locked the door and hid behind the counter.
"What the hell was that?" Tatter said as she tried to catch her breath.
"Shh! Give me your phone," You told Cheche in a whisper. You quickly dialed Bada's number but she didn't pick up. You dialed Minah's and she successfully picked up.
"Hey did you find her?"
"Is there a place to hide?" you said.
"What?"
"Minah, Hide now! Hide!" you yelled again.
"Shit... BADA!" You heard her yell through the phone. For a while, you did not hear anything else and you started to panic. Your breathing was sped up and your eyes were wide.
A few minutes passed and the phone was still on the call.
"Unnie?"
"Lee Minah! Are you guys okay?"
"Yes, we found a small grocery store,"
"Sowoen!? Are you here!? It's Y/N" You yelled waiting for someone to respond but all you heard were quite sobs and you didn't know where they came from.
"I'll call you back. Please stay down and look for things to protect yourself. Any alcohol or disinfectant that might get rid of the virus. Stay where you are," you said and tried to hang up but Bada called out for you.
"What do you mean hang up!? I don't know where you are and if you're okay. Why not stay on the line till we manage to find each other, huh?"
"Bada-"
"No! I told you we should stay together. I told you I didn't want to leave you. Why didn't you listen?"
"Bada! We might have found Sowoen. Don't be so selfish. This isn't all about us anymore. We have six more girls we need to take care of and we need to figure out how to do so. If you can't do that then I don't know what to tell you. I need to go find Sowoen," you said before hanging up.
You sighed in frustration and handed Cheche her phone.
"Unnie... look..." You turned in the direction Cheche pointed and saw a pool of blood as well as blood stains around a fridge door.
Your skin turned cold and your heart began pounding as you walked towards the door and slowly opened it to find a horrible gore scene.
"Oh my gosh... Sowoen!"
⋆.˚✮TBC✮˚.⋆
#forbebeandjam#honeybee156#street woman fighter 2#swf2#bebe#lgbt#bada lee#jam republic#street woman fighter x reader#bada lee x y/n#bada lee x reader#bada lee imagine#apocalypse#minah bebe#sowoen bebe#kyma bebe#tatter bebe#lusher bebe#cheche bebe
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happy birthday to my friend @stillboldlygoing. this once - and only this once - will i participate in your wish fulfillment of fixing my fic there's nothing surgery can do.
so i give you this tumblr exclusive ficlet, just a dream
word count: ~3.4k
tags: ellie pov, joel & ellie, nightmares, 'it was all a dream' trope, blood, minor injury, no beta we die like david
“But no matter what, no matter all the time you have spent hating me, I love you, Ellie. Okay? No matter what, I would always have loved you. And I have never, not for a goddamn second, regretted my choice.”
Ellie’s eyes flutter open, Joel’s words still ringing in her ears. Her eyes are crusted with the remnants of her tears, cheeks still damp, and as she sucks in a shallow breath, Ellie realizes she is still crying.
She might never stop, at this point. She doesn’t see how she can, not with Joel gone, not with what feels like her entire life upended. What the fuck is she supposed to do, with his words and the echo of that gunshot reverberating non-stop in her head? That image of him walking off into the trees is forever seared into her mind.
Another ragged sob slips out of her lips, and Ellie pushes herself upright on her bed, chest heaving –
She freezes, hands gripping the edge of her mattress. Her bed. She didn’t – she fell asleep on the floor after getting back, she fell asleep there and she stayed there. She stayed there, on the cold ground, still in her jeans and flannel and boots, and yet…
And yet she’s in her bed, in her pajamas, boots shucked off messily by the door like she always does. The door’s still locked, and Ellie whips her head around to check her window, to look at the curtains she knows she closed, and yet they’re wide fucking open. Joel’s house is framed behind them, trees swaying ever so slightly and Ellie –
Ellie bolts.
Doesn’t bother with her shoes, just twists the lock and yanks the door open, doesn’t shut it behind her. Runs full tilt across the yard without slowing, even when she steps on a rock or a twig or something that has her swearing and her right foot radiating pain, but she doesn’t stop until she’s up the steps to his porch and outside his door. It’s fucking locked - who locks their goddamn doors in a place as safe as Jackson? - and Ellie jiggles the knob fruitlessly.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
She gives up trying to turn the handle in favor of banging on the door with her palm, not stopping even when it starts to sting, when the pain is ricocheting up her arm, not caring that she probably can be heard from around the front of the house, that the sun is barely up, that her foot is hurting something awful, just keeps slamming her hand into the door until she hears a noise from behind it and the handle turns and the door swings open and –
Joel is standing there in front of her. Joel, whose expression morphs rapidly from annoyance to surprise to trepidation to worry. Joel, with his graying hair and increasingly wrinkled face, faded shirt and bare feet, and Ellie can’t help the noise that slips from her and has his eyes going wide.
“Ellie, what –?”
But her hands are scrabbling for his arm, his right arm, rotating it until she can see his forearm, the skin unmarked and unblemished and un-fucking-bitten.
Her oh my god comes out wet and garbled, and she slumps forward until her forehead meets his chest. Joel staggers - steadies - and wraps an arm around her shoulder as she twines her fingers into the sides of his shirt and sobs her relief out against him.
“You’re alright,” she hears faintly above her, his hand rubbing a slow path up and down her spine. “‘S alright.”
They stand there together until Ellie’s sobs subside and she leans back, peering up at him as if she can’t quite believe he’s here. And she can’t, not really - the dream was so vivid, so life-like, she can still smell the dirt, can still hear the echo of the gunshot, can still feel the tightness of Tommy’s arms around her, pulling her away from him permanently.
Joel’s staring back at her almost the same way, uncertainty and confusion and hope all warring visibly across his face. He cups her cheeks, thumbs brushing away stray tears as they still fall, and his brows tug together.
“You wanna tell me what that was about?” He asks softly.
“I –” Ellie’s throat closes, head turning enough to catch sight of his bite-free arm again. “I had a nightmare last night, I guess. But it was one of those nightmares that feels so real, everything about it was so clear, I can still remember every little detail of it, I –” She shifts her weight, a hiss escaping when her right foot flares with pain. “Jesus fuck,” she breathes, looking down.
“What –” Joel follows her gaze down, his hands tensing on her face. “You’re bleedin’.”
Sure enough, there’s a small pool of blood on his back deck, her foot throbbing and tacky with it when she lifts it to examine the damage. It’s a deep gash, right through the middle of her foot, and a glance backwards shows a few bloody footprints across the deck.
