#i wrote this with a second part in mind
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Note: Hi guys! Sooo I may have been gone for a um. Hot minute! But I'm here! (Does a little dance.) This is different from my usual stuff. But I think it should be entertaining. Or not. Either way, I'm back. So!! Yeah!! It's also totally raw. I did not edit it or revise it, so oopsies.
Cw: mention of mutilation, but it doesn't happen.
Prompt 5
"Don't bite anyone." The hero orders, glaring at their sidekick. The alarms in their base were blaring, and they were quickly suiting up. The hero carelessly grabbed at their cape, and swung it over their shoulders.
The sidekick scoffed as they slid their mask over their face. "It was an empty threat!" They retorted, looking into a mirror to ensure they looked fine. "You know I wouldn't actually do something like... that." The sidekick added on, growing quiet at the last word.
"You threatened mutilation. We don't do that." The hero spat, clenching their jaw as they watched the sidekick look into the mirror. They placed a firm hand on their sidekick's shoulder. They started walking towards the exit of the base, dragging their sidekick with them. "Come now, we have business to attend to."
"Fine. Whatever. But all I'm saying, is that I don't have these chompers for no reason. They could be useful!" The sidekick protests, squirming out of the hero's grip and walking behind them at a nimble pace.
The hero narrows their eyes, but they don't offer a proper response. The hero won't entertain that notion. They emerge from the base, and head directly towards the scene of the crime. Upon their arrival, they quickly notice the debris. And there's a lot of debris.
A building has collapsed, and people are screaming under the rubble. "Great." The hero deadpans, rolling their eyes. "This- this is just splendid." They say, throwing their hands to their sides. The hero takes a deep sigh, before shooting the sidekick a sideways look. "Get the people out of there. I'll talk to the authorities and figure out what happened."
The sidekick does a little salute. "Okie dokie." They reply, their tone of voice rather plain. Their sharp teeth are visible when they speak. The hero sighs.
"Can I trust that you won't worsen the situation?" The hero inquires exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of their nose and squeezing their eyes shut.
The sidekick's expression shifts to confusion. "How would I do that?" They question, brows furrowing in confusion.
The hero releases a bitter sigh. "You have your ways." They mumble, turning to speak with the authorities on the scene.
People can be heard screaming, their cries propelling the sidekick into action. They struggle to lift some of the debris, but they power through nonetheless. They trip on rubble, and cut themselves against glass shards from what used to be windows. But the sidekick ignores these setbacks as they pull people out from underneath broken bricks.
The screams die down as people are released, and brought to the safety of the pavement. The streets have been blocked off, for obvious reasons. Families are nestled together, comforting their children. Crying can be heard, but at least it's not screaming. The sidekick emerges from the rubble, leading the final man to safety. They walk slowly, to avoid causing him to stumble and fall.
The sidekick performed their task flawlessly. Once the man is led to safety, they scurry back to the hero. The hero is now checking their watch, looking at the time. "D'ya know what happened here?" The sidekick asks, glancing back at the people. "Was it the villain again? Ugh. I bet it was the villain." They add on, their expression of concern shifting to annoyance at the mere thought.
"Don't worry about it, I'll handle things." The hero says, with a dismissive wave of their hand. They don't even look at the sidekick. The sidekick is relieved that the hero doesn't seem upset with them anymore, at least. The hero then begins to walk off, expecting their sidekick to follow behind. Which, of course, they do. As per usual.
They get back to their base, and the hero immediately starts sifting through files. The sidekick peeks from behind them, looking on curiously. The hero motions for them to step back. The sidekick doesn't, though, still watching with intrigue.
"What do you want?" The hero asks, glancing up at the sidekick.
The sidekick takes a step back now, holding their hands behind their back. "I want to help." The sidekick says, looking down at the files sprawled across the hero's desk.
The hero sighs. "I don't need your help. Go do... whatever people your age do." The hero says, standing up and pointing at the door.
When the sidekick doesn't budge, the hero snaps. "I'm trying to actually get stuff done, and what are you doing? Hm? I'm under a lot of stress. That's not the first building to fall this week. Something big is afoot, and I don't need you interfering." They hiss, their tone of voice stern and unmoving. They aren't yelling, but it's intimidating nonetheless. Perhaps more-so.
"...Sometimes I wonder what the point is." The sidekick mutters, folding their arms across their chest and taking a few steps towards the large, metal door. They stop though, and look back at the hero. They open their mouth to say something else. But nothing comes to mind. The sidekick quickly shakes their head, and walks out the door.
#sidekick#hero#WHAT DO I TAG THIS???#platonic#its platonic#GUYS.#writing snippet#writing prompt#writeblr#hero x villain community#hero x villain#sidekick x hero#PLATONICALLY#sidekick prompt#villains and heroes#tragic-feline#writing#prompt#do yall wnat a second part?#i wrote this with a second part in mind#but i wont make a seconf part unless yall want it#o cant spell anymoee
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what's the threshold theory
There was a post about how Tom is the only crew member who isn't really affected by the Borg, and there's a theory that he has so much luck because he saw the past and the future when he crossed the transwarp threshold. He saw the past and the future, all of time and space. There's some subconscious part of him that remembers that experience. In fact, Tom refused to play a part in Chakotay indulging Annorax's temporal incursions, probably because a part of him knew nothing good could come of it.
If we extend that same theory to Janeway, some of her wild luck with time travel and other crack plans starts to make sense. She doesn't verbally hate time travel until after the events of Threshold, since it happens in Time and Again without complaint. Janeway has an uncanny knack for time travel, as evidenced every time she deals with it. She hates time travel, but it might be because part of her knows exactly how to manipulate the timeline. She manages to avoid the "inevitable" temporal explosion in Future's End, saving both Voyager and Braxton. She resets the entire timeline in Year of Hell, and no one else followed her reasoning. She pulled it off flawlessly. In Relativity, she senses the incidents are all related, despite it being just one reading that connects them. By the time she's involved, she has a temporal incursion factor of .0036 and a time travel protocol named after her, even if that may just be Braxton's personal grudge. Then there's Endgame, where she intentionally changes the timeline. Up until this point, she has been dragged into time travel, but for the first time, she jumps in on purpose. How does Admiral Janeway know how to get them home sooner in a way that completely avoids the Temporal Integrity Commission? It's because she has seen all of time, and part of her knows exactly what needs to happen so she can get Voyager home and do it in a way that becomes baked into the prime timeline. Maybe she doesn't consciously remember what happened during her transformation, but the experience lives in her mind somewhere, guiding her decisions.
#every day is threshold day#tldr threshold cemented the time travel shenanigans#we're not counting her disparagement of time travel in relativity i know it's technically before threshold#but they've messed with the timeline so much that her past timeline is also changed.#Time travel is funny because the past is the future the future is the past#so while relativity comes before threshold in the prime timeline her timeline has also been changed in a way that it wasn't before threshol#we could chalk it up to a writing oversight but this is more interesting#not to mention her uncanny luck with the Borg which I think ties in as well#it's part of why her instinct is so strong#also the bio neural gel packs but that's a different theory#listen she's amazing with or without having seen all of time and space but she has seen all of time and that must have affected her somehow#those little salamander babies also have all of the cosmos in their mind#tried to explain as concisely as possible but it is part of my overarching theory#she doesn't second guess herself nearly as much following their jaunt into transwarp#I have more but I'm trying to be brief cause it's written up partially in my drafts somewhere and i have some things i need to do today lol#meta#Star Trek voyager#Kathryn janeway#threshold day#did you expect me thresholdbb to not have a serious threshold theory?#listen I can make anything nonsense and turn anything into a serious theory I was known for this kinda bs in grad school#I wrote a 25 page paper on NOTHING once#I wrote a paper about how corn fields were super gay and it made my professor cry I can spin the bullshit it is one of my skills
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if i had my way ( you’d always stay)
(brief mentions of mature content)
In hindsight, the night had been bound to be hell on earth since they received the current invitation for the Christmas dinner that religiously took place in the Red Keep every year.
The invitation had been a family Christmas picture that Alicent forced upon her husband and their children every October —with enough time to prepare for the holidays, Alicent had said when Daemon made fun of her two Christmases ago—, and as soon as Lucerys and Jacaerys had seen the sender’s address, they had barely contained themselves from tearing the green envelope open with teeth and nails.
Viserys, Alicent, Aegon, Helaena, Aemond and Daeron wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.
In the back of the card, just for “Rhaenyra and her family ♡” was written the time they were expected to arrive.
In the picture, Grandpa Viserys and Alicent were sitting on their burgundy designer couch, a piece of furniture more expensive than it had any right to be, and in the background the enormous fireplace of the main and biggest hall of the Red Keep could be seen alight and bright. Aegon and Helaena were standing by Grandpa Viserys’ side, carrying baby Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, while Aemond, pretty much like in real life, had preferred to stay by Alicent’s side. Daeron wasn’t even in the picture. The hilariousness of the situation wasn’t even about the rather ugly matching Gucci Christmas sweater that Alicent had picked for them this time. What truly sold the picture were the different stages of grief that could be appreciated as clearly as summer skies in the faces of the three Targaryen-Hightower siblings.
Spending some days in the Red Keep to celebrate with Grandpa Viserys and his second family has never been uncommon for them, truth to be told. However, Lucerys must admit that his mother and Alicent had come a long way with their relationship and it had influenced the rest of them, if not just to keep the two women happy. What had been broken once by lies and marriages, enhanced by the loss of an eye in a childish dispute, had been reconstructed and reinforced with no short amount of willingness and care, as well as time and all the perseverance in the world. Their dinners had gone from Rhaenyra and Alicent trying to claw at each other to a pleasant companionship that made Alicent feel safe and encouraged enough as to send them a personalised Christmas card every year.
The first time they received one, Jacaerys hollered so hard that he woke Joffrey and baby Aegon up. Even Rhaenyra had unwillingly giggled, covering her mouth guiltily after that. Daemon had been the most enthusiastic about it, though, and had dedicated a little hall of fame in the empty study on the second floor for all the Christmas cards they’ve received. Now, just as it was tradition for Alicent to send them one, the Velaryon brothers as well as their step-father and littlest brothers hung and ranked the pictures with the same reverence one would fill stockings or decorate the tree.
