#my bias LEAPS out

[thebadtimewolf]

why r u so mad about ppl preferring ten x madame de pompadour to ten x martha like ten/martha will never be a thing. ten don’t want anything to do with martha. he literally said to her face she wouldn’t replace rose… and she never did… isnt canon enough for you

hm.

im glad im only a scorpio on this alone. if martha deserved better than ten then so do all of em but anyway:

this ask is giving 2006/07 i dont want to see tenth doctor in a romantic relationship with a person of color because i can't project myself or relate to them if they arent the very thing being catered to me ever since the silent pictures vibes. u know the same vibe when rtd was told to not regenerate 14 in 13's clothes. just. Ick.

but im not mad. its just interesting for a ship so big as tenrose, it is usually correlated with hating madame de pompadour and/or joan and/or river [though in joan's case they hate her not because shes racist but because shes not rose]

though comics tend to release to combat that in multi doctor stories where they jump through various alternate universes of themselves where the doctor sees themselves settled down with dr. grace holloway (for 8th dr multi doctor stories) and professor melody williams/river song (for 11th dr multi doctor stories) where in those cases, they are frightful of the concept settling down at all. [take note that both times, he settles down in the same house that he owns bc of that unit paycheck on the dl] so i am curious that with this new drs, the equivalent of this would be 13 14 15 being terrified of settling down with rose because they had grown past her as this point.

i prefer the doctor in a polyromantic ace relationship than their umpteenth 🌟tragic heteronormative romance with yt human woman number 23445788764443356743🌟 i want 14 to sweep martha off her feet in pure joy and kiss her passionately while badmouthing tf out of 10 like 9 11 12 13 do with no filter before cradling her like a baby because hes about to crumble under his brand new identity complex and then take her kid to an amusement park and then 14 trips over a brick and dies. hell i rather have nina sosanya play a whole different lady in nod to doctor who recycles their actors trope as a way to introduce a love interest to 14

that amusment park one weirdly sounds like a 8th doctor audio. pls 🙏🏾 dont make it into one i couldnt handle schezro let alone the rest of his content. Empire of the Wolf made me so fucking worried for rose marion tyler like im just she back home 🫣. as for rose tyler from the sea devil universe still out about. whoop his ass. if billie come back as HER? MISS COVER MODEL MISS DICTATOR MISS EMPRESS ROSE?

NOT

i would love for ten to be strictly friends with the new miss empress rose. get that martha karma real quick ehehehehe after all rtd did say they need freema for somethin and im sure seeing 10 get treated the same way he treated martha by no other than empress rose herself -AND THEN EMPRESS ROSE FLIRTS WITH MARTHA??? FINGERS CROSSED??? im just saying that i personally will ride on that for 8 black history months and christmases straight like woo

also real glad it is collectively decided by every one that tentoo is just john smith not corin so yay thanks big finish and titan comics

#{lets see if i can scare this anon away listen i even made a graphic for this damn it. u better appreciate it i went all out for you} #{porn blogs and micro antiblack anons: this is why i dont share my shipping opinions much bc they stick to tv and i stick to everything} #{usually all this i gave to my aunt and we would have phone discussions and she would watch and call be like hey yeah! i see it} #{and she would say: but really it wasnt that for martha. it was the writing choices that was disapproved because not wanting another 💞} #{it went from classism for rose to racism for martha and she points that it wasnt catered to black fans in the rtd era} #{so yeah ten x martha wouldn't be a thing but only because test audiences and fans refused it due to the studios racial bias} #{10 wanted everything to do w martha. he just used rose as excuse and because of that 12 and 13 vocally to his face hates him for it} #{and we all fell for it: everybody did because like 12 said: its the bambi eyes. hook line and sucker} #{he wanted martha the whole time but he kept playing that hot n cold game to the wrong girl just bc it worked on 2 later 3 yt blonde women} #{4 yt women because of miss kylie minogue! all of a sudden he dont know how to counterflirt when a blk woman flirts back?} #{yes thats right im throwing miss claire pope AND IN THE GABBY GONZALES COMIC OF THE PPL OUTSIDE HER FAMILY LAUNDROMAT??} #{but yeah after losing donna suddenly supiciously hes not racist but extremely genocidal to death and death alone like hm.} #{his actions speak extremely louder than his words and in turn so does the fandom and its writers} #{4 yt blondes and hes willing to believe in them despite him having to permanently lose them but completely have lil faith in the blk one?} #{ ten never actually go back to martha. be fair if i forgave the person that enslave her family for a missing year? yeah i wouldnt either} #{we could never be together because of a yt woman i chose to leave behind three times with her mum for 'safety' boy bye} #{and i go around and almost in one whole episode almost left her behind AGAIN for madame de pompadour another blonde yt woman?} #{like i ship them i ship all of em but if they were all hanging off a cliff side? 🤧 😔 we gather here today in the loss of 🌹 and depomp} #{dont worry at least 9 would leap after rose.} #bw: out of ethos #answered #anonymous #bw: long post #{i made a long post just so i surprise you with a cute billie graphic thats all. that the main topic}

[mingi-bubu]

4. “How would that even work?”

Fictober22~ soulmate au, uni au, strangers to soulmates, mingi is mentioned a lot for a character who doesn’t actually speak in this, author plays fast and loose with electrical engineering and art, seunghun x reader, ~2.4k

Ever since you were a wee lamb, you've known about Words. You knew that They connected you to another person, or persons. According to your Ma, Words are the first thing that comes from the person you're Connected with when they meet you.

Your Ma told you how she found hers, suddenly appearing one day when she was starting uni. She traced over Them on the side of her neck, just barely hidden by her hair, with a faraway look on her face. 'As far as the crow flies' is what her Words are. She met your father in the courtyard by the dorms because he overheard her asking her friend how far they thought she could throw the Frisbee. And the rest was history.

Your Words didn't appear until you were nearly out of uni. One day your left hand was plain and unmarked, and you woke up the next with Words that said 'How would that even work?' running from the crook of your thumb to almost the tip of your index finger. You remember staring at Them for ages, marveling at how right it felt to see Them, how They didn't seem to feel any different from your own skin. They were a little faded compared to people who've met their Connected(s), but that's normal. Words don't darken until They're communicated by the right person.

It was weird how fate had matched with your bachelor's program—electrical engineering major with a minor in visual arts. You used the things you learned in major courses to help with projects in your minor courses. Of course, this caused a lot of people to ask, “How could that work at all?” or “Why do you think that would even work?”

Questions that were so similar to your Words, but just a bit off. You're happy you made friends with people who understand your ideas, though. Yonghee, an engineering mathematics major whom you met in your freshman year, was someone who encouraged you to try anything you came up with. Mingi, an econ major a year ahead of you who studied how math and the fashion industry intersect, was someone you relied on for inspiration for your visual arts minor. You often asked him about current trends to see how you could incorporate that into your robots' designs. You have a few other close friends—Jenny who was a year below you and studying data science; Belle who was undecided but seemed to be leaning towards math education—but Yonghee was your closest friend.

Which is why you called him at six in the morning because you finally had inspiration on your next art project and told him to meet you at the art studio in an hour and bring black tea with a smidgen of honey.

"And I'm doing this for you on a Saturday, why?" He asks, his words coming out muffled. You figured he had his head half buried in his pillows as usual. "Mmm, because you're my best friend whom I love and cherish?" Your voice is sugar-sweet as you set your phone down on your bedside table and put the call on speaker. When he doesn't respond, you call his name to see if he was awake still.

"No, I'm awake," he says, and you hear the sheets rustle as he turns over, "I'm just waiting on a better reason." His voice is still sleepy, but the words come out much more clearly.

You roll your eyes and start sifting through your dresser for your art clothes; clothes that you wouldn't mind getting paints, oil pastels, charcoal, etc. on. "Okay, how about I buy us lunch when you force me to stop working because you're hungry?"

"I choose where we eat?"

"Yes, Yong, you can choose where we eat." You throw on your paint-stained jeans and an old T-shirt from your high school days. It has a purposefully faded image of a dragon being slain by a knight. It used to have words underneath that read something like 'A Knight to remember!' and the date of the big game between your school and your rivals. You turn to your desk and open your Little Box of Toys, as Mingi calls it, and start checking to see what you want to bring with you for the beginning stages of the project.

"I'll see you at seven. You going to your regular studio?"  He checks, yawning afterwards. You hum an affirmative, and he says, "Cool. See you soon."

The phone beeps to let you know he ended the call, and you walk back to your bedside table to grab it. As soon as you pick it up, your phone begins to vibrate, your ringtone playing. Yonghee's face appears in the little contact circle.

You're a little confused, but you answer it. "Yeah, Yong?"

"Forgot to tell you something," he says. He sounds completely awake now, and you take a guess at what he forgot.

"Aww, you forgot to say you love me," you simper, batting your lashes even though he can't see.

"Sure," he dismisses, "but also that a friend from high school is visiting from out-of-town, and he might be coming with me to the studio."

"I'm not buying him lunch," you immediately say, "if we're going where I think you'll want to go, I'm barely going to have enough to cover the both of us."

"It'll be fine. He might choose to sleep in, instead." The unspoken "like I was going to" hangs in the air.  "Either way, Mingi is going to whisk him away in the early afternoon."

"Gi knows him? You guys didn't go to high school anywhere near each other, though."

"They both did dance competitions back then. Min just didn't choose to major in it, unlike Seunghun."

"Oh, neat!" You say. "Well, he is certainly welcome to come with you. Mingi, too, if he wanted to get up this early."

There's a moment of silence before the two of you laugh. "Okay, okay, I'll see you soon!"

Once again, your phone beeps to let you know that the call is over. You set your phone on your desk next to your Little Box of Toys and go into the bathroom to brush your teeth and finish the rest of your morning routine. When you come back, you see that Yonghee texted you to remind you to bring a heavier jacket because it's supposed to be cold out today.

You smile, touched at your friend's thoughtfulness. You open the message to thank him, but before you can type the words, he sends another message explaining that he didn't want to deal with you being all whiny when you got sick.

Refusing to dignify it with a response, you shove the phone into your jacket pocket. You grab the rest of your things, put your shoes on, and check that you have the keys to get you into the studio. With that all done, you leave for the studio, locking your door behind you and pocketing the keys.

You get there before Yonghee, of course. The route to the building has been ingrained in your mind since the second half of freshman year. You're polite about it, though, and wait just on the other side of the entry doors. Yonghee was right; it was cold out today. While you waited for him, only twenty more minutes before he was late, and he had to pay for lunch as forfeit, you looked around at the entryway. Your eyes fell on the bulletin board filled with posters advertising everything from a reward for a lost hedgehog to baking lessons for French pastries.

There was something about the arts building in the early morning when nobody was around that gave you a sense of where you stand in the eyes of the universe. Sure, you have Words, you have fate that Connects you to another. But the universe doesn't care about that, or rather, Words are not the only thing that exists to the universe. You can tell by how the weak light of morning starts to fully come out from behind the clouds. The beams of light fall through the window and dust motes dance in it. The leaves outside that had dark outlines around them on the sidewalk from the rain the night before that hadn't yet evaporated. The birds starting to chirp and bounce from branch to branch, tree to tree. The universe had its own rhythm and beat, and it didn't care what you did or who you were.  It was both comforting and terrifying at the same time.

The idea of Connecting did the same.  Words were, in a way, Themselves Connecting you to the universe.  You’ve heard different reports on what happens when one’s Words darken.  Some people say they feel like the wind has been knocked out of them.  Others say they feel like something in their life had clicked into place.  Your Ma told you that for her, she felt like someone had put her inside a meat locker.  She said your father felt like he was sitting right next to a bonfire.

You were broken from your thoughts by the door opening, the cold air whooshing in along with Yonghee and another person who you assume is Seunghun. Yonghee held your tea in one hand, his drink in another.  The edges of a bright orangey-pink paper bag from the café by his apartment sticks out of his pocket. Seunghun was eating a breakfast sandwich, his cheeks and nose pink from the cold. You waved them further in, grabbing the door behind them and pulling it shut faster than it would have on its own.

Yonghee was bundled in a sweater with a scarf and his windbreaker over it.  A beanie with a pink and gray poof on top, matching the scarf, sat on his head.  His darker pink hair stuck out from it in several places.  Seunghun was wearing a dark gray beanie and a navy blue peacoat.  Despite it being obvious he was still tired, he was handsome.  You could tell from the way he carried himself that he is a dancer, and that he seems like someone who wants to and likes to laugh a lot.  Both of them wore their backpacks.

Yonghee hands you your tea. "So, tell me about your project."

You excitedly start talking about your project, leading the two down the hall to your favorite studio in the back, a corner room. You like the amount of natural light that you get there.  It’s also usually ignored in favor of the other studios because of its size, so you didn’t really have to worry about someone walking in and disturbing you.

"Okay, so I read about this story that someone told about their college professor who used Tesla coils to show how electricity is conducted in plexiglass. I want to do something similar to that, but with a different spin to it."  You explain as you open the door to the studio, setting your Little Box of Toys on the design desk. You gesture to the chairs, "Go ahead and take a seat wherever. Today I'm just getting the rough idea of it down, the blueprint if you will, and maybe starting on some smaller Tesla coils."

The two guys do as you say, sliding their backpacks off, dropping them to the ground, and Yonghee pulls out the paper bag from his pocket.  He takes his own sandwich out of it and starts eating.  Seunghun looks at you politely, watching as you talk with your hands about the project.

"I want to do something similar, but with paper if possible. If not, I'll use plexiglass and inks.  I’m probably going to experiment with sizes of the coils first to see which one is most doable in this context." You take a sip of your tea and set it down, exchanging it for a little robotic joint from your box, just to have something to fiddle with in the meantime. Yonghee nods along, understanding the basic idea of your project.

Seunghun raises a hand, and when you look at him, he asks hesitantly, "How would that even work?"

You nearly snap the joint in half at hearing him say your Words, and you look down at your finger. It felt like it was burning and cooling all at once, Words darkening as if They were rising like a tide. Staring at Them, you reflexively reply, "Wouldn't you like to know, weather boy?"

As soon as those words come out of your mouth, Seunghun's eyes widen. Thinking he is upset with you, you start apologizing. "I am so sorry, I have no idea where that came from! It's just something I do to Yonghee all the time."

“Thanks,” said boy mutters, taking a sip of his drink.

Seunghun breaks into a smile, his left hand coming up to rest on his right shoulder, fingers tightening around the dark wool.  "Still don't have a clue about how you'll control the electricity, but I'm glad to know that the person with my Words is so ambitious."

You can't help but smile back, a warmth spreading from your chest to the rest of your body.  You feel a little giddy, a little like you can’t really focus on reality.  "Well, I mean, I'll have a Faraday cage around some of my stuff. My electronic devices—phone, tablet, etcetera—will be protected from the electricity, but no, I won't have any control."

He looks a little worried at your explanation, but Yonghee reassures him.  “YN is used to working with this kind of thing.  Believe me, they’ll be fine.”

A thought strikes you, but hesitation rises with it.  Deciding that there’s no harm in asking, you say, “If you wanted, if you’re able to of course,” the words stumble out of your mouth, “you could, um, sit with me and watch when I get to that part of my project?”

“Yeah…” he says slowly, “yeah, that would be nice.”  He ducks his head down briefly, and you can see that he’s trying to hide another smile.  As a result, you do the same, looking down at your shoes, trying to hide your pleased smile.

Yonghee looks at the both of you, and sighs dramatically while he picks up his backpack, walking towards the small set of tables clustered in the opposite corner of the room.  “I’m going to die from sweetness overload if I look at the two of you any longer.”

#fictober22 #cix scenarios #seunghun scenarios #kim seunghun scenarios #sorry about my mingi bias LEAPING out in this #jae.works

[blossomwritesthings]

𝐬𝐤𝐳 & 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞

pairing: skz members (ot8) x fem!reader (afab)

genre: idol!skz. scenario. smut - MDNI, 18+ only. kinda fluffy. slightly funny. reader pov. established relationship.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. very suggestive/explicit sexual scenes. smut warnings below cut!!

word count: 5.4k

summary: in which you wear lingerie around skz.

18+ warnings: unprotected sex (stay safe out there, guys!). possessiveness from some of the members. pet names (both sweet and hot ones). dirty talk. lingerie kink. dom (hard and soft)/sub undertones. spanking. slight dacryphilia kink. corruption kink. making out. humiliation. degradation. strength kink. manhandling. praise kink. nipple/breast play. overstimulation. exhibitionism. sub-space. oral sex (f receiving). fingering (f receiving). hair pulling. scratching.

a/n: yayyy these are the first skz scenarios i've ever written... they could be really good or very shitty, so lmk what you guys think!! lingerie is a real big kink for me haha, so i hope i did all 8 of the boys justice with these scenarios. 😈 also, YES- my skz bias is ot8, so i tried my absolute hardest to write the same amount for each one of the boys... enjoy! 🥵

🤎 - ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ other cool stuff ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

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. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ skz fic recs [sfw ver]! ࿐ྂ

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). © ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

*ੈ✩‧₊˚🌾 chan

You knew that it had been an extremely long week for Chan. What with all of the promotions that the boys were doing, and him always being holed up in the studio with every free second he had in the day.