“Yeah,” Ellie replies quietly, looking back at him, “I think I stepped on something in the yard when I was coming over here.”
Joel shifts to the side of her, hooking an arm under her shoulders. “C’mon, inside.” He nudges her forward, supporting her weight as she hops awkwardly on one foot.
“No, I can take care of it,” Ellie protests weakly, even as she lets herself be led over to the couch. “I don’t wanna get blood on your floor or anything.” Joel props her foot up on the coffee table before disappearing into the kitchen and reemerging with his first aid kit, a dented white case that had been in the house when he’d moved in.
“Yeah, well, you showed up here freaked the hell out and bleedin’, so humor me for a minute and let me fix you up, alright?”
Ellie sinks a little deeper into the couch, watching as he cracks it open and pulls out a wipe and some gauze. She doesn’t know how there’s even anything left in it at this point, after years of bandaging up her cuts and scrapes, not to mention his own. “Alright.”
She leaves him to work in silence for a moment, eyes skating over the room around them curiously. Not really anything has changed since the last time she was here other than a couple more wood carvings, maybe some new books. The clock on the mantel ticks loudly in the silence, right next to the drawing of him she’d made. She can still see his face, gone all soft and pleased in the way she only ever saw from him rarely, staring down at the drawing with his hand over his mouth. Eyes glassy as he’d immediately gone to get a frame for it.
The drawing he’d done of her in turn had been taken out of its frame and shoved in the middle of one of her books. She hadn’t been able to make herself get rid of it anymore than she could stand to look at it.
“So…” Joel draws the word out, glancing up at her briefly before returning his attention to her foot. It stings as he carefully wipes it clean, a towel resting under her heel and slowly darkening with blood. “You gonna tell me about this nightmare of yours?”
Ellie starts to pull her leg back immediately, but Joel’s too quick - his hand clamps around her ankle to keep it in place like he knew exactly what she was thinking. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” she says sullenly, crossing her arms over her chest and feeling for a moment like the fourteen-year-old she had been when they met.
Joel hesitates, hand squeezing her ankle and then releasing it in favor of pressing a bandage to the sole of her foot. He keeps pressure there for a long moment, shifting her foot to rest on top of his thigh to hold it better. “You don’t gotta tell me about it if you really don’t want to,” he says eventually, eyes still on her foot. “I just know it had to have been pretty bad if it had you runnin’ to me all panicked like that.” His voice fades into something a little more forlorn, like he recognizes how out of the ordinary it is now for a tear-stained Ellie to be showing up on his doorstep. For Ellie to be on his doorstep at all, after a year and a half of careful avoidance.
Ellie tilts her head back to rest on the back of the couch, eyes on the discolored ceiling. It’s easier than looking at Joel and seeing all the layers of him as she’d known him overlapping. The utter asshole of a man she’d first met that had flung her into a wall and pointed a gun in her face; the softer version he’d become after their argument in this very house, teaching her about football and how to shoot; his face as he’d admitted to lying to her, to ruining any hope of a cure; the face from her dream as he’d prepared to go off into the woods and die; and the man now carefully bandaging her foot with his head hung. There were too many versions of him that pulled too many of her heartstrings and had her feeling entirely too many different ways.
But her eyes slip shut and the vision of him walking towards the trees with a trembling arm and two patrolmen swims behind her eyelids, and the words fall out.
“You died.”
Joel’s hand stills on her foot, the gauze half-wrapped around. He doesn’t say anything, and it’s like all the air has been sucked from the room.
“You died,” Ellie repeats quietly, swiping a stray tear from her cheek. “You got bitten out on a patrol, and me and Tommy had to go say goodbye to you, and then I watched you walk off to go kill yourself.”
His hands resume their ministrations, but even without looking at him Ellie can feel them trembling. Fuck, she’s already said this much, so she might as well keep going.
“Tommy came to get me,” she whispers, eyes still shut, “and told me you got bit. And so I went out with him to see you before you – before.” Her throat goes tight, and Ellie forces herself to sit up and look at him again. Even feeling him securing the ends of the bandage isn’t enough - she needs a visual reminder that he’s still here, that it was all just her brain’s idea of a horrendous joke.
Joel finishes bandaging her foot but makes no move to stand or to return her leg to the coffee table. One of his hands stays wrapped loosely around her ankle, his gaze on the ground between his bare feet. He’s still in his pajamas, Ellie realizes for the first time. She must have been banging on the door hard enough to wake him - there’s not even the smell of coffee coming from the kitchen.
“Was there more to it?” Joel asks when she doesn’t continue, and Ellie swallows.
“Yeah, it –” she blows out a breath, fingers knotting together in her lap. “We got there and you’d…you’d gotten bit on your arm. Same place as me.” Joel’s right arm twitches slightly, his eyes finally lifting to meet hers. “And…we –” Ellie clears her throat. “We said goodbye.”
“What did we say?” Joel asks quietly, a note of fear in his voice like he doesn’t really want to know the answer.
“Well,” Ellie takes a deep breath, resituates herself a little but doesn’t pull her foot from Joel’s thigh, “I got really pissed at you. Told you it was all your fault because of…because you –”
“Because of what I did at the hospital,” he fills in for her. There’s no recrimination in his voice, no guilt or anger, just understanding. He’s holding her gaze steadily, encouraging her to keep going, something sad lurking in the depths of his eyes that Ellie doesn’t want to try to name.
So she keeps going, spills out all of it - all the things they’d said, the puns, the way she still hadn’t been able to let go of her anger but the way his death had all but destroyed her from the inside out. By the time she stops talking, her throat is dry and her cheeks are damp again. So are Joel’s, his hand still cradling her ankle.
Silence envelops them, the air in the room leaden and heavy with a grief that still feels too real, too raw and present. Ellie still can’t believe how clear the whole dream was - how clear it still was in her mind even now - and she still half expects to blink and be alone in his house. Blink, and he’ll be gone, out in an unmarked grave beyond Jackson’s walls, and she’ll be here with only grief and resentment and fading memories of his laugh to keep her company.
But Joel remains solid in front of her, tangible, his calloused hand still keeping her tethered.
“D’you want some tea?” He finally asks, looking up at her a little uncertainly. “I’ve got some things I’d like to say about your nightmare, but I think maybe we might need some kinda fortification for that.”
“Yeah. Yeah, sure.”