And yet, although the younger generation of the family have tried to keep it together for the sake of their mothers, it doesn’t always —almost never— work out in the end. There’s a sort of animosity that hangs above their heads as heavy as stones, and Jacaerys had mumbled once when they were about to sleep after a particular harsh toast three years ago that he thought it to be unfair that Alicent and their mother got to play friends and pretend nothing ever happened between them while their children had to carry the hate that had been fed to them by the adults. So yeah, while it wasn’t as bad as a few years ago, the invitation had meant hell on earth for the three Velaryon boys, for they had known they would have to endure poorly concealed jabs and jests through the entire duration of their stay.
Still, this has to be a first even for a family as dysfunctional as theirs.
Lucerys looks at the present, neatly wrapped in black paper with a velvety green ribbon that met in a delicate and sophisticated bow in the middle, and his hands tremble. It’s Aemond’s, that much is clear. If the wrapping hadn’t been enough of a clue, Aemond’s burning stare would have been sufficient. Lucerys blames Jacaerys for not paying enough attention to the cues, handling Lucerys the present as soon as he saw his name written in the tag attached to the bow.
He starts undoing the ribbon with clumsy fingers, almost mourning the perfection of the bow practically dissolving and then proceeds to slowly tear the paper, actively trying to ignore Aemond’s eye while being conscious of the eagerness of the rest of the family members.
The present is a box as black as the paper that has been wrapped over it, and the cover has the name of a very expensive jewellery maker from Dorne that Lucerys follows on Instagram.
As a rule, the first to open their presents are to be the children, so they had waited patiently for Jaehaerys, Jaehaera and baby Viserys to open theirs. Their excited screams and their little faces painted red with happiness had been as exhilarating and endearing for the older teens and young adults as it had been for the two older, married couples. Supposedly, baby Aegon was to be next, but Grandpa Viserys, never one to miss the opportunity to play favourites, had encouraged Lucerys to open his first.
“Jace,” he tries, “why don’t you give me mom and dad’s—” he sees the way Jaehaera and Jaehaerys pause and look at him, toys forgotten in their confusion, and he has to bite his tongue, “I mean, Santa’s presents that he has left for me in honor of mother and father—”
Jace falters, as if he’s actually considering to switch presents and take the black box from Lucerys’ hands. He will feel bad later for taking advantage of his older brother’s weakness for hi., but right now, he just wants to dodge the literal bomb that must be concealed under the paper and the velvet, waiting for Lucerys’ fingertips to brush against it to set it off. Would the bomb be powerful enough to blow his eye out of his face?
Aemond doesn’t let that happen, though. He stands up and calmly approaches Lucerys, skilfully avoiding stepping on the kids that are sprawled on top of the carpet, not a single drop falling from his champagne flute.
“But, Lucerys, that wouldn’t be nice, would it? That’s Santa’s present that he’s giving you in my honor… Would you wound me so by discarding it?”
Lucerys blinks at him, mouth agape. Next to him, he feels Jacaerys tensing. His brother is starting to realise the potential danger of the present and he reaches a hand to take it from Lucerys. Aemond is faster. He knocks Jacaerys’ hand out of the way and pushes back the box into Lucerys’ arms, making the pointed corner jab at his ribs. He sits right on the stupid burgundy couch and looks at him with unadulterated self-satisfaction, raising the flute to his lips.
Lucerys is not proud of the way his eyes fixate on the bubbles disappearing into Aemond’s mouth, and in the movements of his Adam’s apple when he swallows. Lucerys’ neck itches, the spots that Aemond had thoroughly kissed and bitten a couple of hours ago, embroidering the tender skin with reds and purples by teeth as sharp as needles, burning up and pulsating under his clothes.
He feels his cheeks heat up with shame and things he doesn’t want to admit in front of his family. Aemond dares to eye-fuck him back right in front of their family, playing with the kids’ naivety to get his will met at any costs, softening his voice enough to actually sound wounded, “Jaehaera, Jaehaerys, don’t you want to see what Lucerys got from Santa? Kēpus specially requested for it, it was the first thing I wrote in my letter!”
It works, it fucking works, of course it does. As soon as he says that, the kids turn to Lucerys and rush to assemble by his legs, peering up at the present like it’s the world’s seventh wonder.
“Open it, Luce!” cries Jaehaera, resting her little chin on Lucerys’ knee, “it has to be a great present if Kēpus asked Santa himself!”
Lucerys has fought his fair share of puppy eyes in his life, having three younger brothers kind of makes you immune to it at some point, even more if you’re dubbed as the actual king of the look itself. Now, he finds he cannot say no to those sweet faces and sighs, ready to meet his destiny.
It cannot be that bad, right?
For the longest time, Alicent was the person that hated him the most, even more than Aemond, he thinks. And yet, as years have passed and things have been settled and forgiven, Alicent seems to appreciate him enough to actually get him presents that he might like. Ignoring his own version of the Gucci Christmas zipped sweater that she has forced him to wear over his turtle neck shirt and overalls, —Jacaerys and Joffrey had looked at him with glee in their eyes, it’s his own karma for making fun of the picture—, she has also given him an Apple Watch and the two pairs of shoes that he had added to his wishlist. So, if Alicent is actually being good to him, it means Aemond cannot be much worse, right? Lucerys knows he’s not fooling anyone, not even himself.
He opens the box hesitantly, barely enough for him to peek inside. It seems Jacaerys is having none of it, and he yanks the fancy black lid open, ignoring Lucerys cursing at him, so they all can take a look.
Nothing would’ve have prepared Lucerys for this.
Inside the box was a bomb in the form of jewellery, but a bomb nonetheless.
It has to be a first, definitely. Because he certainly remembers some of the most chaotic Christmases they have celebrated and nothing that comes to mind can possibly hold a candle to this moment.
Lucerys was too young to remember that one time when Daemon punched Otto, who was still being invited to celebrate with them at the time, and successfully managed to break the man’s jaw, forcing a pregnant Rhaenyra to take the children to their rooms and leaving Viserys and Aemond to take Otto to the hospital while Alicent wept. He does vividly remember that one time Aegon was three hours late to the Christmas Eve’s dinner and crashed his brand new Mercedes into the three foot snowmen that Alicent liked to set in the front garden of the Red Keep. Aegon had proceeded to puke all over Aemond and Daemon’s shoes when they pulled him from the car before losing his consciousness. He had needed three stitches in his right eyebrow, but otherwise, he had been okay. Lucerys doesn’t want to remember the first Christmas right after the eye incident, the one where Aemond and Alicent had been absent from the table, refusing to dine with them —with Lucerys— in the same room. Unfortunately, he does remember it, and he also remembers crying into his pillow that night. He had known Aemond wasn’t going to be there on the next morning to open his presents with them, so he had made sure to sneak out during the night and place the handmade package with his letters and drawings for the older boy by Aemond’s door. When Jacaerys had woken him up and had forced him out of their shared bed to rush down and get their own presents, the box was right by their door, stomped and ruined beyond recognition.
So yeah, it’s safe to say that Lucerys and his family are used to complicated holidays. Nonetheless, this present is like a bucket of cold water poured over him.
“A necklace!” screams baby Viserys, big eyes wide open before the sparkling piece of jewellery.
No. It isn’t a necklace. It’s a choker. A fucking full on collar, if you will.
It’s beautiful. It’s frightening. It’s Aemond’s.
It’s as velvet as the ribbon that had decorated the box, only this one is much smoother and as black as the ocean water during the night. In the middle of it, dangling from a beautiful chain made of sapphires, sits a beautiful heart with a carving on its center. The material of the heart is Valyrian steel, as elegant as silver —the preferred material of House Velaryon— and more expensive than twenty-four karat gold. The carved message is two mere words.
ñuha taoba
Lucerys only needs to raise his head to look at Aemond, but he finds himself unable to do so. His stare is frozen upon the collar, and he holds the box tightly to his chest, to hide the fact that the tickling sound that seemed to reverberate through all the room was his heartbeat speeding up. He also wishes to hide Aemond’s deranged tribute far away from the kids’s curious gazes.
The room falls into a deafening silence, Lucerys doesn’t even want to see his mother and father’s reactions.
“Well. Do you like my present, taoba?”
The bomb does, indeed, tick off. Daemon stands up abruptly, the sheer force of his movement enough to knock the chair down, and rapidly stalks towards Aemond. “Is this a fucking joke to you, boy? Do you want to see how funny I can get, too?”
His mother is stricken with the same kind of mortified silence that has overpowered Lucerys, and Alicent, who’s sitting beside her, looks as pale as a ghost. Their stupor doesn’t last much, though. Soon, they’re jumping on their feet, trying to pull Daemon away from his nephew while screaming profanities at both men and at each other. Jacaerys joins the argument too, and so does Daeron while a very stressed Helaena tries to pull the children away. It just takes a couple of insults from Aemond’s mouth towards Rhaenyra to make Joffrey interfere too. Grandpa Viserys is raising his voice, trying to be heard atop the shouts of his family to no avail.
Lucerys’ abasement is fuelled when feels the taletelling wetness run down his thighs, and he hopes for the love of the gods that he doesn’t stain the couch. He wants to die.
He feels someone sit next to him, occupying Jace’s previous seat and throwing an arm over the back of the couch.
“If they think that’s bad, wait until you open my present” singsongs Aegon, drinking from his own flute without the elegance that his brother possesses.
#tw mature content#omfg sorry sorry sorry#can this be considered a drabble?#it actually is part of a larger fic that i wrote but i haven't published because i feel like it's not good enough to be in ao3#also the second part is pretty much mature#please please please look at the warning there's mature content here so!#younger viserys and aegon are called baby viserys and baby aegon and you cannot change my mind#aegon's present is actually...... promising *coughs*#anyways i'm sorry this is absolute shit#the fact that alicent forces them to pose for christmas pictures sends me#lucerys x aemond#lucerys velaryon#aemond targaryen#my writing: lucemond#ship: fated feud#ship: lucemond#lucemond
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Decoding the scripts and secret messages in Rebel Moon
Part 2: Solving the riddle of Noble’s Bone Staff
On December 23, 2023, Zack Snyder posted this:
The idea of uncovering yet another secret got me very excited, so I looked for the Bone Staff in the guide. Here is the image as it appears on the website:
I slightly cropped it, but yes, it really is this small and you can barely see anything... Still, if you look closely, you will notice a series of little vertical lines all along the handle. Well, they’re not just lines; they’re letters, and they form the “secret inscription” fans were challenged to decode!