All of this cumulated to the two of you rarely having seen each other within the past few weeks.

You'd just pass each other in the kitchen on your separate ways to work in the early morning - long before the sun had risen high in the sky - and quickly peck each other on the lips. 

But, you wanted to change things. It had been far too long since the last time the two of you fucked. And you wanted to change that. Hence, why you had decided to buy the cute, dainty black set of lingerie at the department store when you had been shopping that past weekend.

The piece wasn't too frilly and suited your style perfectly while also adhering to your boyfriend's favourite colour- which was always pitch black.

The set slipped onto your frame easily, and in no time at all, you had positioned yourself atop the living room couch, completely bare save for the thin pieces of black fabric covering your most-sensitive parts.

With a glance at the nearby kitchen clock, you read that it was nearing midnight.

He'd be coming home any minute now- your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the electronic keypad beeping just outside your shared apartment's front door.

Your boyfriend crossed the threshold of the apartment silently, head down as he typed away furiously at something on his phone. Probably song lyrics that had graced his mind as he was making his trek home.

Staying quiet and ever still, you watched in anticipation, heart leaping into your throat as he slipped his shoes off and threw his backpack down on the nearby kitchen counter.

And that's when his head turned upwards and his gaze immediately slid to your form. His eyes locked onto your black-lace-clad skin, pupils darkening instantly.

"Welcome home, baby..." You began, voice coming out soft and meek.

In an instant, he was upon you, a wide, sardonic kind of smirk spreading across his lips. "And what do we have here, hmm?" He asked, hands splaying across your knees and pulling your legs apart so that he could nestle between you on the couch.

A nervous, high-pitched giggle escaped out of you at the lust that danced in his eyes just then. "Oh, you know... just a little surprise I thought you'd enjoy."

His hands stopped their hike up your legs at your words, as he rose a dark eyebrow your way. "Surprise? And what have a done to earn such a thing, baby girl?" He leaned into you, pressing a heated kiss against your forehead.

Your fingers found their way into his hair, as his mouth traveled down until your lips collided in a passionate kiss. "You've just been working so damn hard these past few weeks. Thought you deserved something special." You smiled up at him when the two of you pulled apart. "D-Do you like it?"

"Like it?" Chan scoffed, nails digging into the flesh of your warm, uncovered hips. "Baby girl- I'm doing everything in my power to resist the urge to not rip this off of you right this instant and fuck you."

You stared at him with big eyes, the hot arousal pooling in the depths of your centre. "Please- Chan-" And you didn't need to say anything else at that moment. Your desperation for him was apparent just by the way your hands clutched onto his dark hair, the way your cheeks heated with a flush.

And he felt the same way, as his mouth slowly pulled away from yours, beginning to press slow, open-mouthed kisses against your chin, before moving down the column of your neck.

 Yes, the black lingerie was a hell of a good idea. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚🌾 lee know

"You know why you're getting punished, kitten?" Minho ground out, just as he landed another cruel blow to your sore asscheek.

You all but whimpered into the pillow that your face was stuffed against. It was fucking humiliating - the tears that spilled down your cheeks, unbidden, the pants that fled from your lips, and especially- the liquid arousal that seeped out of you, wetting your legs in agonizing rivulets.

But your boyfriend wasn't one to give up easily. No, he loved the chase. He craved the fight. Especially the one you'd put up every time he edged you so close to the edge - make you feel so loved yet so alone at the same time.

He could be a cruel tease at times, and when that side came out of it, your body took the worst of the temperament change. All red and sore and raw the day after, from his crazed passions for you and you alone.  

But, at that moment, it had been a grave mistake, not to answer him.

All at once, you felt his nimble fingers wind into your locks, yanking on your hair until your scalp burned in fiery protest. He was pulling your head back and away from the downy pillow. "What was that? Couldn't hear you... speak up for me, kitten." He said in a growl, slapping your skin for what felt like the hundredth time the night.

"I-I wore the lingerie without your permission." You whined in a desperate kind of tone. Your eyes were squeezed shut, holding back the cries that threatened to spill from your lips at the rough feeling of the calluses on his palms hitting your exposed flesh. Again, and again, and again. 

"And why'd you do that, when you know the rules?"

"J-Just wanted to try it on... for fun!" You said, a strangled moan flooding out from deep inside of you at the feeling of his warm hand rubbing at your abused asscheeks. 

 One moment he was tender and caring, and the next, he was ruthless. It gave you total and complete whiplash - but in the best of ways. 

"Hmm... and do you think a greedy slut like you deserves my cock?" He mused. But you knew he wasn't asking the question and expecting a response. Not a truthful one, anyway. It was clear from his voice, which was dripping with darkness and lust.

"N-No!" You lied. Because you did want it. You wanted it so bad. You had been wanting it since that morning- when you had discovered the red set of lingerie that you had seemingly forgotten about, buried deep inside your closet.

In a desperate moment, you pulled it out and tried it on, snapping a picture of you in the ensemble and sending it to your boyfriend Minho.

But that had been a terrible lapse of your judgment - sending the alluring photo, as it had only made him angry... to see what he couldn't have at that moment - since his day was jam-packed with schedules.

"Good kitten," he began, ripping you out of the blissful daze that you had fallen into from the slight reprieve he had gifted you by not spanking your ass, as his hand suddenly landed another cruel blow to your red cheeks.

 You withered under his touch, reacting just the way he liked - moaning just the way he liked, shivering in both pain and delight, just the way he liked. 

"Now, you're gonna count for me until you cum just by my slaps alone. You got that, kitten?"

You swallowed down a wail at his command. Because fuck, you didn't know how you were going to survive the night. You never should've sent that picture in the first place.

Nevertheless, your lips were moving and forming the words before you even understood what you were saying. "Y-Yes, sir."

*ੈ✩‧₊˚🌾 changbin

Your boyfriend Changbin all but turned into a muscly, red tomato whenever you wore lingerie around him. It was a common occurrence for you, to dress up for him and parade around the house until he couldn't take it anymore, finally giving into his urges and taking you wherever you were currently standing.

On this occasion, the two of you had been chilling at home on your shared day off.

At least, you had been chilling.

In your favourite dark-blue lingerie set.

While Changbin, on the other hand, had been a bumbling, tripping fool, practically following you around like a little lap dog everywhere you went.

You were wearing the set because 1.) it made you feel sexy and confident, and 2.) you fucking loved the way it made your boyfriend go crazy. 

It was rare that you got a rise out of him when it came to the bedroom, so it felt good that your lingerie pieces were the sole thing that did it in for him. It was like his kryptonite. You liked feeling the little power that you held over him, even if it was just for a few hours.

The two of you were busy cooking lunch when the final straw broke the proverbial camel's back.

It started with you innocently bending down and into the fridge to retrieve a few eggs for the cookies that you were trying to make. And maybe you stuck your ass out a little more than what was called for. And maybe you arched your back just a tiny bit. But it was all in good fun, right?

Wrong.

"Fuck!" Your boyfriend suddenly yelled, his raised voice echoing across your apartment. Then, you heard something hard - like a knife - hit the cutting board that was positioned atop the kitchen counter nearby.

Confused as to what the big commotion was, you grabbed the eggs from their carton and shut the fridge door. "Changbin babe, what-" You began, but didn't even have time to finish your sentence, as your boyfriend rounded the corner of the kitchen.

In a single breath, he was upon you. Thick, muscular shoulders heaving up and down with his labored breathing. Jaw clenched tight. The heated anguish ran clear through his brown eyes.

"You know what the fuck is wrong, sweetheart," he pointed an accusatory finger at you, eyes raking down your scantily clad form. "All of this? Really?" He was glaring at you then, but it wasn't threatening in the least bit.

Instead, it just pushed you closer to the edge. 

Heightened the arousal that had already been steadily pooling between your legs throughout the day - as you felt your boyfriend's focus linger on you one too many times.

"I don't know what you could possibly mean..." Your voice trailed off, as you chose to play dumb from it all. Leaning your hips against the kitchen counter at your back, you looked up at him with wide eyes, trying to put that innocent pout on your face that always drove him up the fucking walls. "I thought you liked this piece on me."

He said nothing more after that, instead choosing to express himself by smashing his lips against yours in a fervent kiss. It was so desperate that teeth clashed against teeth. And before you knew it, his thick hands were wrapping around your bare waist, hoisting you up onto the kitchen countertop, arms flexing from the weight of you.

"Yeah, I love it so much," he deadpanned when the two of you pulled apart to catch your breaths. His fingers were already tracing up your inner thighs, nearing your dripping core. "And now I'm gonna fuck you in it, too. To show you how much I fucking adore it- and you." He grunted, tilting back into you and capturing your mouth up into another desirous kiss.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚🌾 hyunjin

Originally, your boyfriend Hyunjin had made out the idea to be pretty straightforward.

He had proposed a painting session with you on one of the nights that he was free from his work duties, where he'd use your body as his model. The inspiration for him to do so had struck him earlier that week after he had watched a romantic movie and wanted to re-create one of the scenes that he loved so much.

However, he failed to mention the attire that he wanted you to wear.

Which was a light green lingerie set. The panties were so small, they didn't even cover one-third of your ass.

But, regardless, you had wanted to make him happy. Hyunjin had been gushing about the 'session' since he first thought up the idea, and you were never one to stand in the middle of him and his craft.

So you played it cool - real cool - and strutted into your shared apartment's spare bedroom - which he used as his art studio - on the night that the two of you had planned for. The lights inside were dimmed, with the tiny, twinkling faerie ones hung up and around the scene that your boyfriend had set out for the occasion; it was all light green and pink tulle, soft yellow roses, and pale purple throw pillows.

Hyunjin pulled his focus away from the easel that he was setting up at the sound of your presence.

And you watched, biting down hard on your lip, at the shiver that ran through his entire body upon the sight of you.

"I-I'm ready..." You said in a gentle voice, fingers clutching onto the hem of the thin fabric at your waist, trying to yank it down and cover yourself as best as you could.

"Yeah- okay, uhm, just sit over there." He pointed to the center of the room, right where the pillows and white fuzzy blankets were. You nodded at him, offering a tiny smile. And the way he couldn't drag his eyes away from your form did not go unnoticed by you.

Things went rather smoothly after that, as Hyunjin directed your movements, the silence lapsing between the two of you once more. Soft jazz music played in the background, and your gaze was locked on your boyfriend, as he concentrated on getting your pose down on his canvas.

He always looked so fucking hot when he was incredibly focused like that - whether it be from learning a new choreo or jotting down notes for a painting he was creating. 

Either way, the sight of his furrowed brows, slightly pursed lips, and flexing jaw stirred something deep and swarthy inside of you. 

"Can you like, not do that, darling?"

His question pulled you out of your daze of relaxation, as you frowned in confusion. You started to move, lifting your chin away from where it had been easily resting in your palm. "What- am I not sitting the right-"

He groaned then, running a frantic hand through his long pink locks, "No, I mean- look at me like that."

That left you even more uncertain. "I don't understand-"

"I'm already fucking having a hard time with all of this," his hand pulled away from his hair, motioning towards your general direction. "It's just- fuck-"

Immediately, the puzzle pieces locked together in your mind.

All of this.

Meaning, your sexy attire.

Ever so slowly, you sat up from your laying position. With your spine pressed firmly against the wall behind you, cushioned by a few pillows. Silently, your fingers clutched onto either side of your knees, opening up your legs to him in a hushed offering.

His gaze locked onto you then - pupils dilating at the sight of your barely-covered cunt. Just waiting and pulsing for him alone.

"Fuck it- we'll finish this later." That was the last thing he said before he threw his paintbrush down onto the stand that was just beside his easel, diving headfirst toward you.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚🌾 jisung

"Don't wear the panties!" You heard your boyfriend Jisung yell from just outside the bathroom door.

Rolling your eyes at his antics, you fit the bra piece onto your form. The two of you had just come back from a busy day of shopping out on the town. And for a 'special gift,' Jisung had decided to buy you a cute, dark-purple lingerie set.

You hadn't purchased new lingerie in a while, so it was exciting for the both of you to get home later that day so that you could play around with it. 

As soon as you walked through your apartment door, Jisung dragged you to the bedroom to have you try it on.

'Just for fun,' he had said.

Yeah, right.

You both knew where trying it on would lead...

It would most-likely end up with you sprawled out across the bed, legs being pried open by your boyfriend as his tongue absolutely ravaged you. As he kept his head buried between your shaking legs for hours at a time, tongue drawing lazy patterns against your dripping cunt.

You in lingerie brought out a different side of Jisung, one that resulted in long nights and arduous amounts of oral.

And neither of you were complaining about it.

You pushed the bathroom door open, leaning against its frame, a tiny smirk stretching the corners of your mouth. "And why do I have to forgo the panties?" You asked, laughing at the way your boyfriend's mouth all but hung open at the sight of you. You were completely nude, save for the tiny purple fabric that stretched tightly around your chest. 

Immediately, he was standing up from his perch on the edge of the bed, shucking off his black sweatpants in one practiced move. "Because- princess, it's easier that way."

"And what, pray tell, are you doing, mister?" You gave him a knowing look as he continued to strip himself down until he was only in his boxers.

"Progressing things, that's what." He threw you a wink before he was nearing you like a ghost in the night. Fingers already reaching out to try and brush over your breasts, which were barely covered from the flimsy fabric of the corset-like top.

"Ah- not so fast..." You said, shaking your head at his antics. He really was like a rabid dog in heat when it came to you. Your fingers traced the waistband of his boxers, slowly dragging it down his legs. "An eye for an eye- a pantie for a pantie, right?"

Upon reveal of his cock, you noticed how it was already swelled and curling up towards his stomach, the head a lush crimson and pearling with pre-cum.

Once the boxers were completely off of him, Jisung made haste of wrapping both arms around your waist, raising you up and off of the ground, and walking over to the bed where he all but threw you atop the mattress.

You squealed in delight at the sudden movement, marveling at the way his time in the gym had paid off - by the way that he was able to carry you around so effortlessly.

You pushed yourself up the bed until your head was resting comfortably against a soft pillow. Jisung stared down at you, the fire brightening in his eyes at the sight of you - all splayed out for him and waiting with gooseflesh and pink-tinged cheeks.

"And now, lemme get a good look at this pretty pussy of yours..." He mused, voice registering low inside of his chest. 

Your heart fluttered at the way his hands pried your legs open, at the way his eyes glazed over upon seeing your glistening core. 

"Fuck- you gonna be good for me, princess? Gonna let me fuck you nice and long?"

He was already swiping a few fingers across your moistened cunt, pulling a breathless moan from deep inside of you. 

"Y-Yes, always..." You mewled, squirming underneath him as one of his practiced digits slid into you. 

"Good girl." He whispered, just as his thumb pressed down hard against your clit, forcing a shiver to race up the length of your spine. It was definitely going to be a long night.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚🌾 felix

Your mouth fell open, but no sound came out of it.

You just lay there, completely silent - yet wanting to say something, do something. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire, your limbs soft as jelly, your core engorged and aching with so much want. 

It felt like your heart was going to beat out of your fucking chest, the breath constricting inside your throat painfully.

Your boyfriend Felix was all but a grunting mess on top of you, rigid cock thrusting up into you so well that you kept seeing stars every time he hit that gooey spot deep within you.

"L-Lix," You finally managed to cry out, nails raking down his sweat-slick back as he set a furious pace, ramming against your walls in just the right way. Just how you liked it. 

"What is it, angel?" He asked, voice low as death and gravelly from arousal. One of his hands clutched at your bare hip, while the other rested against your breath, fingers playing with one of your erect nipples... twisting, massaging, pulling, before doing everything all over again. "Cat got your tongue?" 

 The dim mirth was laden in his tone because he knew you like the back of his hand- knew how it was always so hard for you to articulate any kind of sentence, voice any kind of words, whenever you were so fucked out like this. Whenever his hands and tongue and cock had brought you over the edge, again and again, you lost count of your orgasms.   

Cracking your eyes open, your focus landed on the lingerie set that was laying just off to the side, still on the bed. The one that he had carefully taken off of you earlier, after he had teased you endlessly while it was still on - fingers dancing over your hardened nipples, dipping into the front of the panties, before coming out and licking his fingers clean of you. 

The set was baby pink and made of thin lace and satin.

Felix always loved dressing you up - loved seeing you in light colors, with all the frills and ruffles imaginable. 

He said it made it all the more sweeter, when he buried himself balls-deep inside of you, fucking you senseless. When he made you scream his name so much, your tone growing so loud and scratchy, that you completely lost your voice the next day. 