Joel steadies her as she stands, hands hovering nearby as she limps to the dining room and settles into the chair by the window. It doesn’t hurt quite as bad to walk with the cushion of the bandaging, but she knows she’s gonna have to let Tommy know and probably get herself taken off patrol for a couple weeks.
Ellie sits there, watching as Joel busies himself at the stovetop, pulling down an extra mug to go with his owl mug, digging out a tin of tea that she’s pretty sure she left here after she moved out, pacing back and forth until the kettle whistles and he can pour both of their drinks.
Joel brings both mugs over to the table and sets them down, turning back to dig a small jar of honey out of one of the cabinets and carry it back along with a spoon.
Clearly, he still remembers how she likes her tea.
The smell of his coffee permeates her nostrils as she stirs in the spoonful of honey, and for once she doesn’t recoil from it. She’ll never admit it to him, but the smell had grown on her over the years. Not the taste - never the taste - but the scent of coffee was something Ellie came to associate with Joel, and with safety. Coffee and sawdust and whatever oil it was he used on his wood carvings. She’d forced herself to stop seeking out the smell of it when she’d cut Joel out.
This morning though, Ellie just lets herself take a deep breath and inhale it as Joel settles himself across from her.
“‘M sorry you had that nightmare,” he begins slowly, staring into the depth of his coffee mug like it’ll have all the answers. “And I’m glad that you came here and I could help you out.”
“Like old times,” Ellie can’t help but say, thinking back on bandaged blisters and cut hands, and Joel gives her a brief, wry smile.
“And I don’t expect anything to change, even with how scared and upset you were.” Joel takes a sip of his coffee, setting the owl mug back down with a thunk. “‘Specially once I tell you that I agree with everything the me in your nightmare said.” His voice wavers a bit, but his gaze is steady as it joins with hers. “I don’t regret what I did. I’ll never regret it.”
Ellie’s jaw clenches, but she doesn’t interrupt. This was what her mind had been trying to tell her with that dream, right? Hearing Joel out, letting him say his piece and deciding where to go from there, before it was too late to do anything.
When she stays quiet, Joel’s shoulders lose a little bit of their tension, dropping from around his ears. “I know that’s probably not what you wanna hear. But after I lied to you about what happened at the hospital - what I did,” he clarifies when Ellie’s fingers twitch on her mug, “I told myself that if I ever got the chance to talk to you again I’d be completely upfront about it. So I’ll tell you, I’d do it again. Anything to save your life, kiddo.”
Ellie sits, sips her tea, lets the silence envelop them once more. What he’s saying is nothing new to her - she’s always known he didn’t regret it, wouldn’t change his mind, would kill anyone he deemed a threat to her without a second thought. And it still pisses her the hell off, the way that he’d taken a crucial choice from her, ruined the one thing she was supposed to be good for. It still makes her want to toss her tea in his face and storm out.
But even as she thinks it, she hears the Joel from her dream murmuring I gotta go, baby and sees him vanishing into the woods. Feels the gaping wound left by his death, filled only with her anger and resentment, and Ellie knows - she doesn’t want that. This world they live in now…anything could happen. He could get bit; she could get shot. At his age, he could have a heart attack or a stroke or just fucking die.
And Ellie doesn’t think she’d be able to live with herself if he died thinking she hated him.
“I’m still mad,” she says slowly, and Joel nods, not really looking at her. “I might always be mad. I don’t know how to forgive what you did.”
“Yeah,” Joel says sadly. He rotates his mug between his hands, thumb running over the lip of it almost absently. “Yeah, I know.” He says it like he is already expecting a return to the way things had been, to distant and polite greetings, to separate lives.
“I think I’d like to try though,” Ellie manages, her voice barely a whisper. “Like I think…” The table in front of her blurs slightly and she blinks away the fresh round of tears to look up at Joel. He’s watching her with guarded hope on his face, his own eyes glassy. “I think that if something happened to you, like in my dream, and things were the way they were, I think I’d regret it the rest of my life.”
Joel swallows, hands white-knuckling his owl mug. “I’d like that,” he tells her hoarsely. “I’d really…I’d really like that.”
“Okay,” Ellie says, letting out a breath and feeling like a hundred pound weight has lifted from her chest. “Okay, good, that’s…good.”
They finish their drinks in a quiet that feels less tense and weighted than anything else that’s been between them…all the way back to that ridge overlooking Jackson, if Ellie really thinks about it. Him lying to her there had been the biggest crack in their relationship, made wider and wider by every time he doubled down on it.
But now it felt like maybe it could be fixed, like things between them could start to shift back to how they had been on the road.
Ellie washes their mugs in the sink despite Joel protesting that she oughta stay off her foot. He hovers - nice to know nothing has changed - one hand perpetually outstretched like she’s about to suddenly topple over. He escorts her to the door too, asking only once if she’s sure she’s alright to walk across the yard to her place. He doesn’t ask her to stay - they both know that would be too much, too soon - but he watches from the porch as she hobbles carefully down to her home. She gives the offending rock a wide berth, eyeing the sharp point of it - smeared with her blood - with distaste.
Joel’s still on the porch when Ellie gets to her door and glances back. He gives her a wave and starts to step away like he’s gonna head inside.
“Hey,” Ellie calls impulsively, and Joel pauses. “Wanna watch a movie tonight?”
Even from across the yard, she can see the way his face lights up.
“Yeah,” he’s grinning from ear to ear, “yeah, kiddo, I’d love to.”
love you rocky, hopefully you're having a delightful birthday 💗
#the things i do for my friends#are you happy rocky i un-killed joel#just this once#next time he stays dead#consider it an alternate timeline#lauren write something short challenge#passed for once#just because it CAN be done doesn't mean it SHOULD be done#returning to my usual wordiness after this#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#joel and ellie#the last of us#tumblr exclusive#just a dream#there's nothing surgery can do
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Hi, I could not find your rules for writing, but if I may request some smut/fluff *Thranduil x reader*. You can imagine this scenario; the tranduil and reader are playing this kind of game: do or drink, and how they are playing, they have various tasks,some are funny, some are more s€xual... they are kind of sassy and playful, and they are teasing eachother (because none of them want to lose), and after that they will do what have to be done (yk what I mean). If you are not comfortable or I over-crossed your rules, than you can ignore this ♥︎. Thank you for your beautiful writings, cant wait for another !