Contrary to what the post said, though, it seemed to me this script didn’t look like the New Imperium font. Instead, it reminded me a lot of the symbols I had seen elsewhere in the guide, on the Priests and Scribes’ outfits (more on this later), and on Kora’s gun:
I learned from AurekFonts, who worked on several typefaces for the film (along with Louie Mantia, Jr.), that this other font was most likely “designed primarily by the Speculative Civilization Advisor, Adam Forman” and called “Old Imperium”. This is the name I’m going to use from now on.
The guide says the message on the Guardian Gun means “My life for hers”, so I now had 10 letters to work with. On the bone staff, I also noticed the “brackets”, which I concluded served as spaces/word separators in Old Imperium, were upside-down compared to the ones on the gun, so I deduced that, to read the message, I first had to rotate the image by 180 degrees.
But even after doing all that, decoding the inscription remained difficult because of the image’s fairly low resolution... After a lot of squinting, I still managed to count the words and determine how many letters they contained. The message is a 38-word sentence that looks something like this:
---[-------(7th letter is grey)[-----[-----(puntuation mark)---[---[-[----[----[------[---------[--[-----[----(3rd letter is grey)[----[-----[--[---------[--[-[-------[------[---[----[-----[-----[---[----[----[-----[--[----[--------[-------[---------[--[--[----(puntuation mark)
I tried to find the 10 letters I knew... but I was struggling. Then, suddenly, I remembered this:
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold
The poem... it had to be a clue! I looked at “The Second Coming” again, and my eyes were drawn to the last verses:
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
38 words, a punctuation mark between the 4th and 5th words, another one at the end... As for the grey letters on the staff? They correspond to double letters in the poem (“darkneSS” and “slEEp”). Everything works perfectly!
The secret inscription on Atticus Noble’s Bone Staff is the final sentence of the 1919 poem “The Second Coming” by William Butler Yeats.
December 24, 2023, around 7 pm CEST; challenge completed!
And now that I had been introduced to the Old Imperium font, why not try to decode it too?
#rebel moon#rebel moon part one a child of fire#a child of fire#zack snyder#old imperium#old imperium font#atticus noble#kora#the second coming#william butler yeats#I made a mistake in my tweet noooo#I wrote ‘4th letter’ and it’s the third#ah never mind no one noticed#by the way people are still very nice
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So I don't really believe in making New Year's resolutions (plus I'm an entire month late to make some anyway lol) but I just want to put it in writing for myself if nothing else that my main writing goal for 2023 is to finish all of my currently-ongoing WIPs. I'm tired of feeling like I've got projects hanging over my head keeping me from running full-tilt into new ones, they just feel like unfinished business and they're stories that I genuinely want to tell, so I'm going to do my best to tell them this year.....plus any others that crop up, cuz we all know I can't help myself 😂
I'm gonna list the fics below the cut so I can come back to cross them off as I finish them, and if anyone has any thoughts or feelings on any of them in the meantime you just let me know haha
Plans To Make
You Are Of Their Ilk
Hope Is Home and the Heart Is Free
Soldier, Poet, King
Technically A Cutsleeve?
Why Not Me? (I know I already finished it before writing this list but it is, technically, the first WIP I've finished this year, so I think it still belongs!)
Opportunities to Practice (? - I left this one as a WIP way back when because I thought I might want to add to it, but I genuinely haven't thought about anything else for it since I posted it so. idk maybe I'll just mark it as finished and call it good as it is)
This actually isn't as bad as I thought! I guess sometimes all the extra WIPs in my drafts folder can make it feel more overwhelming than it is 😅
#personal#WIPs#I think You Are Of Their Ilk and Soldier Poet King are the two that are in the forefront of my mind atm as needing to be finished#Followed by Technically a Cutsleeve? then Hope Is Home and the Heart Is Free and then Plans To Make in last place#even though plans to make is my second most popular fic after Ilk#It's just...I wrote the 3zun part of the time travel AU specifically after the time traveling had been done because I didn't want to get#caught up in all the details and butterfly effect of changing things....and then I started a fic about the time travel anyway 😅#Not my best idea ever
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Thinking here about the theory that Gold were originally from the future of Blaze's dimension...
That would be soooo sad and tragic: She didn't only spent over a decade out of her birth dimension, she spent ⅔ of her life out of her "home" dimension, she was raised in this other dimension so that's the place she can call home, no hope of ever return to her original world because in the last time she saw her original world, it was being frozen at time, being petrified in an expression of terror for eternity, entirely by a huge and powerful monster.
Onyx City is, with all its defects, the home she knows that is not destroyed and beyond salvation. The place where she built lasting and solid memories, the world she adapted to live in, the home that there's a hero to protect...
At this point, she has no reason to look for a way to fix her original world, and even if it was possible, she has no reason to go back...
Meanwhile someday the Genesis Portal take the Team Psych to Blaze's world... And so? That world is nothing like the few she remembers, she wouldn't recognize... She would never be able to learn that this beautiful world full of life she's standing in for this moment will be, in a couple of centuries foward, the stage of the apocalypse that she witnessed around 10 years ago... She will NEVER know...
"Wow Silver, this friend of yours lives in a pretty nice kingdom around here." THIS KINGDOM WILL BE EITHER FROZEN IN A EXPRESSION OF TERROR OR DEVOURED FROM THE TIMELINE IN ABOUT 2 CENTURIES!!! But you'll never know...
Unless some Blaze's descendant around in the future is able to harness the power of the Sol Emeralds, so is able to fight back the Second Devourer... What means that the time passed there as well and everyone she knew learned to live without her...
Anyway, in either scenarios an adaptation would be hard and could be seem as "pointless": In a hand, if they couldn't fight back at first and the world just could be restored now, the time has not passed to them, Gold changed a LOT and is basically a stranger to these people that she remembers near to nothing about; In other hand, in case they could fight back and defeat the beast, this whole world might have changed too much from the few she could recall, nobody and nothing is the same as she can remind even if it's vaguely...
In both hands, she has already adapted to call Onyx City "home", the people she knows and learned to trust live in there...
#idk what's my point at first i though 'wow this would be simultaneously as tragic as funny' and as wrote down I realized it's only tragic...#all the funny part was supported only by the thought 'imagine if somehow they learn that would be quite awkward to tell Blaze haha'-#-WHAT WAS ME THINKING?!!?#that's only more angsty! imagine you learn that the world you protect with your life will inevitably destroyed soon...#nobody will be there to protect it... everyone will be terrified until the last second...#also considering Gold as Silver's equivalent as Blaze is Sonic's equivalent... so Gold wad supposed to be the time traveler of that dimensio#but then she was attacked before she could be properly ready and so this portal just sucked her out erasing the lil chances that world-#-still had... actually the whole time devourer thing condemned that world... that anomaly was the only thing the time traveler couldn't-#-survive to or fight against... at least not by the time... maybe a trained Gold could control the beast's mind and send it away...#okay now we finished#Gold the tenrec#blaze the cat#sol dimension#thank you for your time#and for read my rambling#only tragedy... geez...#now i'm imagining how Gold would deal with the things she would have to change in the past if she assumed the time traveler role...#for sure she would count more on get cooperation than try to tackle it recklessly like somebody#the cooperation would have to be from Blaze (I swear it's not my Goldaze side speaking) unless you're considering some Shadow counterpart-#-in the play... what would mean some dadow equivalent?!?! (dadow side speaking loud) it gives me sooo many ideas 🤣🤣#soo sad I'll never elaborate none#sorry for these monstrosities called tags
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the sin factor 14/?
masterlist
Warnings: mentions of murder, nothing too bad, other than that i don’t think there’s anything that needs a warning but let me know if there is
Summary: It’s in the eyes, too, the same ambition and clawing desperation to be more, get more, hidden behind a carefully blank stare. He also knows that Duke has something Tommy never had although it’s more likely that it’s the other way around, because Tommy has lines that he won’t cross for reasons that are his own. Duke has no such reservations.
tagging: @zablife @the-makingsofgreatness @peakyrogers @hb-writes @caelys (let me know if you want to be added on or taken off)
The thing is, Tommy had assumed that eventually he would come to think of the boy as his son and not a stranger with eyes that looked too much like his own for comfort. It had been a foolish assumption, he knows that now, and yet he still can’t quite shake the idea. If everything had happened sooner, if he’d made an effort years ago, would it have stopped everything from happening? The thoughts turn over and over in his mind like a never-ending self imposed torture. Would it have stopped this? What was it that made Duke the way he was, something unspoken and hidden from his childhood, or was it something in their bloodline that did it?
“You look unwell, are you ill?”
From anyone else the words might’ve been concerned, but any warmth they might’ve held is smothered underneath the utterly blank voice they’re spoken in. Duke stares at him with eyes that might as well be carved from ice for all the coldness they hold within them. The gaze makes him feel like he’s underneath a microscope, being studied for purposes he’s not privy to, and for the first time he understands why people are so unsettled by his own stare.
“There’s no shame in declining an invitation. Especially from someone like Oswald Mosley,” Duke says, still monotone, and if it wasn’t for the slight twitch of fingers Tommy might think he was completely unaffected by where they’re going. “The world is slowly going to hell and people are hosting parties like if they ignore it hard enough it won’t happen.
“Duke-“
“Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll have an interesting night,” Duke says, turning to look out the window at the crowds gathering outside the ostentatious club, still with that blank mask concealing what he’s thinking.
He watches Duke ignore Isiah watching him in the rear view mirror. It had been Ada’s idea, keeping Isiah close at hand, because where one goes the other swiftly follows, but something about it makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It means they’re both close enough to strike if that’s what they’ve been planning, and he knows they’ve been planning something. Neither of them have been seen much the past week and normally that would be a comfort, so why does it feel like he’s walking into his own execution chamber?
There’s no point in ordering Isiah to stay with the car and so he doesn’t even bother, turning away when Isiah steps up behind Duke like a silent shadow, glaring at anyone who gets too close. Thankfully not many people do, though whether they’re deterred by Isiah’s glares or the dead-eyed look on Duke’s face is impossible to tell. The part of Tommy that wants to keep Duke away from Mosley and his mistress, to minimise any collateral damage that could happen, wars with the small part of him that wants to stand back and see what happens.