The corruption kink was real with this one.

"F-Feels so good," you said in a high-pitched whine, as his fingers pinched down on your stiffened bud just as he slotted himself into you, reaching that blissful spot once more. 

You didn't know what orgasm you were on at that point, but all you knew was that it felt amazing.

The sex was always mind-blowing whenever you'd dress up for him; was always long, passionate, and yet rough, all at the same time.

What could you say... seeing you in light, innocent lingerie always made your boyfriend super fucking horny.

"Yeah?" He mused, nails digging into the flesh at your side, surely leaving marks for the next day. He bent down into you, lips attaching to your chest and sucking harshly on your exposed nipple. All the while, he continued to slam into you, the thrusts turning sloppy from the slick of your heat. "Like when I stretch you out so good- so well?"

You nodded your head frantically, hands moving up to clutch at his blonde roots as one of his hands moved your legs so that he was hitting a new spot inside of you. It all felt so fucking good and casted galaxy after galaxy across your vision. "Mhm- love your cock!" You suddenly wailed out, yanking at his locks as the tip of him hit into you so hard, you swore you broke underneath him. Just by his touch alone.

"Holy shit- you're so fucking tight," He groaned, and just with the tonal shift in him, you could tell that he was nearing his release. Finally, after he had held it back so many times just that night alone. "So damn perfect, angel... and all mine."

*ੈ✩‧₊˚🌾 seungmin

"Why the fuck are you wearing that out?" Your boyfriend Seungmin asked, voice gravely low in your ear. He was leaning into you, warm breath fanning against your cheek and sending a harsh shiver to shoot down your spine.

For the award show that night, you had decided to wear a satiny, bright yellow, flowered A-line sundress. It stood out from the crowd, as the rest of the women attending the show were dressed in full-length ballgowns. But you wanted to be different. Seungmin had coordinated with your outfit by wearing a yellow bowtie, but that's as far as his stylists would allow him to go. He was already pushing the boundaries by bringing you to one of the year's biggest award shows.

He had wanted to prove to everyone that he could do it - that he could make it work.

And apparently, the point had gotten across.

Since already, the two of you and the rest of the boys had celebrities come out of the woodwork to applaud Seungmin's blatant show of a romantic relationship.

But, besides the sundress, you had also decided to wear a cute lingerie set underneath. It was hot pink and yellow and matched your outward look perfectly.

However, during the long night, your dress had ridden up while you sat there at Stray Kid's designated table for hours at a time. And Seungmin had caught on to the garb that you had hidden just underneath the thin fabric of your dress.

Perhaps you had worn it to get a rise out of him- since you knew how much he hated others seeing you in sexy attire... even if it was just a slightly-revealing top.

Or, perhaps you had worn it to feel confident when stepping into a world that was unknown to you.

Either way, the dim look that Seungmin leveled your way just then, as you sat beside him at the table, forced an erratic throb to shoot through your heart.

"I don't know... I thought it was pretty." You said in a quiet voice, eyes trailing down to your lap, where your fingers played with the hem of your dress. It had ridden up so much that a side of the panties was peaking out beneath the yellow fabric of your dress. It wasn't noticeable to anyone else, save for the man sitting beside you.

"Oh, I'll show you pretty, love," He grumbled in that silken voice that he only used around you - typically when you guys were alone, in your apartment, and he was bending you over any nearby surface to have his way with you.

A zap of energy ran through your veins then, and you watched in bated silence as Seungmin leaned over to Chan to whisper something in his ear. The leader nodded once, before giving you a soft look. Then, your boyfriend was standing up. In no time at all, he had his fingers clasped around one of your wrists, yanking you out of your chair and leading your stumbling form behind him as he strutted out of the award show's main atrium.

Then, all at once, he was nearing one of the single-stalled bathrooms that were interspersed throughout the venue.

Eyes widening, you tried to pull your wrist out of his tight, vice-like grip. "Seung- I-" You already knew what would happen next, the mix of anticipation and arousal swirling in the pit of your stomach from just thinking about it.

Your boyfriend's eyes flashed with swarthy annoyance, "In." Is all he said, practically pushing you into the tight bathroom. Your legs wobbled, turning to jelly right then and there. Seungmin shut and locked the door behind him. "Now, bend over the counter so that I can asses what you've done."

And you knew there was no arguing with him when he was like this. Seungmin's jealousy could easily go unchecked when the two of you were out with the others - but especially if he felt like you had disrespected him in some way.

For him, you parading around one of the biggest award shows in the country scantily clad in lingerie was probably one of the most disrespectful things you could ever do to him.

So, biting down hard on your bottom lip, you heeded his command. Leaning your elbows against the cold granite of the bathroom skin's countertop, you held your breath as you waited for his next move.

Ever so slowly, like the touch of a phantom, you felt your boyfriend's fingers dance up your sides, lifting the fabric of your sundress. He stopped when your backside was exposed, tsking darkly at the way most of your ass was bared for all to see. "Such a naughty little thing... need to be taught a lesson, hmm?"

You screwed your eyes shut then, the moans already clawing at the edge of your throat when you distinctly felt his nimble fingers playing with the strap of your panties. 

Hopefully, he'd have enough mercy to stop, before he completely ruined you and ultimately forced you to go back out there to the award show - waddling like a pathetic and helpless bitch because your boyfriend had been a little too ruthless with the fucking in the bathroom.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚🌾 jeongin

"Baby..." You wailed in exasperation, pulling at your boyfriend's arm. You had been trying to get his attention all night. But of course, he was too busy with his friends and his stupid game to pay you any mind.

"Hmm- just one second, pretty... I gotta clear this level and then-" Jeongin began, but you were already sighing in frustration before he could finish his words.

You sat down on the spacious couch, watching - and thinking - as he furiously smashed away at his keyboard, hunched over the desk that was positioned in your apartment's living room, his completely focused on the bright screen in front of him.

 If he wasn't going to pay any attention to you, then fine. You'd have your fun without him.

A genius idea dawned across the forefront of your mind just then, and you hurriedly made your way into your closet to retrieve your secret weapon. You had used it before - but only a couple of times, to keep the appeal alive.

After shimmying your way into the snow-white, satin lingerie set, you flitted into the bathroom, carefully brushing out your hair and adding a soft pink lipstick to level up the look.

You padded out to Jeongin once more in silence, not saying a word as you propped yourself against his desk. His eyes were still locked on the computer screen in front of him, so you began to draw lazy circles in the grain of the wood at your side.

"What do you want for dinner?" You asked, because although he was wearing his headset - which was how he could communicate with his friends while playing - you knew that he could still hear you.

For a brief second, he pulled his gaze away from his game to look at you. And immediately, he froze in his chair, spine stiffening, shoulders shaking just a tiny bit in reaction to your new... garment.

His lips parted somewhat, a tinge of red dusting across the tops of his ears that were exposed against his messy black hair. "You." He breathed out, eyes dancing with a myriad of feelings all at once, but mostly, wild desire. 

You laughed at that. "What?" You asked, slightly confused.

Then, he was moving again, pressing a button on his headset and speaking into it, "Sorry boys, boyfriend duties call. I'll catch up later, yeah?" He didn't even wait for a reply, as he shut off the game entirely. He swiveled his chair around so that he was facing you completely. "I fucking want you for dinner."

Now you were the one with red ears. "B-But, you've been ignoring me all night... like, you don't want me."

Jeongin groaned, running a frantic hand through his long locks. "Damn it-" He cursed under his breath, scrubbing at his face with a few long fingers. "I'm sorry, pretty, I got too carried away with the game. And no, you're wrong- I do want you. So bad. All of the time."

He found your eyes after that, and your gazes locked, a spark of lighting igniting between the two of you at the way your breath unexpectedly became labored under his gaze. His eyes always did that to you - made you go crazy, when he'd look at you with such intensity, it felt like he was fucking undressing you with just his stare alone. 

You felt yourself heating up at the way he studied you, at the way his blown-out pupils traced down the length of you, taking in every inch of your exposed skin and the beautiful white lingerie set.

"So c'mere and lemme get a taste of you, pretty.” You couldn't even hide the satisfied smile that spread across your lips at his words. 

Jeongin was reaching out to you, hands supple and earnest, as he carefully guided you onto his lap. You fit on top of him perfectly, like the two of you were meant to always be close - in the most intimate of ways.

Fin.

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© ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

#skz #stray kids #skz ot8 fanfic #stray kids ot8 fanfic #skz scenarios #skz oneshots #skz imagines #skz fanfic #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #stray kids fanfic #skz reactions #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz chan smut #skz minho smut #skz changbin smut #skz hyunjin smut #skz jisung smut #skz felix smut #skz seungmin smut #skz jeongin smut #skz han smut #skz lee know smut #skz bang chan smut #skz i.n smut #skz smut scenarios #stray kids smut scenarios #skz ot8

[otdiaftg]

The King's Men - Chapter Twelve

Day: Friday, March 8th / 9th* Time: 4:10 PM EST

Before getting up, though, Neil says, "I really want to know when Coach figured this out." "It isn't a 'this'," Andrew reminds him. Neil doesn't roll his eyes, but it is a near thing. "I really want to know when Coach figured out that you want to kill me only ninety three percent of the time." "He didn't know before I left," Andrew says. Neil thinks back, looking for the first hint that Wymack suspected something was going on with them, and straightens a bit in startled realization. "Yes, he did," Neil says. Last November Neil put Andrew's hand to his ravaged skin and asked Andrew to believe in him. Somehow Wymack had seen right through Neil's crushing guilt and Andrew's grudging trust. It is more than a little unsettling. "When they took you away he asked me when 'that' happened. I just didn't know then what he meant. How did he see it when Aaron and Nicky still can't?" "Coach doesn't care for rumors and bias," Andrew says. "He sees what is, not what people want him to see." Like he'd seen through Andrew's supposed dysfunction, Neil guesses. Aaron and Nicky, on the other hand, still believe Andrew is a borderline sociopath incapable of having normal human relationships. Nicky put money on Renee and Andrew because everyone else did, but even he admits he doesn't want it to work out. "Are you ever going to tell them?" Neil asks. "I won't have to," Andrew says as he slides out of his seat. Neil would have reached out to stop him, wanting to hear the rest of that, but Andrew isn't leaving. Instead he helps himself to the other half of Neil's seat. Neil turns to face him as Andrew explains "Renee says the upperclassmen are betting on your sexuality. They're split down the middle." Matt had said they are betting on Neil, but this isn't what Neil expected them to be putting money on. He flounders a moment, unsure how to react, but says at last, "It's a waste of time and money. They'll all lose. I've said all year I don't swing and I meant it. Kissing you doesn't make me look at any of them differently. The only one I'm interested in is you." "Don't say stupid things." "Stop me," Neil returns. He buries his hands in Andrew's hair and tugs him in for a kiss. It is easy to forget this endless ride and tonight's game with Andrew's hand on his thigh and teeth on his lip.

Art used with permission by Kururusti. Thank you @kururusti

*Due to the Leap Year, I have opted to highlight the day rather than the date to keep the events in occurrence to the 2007 year. I will continue to mark both days accordingly.

#aftg #all for the game #neil josten #tkm #the kings men #the foxhole court #andrew minyard #palmetto state university #psu foxes #andreil #on this day in aftg #otdiaftg #palmetto state foxes #otdi all for the game #nora sakavic #the foxes #on this day in all for the game #kevin day #nicky hemmick #aaron minyard #coach wymack #betsy dobson #abby winfield #matt boyd #dan wilds #renee walker #allison reynolds #artists #kururusti

[wildelydawn]

Him

If anyone asks, Kim denies the unsubstantiated claim that he is, indeed, like a cat.

Chay claims the evidence is stacked against him. But cat ears and the weird selfies that Chay makes him pose for (hands up, nose scrunched) hardly hold up. Not to mention Chay’s bias.

Kim scowls while looking out the window.

The comparison started with Chay, of course.

“Awww,” Chay cooed, at a family gathering, when Kim perched himself onto one of the garden chairs. Kim ignored him, turning away from the lunch that was served and opting to, instead, watch Tankhun and Arm race remote controlled trucks. Kim’s eyes carefully followed the twisting racetrack. “So cute.”

“Not cute,” Tankhun complained. “Getting his dirty shoes on the cushions. Ridiculous. Who sits like that?!”

“He’s like a cat.”

Kim snapped his head up. “What?”

“You’re like a little cat!”

“No, I’m not-”

“Yes! Exactly!” Tankhun screeched his approval. “Nosy, sneaky, arrogant little kitty! I see it!”

And though Kim has begged, the nickname stuck. And Chay has no intention of stopping. 

Kim doesn’t see it. So what if he likes to crouch on chairs? Or that his schedule consists of 10-14 hours of sleep? Being a popstar and mafia princeling is backbreaking work. 

Kim also doesn’t see any sign of Chay’s car pulling up. 

Kim squints through the blinds. Where is Chay? He was supposed to be home twenty minutes ago.

He paces, staring at the front door before parking himself back on the couch and flipping through TV channels. He lands on the Discovery Channel; Kim then sits still for a grand total of two minutes before he leaps up and decides to mess around with a guitar. He plucks one from its stand, sits back on the couch, and begins to play a familiar tune. 

But it only occupies his mind for a moment. 

Kim sighs in defeat, putting the guitar down and flopping belly side down on the couch, his arm dangling off the side. The TV blares something about local birds. 

Maybe Chay just forgot about their plans. Or about him. 

Kim tries not to become a twisted jealous mess when Chay hangs out with the others. He’s just a little clingy, especially after they made up. 

And Kim’s not dramatic. But if Chay doesn’t come home right this moment, he’s going to start throwing-

The door knob begins to turn. 

Kim sits up at the edge of the sofa. He pretends to be very interested in his nails when Chay walks through the front door. 

“I’m home,” Chay calls out. 

Kim stays on the couch, ignoring him. 

“Kim?” Chay enters the living room. “There you are.”

Kim huffs, but goes back to watching whatever’s on TV. 

“Aw, are you mad at me?”

Kim stays silent, but gives Chay a healthy dose of side eye. 

“I think someone missed me,” Chay muses. He sets down his bag and reaches for Kim’s head. Kim closes his eyes as soon as Chay starts scratching, but he refuses to give in that easily. 

“Come on, Kim,” Chay whispers. “There was traffic.”

No answer. But Kim does lean in slightly to Chay’s hand. Damn, that feels good. 

“Whatever,” Kim retorts. The irritation he held against his boyfriend melts away with each pet, much to his dismay. 

“Put your head in my lap,” Chay murmurs. “Let me comb your hair.”

Score!

Kim keeps his displeasure plastered on his face, but curls up on the couch so that his head is comfortably in Chay’s lap.

“Such a good kitty. My cute little kitty.”

Kim hums. He doesn’t see it. 

#Ask #answered #KimChay #Shou #KinnPorsche #lmao my bad #I threw up words again #Here take all of my words shou #Shou-jpeg #Myfics #my fics #kim theerapanyakul #Dawn's ficlets

[virgo-79]

Was it the whole current/leap year plot device that did it? Is that what they fixated on? Did that go in the shaker with racial bias and come out as the We Should Watch the Story Through Izzy's Eyes cocktail?

My dudes, the reason Ed's plan with the current doesn't work is because it's a MacGuffin. It's only there to put in motion a plot that shows how quickly and how well Ed and Stede think alike and work together (with a side order of showing that IZZY IS COMPLETELY WRONG IN HIS BELIEF THAT ED ISN'T PAYING ATTENTION TO THE PROBLEM.)It doesn't work because Stede and Ed are going to hatch a plan together that will.

#is that what started it? #guys i hate to break it to you but currents don't follow our calendar #plan A went boink because the point was how quickly Ed and Stede got to plan B together #it wasn't 'oh my god everything would go to shit without Izzy' #it was 'look how in sync Ed and Stede are in less than a day' #ofmd

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

Subversion of expectations in Set Me Free Pt. 2

What makes it all worth it in closely following an artist's career trajectory is having the opportunity to look at their work from various angles. In turn, that opens the possibility to make comparisons, to be able to spot the various inspirations, to see how it's positioned in the appropriate contexts. It's not an easy job, but the result is that by taking into consideration all these elements, it's possible to eventually know what type of interpretation is more suited, without making major leaps for the sake of it or turn the work into an ahistorical event.

I've been thinking all day how I should write about Jimin's pre-release track. I kept postponing it, going back to watching the music video and keeping my involvement in debates to a minimal. In actuality, and for the sake of honesty, after a few hours I was in the avoiding stage. I had thoughts here and there, but nothing that I was able to put together in a coherent way. I wrote and deleted paragraphs several times. The reason was because in the last few months I've become more interested in his projects, wanting to witness the direction he is taking which in turn affected the way I approach each topic regarding Jimin's work.