Drinks and Dares | hobbit
pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader 👑
Boredom leads Thranduil to ask you to play a game that either end in far too many secrets spilled or far too much wine drank. When you agreed you wouldn't have thought the evening to end like this!
tags/warnings: NSWF! THIS IS ADULT CONTENT ✋️, smut, oral sex (fem), fingering, pet names, slight intoxication on wine (they literally played a drinking game, it's all consensual), Thranduil gets off on reader wearing his crown
word count: 4,5k
an: this turned out to be much filthier and longer than I expected or planned but here you go! I'm getting much more comfortable writing smut though it's still not at a level where I could say: yeah i know what I'm doing so forgive me if it feels a bit "clunky"
+ masterlist + rules +
🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3
The truth was, you shouldn't have agreed to play a game with Thranduil.
As his most trusted guard ever since he was crowned and daresay friend for the past two millennials you should have known better than to assist him in his mischief because you knew, you knew, that nothing good ever came to his bored ingenious mind and once again you were proven to be right in that initial judgment you had ignored again, and look where that led you:
Sitting cross-legged in his private chambers and staring up as Thranduil elegantly made out with his own reflection in the tall mirror.
It was one of the more…audacious dares of the evening because you see, Thranduil's idea of entertainment was, of course, combining drinking with luring out a side of you that you, on a normal day-to-day basis, hid behind the honorable task of accompanying your Majesty. Normally you would never allow it to be this carefree, to not bother checking your surroundings – or tongue, a far worse opportunity to slip up. Thranduil could protect himself very much without any help though he liked to keep you around for comfort, but your tongue?
No, there were far too many secret desires that needed to be pushed down with the utmost care.
This concentration and focus were however nowhere to be seen after you had agreed to fool around with Thranduil's infinite supply of wine that never seemed to become less, despite the amount you drank.
The dares became less light-hearted the more wine flowed. Sneaking around the servants' hall to steal Feren's comb changed into you having to yell out the first word that came to your mind when you thought of Thranduil (the bastard had you scream 'so fucking sensual' before you both collapsed into giggles). The dares you gave Thranduil changed quite drastically as well, going from tame things like telling whoever he hated the most on the council (Thorin was the only answer and that was nothing he kept to himself) to.. well – kissing himself in the mirror.
From your point, you saw how his eyes were closed and his lips opened, smooched against the fogged-up crystal as his tongue sensually licked up a bit of spit he left. While his breath clouded the sight, you held yours in an effort to capture the smallest of noises like the soft moans that slipped out of him.
You heard and saw him press a wet kiss, a last shorter one, nothing more than a quick peck, against his reflection before his eyes snapped open to meet yours and you hoped he mistook the dilution in your pupils for the wine you held cradled in your lap and not for the pure arousal that cursed through your bloodstream and pumped straight to your core. He smirked, sharp at the edges of his with spit glittering mouth. He wasn't stupid.
"So," you cleared your throat and leaned back on one hand, lifting the other to sip on your wine, "Your turn."
"Mhm yes." Thranduil lowered himself back on the chaise longue and tugged a leg under himself. He wrapped his long fingers around the chalice to click his nails against the gold; the beat echoing deep with the throbbing between your legs. "You shall do the same as me."
"What?" you huffed, "Kiss the mirror?"
He nodded.
Your eyebrows drew together in a frown, "You can't just give me the same task! That's not how this works, Your Majesty–"
"Then drink," Thranduil said unbothered by your nagging, "That is how the game works. You do," he paused and tipped his chalice into your direction, smirking, "or you drink."
Playing games like this led to far too many secrets spilled and far too much skin revealed, evidenced by the state of undress you're both in.
Your armor had been placed by the door long ago, leaving you in a simple tunic and leggings that had grown uncomfortably warm by now. Thranduil too had rid himself of all the fancy robes and was left lounging in far too few layers for anyone else to see him. You saw the pale skin of his throat all the way down to a muscular chest revealed by a loose satin tunic and noticed every twitch of his legs confined in very, so very tight sitting, breeches.
You glared at him and gripped your own chalice tighter, tempted to just down it all and give him another dare that his ego would not easily allow to give up on but it has been a long evening and most of your thoughts are still hung up on the imagery of Thranduil pressed against his own reflection, hand splayed wide against condensation of his own hot breath.
Standing up quickly your head spun a few rounds didn't stop you from marching up to the mirror, swaying a bit to the left before reaching it. Thranduil watched you, his eyes locked onto yours and even if he may wanted to seem casual, leaning back into the cushions, his bobbing throat betrayed the image of unaffectedness he was trying to portray.
You told yourself it was the wine in your system that made you stand up on your naked tiptoes to reach the spot where Thranduil's breath had left an imprint of his mouth and, shaking just slightly, your mouth crushed against the warmed glass; right where he had been.
You tasted spit and wine and metal.
It was not at all what you had expected and at first, there was awkwardness to kissing a smooth surface that didn't reciprocate your movements until you heard a choked-up sound behind you. Thranduil's noise fueled you on and remembering what he had done, you opened your lips, allowing your tongue to draw a suggestively figure-eight.
Another gasp, this time it was your own at the lack of oxygen that would have taken you down had you not drawn back. By now the alcohol muddled your brain completely, making it impossible to stand still and not sway again. Heat pooled in your cheeks and down lower between your legs, and you were sure they were as red as they felt; flushed by this indecent behavior that only he could provoke in you because who were you but a fool in love?
"See, this was not very hard, was it?" Thranduil laughed huskily.
"Still a stupid dare," you bit and sat down again, glad that your knees didn't give up halfway across the room as they threatened to do. As a trained warrior, a good one at that, you may say so yourself, you should be able to control yourself better. It was truly pathetic how the scratch of Thranduil's voice combined with the heat that threatened to suffocate the room left your hands shaking and your knees wobbling. When the world tipped slightly, you gave in, falling onto your back to watch the ceiling spin.
"Okay," your eyes followed the roots that curved through the stone. They had been there long before you built the halls around them though now they were intertwined in the very ground that held you all together. "You, um, you have to drink or–" You grasped at whatever coherent thought was left in the puddle of brain that swooshed inside your head. A girlish giggle left you as a most improper idea manifested, its origin that one fantasy you had for decades now, never more than a secret you only dared to think about in the most lonely times.
"Or?" Thranduil inquired. He sounded very amused and if you looked half as funny and flushed as you felt, you understood why.