“Try to look less like you’re going to slit everyone’s throats,” he says quietly, and if he hadn’t been watching so closely he would’ve missed the minute switches in Duke’s face. He might’ve thought they were two different people entirely, had he not seen it for himself. Isiah laughs and conceals it, poorly, behind a cough.
“I would never slit everyone’s throats,” Duke says, smiling like he doesn’t have a care in the world, “It’s a bitch to clean out of clothes and these are new.” It’s not comforting, but he’ll take it.
***
Isiah watches from one of the small tables as Duke shakes Mosley’s hand, smiling like he’s being paid to do it, like it doesn’t make him want to claw his own skin off. It’s impressive how easily he manages to hide it. He’s too far away to hear much of the conversation but there’s no point in getting any closer. It would look suspicious, for one, and he’ll be hearing all about it later once they finally get away from here.
He doesn’t turn to look when he feels someone stop beside him. Isiah had already seen her as soon as they stepped inside.
“Ms. Nelson. I heard about what happened to your husband. I imagine it was quite a shock, finding him like that,” Isiah says, and he can practically feel the rage rolling off her like it’s something tangible. Sooner or later, Isiah’s money is on sooner, she’ll say something she won’t be able to take back.
“Tell me, is it you calling the shots, or do you let Tommy Shelby’s son fu-“
If anyone were to look at them, all they’d see is a young couple getting a little closer than proper for such a public spot, not scandalous enough for someone to say anything but enough that they’d make their assumptions and keep their distance. He tightens his arm around Gina’s waist slowly, dragging her closer under the guise of young love or whatever inane story people will decide on if they’re seen, until it’s far past the point of comfort and she digs her fingernails into his wrist. Isiah knows the knife is sharp because he’d sharpened it himself, and he doesn’t bother being gentle when he holds the blade of it against her stomach underneath the table, hidden from view.
The smell of her perfume is enough to make him sick.
“Baby, if you think your family name is enough to deter me from opening you up all over this freshly polished floor, I’d suggest you rethink that and shut your fucking mouth.”
“Baby, if you think I’m scared of you, I’d suggest-“
He’ll laugh about it later, the way Gina shrinks into herself when she sees Duke reach around her to pick up her forgotten drink, staring at her unblinkingly as he downs it in one smooth movement. They’re attracting more attention now, especially after Duke’s moves in on Gina’s other side, the two of them boxing her between them, and she flinches when Duke reaches out to tuck her hair back behind her ear.
“Do you want to know a secret, Gina?” Duke draws the name out mockingly, looking her over for a few quick seconds before he reaches down and pulls her hand away from Isiah’s wrist, eyes flashing when he feels the wetness of blood there. Isiah almost wants her nails to have left permanent marks behind, just so he can watch what Duke does to her for it. “You’re so close to being right. I do call the shots, so you get a point for guessing that, but you know what that means? All I have to do is say the word and he’d use that frankly beautiful knife to gut you like a fish. I’m tempted to let him, all that red would be spectacular against all this marble, don’t you think?”
Isiah sees Tommy looking at them from across the room, and the carefully blank look on his face is so similar to his son’s that it’s amusing to see. Isiah shakes his head and watches until Tommy deliberately turns his back, and he can see that the inaction takes a toll, even if it is Gina they’ve got trapped between their bodies.
“Then afterwards, when everyone has all run away and this place is empty, he wouldn’t think twice about fucking me in the blood you leave behind if I asked him to, because unlike you, I have a husband that truly would do anything for me. You don’t even have a husband anymore. He didn’t even call for you while I was spilling his blood all over my shoes.”
“Husband?”
Isiah isn’t expecting the box that Duke pulls out of his pocket, or the smile Duke sends him, one of the rare real ones and not just the one he uses when he’s hiding who he really is. He’s not expecting the familiar rings inside.
“Your father gave them to me, I’ve been waiting for the right time.”
“And this is the right time?”
Gina has gone silent, probably from the knife digging further into her stomach, but maybe from the shock of what’s happening right now. It could go either way.
“We can never make it official, I know that, but I know how I feel, and I’m sick of pretending to care what everyone else might think. Will you-“
“Love, as soon as I saw you, I knew I’d follow you anywhere, and if I had to do it all over again I still wouldn’t change a thing.”
The ring feels right on his finger, like belonging and home and acceptance all at once. He doesn’t even care about anyone that might be looking when he steps around Gina to cup his hands around Duke’s face, looking down at him. It’s a risk, even above all the violence and the bloodshed the two of them are personally responsible for, and he knows they’re both going to be subjected to a lecture on the way home but he can’t bring himself to care.
“You’re my reason, baby.”
#i'm finally back baby#i can't remember how long its been since i wrote anything for this but it's been a while#originally this was supposed to be 100% tommy's pov but it got away from me in the second half#i actually had more of a large-scale event planned but i changed my mind#so no one dies in this part but originally there was going to be a lot of people being killed#instead you get this twisted and very questionable fluff#i hope its as good to other people as it was to me because i had a blast writing this one#although the dialogue at the end fought me so hard#it just did not want to cooperate with me#anyway yeah enjoy#peaky blinders#peaky blinders fics#tommy shelby#duke shelby#isiah jesus#gina gray#duke shelby x isiah jesus#duke x isiah#the sin factor
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.
#I was watching old talks machina episodes earlier and then all of a sudden Brian starts talking about Wizard and Glass#and then Liam jumps in and starts going on about how the Dark Tower is just different and so good and on how the first book is just poetry#and it just completely fucking blindsided me out of nowhere and I started crying actually#one part of me was like thank god they understand somebody understands this is actually a thing#but mainly I'm still left here like what the fuck is it about these books that makes them the way they are#like when you look at it it's just bits and pieces of a nice story with a lot of weird shit thrown in#but when you read it it's like you're reading fate itself#it's also so weirdly disconnected from Stephen King in my mind it's really weird#he just wrote it down#which is strange because I think of Tolkien all the time with lotr which is like the only thing that is distantly able to compare in scope#but I don't think of King being the author of this story at all beyond the second act of Drawing. And he's fucking in it.#anyway I just wanted to mainly log this for myself#also I'm taking this as a sign to start working on my Blaine is the truth shirt design I thought of a month ago
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Siiiigh so I looked up a spoiler
#i was concerned about the backstory element of this game being predetermined#which would be a “dropping this whole thing right now” level of turnoff#and. it is. but i can work with it i think#i can stretch the bullshit it forces you to accept i mean#i mean technically elluin Does have a mortal soul despite being immortal in my mind#that's a pretty significant part of the fuckup that i wrote into his backstory already#i can work with that. the age thing is more of a problem#because areelu. girl. he's probably millenia older than you#thus im electing to ignore it gods bless#him being institutionalised a SECOND time and treated like a lab rat both times is coincidentally incredibly in character though#that shit Would happen to him
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Peter Jackson on casting Frodo
“Frodo was a very, very important character in the movies. But he’s also a very difficult character to play and to cast. […] We were convinced that Frodo is gonna be an English actor, ’cause we wanted the Hobbits to basically be English as Tolkien really wrote them. So, we went to London and we started auditioning.
We couldn’t think of any actor to play Frodo. We had nobody in mind. We thought it would be unknown English actor, a young kid. We were in London auditioning for about a month and we’ve probably seen three hundred Frodos. There were two or three that were okay, but nothing magical, you know. ’Cause Frodo had to be magical. Every time the casting room door opened and some nervous young actor would come in, we were saying, ‘is this gonna be Frodo?’ And you sort of know within ten seconds that it wasn’t really Frodo. It was a worry, but we were plugging on.
And then our casting director said to us one day, ‘A package’s just come in the mail. It’s from Elijah Wood’. It was a video tape, a VHS tape. I had heard Elijah’s name, but I’ve never seen a film he’d done. I actually had no face for Elijah, I didn’t know how he looked like.
So, we put the video tape in. Elijah was in LA and heard that we were in London and we’re not gonna come to LA. He really wanted to get this role. So, he hired a dialect coach to teach him accent, he’d gone to the local costume-hire, got some cheesy kind of Hobbit costume on. He’d gone into the trees somewhere behind his house with a friend, and he just videotaped his own audition. He didn’t have our script, so he was reading from the book, he was doing Frodo parts from the book.
I just put this video tape in, and literally, not having known who Elijah Wood was really, I just thought, ‘he’s wonderful, he’s absolutely great’. And so, Elijah cast himself”.
(x)
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weeping dragon
pairing: neuvillette x fem!reader
summary: neuvillette thinks he isn’t deserving of your love.
content: cliche !!!, reader trapped in his house bc of rain, lil antsy but happy ending
wc: 800
a/n: mm hii!! first fic here! I hope you enjoy it I kind of wrote it in twenty minutes and I’m just publishing it without beta reading bc (we die like men) I’m just too in love with neuv and I want to share it with the world lolol
Neuvillette couldn’t bring himself to even think about making a move.
He kept many secrets, and every time he faced your bright smile he would remember it was not his place to disturb your peace. After all, how could a young woman like you endure the dangerous claws of a dragon?
You had stopped by his house to discuss the latest trial and his emotions got the best of him, causing a rain to start pouring.
A storm was approaching; lighting was seen through the window and low thunders could be heard. Neuvillette plagued himself under his breath, hoping there would be a day where he could better control his feelings.
“Here,” he said as he handed you the cup of tea. You watched the lighting curiously, “I do not think the storm will pass for a few hours. You should stay. For the night, I mean.”
You took the cup of tea and averted your eyes from the window to Neuvillette’s face. You studied him with caution, as if it was the first time you ever saw the man — even though you worked together for many months.
“Are you okay?” you asked, ignoring completely his offer.
The words got stuck in his throat and, for a few seconds, he really thought he wouldn’t answer. The man sipped on his tea, his mind racing while trying to figure out why you would ask that all of the sudden. “May I ask why are you asking me such a question?”
It was a small gesture, but he saw it all the same; the way you flexed your hand. There was something you wanted to grab?
Something you wanted to hold?
“They say… It rains when the Hydro Dragon weeps. Yeah, that's what they say,” you murmured and once again looked out the window. To the storm. “The Hydro Dragon. That would be you, right?”
Neuvillette almost choked on his tea, every part of his body malfunctioning and leaving him with only one thing for sure: in his entire existence, this was the first time he was left completely and utterly speechless.