I'm saying all this because I want to point out the element of subjectivity. Which is ever present. There's no such thing as complete objectivity. It may manifest as neutral or heavily analytical statements, but underneath all that there's the obvious element of our own taste and bias. I think we can't have an honest conversation as long as we don't acknowledge that. Being biased in this context makes us protective of the artist we like, of perhaps thinking but not being ready to admit that we hold them as the highest standard in order for them to become the main point of comparison when we look at other artists. As much as I see this as an expected result of our subjectivity, I strongly believe that stating and being honest about this can make our interpretation and opinions to come from a more genuine place. Otherwise we hide behind our own notions of taste and knowledge which can lead to useless comparisons and connections between artists when that's not the case or more likely, judging a specific work in relation to some standards that have no place in the current conversation.

This is something that I have to remind myself all the time because I can be guilty of, but it's also a type of discussion that I see happening a lot in online spaces (predominantly twitter) which eventually doesn't bring anything of real value to the table.

In this context, I think it's impossible not to look at Set Me Free Pt. 2 (SMFP2 in the following mentions) as a sort of turning point. Not only the song, but the entire album. But for now, I will refer to this track because it's relevant in its connections to other major points in Jimin's career. SMFP2 closes a chapter while also setting the stage for what will come next. Not only that, it shows a versatility that sometimes it's a more relevant point in the context of releasing a first solo album, an EP in this case. The song and its visual representation can be understood in the context of what came before, specifically Lie, but also Jimin's artistic trajectory in the the last decade as a group member, his personal journey and his status and presence in the public life as an artist.

What I appreciate about Jimin's work is that it shows his ability and predisposition to storytelling. Of taking parts of his individual path and turning them into motifs, easily recognizable for the listener who has the availability to try to understand. I want to mention first Lie and Filter because both songs are representative for specific stages in Jimin's life as an artist. Lie was a cry for help and salvation, of not being able to get out of a web of lies that can swallow one whole. By the time Filter came, it showed a maturity and self awareness that came from knowing how he is perceived, of playing the part, but always on his terms. With SMFP2, Jimin doesn't need an outside force to come for help because he is finally able to do that on his own. And that only comes after years of struggle.

As much as the song is liberating, the aggressive element takes center stage. This is the song of an angry man that had enough and he can finally say and do what needs to be done. And he has only himself which makes it all the more scary because it shows his inner power and ability to endure, but also to fight back. It's a stage in which he shows that he's invincible, with lyrics such as ''I won't hide anymore, even if it hurts/I won't stop even if they mock me''. In terms of structure, the song is a conversation between Jimin who acknowledges that he reached a new stage in which he is free because he did it himself and another inner voice, the one that has to remind everyone that he is untouchable now and no meek person. Musically, this is achieved and punctuated by focusing on the hardware version – the rap part and the software element expressed through Jimin's usual vocal signature.

Instead of turning this into a step by step analytical interpretation of the lyrics and imagery, I want to discuss some elements of it through the frame of expectations and the subsequent subversion of them.

If SMFP2 being a hip-hop song might be considered a choice that apparently doesn't fully characterize Jimin or it comes as a surprise based on the teasers alone, I think it manages to show how he can adapt and make use of different genres, including those that we might not immediately associate with him. The reason why this song works is due to the heavy contrast punctuated by the insertion of a heavily artificial element. While from a matter of personal taste, the sound itself here can be quite difficult to digest, the choice makes sense because it creates a distinct voice that helps in distinguishing the two parts of Jimin that are sending different signals and which represent two sides of the story he's telling. The autotune on the rap parts makes his voice almost unrecognizable, but that also means we're seeing a clear case of subversion. That voice sounds foreign and not something we might even associate with him, but we have to keep in mind that it's the aggressive voice. The one who is sincere and clearly states he basically has no fucks left to give.

The music video was also surprising because it presented a type of choreography that is yet again different from what we would expect. And this element is crucial because of what we know of Jimin's background and his status as a dancer. A common observation/criticism is that he didn't dance as much as it would have been possible and that's a thought that also crossed my mind initially. But then I kept thinking about it and I realized that this might be a case of wanting a specific type of dancing from him and instead, receiving something else. Perhaps it should have had strictly moves for every single beat, a more complex choreography for Jimin and not what looks as him taking control over only specific parts, instead of just making some movements that look a bit uncoordinated in order to fill in the space created by the dancers. But on taking a closer look, it becomes obvious how every movement and gesture is purposeful. I see Jimin here as the one who orchestrates and leads the entire choreography, including controlling those around him. It might look like they hold control over him, as in the case of pointing their fingers, or acting almost possessed trying to take him down, but they move based on how Jimin controls the space. I think it makes a show of power, even in the moments in which on the surface it might look like the opposite is happening.

The (melo)dramatic tone of the song and especially that of the music video is achieved through the use of only a handful of elements. In this case it's interesting to note that it happens in the vein of less is more when usually the opposite is the norm. Using only one space, quite minimalist in terms of chromatic elements and lighting and camera techniques, the focus is on the choreography. It's the principal element which can only come from someone who has an established image and known for his dancing abilities. There is no need for props or other artifice in order to elevate or complement the production. The message needs to be straightforward and adding other elements would take away the attention from what is relevant. For a song that makes use of an imposing choir, brass instruments and drums, that is more than enough to convey the epic element of the story.

Ultimately SMFP2 is yet another example of how Jimin always subverts the expectations, of how there is this entire world and parts of himself that we wouldn't even think about. Yes he will rap, but he will do it in way that is unexpected. Of course he will dance, but the choreography will not be entirely like the type we are used from him. And he will have a poem of Rainer Maria Rilke tattooed on his torso which only indicates that we barely know anything about him. Of what is the spectrum of his inspiration, of what are some of his creative influences separate from what we would already expect. There's always the element of surprise and if there's one thing that I know I can expect from Jimin, is him doing more and different than what I could possibly think of.

This might be a song in his first solo album, but Jimin is starting on this path after 10 years of work. It means there's an entire baggage of experience, but also that we're seeing a new direction. Which can prove to be successful entirely, or perhaps only a first step for someone who will have plenty of time in establishing a public identity as a solo artist. I think his future looks bright, regardless if this song is exactly what we would have wished for or not.

*This post is merely an attempt at some sort of generalized view of the song and the music video. I will mostly likely talk more about specific elements in the following days if the occasion arises, probably by having conversations through asks. 

#jimin #jimin set me free pt 2 #jimin face

[hwaightme]

In memoriam

THIS IS 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI FOR STAR'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut) (masterlist) (join taglist)

⚪ pairing: seonghwa x afab!reader ⚪ genre: angst (sorry seonghwa), smut, time leaping, magical realism ⚪ summary: what would you do to get your life back? what would you do, if you found out that you could turn back time? park seonghwa knows his answer, and does not care for the price he has to pay. ⚪ wordcount: 8.3k ⚪ warnings/tags: husband!hwa, language, implied major death, crying, time leaping, barista!san, magical cafe, turning back time, grieving, discussion of habits, a whole lot of coffee, hope, love, loss, lmk if anything else ⚪ taglist: @doom-fics @legohwas @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @hoshischeekss @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld ⚪ a/n: after severe ult bias wreck, I have been in a -state-, and after listening to suggested songs (under cut) + me generally loving the film The Girl Who Leapt Through Time and the book series Before The Coffee Gets Cold... this happened. Hope you enjoy, much love, all reblogs, comments thoughts and notes welcome~

⚪ nsfw tags: no protection, cum inside, praise, seonghwa being very soft, everything is very vanilla tbh, slow sex, slight overstim, focus on feeling of closeness

⚪ playlist: suffering for love by eden (a/n:what sparked this), somewhere by o3ohn, dancing with your ghost by sasha alexa sloan, holo by leehi, stay here by gaho, i wanna cry by seori, not too late by ateez

The ticking of the clock, giving rhythm to his trepidation, the second hand measuring out the beating of his heart devise a believable steadiness. In two minutes and three seconds, you were going to brush strands of your hair behind your right ear, sighing at the necessity for the repeated motion. You were curled up the impromptu reading nook that you had crafted out of an array of pillows and a throw – items that Seonghwa had meticulously picked out to fit the interior of your shared apartment, now a creative installation with you as its centrepiece.

He was exactly where he had been, and where he would be should he wish to relive this moment again: leaning against the dining table, hands pressed into the edge of the lacquered wood, coolness spreading to his trembling fingertips, stuck in a permanent dilemma. He studied you as though you were a heavenly mirage, admiring every inch of your form as faint fragments of the sun streamed through the window and graced your delicate skin. Seonghwa was never sure whether the glow that enveloped you, that blissful haze so innate, so intricate, was from the mellow rays or from the boundless light that you possessed, so strong that it permeated through you, and yet too precious for this mortal world. So, he had settled, even then, for the only explanation that seemed logical, no matter how irrational the concept seemed to someone who had not had the chance to know you.

“Angel, are you sure you don’t want me to get you anything?”

There it was, the brush of the hair, that dazzling smile, heart-melting expression as you turned your head towards him, placing a finger down on the cream-coloured page to mark your line of immersion.

“Yes, Hwa I’m good. Though actually, if you could grab some more gochujang paste, that would be great. I promised your mom a recipe exchange so not running low on ingredients is probably a good start.”

He beamed, though the incessant ticking induced a heaviness in his chest. That was right, in a week’s time his mother would be visiting the two of you with a crate of goods from home, and you would spend the day cooking together, constantly shooing Seonghwa out of the kitchen so that he ‘would not interfere with the production line’. And then, they would not let him leave until he tried every dish.

“One of these days my mom will kidnap you, I swear.” He responded, running a hand through his hair to mask his agitation.

“Well, I am already dressed like her kid, and I do like naps.”

“Now for humour…”

“… I know, I know, much better than you so she’ll figure the switch out straight away.” You winked, and before Seonghwa could respond, returned to the novel, your attention drifting from the conversation in a matter of seconds. How could he not love you?

That morning you had been cheeky enough to steal one of his shirts, parading in it and uttering phrases in dialect, in as low a voice as you could muster, eliciting amused laughter from Seonghwa. The light blue and white striped linen suited you more than it did him, he had decided. At least, it suited the joy that you experienced when he, faking vexation from your antics, had wrapped you in his arms, peppering you with soft reminders of his adoration on your cheeks, nose, lips.

In thirty seconds, he was to push himself away from the table, amble towards you, and plant a kiss on the top of your head, resting his forehead against you before bidding you farewell. As he diligently completed the actions, you reached out to grasp his wrist, and pulled him closer. In nine seconds, you let go. In three, he mumbled he would be right back. And just as the clock showed three twenty-seven in the afternoon, he leaned down to put a pair of sneakers on in the entryway, and pushed the front door open to reveal a stunning, infinite expanse of white. Without fear, he stepped in, and was consumed by the pure, cleansing hue. The ironic embodiment of you.

It was overwhelming the first time. The migraine that had persisted then almost detracted him from the process, however as the number of attempts had grown into a routine, or rather, a habit, so did his resilience. Now, as he woke up from the trance, blinking away the blur that had occupied his vision, barely any physical trace of his venture remained. All except the dull ache. But that was a given, the torment was an old guest to his weary soul.

He was back. Back in the same café, sat at the table in the far corner, away from curious eyes, right by a living wall of ferns and succulents, so carefully tended to that Seonghwa had never once seen a single leaf be wilted; he would not put it beyond this place achieving a floral immortality – it was either that, or they were meticulously replaced to give the illusion of continuity. Even so, what would Seonghwa not give for that oblivious paradise? An easy listening instrumental track filled the air with semi-acoustic guitar and gentle waves of metal brushes on the drums. The rumbles and short hisses emanated from behind the counter, guiding Seonghwa’s gaze to the owner and main barista of the café, who was languidly cleaning a metal beaker while keeping an eye out for any new customers. Even though he knew full well that while the remnants of the time shift were still suspended in the air, the space, completed in white and wooden tones, disappeared from the consciousness and vision of a passer-by.

Gradually, feeling returned to Seonghwa’s hands and feet, and he stretched his hands out in front of him, scrutinising the digits. Was it really the dark chestnut table that he touched? Was it really your hair that he caressed and your voice that entranced him so? The disentanglement from what had been and what could be was always the most agonising aspect of his commitment. But for the sake of keeping you in the present, this was the least he could sacrifice. As he blinked away the last of his emotion, steeling himself for the day ahead, Seonghwa turned to the large shop window to peer at the metropolitan commotion. The forlorn palette of greys that guided his interpretation was reflected in every building, every cloud that threatened catastrophic storms, every scowl on a stranger and in the cold concrete. Nothing new. Just a setting to let time pass by him.

As his heart beat to the pitter-patter of seconds, washing over him, Seonghwa hesitantly trudged to the counter and fished out the black leather wallet you had gifted him for your three year anniversary, stopping to brush his thumb over your picture that he inserted into the transparent compartment. A candid shot of you under the magnolias, a light squint of the eyes and scrunch of the nose as you had tilted your head to greet the sunshine that streamed through the brilliant white canopy. After the photo was taken, you had found a branch that had been snapped by the wind, and took it home, tending to the young blossoms that were protected by proud leaves, leaping into the air excitedly as they unfurled to reveal their apex of beauty. That time, you had admonished Seonghwa for not even sparing a glance at the flowers while complimenting them, but he was sure in his decision to not take his gaze off you.

“That’ll be three thousand won.” The barista sighed, a concerned smile on his lips as he studied the dark-haired man before him. The regular floated in a torpid melancholy, though his amiable expression and impressively polite discourse, be it with him or with another customer, had never let what he had seen on the first visit slip and shatter.

“Here you are. Thank you, San.” Seonghwa answered absent-mindedly as he handed the owner three glossy paper bills.

“Not a problem.” The barista and owner of the café Memento added the amount to the cash register with practiced motions, hands moving on their own accord.

Fluid, intrinsic, skilled. A repetition that served to mark the end of Seonghwa’s weekly visit. Except here, there was no way to guess what San would choose to do next, even though his uniform, his environment were all the same – there was no comfort in awareness of the future, and while that was a reminder that Seonghwa had successfully returned, the notion had recently begun to induce a subtle hum of distress within him. At least he was lucky enough to have found a temporary aid to the predicament.

“Back so soon?”

It was not Thursday, that much Seonghwa knew. For the past couple of months he visited strictly on Thursday mornings, and would be able to sustain himself and hold out until the next unscheduled visit, but one cemented in his routine. But the last few days had unfolded as though the universe itself was against him, proving that calamity was always lying in wait for the first sign of tranquility. He was distressed, on the verge of tearing himself and everyone around him apart - had he the power of Atropos, the floor would be decorated with abstract snippets of existence, grotesque and grim, but at least the act was committed at his own volition. Some fragment of control still remaining, albeit in his fantasies. This was why his feet led him here, to café Memento, through the heavy downpour outside which he had to experience in full force due to the ill-timed breaking of his umbrella. Seonghwa’s coat clung to him in a drowning desperation, giving him a sullen, forlorn appearance of a lost man. With haphazard motions he attempted to slick his hair back so that the accumulated raindrops would cease to run down his face, though that did little comically little.

Fumbling in the entrance of the café, the young man watched as the barista, turned passive confidante, stepped out from behind the counter, raising his index finger into the air as a sign to wait before disappearing behind the staff door. In his absence, Seonghwa attempted to peel the trench coat off, discovering that, for the most part, his shirt had been protected well by the waterproof material. So, it was almost like that evening he had been replaying in his mind the last three days, but not close enough. It was late June then. He was wearing a light cotton t-shirt, jeans, and converses, enveloped in the monsoon’s sudden attack while he had been circling the apartment complex where you lived, cursing himself. He had been more rain than man then. But the personal likeness did not matter, so long as he could get the coffee and take his practically assigned seat in the corner.

“Here, a towel, your collar’s getting damp, and let me hang the coat to dry… you absorbed a whole raincloud, didn’t you?” San had reappeared, and made a beeline for his friend, who was still standing at the door, water dripping onto the welcome mat, blending with the invisible chains of grief that were his loyal followers. A small, yet dazzling smile in thanks was shot in the barista’s direction as the dishevelled man accepted the towel, commencing to dry off his hair and neck.

“Certainly felt like it. And thank you. Sorry for barging in like this, I really don’t know what-”

“You want the usual, right?” the interjection cut right to the truth. Of course, what was Seonghwa thinking? After so many weeks of asking for coffee that he, in fact, despised, sitting in the same place and leaving the present to see visions of you, it would take someone who knew nothing at all to assume Seonghwa wanted anything else. Even the most distant acquaintance would probably make the rights guess. It was obvious that he was here to see you. He needed to, or his frustrations would eat him whole.

“Right.” Unintentionally curt, Seonghwa muttered his response while wiping down the droplets from his feverish skin. Concerned preoccupied him as he wondered if illness would prevent him from seeing you. No, he could not get ill. He still had so much material to cover.