"Or," your head lolled to the side, taking in his long body splayed across the chaise longue watching you with a look in his eyes that had heart feathering, fluttering like a bird's wings, "I'm allowed to wear your crown."
A beat of silence.
Thranduil's eyebrows slowly wandered up on his forehead, creating the perfect arch to capture his short moment of confusion before his mouth followed. Just when you thought now you'd done it and fucked up his lips curved into a smirk and you hoped, begged, lusted after his agreement; you wouldn't survive a denial.
Not now, not with heat curling hot inside your stomach.
You wouldn't say the atmosphere changed, not particularly; there had been an underlying tension ever since you both had freed yourself from the constricting robes and armors and pretended not to stare at each bit of skin revealed, but there certainly was a shift to what was already there: hunger.
Starvation in the form of wide eyes and quick intakes of breath, your body screaming for him and you scrambling toward Thranduil, as he slowly petted the empty space next to him.
"Sit," his voice commanded, and ever the dutiful admirer of His Majesty you sat up straight and placed your legs in a perfect angle in front of you instead of following his example and tucking them under your body. Thranduil unfolded them gracefully. He kept his eyes trained on you and you had no problems staring right back. "I must say, you are awfully brave to ask me for my crown," Thranduil said as he stood up and thus forced you to crane your neck.
"To be precise," you started, without a care in the world this would be most daring as well, if not borderline stupid and ignorant, "I did not ask for it." Thranduil's eyebrows wandered up again. You didn't shrink under his gaze but rather challenged it.
"Do you call your king a liar?"
You lifted your chin higher, tilting it slightly in thought. There were many answers to his question, varying greatly on the specter of what one would deem inappropriate, and all of them lay on the tip of your tongue.
You settled on one of them with a soft smile on your lips that could be perceived as dreamy. "I do not call my king a liar," you waited until Thranduil thought this to be your final answer until that satisfied smirk of him thinking he had won another round appeared on his beautiful face, and then you continued: "There are rules to this game and so I didn't ask for your crown, I dared you to let me wear it. It's entirely in your hands to either accept the dare or you must drink." The last part you said slowly, not rushing out the words that fueled Thranduil's smirk further on just as you had predicted it would happen if you showed finesse in your answer and not gave into his power-plays.
"So it seems," Thranduil said. He reached for the crown on his head, the oak sticks, lush with moss and green foliage that sprouted a colorful array of yellow buttercups, pink foxglove, fiery-red poppies, and blueish-purple tufted vetches for summer had come, and weighted it in his hands.
He lowered it slowly, taking his time to take in every little breath you took, the rapid rising and falling of your chest that had Thranduil's special attention. When you felt the crown parting your hair, had the twigs press against the sensitive skin behind your ear, and were completely engulfed in the oh-so-sweet but heavy floral scent, all rational thinking left you with a breathy moan.
There was control, and dominance in the crown, in all that it stood for and now you wore it, still physically beneath Thranduil but that too changed the moment your lashes fluttered looking up at him, intoxicated on wine, power, and the knowledge to be the only other person that ever had the privilege of this.
"Valar, look at you," Thranduil rasped, darkness blew his pupils wide and his hands fell to cup your neck into their large palms. Fingertips pressed against your fluttering pulse and you automatically, even though you had never allowed any Ellon to touch this delicate part, leaned into it.
"And? How do I look?" you asked and gasped as his nails scratched over your neck.
Thranduil's grip on your neck nudged your head back further. He leaned down, loose hair like a waterfall out of starlight and if the hunger in his eyes was anything to go by, he was burning up just like you.
When he spoke, it was a low tide rolling over coarse sand: "Majestic." His thumbs were under your chin, hindering it from dropping at the word though he felt the whimper bubbling up inside you where his fingers laid claim on your throat. "My turn," he said.
For a brief second, you didn't know what he was talking about, all that went through your head was that this, you sitting in his crown with him standing in front of you, was worth all the pining of a millennial.
"You will address me by my given name, not by my title."
"What?" Your tongue flicked out to wetten your lips.
"I –," Thranduil's thumb wandered the same path that your tongue had, "dare you –," he pulled your lower lip back, revealing your open-in-wonder-gaze, "to call me by my name while I worship you in a manner deserving for a Queen."
Your heart stopped and were it not for the tension tying you down, you would have stumbled away. "Queen? Your Maj–"
"Silence!" Dark eyebrows furrowed in on themselves. Thranduil's hands trailed down your neck, over your chest bone and heaving breasts, nails tugging on the cord that kept everything together as it should, and effortlessly, one flick of his hand snapped the knot open – revealing the frantic breaths that moved your body. He sank to his knees, spreading open his legs to sit down on his heels.
"My Ki–"
This time you stopped yourself, biting down on your lip to keep the word back that felt like a lie with the crown adorning you and instead doing nothing but stare at your King, because that was who he was in the end, Thranduil, Great Elvenking, Son of Oropher and Leader of the Woodland Elves, pulling on your leggings and removing the last part of clothing that had hidden your arousal.
"You started this, little one," Thranduil murmured as he nudged his nose against your thighs, his lips only centimeters away from your skin. His eyes flickered to you, "you will forgive me if I finish it."
"Oh, you don't have to do that"
"Why not? Who are you to deny a King a wish most truthfully coming from his heart?" There was a taunting tone in his voice. "
"I am nothing but a mere guard, Thranduil," his name slipped your tongue more easily now that he was kneeling in front of your dripping sex and a certain shyness fell over you, "There are far different ellens deserving of this– of your touch"
"You have taken care of me for many years, far more than I can count," he said lowly and softly, while his hands brushed over the subtle curves of your naked legs, dipped into the bent of your knees to coax them open, "Let me be the one to care for you now."
His lips left a wet trail of kisses up your thighs, hot and open-mouthed and you were whimpering even before he sealed them over your throbbing clit and flicked his tongue over it. A whimper became a gasp, a broken one at that because Thranduil wasted no time teasing you but rather dived right into slightly open his jaw and using the flat length of his tongue, he licked through your lips in such a manner the obscene sound echoed through the entire chamber.
Your hands flew to his head to bury them in the soft strands of his hair and you wrapped them around your fingers for a better hold. Not that that was necessary, the way Thranduil lapped at you showed no sign that he ever wanted to be anywhere else than between your legs.
His tongue moved through you swiftly, the talent of the wide enough to cover all of you, yet precise technique to flick against your clit again and again on his route brought a blazing hot pleasure to you that quickly dissolved all the muscles you had used to stay upright.