Your warm and comforting eyes turned to him, and you grabbed his cup of tea to put it alongside yours on the coffee table. “Neuvillette,” you spoke his name as if it was a piece of poetry you were yet to learn — eager to do so, “Talk to me.”
And then— your hands, so small and fragile if compared to his, touched him. Your fingers traced his, and you embraced his hand between yours. He could feel the warmth of your skin contrasting against his cold one, pulling him closer, closer, closer.
“When did you figure it out?” was the first thing he said, scared it may be recent. If so, there still is time for you to run, for you to escape. To turn your back and never see him again. It’s probably the best for you, he knows, but this little selfish part in him can’t stand the thought of seeing you gone.
“A month ago or so, it doesn't matter,” you’re quick to cut the subject. “I didn't mention it because I knew you didn't want me to. I’m just worried, that's all.”
Worried.
She is worried.
The realization clicks in Neuvillette’s mind, for the first time in so long acknowledging that maybe, just maybe, he was too, deserving of someone’s concern and care.
“You are saying it does not matter,” he repeats as if to confirm what he just heard.
I pushed you because I cared about you. I pushed you because you made me feel good and comfortable. I pushed you because I thought my true self would frighten you.
Yet, you’re here. And you’re telling me it doesn’t matter.
“It doesn’t. Never did,” you frown. “I just wanna know, no— I need to know why it is raining, Neuvillette. Why would you weep? I’m here with you, talk to me.”
Without giving it a second thought, Neuvillette’s right hand finds your lower back and in a split second you're pressed against his chest, the tightest hug you have ever been given. He’s much taller than you, and you can feel perfectly as he inhales your scent and hugs you tightly.
“Neuv—”
“I thought I had to restrain myself from you. I thought I was no good,” he finally speaks his mind, distancing himself enough for you to see his face; the weeping Dragon. Oh, the melancholy in his eyes.
The eyes of someone who almost lost something precious.
“Neuvillette,” you whispered. “There’s nothing better for me than you.”
And it was true; so you pulled on his hair just enough to have him connecting your lips, a sigh of relief escaping him as if there was nothing in this world he had anticipated more.
#wbysaber#neuvillette#neuvillette x reader#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#fontaine#neuvillette x you#neuvilette#neuvilette x reader#fanfic#oneshot#drabble#imagine
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skz - forgetting to kiss them
pairing: non-idol!skz x gn!reader
prompt: u forget to kiss them hello when u come home
genre: fluff!! just silly fluff
warnings: food mentions :3 + intentional lowercase & no proofreading.
daisy's notes: couldnt b me. id never stop greeting them w kisses. no one look at how long jisung's is i was particularly delulu when i wrote it
bang chan
chris noticed... almost immediately that was off about you. the embarrassing part was that it was partially due to the fact you didn't greet him with your usual "hi, i'm home" kiss.
it wasn't that chris looked forward to that kiss (he did, but that wasn't the point). he liked to think he was just... attuned to you. that he could feel the general vibe you had whenever you entered a room. he wasn't missing your "i'm home" kiss--he was merely noticing that you weren't feeling great. that something was weighing on your mind. so he called out as he heard you go back to the kitchen to get something to drink, asking about your day.
immediately, he heard you let out a long sigh. "work was awful and then i missed my bus so i had to take a cab."
chris nodded. "ah. gotcha."
you made your way over, sitting down next to him. "... did i do something?" you looked over toward the door, trying to retrace your steps. you hadn't slammed the door, and you hadn't been too late coming home...
"nah!" he looked over, "i mean, you kinda didn't give me a kiss when you came home. figured something was wrong."
you stared at him for a moment. did you really always give him a kiss when you came home? you liked to, because it was your own little way of saying "hi, i missed you," to him with just a quick peck. after a moment, you leaned in, pressing a quick peck against the corner of his lips before planting another on his lips proper.
"there," you giggled. "is that better?"
judging by the way chris giggled back, pulling you in for a third... maybe not. (but it wasn't as if you were going to complain.)
lee minho
usually, minho didn't mind whether you kissed him or not. he'd always enjoy your kisses, and found it endearing that you pressed a quick kiss against his lips whenever you came home, but he never asked nor would he ever force you to do it. sometimes he'd kiss you as a greeting, though, just because he liked to see your smile.
other times, when he was feeling a little more devious... he'd call out to you, just like he did tonight. "you forgot something!"
you came back into the room, shirt half-unbuttoned as you'd been in the middle of changing. you furrowed your brow, pouting a little as you tried to figure out what was wrong.
he just smiled at you. "you did."
a moment later, it hit you. you snorted, and made your way over, pulling him in for a kiss that lasted a few seconds longer than the usual one you usually gave him. your hands fell to his shoulders, and you drew back. "there. is that better?"
"i missed you," he giggled. "is that so wrong?"
you rolled your eyes, and gave him another peck on the tip of his nose. "love you, too, you dork," you said, pulling away from him to go change.
(and the sound of your laugh as you continued away despite the way he lunged to grab at you, just barely missing your ass... all minho could do was smile to himself.)
seo changbin
changbin was a reasonable guy. he waited a reasonable amount of time (ten minutes: you said you weren't going to shower or anything yet) before approaching you in the kitchen. "are you mad?"
you looked up from where you were working on dinner. he was so genuine about the question, and it threw you for a loop. had you done something to imply that you were...? all you did was get started on dinner because it was your night to cook. "what?"
"we always talk about these things," he said with a sigh. he crossed his arms, leaning against the counter, eyes bearing into your own, "did i do something? you can tell me if i did. it's okay."
"binnie, honey, i have no idea what you're talking about."
"really?" he frowned, and gave you this look of disbelief. "you always give me a kiss when you come home, and today, you didn't. do i need to run to the store? did i forget something--"
oh! you almost laughed at how adorable he could be sometimes. "nope," you said, reaching forward to pull him in. "just got distracted when i got home." ever so casually, you kissed him, and planted an extra on the corner of his mouth. "good to know you'd miss my kisses, though."
changbin just pulled you in again with a giggle, content to steal a few more from you before he let you go... for now.
hwang hyunjin
hyunjin didn't notice at first. he'd been curled up on the couch with a book when you came home, carrying a few bags of groceries that you insisted on handling yourself since they were for tonight's dinner. it was your night to cook after all, and--after asking to make sure you didn't want help--he settled back into his spot.
and then it hit him eventually: you... didn't kiss him when you came home. why didn't you kiss him? you always went out of your way to do it, after all. he leaned up, looking over to where he could see you deeply concentrating on the recipe you were reading. then again, you had set down the groceries and lounged around for a little bit first--the two of you had even talked during that. maybe you were mad at him? he knew he'd been petty about things before and denied you kisses as a result. maybe he was the one who was supposed buy groceries...? but you didn't give him a list or text him anything...
"honey?" he called out.
immediately, it caught you attention. 'honey' wasn't really his usual term of endearment for some reason: you were always his love, his baby. "what's wrong?"
his face grew warmer--was it really that concerning? "nothing--" he started, but realized that you only grew more concerned. "you didn't kiss me when you came home."
"oh."
he decided to keep going, "did i do something--"
"if you want it," you cut him off, "then come get it."
he just stared at you. "... what?"
"i was thinking about dinner," you said, turning back to what you were cooking. "but if you want that kiss, you'll have to come get it."
hyunjin found himself smiling, pushing aside his blanket and the book to get up and make his way over to you. he kissed you, smiling into it as well, as his hands fell to rest on your waist.
all better.
han jisung
jisung was not afraid to admit that he was deeply in love with you. and sometimes... that meant he'd overthink the little things. his heart was so full of devotion to you that sometimes he'd get too deep in his own head, trying not to do anything to wrong you. of course, he knew you, and he knew that you'd always accommodate him by telling him things outright. if he hurt you, you pointed it out and asked for space so that the two of you talk things out properly when both of you were ready for it. but today you were sitting at the other end of the couch, a pillow hugged against your chest as the two of you watched TV. or, well, you watched TV. jisung was watching you.
"hey." his foot bumped against your leg. "did something happen today?"
you tore your gaze away from the screen, brows drawing together. "no?" yet you continued to watch him for a moment, eyes scanning his face for anything that would give him away. "are you okay?"
he nodded. even that confused 'no?' was enough to soothe his thoughts. you would be honest with him, after all: that was what the two of you did. he settled into the couch. "i'm fine," he said, hoping it sounded casual enough.
yet you tilted your head, as if trying to get a better look at him. "baby?" you set the pillow onto the floor, moving a little closer. "did i forget something?"
he grew flustered immediately. "it's okay--it's not a big deal--"
"ohh," you lit up, smiling as you already knew. he liked the twinkle in your eyes whenever you knew something. "i know what it was." you crawled over to him, teasing him a little, "my jisungie didn't get his kiss today--"
he found himself unable to fight back a smile. "it's not a big deal, honey--"
"nope!" you giggled, and practically launched yourself at him. he'd end up pinned against the couch, "gotta make up for it with extra kisses for worrying my jisungie."
god, he loved you. you peppered kisses all over his face despite his laughter, slightly pushing back against where your hands were at his wrists to try and re-ground himself better against the couch, yet you didn't let go. sure, maybe you were hamming it up and acting extra cute for him... but he knew what this was. it was a message, loud and clear, that you cared about him wholeheartedly. you knew he could get anxious sometimes, especially when it came to potentially accidentally upsetting you. 'i want to make you happy' was what you told him once. he hoped you could feel the way he smiled into the soft kiss you pressed against his lips. when you drew back, you just stayed there, hovering over him and admiring how the glow of happiness looked on him.
"i'm home," you said.
jisung just brushed a stray strand of hair away. yeah... you are his home.
lee felix
as much as felix wanted to whine at you playfully for forgetting to kiss him when you came home (a staple of your relationship, he'd joke)... he couldn't help but worry. he continued to work at dinner, mentally going over your interactions today. he knew you well enough to know that he hadn't done anything to upset you unless you were having an off day where everything annoyed you (no shame in it, he thought; he had those days, too). it wasn't until after he finished making dinner that he called out to you.
"did something happen today?"
you looked up, brows drawn together, but he could see the fatigue on your face from stressing about something. "no?"
he set aside what he was doing, making his way over to where you were sitting, laptop open in front of you. you changed tabs immediately away from whatever you were doing for work right as felix began to knead at your shoulders.