“Figured. Life’s got you down?” either happily disinterested, or deciding to ignore Seonghwa’s shift in attitude, San continued in the same level tone as he finished hanging up the trench coat on the rack that stood in a corner by the door, obscured by an overgrown potted palm tree. Stretched over a couple of hooks, it looked every bit like a damp scarecrow, eliciting a sharp exhale through the nose from its owner.

“You could say that.”

“So down, that you walked here, in the rain?” using his beige apron to dry off his hands, the broad-shouldered man asked. Truth be told, it was not confirmation of his friend’s troubles that he was after. It was the cry, the realisation that he was going too far.

But much to the café owner’s dismay, Seonghwa saw no evil in his choices, instead choosing to rationalise them, supress the abysmal distress each one would inevitably bring by considering everything except the future. To this man, who obediently followed San to the counter, and waited for him to walk back around and take his usual spot, the suffering that came with each veering of the path was a divine, cleansing punishment that, at the end of it all, still brought him joy.

“Well, metro, then the walking in the rain.” Seonghwa stated as-a-matter-of-factly, draping the towel over his neck after gesturing to San whether it would be fine if he could keep it for the time being, and with a quick nod from him, gave a quiet word of gratitude and wiped a stray droplet that was threatening to roll down his forehead with the corner of the white fabric.

“Nonetheless, aren’t there… other ways?”

Seonghwa stared at the large coffee machine as though it was a beast, in slumber until the next press of a button, to avoid making eye contact. His mind had been far too hazy since early morning, and the myriad of repetitive work meetings had exhausted his ability to keep up appearances. He was toeing a line, a couple of phrases away from completely snapping, and studying the tiny coffee splatter stuck to steel decal at the top of the machine took off some of the edge, forcing him to refocus on the desire to wipe the damn spot away.

“Nothing like a nice hot americano to save the day.” He mumbled, glancing at San, only to be met with a questioning eyebrow and pursed lips.

“You literally do not even like coffee.”

“And you own a café, but drink decaf.”

“Touché. Alright then, the usual it is…” the battle was short-lived, overtaken by a tense quiet, subsequently filled by the ambient rumbling, shuffling and clinking – the sonorous colours of any ordinary coffee shop. It was clear enough that there was too much left unsaid, only to dissolve in the drink like a sugar cube turned sour. What was there to admonish? Love? Devotion? Never before had San seen such dedication in a customer when it came to the specially prepared beverage, he concluded as he murmured the incantations, concentrating on making the coffee bloom to its fullest. In situations such as this, he pondered what his life would be like had he not inherited this café, and along with it, the power to control time.

The torrential downpour outside was not letting up, and the droplets that accumulated on the shopfront’s awning were hammering down onto the pavement, spilling over and composing a cacophony. Seonghwa observed the enchantment, attempting to mentally follow the steps for the pourover, but ultimately failing even though San had gone through them, diligently, on the first three visits. As the grounds, with the beans freshly roasted and the final product all made in-house, were being wetted by the hot water pouring from the long spout of a black gooseneck kettle, cradled in the barista’s steady hands, the morose bystander imagined the city to be one big coffee cup, with the solemn concrete jungle resembling the rise and falls of the grounds’ dunes, taking and taking more of the rainwater and leaving behind exhausted, breathless shells called citizens. From far away, there was a unity, a name for the powder-like substance turned to a paste, but look closer, and each grain was lonely in its own special way, only there to dissolute, and diffuse into a bitter potion.

“Here.” As soon as the last of the substance was extracted and joined forces with the fluid in the cup, San set it on a white plate with a black rim, and carefully positioned the beverage onto an elevated portion of the counterspace, right above the display of baked goods and desserts, almost empty – reasonable, considering the late hour after a busy day.

“Thank you-” just as he reached out to grab the cup, excited to finally flee to his safe haven, the barista stopped him on his tracks.

“Seonghwa, hate to be that guy, but are you sure you do not need any other help at all?” the apprehension in his voice made the taller man’s stomach churn. Did he have to raise this point now, of all times? When Seonghwa wanted nothing more but to curl up in your arms and sink into a divinity only you two could share? He was not in the headspace to even mention the existence of alternatives. In his view, there was only one right path to follow, and it was one mapped out in scars on his heart.

“What are you insinuating?” he narrowed his eyes, hinting at an undercurrent of hostility.

“Nothing! Just, you know… This is meant to be temporary. There are only so many times you can bend time to your will before it snaps you.” Already anticipating a complete disregard for his warnings, San explained his worries much like he would explain the menu to a newcomer.

“But it’s all fine-” he gripped the plate tighter in his hands, lifting the ceramic off the counter and watching the liquid lap at the edges, a deep mahogany ocean. As he caught the glint of the lamplight reflected in its ripples, he could not help but search for the glimmer that was always in your eyes.

“Until it won’t be. Seonghwa, I know what this means to you, and I can see how you change after each leap but… I am worried.”

“Well… don’t, seriously. It’s fine. I just… I just need this. Okay?” he was met by a shake of the head, and a lean forward – San took the towel by its edge, and slipped it off Seonghwa’s neck, leaving it exposed to an unfamiliar chill. In a strive to supress the shiver, the exasperated man continued, choking out the words through a well-mannered filter: “And don’t I look like I am simply asleep when I am out there?”

“True that. Head down like the table is a pillow.” The barista responded, seemingly unperturbed as he flung the towel into a basket hidden under the workspace and wiped his hands on his apron. When he did not make any further attempts to prolong the fruitless discussion, Seonghwa’s feet moved on their own accord, spinning his body around, ready to dive into his long-awaited oasis.

“Alright then… catch you… later?” he threw out over his shoulder, casting San one final glance before striding towards the table, area dimly lit, but so cosy, promising the echoes of his real home.

“Mhm. I’ll be where I usually am. Not that you need me, but still. I’ll keep watch.”

“I appreciate it.” Words thrown out only to be swept away by the air conditioning, meaningless in the sense of emotion. Mentally, he was already in transit.

As Seonghwa settled into the chair, he felt lighter. As if the mere anticipation of seeing you once again was already capable of lifting some of his ache. He concentrated on the cup before him. A simple number, with the only decoration being those black lines, reminiscent of lines of misfortune that occupied an individual’s life. Ironic how this was to be his fated cup. The contemporary chalice that gave him the power to enjoy the moments he had mourned. As he did in every iteration of his new ‘always’, he pictured you, sat in front of him, in this very café, drinking the bitter black coffee, breaking out into a grin as you slipped into a child-like enjoyment. This black and white cup was the one you had held in your hands, commenting on how you and Seonghwa should try and find a similar set. To this day, he could not fulfil this little dream of yours. Maybe they were not being made anymore, and nothing merely similar would be up to standard.

Your figure became clearer and clearer before his eyes, until he could not distinguish between what should be, and what indeed was. This stage was the trickiest, for with every fibre of his being Seonghwa wanted to reach out to you, place his hand over yours and whisper just how much he missed you, how afraid he was that you were gone, not for good, not for evil, simply gone. It took training, resilience, and patience with himself to go further back, rewind the time until he hit the desired mark, and as the image was comparable to reality before him, he shut his eyes, and took a tentative sip of the coffee.

A flash. Pure white, drumming of the rain turning into deafening tick, tock, tick, tock. Sensation that felt like his body was turning inside out, collapsing and regrowing as he felt the ground beneath him, and the sky’s tears beating down on him, streaming down his face. With this, he regained his balance and sense of direction, and pressing a hand right above his brows to shield his vision from the rain, peeked at the scene. Just as he had expected, it was the little square, the pagoda with no proper roof to shield him, the paths, lit by weak yellowish streetlights. He was ready to go back home. To see you. To play the scene out and devote himself to you once more. There was a limit to what far removed, isolated worship could do.

He pushed himself off the soaked wooden seating that framed the inside of the pagoda, and stumbled out, still dizzy from the leap. Massaging his temples with the hand he had used as a visor, he tried to soothe at least some of the stinging, until it turned into a dull ache that was easier to handle, more customary. Before long, it melted into the buzz, the anticipation for what was to happen next.

He commenced a countdown in the form of footsteps as he stalked toward the complex, fully aware of you watching him from the windows. That was what you were going to say… later, but you were going to say it. You were going to reveal to him just how worried you had been, how you wanted him to come back as soon as he shut the door, and how his action had torn you apart. It really had been over nothing at all, but much like in the present, his week had gotten to him, but now there was no escape, except to break his routine, and sink into the feeling of you. Your voice, your caresses, your love. The world was moving slowly as he strode up the stairs to the entrance doors, fingers automatically finding the passcode although he could not consciously recall it. One step, two, and he was at the staircase that wound around the elevator, choosing the former to alleviate some of the tension.

To no avail. Instead, the adrenaline pumped with more vigour, causing his rationality to grow blurry and pulse to go haywire as he spurred himself on. Only a few more steps. And there would be you. Thirty seconds. Fifteen. He was at the door to the apartment. Seonghwa stilled himself, glancing back to take note of the trail of moisture that he had left, mentally apologising to the cleaners that would have to handle the mess the next day – he would hear them chiding ‘whoever this person was’ in the tomorrow of the past at precisely six thirty-eight in the morning.

He had only returned to this scene once before. A while back. And had promised himself to not do it again because of the toll it had taken on him. But desperate times called for desperate measures. And he desperately needed you. The familiar flicker of the lightbulb at the end of the hallway, footsteps that he could make out from behind the door as you approached were setting him ablaze. There you were. You. No one else. Not a replacement, but really you. It was your fingers that pinched the door chain and slid it out of position, your hand that took the door handle and pulled it in, it was you who was standing before him, teary-eyed, but obviously relieved to see him.

You were about to approach him and wrap your hands around his torso when you noticed just how soaked he was from facing the elements after his stress-induced outburst. He had chosen to exit the apartment instead of uttering as much as a single word aside from the command to not follow, leaving you disconcerted and peering out of the window into the starless night. It was a simple, common domestic argument that had set him off. Something or other about the arrangement of cutlery in the drawer, that then moved to the discussion of plates in the cupboards, and eventually grew into a back and forth about interior design. Any other day, Seonghwa probably would had stayed and talked it out, but this outburst which now served to be a perfect anchor for his travels, was the result of pent up emotion. It was odd, but he was grateful for having let his feelings overflow that day, otherwise this previous moment, this ethereal intimacy would not have been so prominent in his mind.

Seonghwa’s gaze burned into you as you hugged your own form, highlighting the curves hidden under the oversized t-shirt dress that you were wearing, the argument having taken place right before bed. Hair loose and slightly dishevelled, you look to have been playing with it – something you did when you were nervous. You would inspect the ends, twirl the strange, arrange and rearrange… and then when he would place a hand on your thigh, or take your hand in his, you would become aware of your state, start counting under your breath, resuming a shared tranquility. While he could not imagine the distress that you experienced internally, it was reassuring that even if for a fraction of a second, he could bring you peace from your loud mind.

Your eyes were reddened – likely from being rubbed to convince yourself that you were not about to cry over simple things. A light tremble of your lower lip as you took in his form, with Seonghwa exuding abandonment, regret, loss… a rocking from heel to toe as you propelled yourself towards him, reaching out to cup his face while ushering him inside. Who was he kidding when he thought that this would be easy to re-enact? He was guilty as charged. This was his doing. How could he possibly enjoy seeing you in pain? The preceding events objectively amounted to nothing, but your sadness was real, how you gasped and said his name was real. This was real.

Tears sprung to his eyes as you cooed and ran your fingers through his wet hair, forgetting about your own clothing as you approached to comfort him. Seonghwa was bewildered – no, he should be the one comforting you! How was this in any way appropriate, he should be strong, he should- he was struggling to form a single coherent thought as all prior resolve evaporated like snow on a hot summer day, and he crumbled under your touch. Your thumbs brushed over his cheers, carrying away tears that he did not know he was spilling, as you called out to him.

“Hwa, my love please… if you cry, I cry…I’m sorry-”

“I’m sorry Y/N! My angel! Please… forgive me… I’m sorry… I’m so… so sorry…” Seonghwa wailed as his knees buckled under him, and barely having made it past the door frame, with you having just shut the door with a light kick of the foot, he slowly descended to the ground, with you promptly following.

“What? This was… this was just a plate, Hwa… both of us had a stressful week and-” you attempted to rationalise, failing to swallow the lump that had formed in your throat at the sight of your husband falling apart, words sounding choked out. You forced him to keep his attention on you as you searched for any kind of explanation in his widened eyes glossed over with sorrow.

“So sorry… I am so sorry I couldn’t do anything… Please I should have… I should have not let you go… I am so…” he slipped. He lost the plot, the phrases bursting out of him before he could do anything to stop them. It was no longer clear what it was that he was apologising for. He gripped the soaked denim, right above his knees, though the sensation of his fingers digging into his thighs did nothing to curb his disillusionment.

“What are you saying baby, I’m right here…” you whispered, one hand moving to pat his shoulder, gliding over the muscle and soon your arm was pulling the man closer and closer to you. He hesitated, afraid to soak your dress, though knowing that it was going to happen anyway.

“Y/N!”

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m sorry too. Come here.” Without any further waiting, he threw his arms around you. There you were. Your warmth against him as you rubbed his back, not caring for his blubbering, for his sniffling against the crook of your neck. He kept on mumbling apologies and your name, over, and over, and over again, as though those were the only words he knew, and his native tongue had otherwise departed from his consciousness.

“What has gotten into you, huh? It really wasn’t that big of a deal. I’ll even accept that I was wrong for putting the mug in that drawer.” You attempted to change the tone, adopting a more upbeat, lighthearted attitude while you wiggled to sit more comfortably. Your husband followed your every move, and soon enough you found yourselves sitting in a tight embrace right at the step that marked the difference between the entrance, and the apartment’s corridor.

“I’m sorry…”

“Okay, I get that, but what for? For being human and having a temper sometimes? We’ve been living together for two years, Hwa. Two. And you are here acting like we haven’t argued before.”

Two years. Two years, three months, and seven days, if he were to be exact. He had your history together memorised, and as he kept on leaping, the accuracy turned from weeks, to days, to hours, to minutes, and for some events, down to the second. In three, two, one – you kissed the top of his head, just like he had done to you many times.

“I am so selfish, Y/N…” he whispered, hoarse.

“Aren’t we all?”

“Not like me.”

“No one is like you, and I mean that in the best sense. What kind of selfish are you even talking about Seonghwa?”

“I exhaust you. I repeat the same things, again, and again, tire you out and take you for granted.” He tried to explain himself, but his haze was refusing to let him abide by the regular scenario, instead letting him go off script and improvise.

You tapped him, signalling for Seonghwa to lean back and look at you. When his half-lidded eyes met yours, you muttered for him to sit down properly. Obediently, he twisted his body, and did what he was told. You remained by his side, one arm wrapped around his shoulders as you guided yourself to take a seat on his lap, effectively straddling him. One leg on either side, you pushed yourself closer, until your nose was against his, and you were peering into his pupils.

“I could repeat every moment with you forever, Hwa, never get tired, and always, do you hear me? Always, feel loved.” He took your words as gospel, as a clairvoyant portrayal that he would follow.

“I’m sorry.”

“How sorry?” you blurted, not thinking straight as you breathed against his lips, almost touching. Your arms draped around him, while he positioned his cool hands on your hips, more than aware of the proximity.

“Very.”

“Prove it.”

“Let me love you.”

“Now that’s something you should repeat more often, darling.”

You were supposed to kiss. You were supposed to sink into one another and blend into a loving embrace. Where were you? Why couldn’t he see you? A panic set into Seonghwa’s chest as his eyes shot open, and no matter where he looked, no matter how hard he twisted his neck, he was only met with the vast expanse of white. But his hands-

No longer holding onto you, they reached for thin air, only to fall, defeated, disappearing into a thick cloud-like fog. He yelled out your name, but was only met with a searing, piercing tone as though from an explosion blasting right into his ears, and no sign of his voice. He tried again, rushing to cover his ears on instinct as the high-pitched screech returned, though that did next to nothing, except proving that the colourless infinity was more merciless than nature itself. Slowly understanding the rule of not disturbing the soundlessness, Seonghwa blindly felt for the ground on which he was sitting. What if you were lost in this expanse with him? Where could you have gone? His best attempt would be to try feeling for any vibrations, and send some of his own. You must be in the minimalist hellscape with him, he convinced himself and knocked on what he had decided was the ground but was met with nothing.

His fist, then arm then the rest of the body fell through a chasm and in a split second, the white was cleared from his vision as suddenly as it had appeared. Perplexed and terrified, Seonghwa looked around, only to feel that he was stark naked, in the bedroom, with you under him. Slowly he turned his head to look downwards, and was greeted by your face, contorted in pleasure as you let out sultry moans, hands gripping the pillow that was supporting your head. You looked so beautiful, angelic as you whimpered his name, while he continued to thrust into you.