Thranduil moaned against you, and through the mess that you had made of his hair, ruffled all across his forehead, you saw his eyes roll back into his head, and when his luscious lashes brushed your pelvic bone just as he heaved your legs over his shoulders to practically hold you up, your back arched beautifully and all that remained were your arms and shoulders that got burned by the fabric, the coil inside you snapped and all you could do was follow his orders to scream his name.
In a flash, you went from practically elevating in the air to being pinned into the chaise lounge, Thranduil's broad body covering you easily. Long agile fingers stayed where his tongue had been, two spreading you open and the middle one slipping right into you thanks to the mixture of spit and your cum that he had graciously left there.
"Is this what you wanted?" He asked through gritted teeth and you felt him grind his own affection into you. There was certainly a heavy weight against your shaking thighs and you moaned at the loss of not having him inside you yet. Thranduil grinned, and you felt it on his lips kissing your neck and jaw. "You did," he chuckled breathlessly, "You sat there all evening, letting this game continue as your pretty head thought of a way to fulfill these filthy– filthy fantasies."
You clenched around his finger at his words and the low timbre he used to speak them directly into your ear. One of his rings, cold despite the heat that surrounded you both, met your clit and your hips flew up but were stopped by his body caging you in.
"Tell me," Thranduil opened his mouth and teeth grazed over your ear; you were keening instantly, dripping more than you have ever had in all the nights you pretended your own fingers were his though now you knew they would never come close to the actual thing, "What came next in your fantasies?"
"Preferably me," you whined.
It brought a full laugh out of him, heartily and so not at all fitting for the situation you were in but that lifted some of the stressful tension, leaving more room for playfulness that had been far back in your head out of the need to preserve every second, afraid this was just the wine playing tricks on you.
His heavy yet perfect weight was a pressing reminder this was not at all an image your mind had conjured.
"Is that a dare?"
Damn him, you thought. He was still keeping up this forsaken game.
You raised your hands, missing your goal the first time at a loss of focus he robbed you of with a second finger fucking into you. The next time you tried you managed to wrap your arms around his neck and grab some of his tresses.
"My King," you watched his pupils blacken out even further, taking away most of the calm blues and grays, "I dare you to respect the crown." Thranduil let out a throaty groan, almost as if he was tortured. You smiled, however much you could while his fingers scissored you open.
"I dare you to fuck me like there's royal blood in me."
He hooked his fingers, dragging the tips over a rough patch inside you that had you keening and stumbling over whimpers and gasps that slipped out of you faster than you could catch your breath. His mouth latched on to your neck again, sucking a bit of the soft skin into his mouth only to soothe the spot his teeth had nibbled on a moment later in a wet apology. The thought of a bruise in the shape of his canine is exhilarating, doused by the wine that left its hot film over all that's happening.
"Such vulgar language," Thranduil mocked and, to your absolute disagreement, pulled out his fingers. His hand once again found your thigh, wet and glistening with the essence that he left on your skin, as his other hand made quick work of his breeches, somehow, gracefully pulling them off and flinging them somewhere across the floor through where it landed was not at all were your attention fell to but rather the impressive size of him.
He always had been muscular and well-formed for an Ellon, not that he lacked in elegance for that, but you had noticed his shoulders were broader, his chest defined yet slender and naturally one couldn't forget about his height. It was as if the stars had conspired to ensure that he would stand out in every way and exceed all expectations.
Eager to get his cock inside you you wiggled your hips, chasing after anything that could bring you closer to your goal.
The only result you got was Thranduil's fingers coming down to pinch your clit as he clicked his tongue. His dark eyebrows raised in admonition. "It seems you require a lesson in behavior fitting a Queen. This impatience must be lost at once!"
Faster than you could react he flipped you over, large hands effortlessly handling you to face the cushions, knees spread wide and your dripping cunt exposed to him. Your legs nearly slipped of the sides, bringing out a squeal of surprise. "Thranduil!" you laughed and turned your head.
As soon as looked over your shoulder and saw his flat hand palming your cheek, spreading you open while his other hand fisted his hard cock, all teasing became unnecessary. Thranduil let a drop of spit fall onto his hand which he used to lube himself up.
"A loyal subservient must always be on his Queen's side," he said and his hips twitched into his hand, "I will swear my allegiance to you from behind you."
Bright blue yet lust-clouded eyes stared at you and his smirk sent shivers down your spine; all for him to see. You felt his cock nudge against you, the tip alone larger than expected and you gasped. It became harder to keep your head where you could watch his face contort, to see his jaw slacken at your tight heat, and you pressed your chin against your shoulder in need of support.
Every inch that breached you burned most deliciously and even now, most of his cock was still for you to see, he had imprinted itself to be the only Ellon who would ever fill you this perfectly. You want to howl at the burning pleasure that sparked up your spine, a glimmer of hot fire licking through your middle, and need buried its claws in your tender flesh.
He pushed into you completely, slipping right in due to his extensive preparations and the surreal amount of wetness that surely dripped onto the expensive fabric of the chaise lounge that burned where your knees dug into it. The moan he tore out of you at the intrusion vibrated through you wholly. You screamed in ecstasy, spiraled into an endless pit, and your head dropped down not unlike a puppet that had its strings snapped, however, yours were strung tighter. You felt your cunt blink around him as you accommodated the heft of him.
Thranduil moaned, grunted, and exhaled heavily throughout the whole slow push until his cock sat deep inside you and his sharp hips met your ass. His hand there gripped you harshly enough for it to probably leave bruises in the shape of his fingers and moons of his nails, and the fluttering of your walls around his length did not help in him loosening the grip.
"Devine," he groaned lowly, "Oh, how I have imagined how you would feel stretched around me." Huh? "This sweet, sweet cunt plagued me for far too long for me to act upon it only now," he continued and rolled his hips against yours. It drove his cock deeper, meeting a spot that had you seeing stars and made it impossible to answer to his admissions, which only continued.
"The many ways I thought about your body beneath mine, your pretty lips sucking me off during these unbearable meetings."
A hand wrapped around your chin, nudging your head away from the pillow you had used to stifle your moans, fabric lint dry on your tongue, and imprints of your teeth left behind, and as Thranduil pulled out of you, leaving just his tip in to stretch you, he turned your head back at him again. Long fingers stroked over your temple, pinched your cheeks together to draw your mouth into a pucker and you followed the silent instructions of sucking his pointer into it.