"this is cheating," you whined, head dipping back so you could see his face.
"and i'd do it again," he said, dipping down to plant a quick peck against your forehead. "you can talk if you need to. i don't mind listening."
with a sigh, you shut your eyes while felix continued to massage your shoulders. sure enough, there was someone you had to deal with at work that had annoyed you enough that you were still running through the conversations hours later. he just stood there, listening and nodding along as he continued to work his magic on your tense muscles.
when you finished, he leaned down to press another quick kiss against your lips. "feeling better?"
"a lot, actually," you sat straighter in your chair, reaching forward to close your laptop. "thank you, lixie."
kim seungmin
seungmin had sat on the couch for too damn long, pretending that everything was fine. yes, you didn't kiss him when you came home, but that didn't mean anything. clearly, it didn't mean anything. except maybe you were mad at him, and you were withholding a stupid kiss because of it instead of talking it out like adults. that was what the two of you agreed on: no going to bed mad. to say that you were mad and needed space. not... whatever this is.
"seungmin?" you had sat down at the other end of the couch. "what's eating you?"
his eyes were a little too sharp when he looked at you, frustration all too evident on his face when he was supposed to be hiding it. "that's what i should be asking you."
and then... genuine, unfiltered confusion. your brows drew together as you watched him, smile falling. oh.
fuck. you weren't mad at him.
"never mind," he says quickly, "it's stupid--"
you moved over so that you could reach out and take one of his hands in your own, "seungminnie, it's not stupid if it's bothering you!"
ah. using cuteness to get what you wanted. unfair. "you didn't kiss me when you came home like you always do, so i thought you were mad. so then i got made because we agreed to always talk things out."
immediately, you giggled. "aw, seungmin... you really like my kisses that much?"
when you leaned forward to kiss him, he immediately shrank away, trying to block your mouth from his own. "no! not now! it's not the same now!"
yet your laugh was enough to make him drop the act. your lips pressed against his, and he smiled into the kiss, happy to have your arms around him... even if you'd never let him live this down.
yang jeongin
jeongin considered himself one of the more mature people in his friend group. sure, he could be silly and goof off sometimes, but he'd heard his other friends with partners complain about the tiniest things that turned out to be nothing. so with you, he felt a little comfortable in assuming that your "i'm home" kiss just slipped your mind. you'd texted him your bus was running late, so he'd decided to make you a cup of tea for when you came in. and when you threw yourself onto the couch, saying nothing to him for a while...
well, jeongin had a pretty strong feeling that you needed someone to listen to you instead. he'd sat down next to you, passing you the mug as he leaned in to press a quick peck against your lips. his own little "welcome home" kiss that he'd try to greet you with sometimes, if given the chance.
"do you want to talk about it?"
he watched as you took a long sip of tea, letting out a sigh once you'd set the mug down. "work sucked."
jeongin nodded. "and your bus was late..."
another heavy sigh. you turned your face to look at him, reaching for his hand. he gave it to you without any teasing, and watched as you pressed a kiss against his knuckles.
"are you sure it's fine for me to unload all of this on you?"
"that's what i'm here for," he hummed, sliding in a little closer so that he could draw you closer. "you listen to me, right?"
the hint of a smile ghosted over your lips, and jeongin watched as you settled in, head resting on his shoulder. "right..."
he just pressed another kiss into your hair as you launched into telling him about your day. no need for you to worry about giving him any 'i'm home' kisses: jeongin would supply you with as many 'welcome home' kisses as you needed to make you smile again.
taglist: @twancingyunhao @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae @jinnie-ret @cheesemonky
#wooahaes.fic#skz imagines#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#stray kids x you#skz x you#stray kids imagine#skz fics#stray kids fics#skz fluff#stray kids fluff#bang chan x reader#lee know x reader#lee minho x reader#seo changbin x reader#hwang hyunjin x reader#han jisung x reader#lee felix x reader#kim seungmin x reader#yang jeongin x reader#i.n x reader
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Some of y’all are not appreciating Bilbo Baggins enough. I am here to remedy that. This guy has:
• somehow managed to establish himself as a respectable, staid hobbit by the time he was fifty, despite being both a grandson of Bullroarer Took and the Shire champion of pretty much every aiming-game known to hobbitkind
• had an in-depth debate on pleasantries with a random guy passing by in the street, who turned out to be GANDALF
• collapsed in front of his own fire shaking and muttering “struck by lightning” over and over again in response to hearing about dragons and danger
• mind you, this was after he screamed loud enough to startle a roomful of Dwarves
• signed up for a dangerous quest completely outside of his league out of spite
• when told to scout out a mysterious light, saw some trolls, and instead of reporting back with the information, decided to PICK THE TROLLS POCKET
• arrived in Rivendell for the first time and said it “smelled like elves”
• upon meeting a strange creature that visibly wanted to eat him, he decided to play a riddle game with him- and guessed pretty much every one, and made up his own riddles, afraid and alone, that not only were good and full of linguistic puns, but actually stumped the other guy- AND THEN CHEATED AND WON WITH A QUESTION
• showed mercy to said strange creature who wanted to kill him, and was now standing between him and freedom
• eavesdropped on the dwarves arguing over whether to try to save him, then popped up casually smack in the middle of them just as they were debating
• somehow managed to sleep like a log at the really really high eyrie full of wild predators
• found himself in a bad situation, said eff it, and turned around and antagonized and fought off an insane amount of man eating spiders, like enough of them that fifty was a small portion, by singing at them with incredibly complex and punny insulting songs composed on the spot, while simultaneously slaying them in multitudes despite having zero combat training. Seriously, we don’t discuss enough how epic the spider scene is.
• broke a company of dwarves out of the very secure prison of the Elvenking by inventing white water rafting with barrels
• charmed his way out of being eaten by a dragon
• stole the frickin Arkenstone from the guys who employed him, one of whom was a king
• took part in an epic battle, only to be knocked out in the first ten minutes and miss the entire thing
• was named elf-friend by the guy who’s prisoners he sprung
• wrote his own autobiography, complete with all the narrative recognition of his own heroics
• spent 60 years writing said autobiography
• taught his lower class neighbor’s kid how to read
• taught his nephew Elvish- not only Sindarin, but Quenya too
• spent decades telling his cousins his own story as fairy tales, complete with character impressions accurate enough that one of them was able to fool a servant of the Enemy with a second hand impression
• used the One Ring of Power to hide from his neighbors
• planned an elaborate feast with multiple social faux pas to mess with his neighbors, complete with a purposefully bewildering speech and culminating in him vanishing into thin air in front of everyone
• left his cousins and neighbors very unsubtle passive aggressive gifts in his will
• settled into Rivendell, randomly befriended the heir to the throne of like half of Middle Earth, and apparently spent his time writing very personal poems about his hosts and reciting them to crowds of elves
• after being invited to a Council of basically every major kingdom in the continent, spent a quarter of the time reciting vague poems about his friends, a quarter of the time telling anyone who would listen about his heroic past, and half the time interrupting to ask when lunch would be
• volunteered to bring the ring to Mordor
• became one of only four or five mortals in history to live in Valinor
Seriously, Bilbo Baggins may well be the most chaotic, insane person in the entire legendarium, and that includes the likes of people like Finrod “bit a werewolf to death to save the life of guy who he just met and gave up his kingdom for” Felagund.
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𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐬.
pairing. anakin skywalker x f!reader
synopsis. anakin finds loopholes in the jedi code.
warnings. 18+. this is sexually explicit, do not read this or interact with my blog if you’re a minor. do not copy my shit, i’ll find out. cock warming, p in v penetration but no movement. whimper-y anakin, if you move i'll leave the jedi order type beat.
an. just a little something i wrote for the kinktober i never did. I thought i'd post instead of letting it collect dust in my drafts. the prompt was cockwarming! hope i did anakin justice<3 pls comment & reblog.
You find him at the window.
Sitting, with his thighs open and chest bare, staring out into the abyss. The night glints at the beads of sweat sliding down his chest, and his fingers drum endlessly against his thighs.
He heard you wake up, so he’s expecting your company, and has leaned back against the chair – thin black gown falling open – ready for you to climb all over him.
It happens often.
It’s not uncommon to wake up without him.
Most nights, you startle out of your slumber – as if even asleep, you’d sensed a shift – and blink at the space on the mattress beside you.
Finding him was easy.
You pad through the living room and wordlessly reach him in his post-nightmare state. His hair is tousled, sculpted chest is slick with sweat -- there’s an energy vibrating off of him, and you can taste it in the air.
Stepping behind him, you gently run the tips of your fingers over his shoulders, and the whirlpool in Anakin’s belly settles for a second.
When you move into frame, it’s gone completely, replaced by a warm heat that has roots. He breathes a smile.
“Like clockwork.”
You give him a sheepish grin in return and fiddle with the fabric of your small nightgown. There’s a moment where Anakin gets to look at you – all sleepy and cuddly – and he’s ready to escape with you off of this forsaken planet.
His will holds strong.
“Are you waiting for an invitation?” he asks, raising a scarred brow, and despite your groggy state, you still manage to roll your eyes. Stepping closer, you use his broad shoulders as anchors to slip onto his lap.
“Don’t make that face,” Anakin hushes, and while you settle back onto his thighs, his metal hand comes up. He traces the line of your jaw, “You know I let you do what you want.”
His spare hand steadies your hips, and it’s still warm from his lightsaber. Calloused fingers run over your skin, reminding you of the fight that’s leaving scars – the war that’s brewing, both inside and outside of his mind.
In moments like this, though, there’s a subtle calm.
An impenetrable force that hums over the pair of you.
You lean into his palm and whisper, “Not everything.”
There’s a haunted edge to your gaze, and your words are loaded. Anakin knows what you mean, knows all the intricacies of your subtle dig, and yet, he still manages to smile.
Well, smirk.
“What do you want? Just say the word.”
You wouldn’t, and Anakin knows that. He’s caught your bluff, and you manage a bashful smile before gently leaning forward, dragging your hips against his lap.
Anakin’s cloth-covered thigh nestles against the thin fabric of your underwear. Your smile falters, lips parting. You push your forehead against his, and whisper, “If I say the words, I’ll never forgive myself.”
“I know,” he breathes, “I know.”
I want more.
A life together, not stolen moments when the sun is down.
An attachment. A bond.
But it’s forbidden.
It’s why it can’t go any further than this.