The sudden transition had thrown Seonghwa off kilter, and he inadvertently slowed down, hissing as he felt your walls contract around his throbbing member. The intensity of the intimate act had returned the senses to his body at an unprecedented speed, making him dizzy. Struggling to support himself with his outstretched arms, he lowered his body until it was flush against yours, and he was on his elbows. Every micromovement was a challenge while his cock was still inside you, though counterbalanced by the fear of this divinity being replaced by the white abyss once more.

“Hwa… ah… why’d you… why’d you stop?” you asked, breathless as your eyelids barely lifted to peek at him. Some stray strands of hair were stuck to your forehead, caught in a sheen of sweat that made you look ethereal in the light that had crept into the bedroom through the window, as the storm outside had calmed to reveal a timid moon, peering from behind the heavy clouds that lethargically moved across the sky. Your lips, rosy and plump, evidently from having been against his for long enough, were slightly parted as you panted shallowly. Seonghwa further lowered himself until he was hovering right above you, unable to stop himself from giving you a soft kiss, and whispering:

“I want to love you. Slowly.”

“Didn’t feel like it.” You quipped, a ghost of a smirk taunting him, earning a chuckle.

“Sorry, you know what you do to me.”

“No more ‘sorry’, darling, just give me all of you.” You moved so your hands were clasped around your husband’s neck, and sighed as he pushed himself up and bottomed out, the fullness making you see stars.

“I love you Y/N.”

“I love you ah- too… Hwa.”

As promised, following his return from nothingness, he took things slow. With every thrust into your aroused core, he worshipped you, whispering praise after praise in your ear about how well you took him, and just how good you made him feel. Finely attuned to every change in your body, he adjusted his angle, his rhythm, until you were, once again, a whining goddess being brought to a magnificent ruin. Only this time, he was going to remember every picosecond. He noted how your eyes rolled to the back of your head underneath your lids, how your tongue flicked to the corner of your mouth, for just a split second, but enough to demand Seonghwa’s attention. In one sensual motion, he moved his cock deeper, and gave himself access for another, longer expression of his love. His tongue gingerly parted your lips, and you readily accepted him, appreciative of the caution and affection in his gesture. As you ascended in the adoring expression, Seonghwa decided that this was true timelessness. And the only one he ever needed. Only you and him, with only love between you.

Seonghwa had a habit of looking at you as though you were the only precious thing in his universe with those gorgeous brown orbs. And while you otherwise would glow at the realisation, tonight, there was something different. First, it was him apologising for ‘letting you go’, then it was him nearly completely switching character and nearly making you lose all sense of self as he pounded into you with a carnal desire, and now, it was a slow, sensual unravelling. The light pecks on your cheeks, trailing down to your neck, and the loving gaze as Seonghwa confessed his love to you as if this was the first and last time, were too much for you to take. There was an omniscience about him, otherworldly knowledge, like he was somewhere else entirely, aware of every nuance of your inner world and capable of changing your very fate. Your precious Seonghwa, your future.

Your high came suddenly and violently from the sustained length of each movement that made you concentrate on every detail, from the way in which Seonghwa had teased you by stimulating your clit with his leaking cock, to how he silenced you with a kiss, inhaling your uncontrollable moans.  As though you were a fragile doll, he embraced you as best as he could without collapsing on your chest, while he searched for the opportunity to chase his own release.

His movements began to falter as his own orgasm inched closer and closer, the knot in his stomach becoming nearly unbearable. The steady pace was broken into stutters as he rolled his hips, directing his member fully into your still-pulsating sex, the lewd melody emanating from him slapping against you only driving him further into his small death. The overstimulation was making you squirm, but you held on, and the way in which your nails dug into his back, and how you mumbled, barely audible, a soft and innocent ‘Seonghwa’ had sent him over the edge. Throwing his head back he groaned into his climax, euphoric while the viscous webs of cum painted your walls and labia as he pulled out in an attempt to control the trembling of his muscles. Rivulets of cum continued to pour from him, mixing with your sweet nectar, running down your smooth thighs. Unable to hold out much longer, he uttered your name, and in your blissful state, you responded by pulling him towards you, towards a comforting darkness.

The rise and fall, the pulse, the hum, your hand running through his hair, which was now mostly dry: all signs of you being real, being with him and sharing time and space. Seonghwa was home, everything was how it was supposed to be. You were excitedly talking about your work trip - a major design commission for a client abroad, and the post-coital somnolence was blocking his immediate awareness of this fact, until you addressed him directly.

“Mm… Hwa?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think the magnolias will be blooming once I’m back?”

“Yes, angel.”

They were a day too late.

"You have to let go, Seonghwa! You can't do this to yourself forever! You are not living!" San’s voice resounded through the café as he glowered at the man before him.

"I know you understand that I live when I am there!"

Clearly, for the state in which he had appeared in the establishment left nothing but exasperation. Pallid, his shirt crumpled, dark circles having grown even more prominent than before, the look was so uncharacteristic of Seonghwa that San needed to spend a couple minutes simply observing the customer in order to recognise him. But the stupefaction was rapidly dispelled as soon as he heard a familiar, low and dulcet voice order ‘the usual’. However, this time, this meant a ‘special offer’ from the owner himself.

“You only have so many leaps left. You know this whole thing is unstable. What if you don’t come back?” while he was aware that what he was doing was horrifically unacceptable, regardless of their so-called friendship status, San yelled across the room, only to be met with a matching boom.

“What would change?”

“Oh, you damn well know what would change, don’t do this to me.” San dismissed his customer’s challenge, slamming his hand onto the counter to control his rage.

“Look. San. I appreciate you trying to intervene, but I think that I can handle it.” The phrase, uttered by a poor soul, clearly addicted, induced a threatening scowl. After a painful minute of silence, with the two men standing, ready for a verbal duel, San fired first, promising Seonghwa’s worst nightmare.

“I can just not serve you the coffee.”

“And I can just… no, you wouldn’t do this to me.” Seonghwa had gotten used to the white flashes while he spent time with you. It was almost comforting, and had turned to be a device that brought him back to his senses so that he would not get too attached. Nevertheless, every time that he did slip into the realm, a new hope joined, that of the possibility of you escaping with him. Finding yourself in the white landscape, and promptly departing the past, following the ticking of the clock until it stopped, letting you enter the café, and return into Seonghwa’s life. San could not take this hope away-

“I will. The café is closed for business today. Because I said so. Seonghwa, get a grip. She is-” he began but was promptly shut down with a wrathful roar.

“No. She is not. Whatever you are about to say she is not.”

“Seonghwa you are not okay. Please. Please, just… please live for yourself for a second and stop looking back-”

He did not want to hear it. He did not want to hear what should have stopped him long before, prior to when he had the chance to experience the instant cure to his madness. So in a fit of indignation, he strode out of the café, not bothering to shut the door behind him. It was only a matter of time before he would be back. New day, same old scars on his heart, with each passing tick, tock, tick, tock, tearing at the amateur stitching until the wounds returned, infected by solitary lamentation, festering with cognizance of the colourless cosmos he had to battle, alone in a city of millions.

A month passed. Two. Without a word uttered about you. In silent melancholy he kept the memory of you alive, each detail in his routine turning into a memento mori, a subconscious devotion. From the chrome silver earring he chose to wear, to the loosely knit black cotton sweater, he did not have to be explicit in the pull towards the centre of his inner universe. When it was not you he saw, it was the shadows. When it was not you he heard, it was the echoes. Be it in an interlocutor, a passer-by, an illusion conjured by hope, the world seemed to be like you. All similarities, nuances, interpretations... but still so painfully distant.

Seonghwa listened to the same songs on repeat – songs that you had recommended to him over the years. Again, and again, and again until he heard them even in the lonely silence. A numbing balm to his unforgiving mind, the melodies were an extended monologue – a lifeline. At least they were not creations in the past tense. And one of your favourite artists was even on tour; a proof for the musical organism still pumping its melodic blood, one listener less. Would you go? Of course, you would. You lived for the memories. You had crafted your life to be a series of perfectly curated, picturesque moments, and time aided in cultivating the final selection to be your most precious. He had turned into a loyal spectator, watching with bated breath as the episodes passed him by, under your direction, starring you, produced by you. He could only succumb to the unchangeable fall through time and follow you until that last, unfinished sentence.

He wanted to hate you. He wanted to erase you. Seonghwa desperately wanted to banish you from his psyche, in which you were so deeply entrenched that he would answer to your name.

His love for you was his poison, and he knew that his friends were right. In the cycle, the circle he had drawn to trap what had remained of you and him, was to be his inevitable full stop. His sentence was far from being completed, and yet after what one could call his comma, he struggled to find words. Perhaps because there were none that he found worthy of ever competing with what had been. It was not possible to despise happiness itself, nor was it to not crave it. Just once more. One more time to experience that utopia. A bittersweet suffering completed in shades of a heartbreaking blue.

And that was how he found himself in that same park, under those same white magnolias. In a trance he studied your wind-swept hair, your white cotton sweater and baby blue, washed out jeans, making sure that you were wearing those earrings he had bought you for no reason in particular except to make you happy – perhaps an expensive gift for what would be only a month that you had been a couple, but your gleam had been priceless. His gaze travelled to your hands, spotting that there was still that tiny chip on your manicured left index finger.

Same words. Same motions. Like running through a script of his beloved drama, one that he knew by heart and uttered in his slumber. All going according to the heavens' loathsome plan, until your lips that were tinted with a gloss that he would find out in two weeks, and three days' time precisely was your recent favourite, were weighed down with a concerned frown, and your eyebrows furrowed.

"Why are you crying?"

Cautiously, Seonghwa lifted a hand to touch his cheek, finding a timid, glistening stream that had found its path from his eyed that widened in meek surprise. Another touch on the other side, and he rushed to wipe away the currents with the edge of his sleeve, stifling an agonising sob that threatened to burst out of his throat. His chest on fire, Seonghwa struggled to blink away the mist that settled over his eyes. He must not look away. He must not give into this cruel bleariness. Not when you were right there. You must be so worried. You were always worried about how deeply he felt, about how sentimental he got and would always wrap your arms around him, guiding him to relax into your body, whispering that everything was going to be okay. If only spectral, celestial embraces could comfort him the same.

"Happy to see you again..." he choked out, smiling helplessly as he saw your features return to your bright, hopeful beam, gaze nothing short of a window to paradise.

"Again? We've just seen each other last week, silly." You tilted your head as you responded - a motion he had seen time and time again and loved the same.

He desired to tell you. Tell you that you were meant to be. That there was a future, albeit with the horizon too close for comfort, but a future nonetheless, ahead of you with him. But he knew better than that. It would mean another lifetime wasted, and again, he would have to search space and time for signs of you. Yes, he was selfish, but how could he not be when the fruit of his love's greed was so sweet? He wanted to see all your reactions as if he had not committed them to memory.

"And yet, I feel like I have known you, and lived with you for many lifetimes."

"Then... here's to another?"

And another.

And another.

And another.

And another.

And-

#ateezlovenet #kflixnet #k-labels #seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #park seonghwa x you #seonghwa x y/n #park seonghwa x y/n #park seonghwa #seonghwa #choi san #san #ateez seonghwa #ateez san #seonghwa smut #park seonghwa smut #park seonghwa angst #seonghwa angst #ateez smut #ateez angst #ateez au

[fistfuloflightning]

Because there was some interest for my Feanorians get blamed for the fall of Gondolin au, have some disjointed snippets from the fic that never was:

Falling stone and the clear chime of silver had Tuor jerking around to find Idril clambering over the rubble towards them. Her hair ornaments were tangled in her hair, ash from the Alley of Roses smeared across her face. Eärendil broke free from his nurse’s hands to cling fearfully to his mother leg. “What of your father?” Tuor asked, voice harsh from the smoke. “He knew the city would fall, and so he took his own life.” Idril’s gaze was blank, and Tuor realized with a grim pang that his wife had surely watched her father slide a blade into his own stomach. Turgon would rather die at his own hand than witness his shame and the fall of his city. And it had all come at the hands of one most dear to the king. Tuor glanced behind them, at the roof of Gar Ainion’s burning temple. He had flung Maeglin from its highest stepshinself, knowing the fall would finish what his sword had begun. The traitor’s body had tumbled down the unforgiving stone, black hair and blood, but Tuor had not seen the end as smoke billowed out between them. His hands had finally purged the filth from Turgon’s family, and its honor was restored. There was no more he could do, not here.

.

The messenger looked half-dead, and no doubt his mount looked equally worn, as he had ridden days and nights without rest to bring them news. That Gondolin… was destroyed. The room was silent after the messenger had made his grim report. The doors had been opened to let birdsong and the spring sun pour in, unsuitable accompaniment to the words of death. The silence was broken by a furious snort. “Fire follows where the Fëanorians go. Apparently no one is safe from their grasping hands, not even Turgon sequestered in his hidden city.” The firebrand that was Gwedhion of Mithrim was not one Fingon wished to have present for such reports, jumping to conclusions based solely on his own bias. “Be not so swift to lay this tragedy at the Fëanorians’ feet,” Fingon said wearily. “The brothers who would incite fire and bloodshed for any perceived slight are dead, fallen beside Dior.” “And you think Maedhros would not stoop to this?” Calaerchon said acidly. Fingolfin’s old war advisor tapped his closed fan against the floor. It was clear in his eyes that Fingon was not his father. “Do not defend him because of your shared blood.” Fingon’s lips thinned. It was an old argument. “I do not defend him. I simply think you leaping to conclusions is sufficient idiocy for today.”

.

Maedhros sat across from the boy, watching as he scarfed down a bowl of noodles like a starving cat. “…When was the last time you ate?” he asked bluntly. There was a furtive look to the boy’s eyes that told him enough. A beggar who stank of corpses and looked like he’d crawled out of a mass grave himself. The way he’d reacted when Curufin had pounced on him had spoken of someone with training—as an assassin or something else, Maedhros did not know. And he would take pleasure in tearing this little traitor apart and examining the pieces at his leisure. But first… A bath, Maedhros decided.

#the silmarillion #tuor #idril #maedhros #maeglin #fingon #maedhros x maeglin #maemae #my writing #my art #tolkien art #silm au #and yes #maeglin literally clawed his way out of a mass grave before eventually becoming a beggar in one of the elvish cities

[lryghe]

MXTX thoughts; conventions

The long awaited (not) analysis of MXTX conventions is here! I’ve literally been meaning to talk about this for months but it got sidelined in favour of vicious arguing on PDB about MBTI. Anyways! Obviously this post will contain spoilers, and something I wanted to touch on was 3rd person limited in MXTX, but I already have a post on that here, so feel free to check that out for a better explanation of it. Beware of mediocre analysis ahead, I’m a little rusty (also shoutout to the person who liked some of my posts this morning, you reminded me to actually write something!).

THE AGENDA since this post is long:

Non-linear storylines

Dying and resurrection

Colour symbolism

Character tropes

NON-LINEAR STORYLINES

An interesting thing that follows MXTX’s more thought out works, is the non-linear plotlines she follows in them. This itself is a really good convention of writing in general, especially if it’s done well, and I can safely say that MXTX did it astoundingly well in TGCF. The clear cuts between time periods in relation to each book is an incredible feat, and is something that easily trumps MXTX's other examples of non-linear storylines. Through the use of the jumping back and forth in time, specifically in TGCF, creates an excellent cause and effect, something that is definitely central to the novel. Everything done has an effect, whether that be on the continuation of the plot, or even as a characterisation point, so the non-linear narrative cements that sense of foreboding hanging over everything. A simple sentence said when Xie Lian 17 somehow amounts to a complete upheaval of the heavens 800 years later, unveiling a conspiracy well over 2000 years old. A friendship group dissolving due to difficult circumstances results in a really horrific friendship confession later in the novel. Shi Wudu trying to save his sibling ends his own demise, the crippling of said sibling, and a vengeful ghost with nothing to do anymore. This nonlinear storyline is definitely used in MDZS as well, but I found it a bit more complex, and actually, now that I think about it, is a really good reflection of Wei Wuxian in general. The thing with MXTX, is that all her novels are in 3rd person limited, so they follow our protagonist in 3rd person, but it’s tinged with their own personal views and biases that limit the omniscience of 3rd person. And with MDZS it would be a fair assessment to say that the unordered mess of time leaps in the novel are an excellent indication of Wei Wuxian’s bias leaking through the 3rd person. The incessant jumping is difficult to follow in places (don’t say otherwise), but it’s actually a genius idea because it’s an accurate assessment of the thought process that Wei Wuxian probably follows anyway. I wouldn’t say that this was definitely on purpose however, as MDZS was written before TGCF, so it could just be MXTX growing alongside her writing, but hey, maybe it is a stroke of complete and beautiful genius! Don’t bother mentioning SVSSS, it’s definitely an interesting novel, but it’s not non-linear, at least not as wholly as MDZS and TGCF are. The most you’ll get in SVSSS is like a two line flashback, plus the extra’s, but I think that’s a reflection of when MXTX wrote it.