Thranduil leaned down, his chest covering your back completely, you whined at the loss of the inch of cock this movement brought forth, then his lips were peppering kisses to your ear. "You dared me to fuck you like royalty?" he asked and you frantically nodded. Thranduil's teeth flashed at his wide smirk. "Then you better take all that I have to offer"
One smooth thrust, your moan echoing loudly, a wet squelch far too obscene, and Thranduil set a rhythm that had you rely on his arm that wrapped around your middle for any hold on reality. Your hands clawed at the chaise lounge, nails ripping apart seams to ground yourself against the punishing pace with which his cock drove itself home, carved a space for the massive length and width, and the sounds you made only fueled Thranduil on.
"Look at you," he gasped, "taking me so well."
The praise washed over you with such a crushing weight.
Days, Weeks, Years, Decades, Millenniums. All the time that had passed. You thought you would wait forever for a compliment as meaningful as this, to hear his appreciation and now.. oh he thought you to worthy enough to take him, to take all of him.
Tears pooled in your eyes, dripping slowly and falling down at the brutal pace used to hammer his cock into you, deeper, further, more and more until you thought it punched a way through your stomach up into your throat because all that you felt, all that you were, was a snug fit, taking him so well.
"Thran.. Thranduil–" you whined and the strings in your gut tightened. "Please," you begged, for all, for nothing, for him. He alone held you over that edge you barreled towards, he alone would be able to push you over into an abyss of the ever-growing pleasure.
"Cum," he ordered, voice strained and by the frantic rhythm of his thrusts you thought he was reaching a limit as well, "Let me feel you cum once more. I dare you!"
You wailed, another sound mixing into the slapping of skin, the shortened breaths and the grunts, the loud pounding of the blood inside your ears until his fingers dropped down to your clit, pinching it again through the slick that pooled there, lightening up yet another nerve ending and you screamed as hot white blinding pleasure exploded and engulfed you. It shot through your limps, branched to every last cell in your body, and filled all thoughts. Even your own heartbeat became an echo of his cock.
Stars
A sea of twinkling lights, burning up in front of your eyes as you screamed your release, your whole body twitching and at the same time pressing back into Thranduil's hips.
You wanted to see him unravel, to come undone and this egoistical part of you fed on the thought of being the one who breaks the Elvenking but when his hips stuttered one last time and you felt his release coating your twitching insides, Thranduil was just as electrifyingly and unfairly beautiful.
Cold metal brushed against your lips and you blinked dazed.
"Drink," Thranduil had grabbed the abandoned chalice and held it to your panting mouth, ignoring the drool that wettened the corner of it.
"But–," you mumbled and a dreamy, fucked-out smile spread in your face, "I haven't even heard the dare yet."
©itsonlydana 2024, character art by MiracleAna on Devianart
#📁files: thranduil fanfics#thranduil fanfiction#thranduil x reader#thranduil x you#thranduil smut#thranduil oropherion#king thranduil#the hobbit fanfiction#the hobbit x reader#the hobbit smut#smut#x reader#the hobbit x you#the elvenking
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it only took 12 interviews i guess for somebody to bring up 9/11 to me
#longer than I expected! I appreciate that. I guess.#anyway we should make a rule where these people don’t get to speak about 9/11 anymore. ive heard enough from White Man From Carolina. stop#there are actually other things you can speak about to a person from nyc. hard to believe but it’s true!#it didn’t happen to him it happened to me! and I know better! I know better!#one of the most insane things about the culture surround 9/11 is that it is simultaneously#valorized in this histrionic performance of grief (for propaganda purposes)#and also like. not treated as a real thing that happened to people. like as if it was a news-only event#it exists in the white american consciousness SOLELY as a rhetorical device. an excuse for islamaphobia hate and violence. war propaganda.#but not as the worst day of my childhood. not as an incredibly tacky topic to introduce in a 20 minute interview with a relative stranger#it only exists on tv. just like all of the monstrous wars we used it as an excuse to start!#who was it who wrote… im thinking of a passage I read about our wars in Afghanistan and Iraq#where the author said because of their distance and the lack of impact on american day to day life the american people experienced them#primarily as a media event#that’s how it always goes I guess! so it fucking goes#I really should know better than to post this but i needed to vent. vent what a stupid word.
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you ever just see a post and just
. 😭
.⬅️🫀⬅️
#Worst emoji combo ever but it’s gon be such big depression hours down here so scroll if you want im on the brink of throwing up#don’t you just bloody love it how over the past 3 years you’ve only seen people the large total of…. 4 times!!! An average of seeing someon#outside of school 1.3 times per year!! What a bloody fantastic way to spend your teenage years!#Don’t you also just love it when people talk right to you about how they all went out together over the weekend and like did some stupid#shit like your average high schooler would do and you’re just like “oh. I went to my 1 and a half hour long dance class and got ignored the#entire time and when you did try to talk they just spoke over you” oh my fucking god I hate that place so much even the teacher fucking#ignores me once we were going in a circle and she was asking everyone what they got for Christmas and I was in the middle of the circle so#thought hey maybe someone will actually acknowledge my existence but she fucking ignored me and went to next person like why the fuck#And now I’m debating staying in that shithole bc I was invited to a gc for that class and I stupidly thought that someone might want me#There. I wasn’t even invited I secretly scanned the qr code to join over someone else’s shoulder#everyone else there is the best of bloody friends and I’m just there talking to one friend who I don’t even think is my friend#“Hey man I’m really fucking sad rn can I talk to you” “womp womp have you heard stupid fact no.3848594 about my ocs while I ignore you when#you talk about anything else about me” oh my god shut up literally no one else sane would see someone like that their closest friend rn#At least someone wants to talk to me#Like what is it that makes people not want to see my please just tell me I’ll change I’m amazing at changing my personality to fit others#promise me on that I’ve done it my entire life#Even just messaging me more than once every year and I’d consider you my best friend this is how bad I’m getting#What is so bloody bad about me that no one else likes I don’t care how badly you fucking word it just something#It shouldn’t be normal to wish death on people you call your mates bc you heard about them all going out together without you#Oh dear did the gc’s without me in it there’s one for every friend group I’ve ever been in why isn’t there one for the main group I’m in rn#Idfc anymore just tell me what I’m doing wrong I keep asking people if they want to go out or how far away they live from some place#And it’s always met with ignoring me talking over me or immediately changing the subject#Please if you’re someone I know irl what the fuck am I doing fucking wrong I can’t fucking do this anymore be as mean as you like#Why the fuck does no one ever want to be around me why do I hear so much about stuff others are doing together but never me#It shouldn’t be normal to prefer being in a toxic relationship than what I’m in rn#I fucking hate everything
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"Highly respected individuals including henry kissanger..." well I gotta stop you right there, you've got a major inaccuracy cause no one in their right mind respects that man