“What’d you dream about?” you wonder. Anakin pulls his eyes away from you, instead looking to where his thigh sits. The silence is your answer.
“I’ll still ask, even if you never tell.”
He takes hold of your bare thighs, rubbing his hands up and down, and you hum his name, reaching out to push his hair behind his ears.
“Pretty boy.”
“Stop it,” he huffs, cheeks reddening.
But how can you? When he’s all sharp lines and long hair. You run your hands up the bare panes of his muscular chest, feeling the deft of his muscles, and the dampness on his skin.
The air changes – hums electric – and it buzzes as you push his gown off his shoulders.
Carefully, you lean forward and place a chaste kiss against his collarbone.
“That’s better.”
Anakin hums a laugh. His hands snake around to your lower back, dig into the fat of your ass, and using the grip there, he gently rocks you forward once, forcing your clothed cunt to drag against his muscular thigh.
You whimper. It’s quiet, but Anakin can hear it, even if it’s muffled by his shoulder.
“’ S’what you came out here for, huh?” he whispers. The electric flooding through the walls hums, but the room is still eerily silent. Anakin’s voice is a roar.
You lick your lips and drag your face up to see him.
“No,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss against his top lip, “I like being with you, even if we don’t do this.”
Anakin has to close his eyes. Words like those are fuel to the fire brimming in his chest, and it doesn’t help that you wrap your arms around his neck and fiddle with the tail end of his hair.
Arching your back, you slowly roll backwards, then forward, teasing the bulge between his legs.
Releasing a shaky breath, you repeat the motion, again, and again, near humping his leg.
A familiar ache begins to swell, coiling between your thighs and up into your belly. It makes you clench around nothing, and you mewl quietly, wishing for more – always wishing for more.
Still, you continue, slick pooling into your underwear and against his thigh.
Anakin can’t look at you. If he sees your face, his resolve will falter.
His nerves are shot. If he couldn’t feel how wet you are, he could smell it, and it makes a groan bristle behind his teeth.
He buries his head into the crook of your neck and busies himself with kissing at the soft shell of your throat, careful not to leave marks.
Once, you left a mouth-shaped mark against his stomach, and he looked at it every day for a week.
Caught himself with his top up in the mirror looking at the reflection, eyeing the way the mark sat on the firm lines of muscle, fading away with time.
A dark part of him wanted the mark on the slope of his neck.
“Wanna be inside of you.”
His admission rests heavily against your throat, and you’re thankful that he can’t see the way you clench your eyes closed.
Though, he does feel you tighten your grip on the back of his head. Feels you shift up against his thigh, and the warmth pooling in your underwear burns against him.
He can sense you’re hesitant.
“’ can be like last time. Just – Just --” he stutters, licking his lips and struggling to release the words from the back of his throat. Finally, he manages.
“--Sit on it.”
“Anakin.”
He pulls away from your neck and looks up at you.
“We can use it as an exercise.”
A laugh bursts from your throat, “To test your will?”
He smiles, and because you have to, you push your cunt against his crotch, uttering, “Want me to make It difficult for you?” and white flashes through Anakin’s eyes.
He grabs your hips to steady you, tensely pushing his fingers into your skin.
“Hardest challenge I’ll ever encounter.”
“You eager to impress?”
He kisses your jaw, “Don’t I always?”
“Mm,” you hum, cradling his chin. You shift back so he can pull his trousers down, and when you take his cock in your hand, he melts. His commanding aura switches for a moment, and you watch Anakin still his breathing.
You push your underwear to the side, and as you lift yourself to sink onto him, Anakin breathes, “Just the tip – just a little bit, j-just—” and he chokes on his words, gasping as you brush the leaking head of his cock through your folds.
You halt. Whimper. Have to grip his shoulder to steady yourself, or you’ll push him inside of you all at once and hurt yourself.
You inhale steadily.
“Have to – have to go slow,” you spurt, trying to calm your tremors.
“It’s been a while since…”
You don’t have to finish your sentence. Anakin knows, and he feels a mix of pride and guilt. Only me, he thinks, and then, like a flash, only me, he swallows. And I can’t give her everything.
This. This is as far as it’ll go. He knows he’s pushing it. Knows that he’s come up with some convoluted rule to both have his cake and eat it too.
If he fucks you the way he wants to, he’ll fall in love with you. As if it hasn’t happened already.
Anakin has made lying to himself a speciality.
You push against him once more, and the tip of his cock nudges between your folds, forcing an ache to shoot through your clit and make you dizzy. You stop. Pause and curse yourself.
A slow burn builds in your thighs, and you clench down to try and mediate the burn. Anakin grunts.
“Maker,” he utters.
“Sorry—” you splutter, sucking in a tight breath.
Anakin wraps his metal arm around the back of your hips, hoping to steady you. “Lemme,” he mumbles, and gently, he flexes his hips up, slowly feeding his cock into your soaked pussy.
Your lower abdomen immediately burns.
He’s being calm about it – using all his training – but there’s nothing calm about the words trickling out of his mouth.
“Oh stars,” he groans, voice wrecked, “You gonna take all of me, sweet girl? Gonna let me fill you up?”
When you finally sink to the hilt, your resolve snaps. The pair of you moan out in unison, loud and high-pitched.
Anakin buries his face in your chest, and the heat of his mouth against your breasts adds to the tension coiling in your belly.
“Don’t – don’t move,” he grunts, and you shake your head, “I won’t – I’ll come on your cock if I do,” and you don’t mean to say it like that, don’t mean for the words to come out like that, but you feel Anakin pulse from inside of you, warm and hard and wet.
He manages to laugh.
“Tryna kill me,” he shakily breathes, shaking his head. His wet lips brush against your breasts, and you want more – want all that he can give you – so you clutch the back of his head, pulling him closer, hoping he gets the message.
His wet kisses make your skin prickle.
You’re full up. Can feel him stretching you out, this feeling something that’s only happened a few times before.
“If you move,” Anakin begins, out of breath, “I’ll leave the Jedi order and spend my days inside of you.”
“Don’t t-tempt me.”
He laughs, and you accidentally clench around him, causing him to groan deep and long against your tits.
“If you do that again, I’ll come inside of you.”
You imagine it. Imagine him spilling out, the wet white of it dripping out of your cunt and back onto his cock, and the mere image of it has your clit throbbing.
Keep still. Don’t move.
But he wraps his tongue around your nipple and begins to suck.
You cry out, and all of your muscles tighten, forcing you to clench tight around his cock. Anakin jolts and whines your name against your tits.
“S’your fault,” you mewl, moaning. You hang your head back, “Stars, Anakin.”
“Try and stay still,” he mumbles, and you stutter a laugh, “Impossible.”
“It can’t be,” he responds, and while he speaks in jest, his words are sincere. The line between love and lust runs thin, and if Anakin is being honest with himself, it’s close to snapping.
#anakin skywalker#Anakin skywalker x reader#Anakin skywalker smut#Anakin skywalker x reader smut#anakin skywalker x you#anakin skywalker x female reader#anakin skywalker imagine#hayden christensen#Star wars#darth vader#kinktober#kinktober 2023
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adrenaline, baby.
ln x wife!reader
ahahaha i couldn’t help myself. wrote this at godspeed (20 mins) and i’m not even sorry. not my finest work but i could not care less this is peak brainrot (waving at you @lavenderlando). feral is the only word on my mind at this time. gg lando.
warnings: listen it’s porn with minimal plot. minors dni i am so serious!! 18+, smut, fluff, breeding kink, implied overstimulation, mentions of pregnancy, marriage, it’s just unhinged idk
your back couldn’t have hit the bed soon enough, touch starved bodies moulding into the cloud-like mattress. you’d waited all weekend to get him on top of you, and now that the stress of the race weekend had melted away, you’d been able to put the do not disturb sign to good use.
lando’s adrenaline rush had sent him feral.
he hadn’t stopped touching you since he’d been able to, practically dragging you through the mexican paddock, into the car, through the door of your hotel suite. he’d attended to his race duties and now lando had a wife to attend to.
six months of married bliss meant one thing: a lot of sex in a lot of places. you didn’t know how to keep you hands off of one another, proud of yourselves for making it behind closed doors this time. it meant you could take your time, that he could take you apart just how he liked to, and that’s what he did.
“c’mon, baby. need you nice and ready for me.” lando muttered into your neck, punctuating his words with a kiss below your ear. he had two fingers working in and out of you, curling deliciously against your walls. “did all of those overtakes, and then i did them again. now, m’gonna make you come for me again and again.”
he was a man, possessed.
a strangled cry tore from the back of your throat, zero regard for the neighbouring rooms as you fell apart, spasming into the white bed linen. lando didn’t stop, fucking you through the waves of pleasure until tears pricked your eyes and you were squirming away from him.
there wasn’t a second to recover, his curls tickling your thighs as he slotted between your legs, tongue lapping up the mess he’d just made. your ears were ringing, eyes squeezed shut, thrashing hard before your body dissolved completely under his touch. you couldn’t figure out where the pleasure started and where it ended, all you knew was that your second orgasm was approaching faster than lando has made up all those race positions.
“oh my god.” you repeated over and over like a prayer, blindly tipping over the edge, his tongue stroking your clit while his fingers coaxed you to your second release.
“i’m not done with you, baby. gonna fill you up again, just like you keep asking me to.” lando groaned, scaling up your body. you shuddered at his words, your body set on fire. it was a sort of given, at this point, that you were trying. or, to put it more accurately, not not trying. it did something to you, the idea of him letting loose, not a single barrier between your intertwined bodies, and he loved it as much as you did.
a litter of soothing kisses were placed up your throat, before he reached your lips, his own slotting over yours. it was messy, passionate, quiet whimpers being traded between you as he found his rightful place between your parted thighs. your legs were hooked over his hips, pulling him in, the tip of his cock painting over your folds. and then he was inside of you, slick bodies at one, and a switch in him flipped.
lando went deep, rocking into you like it was the last time. it definitely wouldn’t be. he could have left an imprint of your body in the mattress, holding you down as he ruined you. it was desperate, new urges unlocked in him since you’d started this new venture in the bedroom, no limits. you couldn’t keep up with him, letting him do all the work, just how he liked it. and you fucking loved it.
all you could do was clamp down on him, a beautiful mess at his mercy, his name chanted into the room. everything was hazy, nothing, there was only him and you. you arched into him, clawing at the bronzed, glowing skin of his lean back, eyes rolling in your skull at the way his muscles felt as they tensed under your touch.