DYING AND RESURRECTION

Moving on from serious conventions, MXTX’s trope with one of the main characters dying and then coming back later is a really funny kind of convention, because it’s not funny in the moment obviously, but the fact that it’s done at least once per novel is hilarious. Wei Wuxian’s initial resurrection after 13 years of being dead, Shen Qingqiu’s return in his plant body 5 years later, and then his return back to his ‘original’ body, and Hua Cheng’s little death defying stunt at the end of the novel. Then there’s the use of cliffs and such, like Binghe’s fall into the Abyss, Hua Cheng’s fall off that wall (forgive me its been like 3 years since I read TGCF), and if we’re being inclusive, then there’s always Wei Wuxian’s death in The Untamed. Maybe there’s a hidden meaning in there somewhere, but it’s fine to look at it from a surface level, which amounts to ‘MXTX got bored and needed some drama’. A perfectly reasonable deduction. 

COLOUR SYMBOLISM

Another thing I wanted to touch on was the colour symbolism that MXTX uses because I think it’s pretty cool, AND it has the added benefits of adding symbolism and contrast to each novel's main character and their love interest. It’s mentioned in the novel’s obviously, but it really shines in fan content and fanarts. I like the symbolism of Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu’s robes both being green before the time-skip, because Luo Binghe was a disciple at the time and a little white lotus, so the green was used to directly align him with Shen Qingqiu. After the timeskip he’s obviously got his big boy pants on and swapped to a stunning black and red ensemble, fitting of the protagonist, and that itself contrasts Shen Qingqiu’s majestic and lofty green robes, because Binghe means business with this fit. A fun thought is how green and red fit together on the colour spectrum, because they don’t, they’re contrasting colours which is some real obvious symbolism. Do I really need to spell out Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian? I feel like this one is rudimentary. White equals noble and virtuous, pure and holy, and black is evil, demonic, cruel, and scary. Simple! And Hua Cheng and Xie Lian’s red and white are a very cute mixture, because although it gives them a Bingqiu style christmas tree vibe, it’s interesting in comparison to the previous two love interest and main character dynamics, considering red and white are a lot more complimentary than black and white or red and green. And it’s a testament to how similar Hualian are with their complimentary robes, how like-minded they are throughout the novel, especially considering their predecessors. Or maybe I’m overthinking it, who knows?

CHARACTER TROPES

In regards to tropes of MXTX, I think her character tropes are incredible and have the addition of being really funny. She’s consistent enough with her conventions that clear links can be drawn with her side characters across all 3 novels. To begin with, there’s Mr Angry. I think you can guess who that is, but it's Jiang Cheng, Liu Qingge, and Mu Qing. All have a really close relationship with their related main character, all are angry or harsh where they probably didn't need to be, and all three are good fighters. Then there’s the guy who’s always smiling, like Yue Qingyuan or Lan Xichen. Complacency is a key part of their characters, and excuses aside, it’s interesting how it played out. You could argue for Jun Wu to be a part of this circle, but I’ll keep that to myself. Finally, there’s the fodder characters, only useful to further the plot in a miniscule way. Gongyi Xiao (MAY HE REST WELL), Xiao Xingchen, and once again, I don’t have a very good TGCF equivalent. Gongyi Xiao dies after the events of the water prison, and Xiao Xingchen was really just there to highlight how fucked up Xue Yang was. Rest in peace our beloved fodder, especially Gongyi Xiao, MXTX should have treated you better…

I think I’ve typed myself out honestly. Kudos to whoever reached the end of this post, I haven’t written this much since my Team 7 analysis when I got back into my Naruto phase briefly.

Word count: 1271

Reading time: 4 ½ mins

#mxtx #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #the grandmaster of demonic cultivation #cql #the untamed #svsss #scum villains self saving system #ren zha fanpai zijiu xitong #tgcf #tian guan ci fu #heaven official's blessing #lan wangji #wei wuxian #luo binghe #shen qingqiu #xie lian #hua cheng #bingqiu #wangxian #hualian

[unholy-screeching9]

I love your writing so much! Along with your art, I adore it! As for a request, could you write something about KD and the reader showering together like after a long day or something? The way you add details simply sends me to the heavens (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡ thank you!

That means so much to me, sweetheart! I'm so happy that my writing can bring you joy. I'd be more than happy to do this request for you!

I did shower headcanons for Game version, but I did bath ones for Show version. I didn't even realize what I was doing until I was halfway done with the Show version, so for that I apologize! If you'd like me to redo those ones let me know and I'd be happy to.

Please, enjoy! ❤️

NSFW CONTENT WARNING! 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI.

💋

King Dice x Reader "Bath/Shower" Headcanons

SONG RECOMMENDATION: “Experience” by Ludovico Einaudi

King Dice x Reader “Bath/Shower Sex” Headcanons (GAME)

King Dice is a man who always keeps up with his hygiene, even if it involves just a quick polish and a spritz of French cologne before work. You won’t catch him looking less than perfect out on the casino floor, particularly in front of the more refined guests. 

As the casino’s manager, it’s up to him to give his boss’s business a fantastic representation. However, looking (and smelling) divine has simply become a natural practice for Dice as well. Even when he’s got the day off and you both are just lounging around your chambers, he’ll wash himself and get dolled up. 

It’s something about your husband that you’ve grown fond of. The way he takes care of himself, even when he doesn’t necessarily have to. He doesn’t need to put on makeup every day, or polish his head with various creams and lotions, or bathe himself in the finest perfume money can buy. But he does anyway. It’s endearing. Sexy. Especially when he wears Caron Poivre around you, knowing that it’s one of your favorite colognes that he owns. 

You used to be confused about how much your husband washes himself, asking why in the world he would sometimes feel the need to have multiple baths a day. His response sent butterflies right into your stomach, unlocking a whole new appreciation for his habit. 

With a laugh, he gently cupped your face and murmured as sweet as honey:

“It’s less of a need and more of a want, darlin’. Bathing is a way for me to unwind, either preparing me for a long day of work or calming me down before bed. Especially when I have the privilege of your company.” 

After he explained his reasons to you, you’ve found yourself accompanying him in the shower much more often. Most of the time, both of you stick to what you’re supposed to be doing, with the occasional tease. But sometimes… 

Sometimes, it’s a creative way for you both to get physical with one another. 

There’s just something about the comforting warmth of the hot water hitting your back, sending vibrations throughout your body. The beautiful combination of eucalyptus and musky scents from your respective shampoos and body washes, and the care your lover shows you that drives you insane. 

You both enjoy your time in the shower together, with or without the sex. But you can’t deny it; you may have at least a little bit of bias towards the former. 

Dice is just so smooth, and romantic… His quiet murmurs of praise in your ear as he rubs his hands over your skin is electrifying. What used to be strange to you is now addicting, and you even find yourself asking him to shower with you at times. 

He never says no. 

The best nights you both shower together are the nights he gets home from a long day at work, exhausted and slightly sweaty from running around on his feet in the hellish temperature. Your heart never fails to leap right to your throat each time you hear the telltale rustling of the doorknob, before Dice steps into your chambers, offering you a tired yet loving smile as he shucks off his shoes and waistcoat. 

You’re on your feet in seconds, making your way over to him and pressing a warm, tender kiss to his lips as you help him undress and unwind. He thanks you with a gentle embrace, hugging you against his chest and letting your heartbeats mingle together in a soft, vibrating harmony. 

His touch doesn’t last forever, much to your despair. With a loving squeeze for good measure, Dice pulls away and offers you a soft, sleepy smile, removing his unbuttoned undershirt from his glistening shoulders and stepping towards the bathroom. 

“I’ll have a shower and then I’ll join you in bed, my love. I promise, I’ll be quick~”

His voice is deep and sweet, with an inviting undertone as he disappears behind the washroom’s door. Gracious, all he did was tell you that he was going to wash up for the night, but there’s something about the way he made that remark to you that makes your heart flutter. 

He said he’d be quick… but something inside your stomach tells you that you still won’t be able to wait that long. No offense to your lover, but Dice’s term for “quick” is much different than everyone else’s. To him, “quick” is still at least forty-five minutes, and that’s not even including the time he takes to get out, dry himself off, and get dressed. 

That’s forty-five minutes too long, in your opinion. 

The familiar hiss of the water turning on greets your ears, along with the beautiful humming of your husband as he steps inside the shower. Okay, that’s really not helping your case. 

How are you supposed to keep your hands to yourself, with the knowledge that Dice is currently naked in the shower space right next to your quarters, humming a warm jazzy tune, the smoky scent of his body wash likely dispersing throughout the room? It’s an unfair responsibility that you just can’t handle. 

So, why should you?

Your legs sweep you off of the bed you were seated on, eagerly carrying you towards the door of the bathroom. You reach out to the doorknob and silently turn it, quietly slipping inside the desired space. 

The overwhelmingly intoxicating scents of musk and citrus hug your nose as soon as you walk through the door, trapping you in a hypnotic trance.  

Dice doesn’t notice your entrance, but how could he? Steam is flooding the entire room. Fogging up the mirror. Temporarily blinding you, and forcing you to see with your hands and feet. Of course the King would turn the water’s temperature to the highest setting.

But it doesn’t matter. You’re more focused on getting undressed and entering the source of all that fog. 

You pull off your top, your bottoms following suit. Then, your undergarments. Your socks. The clothes are left in a meaningless pile in the corner of the room, near the sink. You’ll worry about them later. 

Your gaze turns back to the shower curtain, where the silhouette of your husband is currently rubbing up and down his arms, still humming that addicting tune.

A smile creeps up on your face as you quietly make your way to the curtain, stifling a small chuckle before forcefully sliding it to the side, relishing in the panicked screech Dice gives in response.

“EEK-!! SHIT, baby, you almost gave me a heart attack! What the devil are you doing in here?” 

Grinning from ear to ear, you cackle in delight as you step inside the shower space, closing the curtain so that no extra water would be spilled onto the bathroom tile. 

“Why, I thought that’d be obvious, Dice. I’m having a shower.” 

With a couple blinks, Dice processes your answer, his shocked embarrassment fading away. His lips curl up into a smirk of his own, and a laugh rises from his chest as he shakes his head, cupping your cheek. 

“Next time, just tell me you want to shower with me. You know I’d never say no to that kind of offer, doll.” 

You playfully sigh, rolling your eyes and resting against Dice’s soaking chest, letting the water fall from behind his shoulders. 

“Alright, fine. I guess I’ll give you a warning next time. But I admit, it’s rather fun to see you get so worked up.” 

“You’re so mean to me, darlin’. It’s not fair.” Dice pouts, wrapping his arms around you and switching positions, allowing the steaming hot water to hit your back.

You shriek a little at the piercing sensation of the shower temperature, causing your husband to snicker a little. 

“I suppose that’s my payback for you scaring me the way you did. Here, I’ll get it for you.” 

Dice reaches behind you and slightly turns the knob of the shower, cooling down the water enough so that while you aren't uncomfortable, he’s still warm.  

“Better?”

A slight chuckle passes through your nose as you lean forward, resting your head on his toned chest.

“Yes, Dice. Thank you.” 

Warm smiles are exchanged, and the King reaches around to grab your body wash off the built-in ledge by your shoulder. No words are spoken as he squirts a generous amount of the soap into his palm, admiring you from above and rubbing his hands together.

Your body leans into his touch as he begins to rub your shoulders, massaging all the dirt and grime from the day off of your skin. The familiar scents of eucalyptus and lemon greet your nose, and Dice hums softly in relaxation as he continues to wash your body for you. 

“Such a wonderful choice in products, sweetheart. I commend you for avoiding those cheap, disgusting brands that smell like nothing short of a chemical wasteland.”

“You forget that you bought me this, Dice.” You laugh in response, shifting in position so he could reach your back. Goodness, his hands feel heavenly. “I’m simply using what you got me hooked on.”

“I suppose that’s true, but you always could have refused in favor of saving the extra cash. But you choose to take care of your skin, instead. Can’t I just be proud of you for properly taking care of your body?” 

He gazes down at you with such adoration that you almost forget your own name. You never realized how happy you make him when you accept his gifts, or suggestions on a certain product. Before you met the die, you wouldn’t have even considered going for the high end soaps and washes. It was much too expensive, and you honestly couldn’t have cared less. 

But spending money is Dice’s love language, and he’d have an aneurysm if he ever caught you using something that he didn’t recognize. If luxury isn’t what you’re buying, well… that’s a wrong that needs to be righted. 

It’s incredibly sweet, the way he insists on buying you nothing short of the best. His high standards sometimes piss you off, but in times like these? Well, how could you be mad? It’s not like you both are running out of money, you practically swim in it. The soap really does smell wonderful, and your skin has never been so soft. So addicting to touch. 

Dice would agree wholeheartedly. 

A hum from your husband pulls you from your thoughts, and you laugh softly, resting your head on his chest and finally answering his question. 

“Alright, alright. I suppose you can be proud. You do have a wonderful taste in scents, after all.” 

The King smiles lovingly as he rubs his hands together once more, lathering up a bit of shampoo. Nothing like a pleasant boost to his ego.

“Of course I do. It takes the best to know the best, isn’t that right?”

You scoff at his self-serving affirmation, playfully rolling your eyes and allowing him to scrub the soap into your hair. His nails dig into your scalp, leaving you relaxed and relieved. 

While Dice works his hands on you, you grab his body wash off the ledge and smile knowingly at the title. Acqua di Gio. A beautiful citrusy scent that compliments well with the whiskey and cigars he downs on the daily. 

“Acqua di Gio, hm? You’ve been using this for years, don’t you ever want to switch it up from time to time?” You tease, pouring some of the wash into your hand and rubbing over his chest, trailing down his sides. 

“Why stray away from what I know works well? This brand’s never let me down before. È perfetto per i miei standard elevati (It’s perfect for my high standards).” 

“Oh, Dice, you know I was never as good with Italian. Spanish and French I can pick up on, and I can do basic Italian conversation, but I have no clue what you just said.”

With a soft kiss to the forehead, Dice’s low voice replies: 

“Questo è il divertimento, mia cara (That’s the fun of it, my dear). It’s adorable to watch your nose scrunch up slightly as you try and figure out what I’m saying.” 

“What, is this just another appeal to your ego?” You smile as you tilt his cubed head to the side, washing around the collarbone. “A way for you to show off your impeccable knowledge of language?” 

Your lover laughs loudly as he gently rinses your body wash off your shoulders, letting the gentle beads of water sweep away all the dirt you’re carrying. 

“Perhaps, or maybe it’s just a way to sweep you off your feet. I can tell you enjoy it, look at how you’re blushing~” Dice murmurs sweetly, caressing your cheek as he rinses your back, spending extra time on your ass. Oh. Oh, shit. 

That bastard knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s trying to get you in the mood. And good lord, it’s working.

Well, two can play at that game, because as much as he’s washing you… you’re washing him as well. 

Pouring some extra soap in your hands, you trace down Dice’s chest and sides, sliding your fingers down his hips and grabbing the base of his cock, smirking to yourself as you begin to pump, allowing the body wash to act as the lubricant. 

“Well, you’re not the only charming one in this relationship, Dice. I can bring you to your knees just as much. I mean, look at you right now~”

How right you are; Dice can’t even form a reply. Your sides are held tightly by his hands, his fingers digging into your flesh. His teeth are gritted, eyes tightly shut as he bucks his hips right into your hand, his cool charisma completely gone in a matter of seconds. 

“What’s the matter, honey? Cat got your tongue?” You grin triumphantly, your hand pumping faster and faster. 

A beautiful whine escapes your partner as his hand reaches up and grips onto your shoulder, tightly squeezing. Eventually, Dice’s words return to him, as well as his strength. 

In the middle of your work, you’re suddenly pinned by your shoulders to the wall right underneath the shower head. The King towers over you with a wicked, seductive grin, the light from above him along with the water cascading over his skin making him look like a god. 

“Oh, you naughty little rascal, causing such a ruckus in here… what the hell do you think you’re getting at, teasing me like this?”

“I’m just returning the energy, my King~” You mutter seductively, your fingers walking up the side of his head and right over his pips, your soapy thumbs absentmindedly washing against the small indents of each dot. 

A pent up roar rips from Dice’s throat, and you know you’re getting closer to receiving what you want. A firm hand grips your jaw, sending chills down your spine as it forcefully tilts your jaw up towards your husband. Bright green eyes pierce into your own, making your stomach do a somersault.

“Look at you, making a mess outta me… I oughta teach you a lesson, right here in this shower space. Would you like that? Would you like me to fuck your ass right here? Right now?”

“God, finally! YES, King! I’ve been wanting this ever since I came in the first place!” You groan loudly, feeling yourself getting more and more heated by the second. The air’s getting suffocating, your heart pounding right out of your chest. You need release. You need Dice to help you reach your release. You need Dice. 