#I'm barely even joking there; obviously politicians have for whatever god awful reason#but when it comes to actual people; I don't think I've ever heard a single person say anything respectful or even nice about him#not to mention that from everything I can tell he was a fucking idiot who not only did horrible things#the horrible things he did didn't even lead to the outcomes they were supposed to#he kinda just made the world worse for no reason#not to mention me and everyone else for years and years all seemed to collectively agree 'I thought he was dead'#and I didn't respect him enough to even acknowledge him dying at the time#but honestly while I don't believe in celebrating most people dying; it's hard to say the world isn't a better place with him gone#I wouldn't even call him slightly respected; let alone highly#the person who said it seems nice enough; but what he posts is all economics and man...#some of the stuff that comes out of his mouth it's like... I suppose from an economic theory that makes sense#but as a normal human you just sound sick#like any time he frames stuff around how 'companies expect that they'll be able to charge more each year for their products'#like listen... I'm not saying I fully get deflation; but I get enough to realize that it's sadly generally not great#but 'companies won't be able to charge more for their products' is the worst way to explain why it's bad#anyway; my point here is that it didn't surprise me to hear him say kissass is highly respected#but I stand by my assertion of 'respected by who? I ain't met them; all my friends hate his dead ass and want to send him to Cambodia'
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wild to me that stb made it front and centre (all but waving a billboard in your face) that hingashi doesn’t have primal issues like eorzea does bc the populace doesn’t implicitly think of their ‘lesser’ beastman races as anything other than different dudes with different cultures that intermix in population centres freely and are given the respect any other sentient being would deserve and as the fishing quests show the interplay between them is necessary to preserve local ecological health, and the designated ‘bad’ factions are just ones that have chosen different ways to survive the crisis affecting them (which would be a far more interesting moral quandary to explore if the game bothered to designate them as anything other than ‘the bad guys in red you can kill’, remember the beastman designation and treatment eorzean groups get is an ul’dahn custom)
and it’s wild to me that shb did this AGAIN with the mirrored races living peacefully with each other in the wake of a world-destroying apocalypse and are integral to the survival of a great many communities and this is normal and why would you treat them any differently, they’re just people and they look a little different but we could say the exact same for you.
and at least so far, not once does this ever trigger any serious self-reflection in any of the scions abt their role in perpetuating a racist regime of violence and surveillance in the cultures of other people bc they’ve arbitrarily designated them as dangerous and violent and evil (even tho even the base game allied quests prove this assumption wrong) and never once do they actually ever even attempt to figure out what the real cause of excessive primal summoning is bc if they cared they wouldn’t be sucking off the alliance leaders for clout they’d be telling them to fucking stop treating the beast races like shit for existing, which they never do even when it’s explicitly laid out for them (like limsa betraying a peace treaty which is one of the direct causes of their issues w/ the kobolds and the sahagin and it’s very much Their Fault but the scions consistently and always side with merlwyb on the issue)
#ask to tag#long post#I fucking hate ul//dah as a place and for how destructive it is an an institution and I desperately wish I never have to interact#w/ nan//amo ever again#and I've had serious doubts abt the scions as an organization since ARR. when I heard their literal backstory is#'a bunch of non-eorzean natives with good intentions decided that they knew what was best for this place they're not from and they're the#only people smart and capable enough to do what needs to be done' as they blinding follow the alliance leaders and slaughter the beastmen#and keep surveillance on them at all times just so they can unleash the fucking warrior of light on them at the slightest sign of misconduct#really made me go. hm. is this really what you wanna say abt your designated good guy faction.#considering the scions never really deal w/ anything that's not directly related to the alliance and it's cities there's a serious dialogue#to be had abt them explicitly working to uphold damaging racist status quos#and how much they actually know abt eorzea outside of it's cities#saint.txt
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was just subjected to a self righteous post about how we need to learn to respect second generation atheists (important context: i am one) and how their existence begs the question of if atheism is always in reaction to something or if it can be an independently held position. which then followed it up with a 'summary of responses to this post' that included, peppered among things second generation atheists said or remarks about never hearing about this before, extremely reactionary positions about the necessity of religion in life all couched in the language of simple 'concern' for these atheists upbringing. like omg yesss your post is soooo important we really need to interrogate this group that is persecuted by literally every large religious organization on the planet about if their way of life is legitimate! its sooooooo crucial we open doors to religious mandates. its imperative that we teach them about religion, a thing they are so cruelly denied, but dont worry guys, for some of them, its not their fault! we can help them! by making them religious i mean teaching them about religion! remember that some jewish people are atheists too <3
#myposts#before you clown on me about the last sentence here#ask yourself why this websites number one method of trying to be charitable and lend credibility to nonreligious people#is to associate them with a religious group. ask yourself where that impulse comes from#when talking about areligiosity. you have to say DONT WORRY GUYS some of them are still like kiiiiinda religious lol#and dont worry even the ones that arent jewish are BASICALLY just christians bc of cultural christianity of course#thats how that works. theres only two religions evil oppressor and innocent victim. where have i heard this one before#wish i saw more atheistic jews getting mad about that honestly imagine someone using your marginalized identity#as a bludgeoning tool against your lived experience and beliefs.#bc were also not yet ready to admit atheism is something you can be marginalized for. bc if i say that if i say#ive faced religious discrimination for my atheism i would be accused of appropriating the struggles of real religious minorities#you know like that jewish atheist who only ever gets shit for the jewish thing which is the real thing and not the atheist thing#which is a fake thing. did i mention talking about them in this way is inclusive and respectful? just wanted to remind you#and listen i fucking hate christians but even I KNOW some of the shit said on here blanketly about christianity is entirely fake#some of you people sound like the chick who thinks the catholic church made up the roman empire#point being. whyd you include that in your fucking post. could have been a good post i agreed with whyd#you open the door like that to a flood of people using this as the new reason atheism is illegitimate and should be beaten out of people#lest they become annoying online. whyd you gotta include those people why make it a question of should we respect atheism? LOL
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