“one more for me, baby, one more for now and i’ll give you what you want. gonna make me a daddy?” lando’s breath fanned your face as he spoke, watching with a smirk at the way you absolutely lost it.
you were sobbing when you came, the aftershocks continued by the way you felt him reach his own release. white heat pricked your skin and you collapsed even further into the bed, wrecked beneath him. you were grinning lazily, panting hard, eyes shut from the exhaustion. lando kissed away the tear tracks, residing inside you as you both came down from the high.
the air changed drastically, softer, intimate. he found your lips again, gentle this time, affectionate pecks reviving you.
“you okay, my love?” lando whispered. you breathed a laugh.
“you’re too good to me.” your voice was raspy, your vocal chords shot from a weekend of screaming his name in every possible context. “proud of you, honey.”
lando hummed softly, grateful for your praise. he scanned your face, an angelic glow gracing your features. his beautiful wife.
“gonna get you cleaned up.” he went to roll off of you, but your legs tightened around his waist.
“not yet. wanna stay like this for a minute.” your voice was laced with sleep, and lando couldn’t help but smile.
“this might have been the time, y’know.” lando’s words came out excitedly, unable to contain his delight at the idea of having a family. your family.
“and even if it wasn’t, i don’t mind the free practice.” you teased, but the giddy feeling in the pit of your stomach told you something, and so did the test you took four weeks later.
-
idk what came over me idk what happened lol. bye.
#lando norris#lando norris smut#lando norris fic#lando norris fluff#lando norris x you#lando norris x reader#lando norris blurb#lando norris imagine#lando norris drabble#f1 fic#f1 smut#f1 x reader#f1 driver x reader#f1 driver x you#f1 fics#f1 blurb#f1 drabble#f1 blurbs#writing things
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i saw seungmin in this shirt and my mind broke down. also yes me and ems wrote fics for the same fanmeet outfits without realising
wc: 1.6k
warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, dirty talk (seungmin is mean), dom seungmin, sub reader, exhibitionism? anyone could walk in, blowjob, boot humping, unprotected sex, creampie
“I don’t- I can’t-”
Seungmin’s lips press to yours again soothingly. He’s still sweaty from the fan meeting, and his lips are a little wet. “It’s okay, calm down.”
You’re backstage and way too worked up. Going to the fan meeting and seeing your boyfriend in all his glory onstage was one thing, but when he walked out in that damn Diesel top? Yeah, you were sure you’d had a heart attack. You jumped his bones as soon as he walked backstage and he’d carted you off to the nearest separate dressing room to ‘calm you down’, much to the jeers of the other boys.
There’s sweat beading onto your chest by the time you get him to stop kissing you, and you sink to your knees, breathing hot air over the front of Seungmin’s jeans. He peers down at you with a raised eyebrow, hands moving to his belt.
“Really? Right here?” He asks, and you only nod. “You’re feeling a little filthy today, aren’t you?”
“Don’t tease me,” You huff, nose nudging his growing erection. He wraps his fist around your hair and pulls you backwards, making you look up at him. He looks ever the image of power - the choice of attire accentuates the milky skin of his arms, and his eyes are dark when he tuts at you for ogling him like that. “You look so good.”
“Behave,” He murmurs. You nod again. You can’t do anything else when he’s in a mood like this, only nod and feel the gusset of your panties sticking to your messy folds. He’s feeling strict, but if you keep pouting up at him, eyes glassy, perhaps he’ll let you have it.
“Please,” You beg, bottom lip quivering. You’re not above crying to suck your boyfriend’s cock, and he knows that - hell, he’s made you cry over it before and probably will again. Tonight, though, it seems he’s feeling a little kinder than normal, because he lets go of your hair and starts to unbuckle his belt. “Oh, oh! Yeah, yeah, gimme, gimme-”
“Shut up,” He admonishes, eyebrows furrowed in contention. He pulls his belt from the waist of his jeans and they drop down to his thighs, stopped by the lean muscle. Only a beat passes before he lets you see it, firstly with the trimmed, pitch-black hair at his base, and then with the whole length of his cock bobbing up against the bottom of his abdomen. He’s still only half hard, a little soft when he polishes his cockhead with his hand, but it only takes a second before he’s standing at full mast.
You can hear noises from outside the door. It only serves to make you leak more into your underwear, shifting on your knees from where you are in front of him, but you’d never wish to rush Seungmin. He stares at you while you writhe, and then finally, finally, he nods.
You know what that nod means. You’re suckling the tip in seconds. He leaks steadily for you, and you whimper around his length when he moans at your actions. You’re used to sucking him off by now, and so you start to bob your head on as much as you can fit, moving your fist to pump the part of his length that you can’t quite reach. Seungmin’s hips thrust forwards once, twice, and then he gives up, moving his hands to your head.
“I’m gonna fuck your throat,” He murmurs. He gives you enough time to pull away, but you don’t, only moaning and moving your hands to rest on his thighs. “Yeah? You’re gonna let me do that here? That’s so fucking slutty.”
Of course you are. Your jaw goes lax, and Seungmin groans, his eyes rolling back into his head as he starts to thrust. He presses into your throat over and over, making your eyes water as you gaze up at him, but the whole thing’s so hot you can’t protest. Seungmin’s normally iffy about messes but with the way you’re drooling all over his cock, you’re not sure he minds right now.
You can’t help yourself. Your hand dips underneath your skirt and starts to rub circles into your clit, through your panties and Seungmin’s oblivious for a moment. He thrusts into your mouth a few more times and it’s the wet whine you let out that gives you away - Seungmin’s eyes open, peering down at your disshevelled figure on the floor.
“Mm, don’t do all of that,” He murmurs condescendingly. His thrusts stop and he lets his shaft slide out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting the two of you. You’re allowed to sit there and gasp for air for a moment, but then Seungmin’s boot nudges into your knee.
The position’s a little awkward, but you spread your legs and let him push his boot underneath your skirt for you to hump into. It’s a nice gesture from Seungmin, who’s normally scathing words and even worse spankings, but then he fucks into your throat so hard it makes you gag.
“Take it,” He huffs, and then he’s doing something ultimately worse. With his fingers intertwined in your hair, he grips your head and starts to bounce it on his cock. You’re whining hard by now, hips kicking up a fuss on your boyfriend’s shoe, and you see his eye twitch when you gag on one pull downwards with a sharp wail.
He pulls out of your mouth with a fuss. He’s quick to yank you up by your hair, pulling you over to the nearest vanity to bend you over. You don’t mind - you’re embarrassingly eager, actually, letting your knees fall apart to show your man the mess you’ve made of yourself. His hand moves to your hair to push your skirt over your ass. The cold air hitting the sodden fabric of your underwear has you keening, pushing your ass backwards. You can’t see yourself from your position, tummy down on the vanity table and face buried in your arms, but you know you must look like a certain debauched type of picture.
“You wanted me that bad, huh?” He muses, thumb sweeping over your core. You whimper, nodding with a twitch of your leg, and then Seungmin’s yanking your panties to the side. Before you can squeal, to make a noise to acknowledge him, he’s sinking his whole length in you at once. “There you go. You’ve got it now, feel it, whore. Feels good?”
“Feels s’good,” You slur, drool slicking your bottom lip just from the stretch of him. Seungmin’s longer than he is thick but he’s still enough to have your pussy throbbing, clit aching for stimulation from the feeling of him pressing at your walls. “Feels g-good, fuck me, fuck me- please, please, guh- gotta-”
“Yeah, okay,” He sighs, as if he’s annoyed, and then he’s rutting into you so hard you swear your eyes cross. Seungmin groans and grunts with each gush of your pussy around him, and when his hand moves to your hair again, he’s yanking your face out of its safe haven. “Look at yourself. Fucking look at that.”
You have to. Your eyes are glassy with unshed tears, and you’re drooling so hard it’s affected some of your makeup. Your cheeks are flushed, obvious that it spreads down your neck and to your chest, and you’re still fucking your hips backwards to try and get more of him.
“Please,” You watch yourself say it, lips kiss-bitten and broken. “Please give it to me harder, Seungminnie, I need it.”
“You need it?” He questions, just to watch you nod so hard you look like a dumb little bobblehead. “Okay. Don’t take it back, then.”
His confidence would be sickening if it isn’t for the way he starts to fuck into you so hard you squeal. His mushroom tip kicks into your cervix with every thrust, and you can see him gritting his teeth with the speed of it all. He’s still holding your hair, and you watch yourself finally begin to cry, eyebrows furrowing in pleasure.
You whine and writhe, and Seungmin’s other hand goes to your ass to keep you down, laid flat for him. Your nipples are so hard through your shirt that it’s starting to hurt, and when you shift your hips again, he hits a spot so good that you sob wetly.
“There! There, there, there, please don’t- don’t stop, Seungmin, I’ll fucking cum,” You babble, and your eyes finally fall shut. Seungmin doesn’t reprimand you for it, only continuing his pistoning into that same exact spot that has you babbling out profanities and half-spoken words. “Yeah. Yeah! There, there, fucking- I’ll cum so good, I’ll cum so-”
“I know you will, f-fucking whore,” His voice is faltering, and you know he’s getting close. “Cum for me. Shut up and just fucking cum.”
It explodes behind your eyes. Your toes curl with it and you gush and wail on Seungmin’s cock, walls fluttering so deliciously around the slick slide. He helps you ride it out, hand now pulling you backwards with each thrust, and then he’s letting go of your hair so unceremoniously it falls with a thud back to your arms.
You’re just panting now, pussy still clenching down on your boyfriend through the aftershocks of your orgasm, and Seungmin starts to chase his high. It only takes a few ridiculously fast thrusts for him to finish, and he pumps you full of his cum easily with a loud groan.
He slips out of you and you let out a whimper, causing him to make his own answering, mock-whimper in response. You hear him shuffling about behind you and when you finally open your eyes, tilting your head towards him, he’s looking for tissues with his wet cock in his hand.
“Seungminnie,” You giggle, kicking your feet. The action only causes his cum to drip out of your pussy and down your thighs, and you groan in disdain, immediately halting his movements.
Seungmin laughs. “That’s karma for laughing at me when I’m trying to help you.”
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