You feel a firm pair of lips take over your own, and your tongues immediately wrestle each other for dominance. It’s a tough battle, but Dice wins, biting your lip to keep you on your feet before pulling away, a small stream of saliva connecting his mouth to yours. 

Panting slightly, you reach up and grab his shoulders for stability, your nails digging into his ivory muscle. The action earns you a pleasured grunt, and a swift change in position. 

Dice turns you around and presses you against the wall, letting the stream of steamy water fall onto your back. Leaning close to you from behind, he whispers something that almost brings you to your knees:

“Easy, doll, just let the King take care of ya. However, I can’t promise I won’t be rough~”

Oh, FUCK. You can’t even see straight as he shoves his erection into your ass, and honestly, you can’t tell if it's the water getting in your eyes or the raw force Dice is using over you. 

Either way, you wouldn’t complain. You don’t think you could ever be in a better position than where you are now. Thank goodness you had the boldness to come in the shower early, otherwise you would’ve had to wait for this. Plus, there’s something about doing it in the shower that makes the whole experience that much better. 

Maybe it’s the water. Maybe it’s the scorching heat of the atmosphere. Maybe it’s the overpowering scents choking you. You’ll never know. But frankly, you don’t care.

All you care about is how hard your husband is pounding his dick into you. It’s enough for you to see stars every time he thrusts into you. It’s wet. Slippery. Hard. Blissful. 

Each time Dice rams his waist against your ass, a loud moan of pleasure is erupted from your mouth. He’s so fucking good at this, it amazes you each and every time you both have sex. Even though you’ve done this with him for years. There’s always something new he pulls on you that makes you swoon. This time, it’s the low growls and dirty talk that come out of him with every push. 

“Oh, SHIT, you’re so fucking tight around my cock-! I’ll never get you out of my mind, you pretty thing. You’re mine, you understand me? And I’ll make sure you never forget it.”

“I’m yours, Dice! I’ll never belong to anyone else!~” You shriek in response, resting your head against the wall as your body is repeatedly shoved into the tile. Shit, he’s going hard. He better not stop. “Please, don’t stop! Go harder! Faster!” 

“Your wish is my command, babydoll~” 

His words are sweeter than sugar, but his thrusts are harder and more forceful than anything you’ve ever felt in your life. Dice takes no time to find that special spot that sends you to heaven, and when he does? Well, it’s all over from there. 

It’s a miracle that you don’t lose consciousness from the shock. You wonder if you’d wake back up in time to feel your release, or if you’d have to sleep through the climax. Would Dice clean you up? Of course he would. He’d even carry you off to bed, tuck you in, and tease you about it in the morning before work. 

While the thought seems nice, you’d prefer to see this out to the end. To miss out on this would be the missed opportunity of a lifetime. 

“Ohhhh, DARLIN’! How the FUCK do you manage to take me so well?! It’s like you were BORN to fit me! You feel incredible, sweetness-!”

“KING!~” You wail in pleasure, drool leaning from the corner of your mouth and dripping down to your chin. “King, I’m getting close! Oh, GOD, my love, I’m gonna cum-!” 

“Just a little more, doll-!” Dice growls back, pinning you against the wall by your shoulders to keep you in place as he chases after both of your climaxes. “Just a little mORE-!” 

A scream rips from Dice’s chest as his seed explodes inside of you, filling you right to your stomach. DAMN, that’s a lot. It’s so warm, so comforting, so… so pleasurable. 

Oh, fuck. 

You let out a screech of your own and grip the wall as tight as you can, your own seed bursting from between your legs. The sticky liquid starts to drip down your thighs, mingling with the streaming droplets of water from the shower head. 

Panting. Sweating. Laughing together. You both stay in place, keeping each other upright as you ride out the orgasm together, incredibly comfortable. The shower water is a nice massage to keep you both grounded, and a good reminder of how slippery the floor is. Better be careful. 

After a few minutes of blissful quietness, Dice pulls out of you and rinses himself off before gently guiding you off the wall, rinsing the leftover seed off of your legs. It’s amazing how you both can go from roughness, screaming and growling to soft, gentle touches in a matter of minutes. It’s like you're completely different people than you were beforehand. 

In a way, that is true. Each time you have sex is a new experience that teaches you both something about each other, and about yourselves. It’s exhilarating. A little strange. You’ve always been told that you learn something new every day, but you never thought the way you’d be learning was through… hands on experience. 

But you know what? This is the best kind of learning. Learning with your husband. Having fun with him. Loving him. 

Dice reaches behind you and shuts off the water, sliding the curtain to the side and navigating through the fog to find his towel. Quickly drying himself off, he grabs an extra towel for you, pressing loving kisses all over your soft, glowing skin as he rubs the fluffy towel over your body. 

He takes such good care of you, it makes you fall head over heels all over again. 

Comfortable silence falls over you both as Dice scoops you up, holding you protectively against his chest as he carries you back to the bedroom, towel wrapped around his waist. 

Getting clean has never been more dirty. 

King Dice x Reader “Bath/Shower Sex” Headcanons (SHOW)

King Dice’s game show lasts for around two or three hours each night, under hot, beaming lights. The man himself is on his feet the entire time excluding his five minute breaks, singing and performing, charming his audience right into the palm of his hand… in many layers of clothing. Long story short, Dice sweats. A lot. But then again, who wouldn’t?

Because of his incredibly active job, Dice takes it upon himself to get washed up every day. It’s usually a quick shower before work, since he usually gets home way too late to even bother. Fortunately, Dice keeps an astounding variety of luxury colognes, each one more expensive than a month’s rent at your old apartment. Smoky Casino is your personal favorite of his, and he’s always sure to wear it whenever you turn up in his dressing room. (And if you steal a couple spritzes for yourself, well, he doesn’t mind.)

As much as he works, there are some nights where he has the energy to wash up after work. Some nights, he even has the chance to have a bath, of all things. Those nights are the best. 

Not only is the bedroom filled with those beautiful spicy aroma of the high end products your husband insists on buying, but the steam acts as a comforting blanket over you as you read to yourself in bed, or lie down peacefully, waiting for him to join you. 

His humming and soft vocalizations hug your ears, leaving you enchanted with your heart aching for him. 

It’s nights like these that you wish your husband could be home more often. The nights that he’s out late and you opted to stay home, it’s lonely. Cold. Dark. A huge hole is left inside of you, and sometimes you don’t even feel it fill up again, as Dice will come home when you’ve already fallen asleep, the reruns of his show playing quietly on the radio perched on your nightstand. 

The showman feels horrible when he comes home to the sight. Not only does he have to go to bed a sweating mess, but he also hates coming home to find your sleeping hand resting near the transmission, almost like you were trying to be near him. It breaks his poor heart into pieces, imagining you cooped up in your chambers, alone, waiting for his return. 

He plants a kiss to your cheek, holding you tightly against him as he drifts off himself. In the morning, when his alarm goes off, he’ll always hit snooze, wanting to spend a few extra minutes with you, resting peacefully in your embrace. Even if he has to miss his shower before work, and grab one in his dressing room instead. It’s worth it. 

However, he definitely prefers to get home at a decent hour, to be able to take his time with grooming himself. It’s an escape from reality for him. A form of self therapy.

No one is out to smother him or demand an autograph. He can wash off all the dirt from the disgusting contestants who manage to touch him, despite his professional warnings not to do so. It’s a way for him to unwind, to forget the events of the day. 

It’s a way for him to spend some quality time with you, whenever you join him. A way for you both to get physical. You know the tub isn’t necessarily the ideal place to have sex with each other, but what’s a little cleanup of some soapy water? The floaty feeling of being made love to underwater is worth the mess. 

The thoughts flood your mind as you ride home in the limo with him, you both cracking open a bottle of wine together to relax after a long show night. 

Your husband takes a long sip of his beverage and sighs in relief, leaning back in his seat and smiling down at you. 

“I’m glad you were able to join me tonight, darlin’. The show is much more bearable when I’m able to see you watching from behind the curtain.” 

You smile in response, setting your glass down on the table in front of you and resting against him. 

“I am too, honey. It was nice to see you in action again, rather than listening on the radio.” 

The die nods in understanding, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close to him.

“I do wish you had the chance to come in more often, dear. I know how much your work has been piling up lately, and I’m sorry that it’s been tiring you out so much.”

“Oh please, I can’t even imagine how tired you must feel each night, coming home from hours of performance. I get tired just from watching you!” 

You share a laugh as the limo arrives at your destination, Dice grabbing the open wine bottle while you grab the glasses. 

“It’s true, my job is exhausting… but it’s worth it, to please the fans. I’d do anything to see them happy and cheering my name.” 

“Yes, everything except letting them stand less than three feet from you.” You tease as you both head inside, stepping into the elevator and pushing the button for the bedroom floor. 

“Hey, some of those brutes need to learn to keep their hands to themselves! You know how many times I’ve had to straighten up my suit and reapply my makeup because people can’t keep their grubby mitts off of me?” Dice pouts as the bell dings, and you both stroll inside, slipping off his waistcoat and draping it neatly over the back of his arm chair. 

You laugh playfully and nod in understanding, pressing a kiss to the side of his head as you watch him undress himself. 

“I get it sweetheart. I’d probably be more impatient than you are, if we’re being honest.”

You receive a wink from the King as he sets his dirty vest and undershirt inside the hamper to be washed by one of his cards the next morning. 

“Nasty little pests.” He concludes nonchalantly, grabbing a towel from the linen closet. “I’ll have a bath tonight, sugar. And maybe, if you’re still awake, we can have a little fun~” 

Oh, great. Thank you, Dice. Thank you for planting that mischievous idea in your head as he disappears into the large connected bathroom to wash up.

You stand in place, your brain trying not to explode as you hear the bath water turn on, that familiar tune Dice hums greeting you once again. How is that fair? He can’t just leave you with the suspenseful promise of satisfaction and then disappear behind the door frame. 

Dammit. Dammit, you can’t take it. You can’t be alone right now. You need to join him this time. Surely, he wouldn’t mind that anyway.  

With your mind made up, you strip yourself of your own clothes, tossing them into the hamper much less neatly than your partner had. You grab an extra towel from the linen closet, and make your way to the bathroom, waltzing right inside. 

The humming stops as Dice jumps a little from inside the tub, not expecting you to walk in without at least knocking. Not that he’d care, it’s certainly a treat to see your naked body stepping towards him. He always loves some great eye candy. 

“Well this is certainly an unexpected surprise… what are you doing, sweetness?”

“What does it look like, silly? I’m joining you!” You laugh playfully, the showman scooching back to make room for you to climb in. 

Hot, steaming water overwhelms your skin as you slowly step inside. You wince a little as you settle down, letting out a shaky sigh as you lean back against Dice’s chest. 

Once you’re both comfortable, your senses finally start taking everything in, and boy, does it feel amazing. 

Of course, Dice used the bubble bath this time around, knowing it’s your favorite. Did he plan this? Was that suspenseful remark an invitation to join him in the first place? It must have been, since he wasn’t as surprised as you thought he’d be.

The spicy cinnamon scent happily enters your nose, almost immediately relaxing you as you rest against Dice’s soft skin. A stray bubble from the soap floats its way over to you both, and Dice lets out a quiet chuckle as you reach up and pop it with your finger. 

Bleu de Chanel sits atop the tub’s ledge, and you guess that’s the source of the woodsy jasmine scent pairing quite nicely with the sweetness of the bubble bath. French… of course. 

Dice interrupts your racing mind as he begins to rub his soap-covered hands over your chest, massaging the familiar lemony scent of your body wash into your skin. You’d think the amount of different scents would completely overpower you, making it impossible to breathe in the room, but fortunately, each product is light and creates an effective blend of essences that work very well together. You suppose there’s a reason they’re so expensive, and why Dice has banned all other types of products from your home. 

For good reason, too. Those cheaper brands you used a long time ago left your skin dry and damaged, and they smelled… strong, to say the least. 

But now, your skin is soft and silky, with a light citrus scent that sticks, as opposed to a suffocating aroma that lasts for a day maximum, 

That’s one way Dice looks out for you, at least. He makes sure you use products that care about you just as much as he does. It’s sweet. Loving. 

He’s such a loving husband. You love him to death. God, you need him. 

“Mmm… my dear, you smell absolutely incredible.” Dice praises from above you, his hands trailing down to your stomach, washing your skin with such carefulness. “I’m glad you joined me tonight, I was wondering what was missing from the room… the lemon adds that perfect touch.” 

The remark coaxes a small laugh out of you as you tilt your head back, looking at his face from an upside down angle. 

“Look at you, playing with your soaps like a chemist. How’d you get so good at mixing scents together in a way that doesn’t kill brain cells with each sniff?” 

Your husband tosses his head back, his shoulders shaking slightly as he lets out a bellowing laugh. A beautiful sound that makes your heart skip a beat or two. 

“It’s just from experience, doll! There’s a lot of trial and error when it comes to finding the products that work. You have no idea how much money I’ve wasted over the years, before finding what stuck.” 

“I can’t tell if this is a complaint about the waste of money, or the reminder that you have money to waste.” You strike back with a snicker. 

“Aw, darlin’, that’s not fair. Besides, this is your money, as well. And I’ve seen how refined your taste has gotten over the years. I’m not the only one sending thousands down the drain over simple niceties.”

“Me? You’re the one pushing me to spend more money!” You grin. “Remember that huge ring you influenced me to buy last week, when I was questioning the price tag? That cost $2000?” 

“Why settle for anything less if we can afford it, sweetheart?” His hands move around your sides, trailing towards your back, lovingly rubbing his fingers in circles over your shoulder blades. “Nothing wrong with indulging in something nice, especially when we’re able to.” 

You sigh happily, leaning forward slightly so he can reach your lower back. “I suppose you’re right, it does feel nice to treat yourself every once in a while.”

Dice smiles knowingly, kissing the side of your neck as he grabs your shampoo off the edge of the tub. Okay, now you know he was planning for you to join him. 

“Of course I am, when am I not? Especially when the conversation is about spending money. I have a knack for these things.” 

You scoff playfully, rolling your eyes at his ego peeking through. “Humble, Dice. very humble.” 

Your lover chuckles fondly, kissing the side of your neck and murmuring into your ear as he scrubs the shampoo into your scalp:

“I suppose you’re right, I have been a little too confident tonight… Let’s talk about you for a change, my love.”

The sudden praise knocks the wind from your sails, and you’re left speechless as Dice lovingly runs his fingers through your hair, washing behind your ears. 

“Let’s talk about your beautiful skin, smelling of lemons and sweet cinnamon. Simplement parfait (simply perfect).”

Oh, god, the French. He knows damn well what he’s doing, and it’s almost infuriating how much you want to throw yourself onto him. 

“And your hair, smooth and silky, behaving wonderfully for my fingers. Your beautiful eyes, sparkling with drive and motivation. And goodness, my love, that wonderful smile of yours~” 

A quiet moan slips out of your parted lips as Dice gives your hair a gentle tug. He lathers some more body wash in his palms before running his hands over your skin once more, this time traveling underwater and focusing on the more private parts of your body. 

Okay, now you’re just pent up. The minute you feel his fingers travel down to your ass, you’re like a feral animal. Small bouts of water splash over the edge as you immediately turn to face the die, your hungry eyes boring into his expectant ones. 

“Just what are you getting at, King? Are you trying to get a rise out of me?” 

“That depends, mon amour. Is it working?” 

Oh, that sick, handsome bastard. Of course it’s fucking working. 

Your hands reach up and grip his shoulders, clumps of bubbles springing from the bath and landing onto your arms. “Don’t make me beg, here. Please, please make love to me, now. Right now. I’m going crazy here, my love!” 

Dice’s soft smile deepens into a knowing smirk as he wraps his arms around your back, shifting positions and pulling you so you’re sitting on top of him, your ass pressed right up against the tip of his hardening cock. 

“No need to beg, sweetheart. I’ll give you what you want. But here’s the deal: this’ll be a team effort. But I presume that you don’t have any problems with that?” 

You don’t. Why the hell would you? If his dick is inside you, helping you chase sweet release, you don’t care if you’re doing all the work. As long as he’s inside of you. How is that such a hard concept for him to grasp?

“Of course I don’t, now would you please just get on with it already? You’ve had me pent up for long enough!” You whine desperately, bumping your head on his chest repeatedly. If he doesn’t push himself inside of you soon, you’ll go insane. 

OH, SHIT-!

As if he can read your mind, Dice grins and bucks his hips up without a warning, effectively slamming his dick inside of your ass. Oh, yes, that feels wonderful. Was that so damn hard? That’s literally all you’ve wanted ever since you both got in that limo. 

He’s such a little tease, it’s so annoying. 

Reflexively, you start to move, bouncing up and down onto his cock with slow, steady movements. It takes a second, but Dice quickly catches onto your rhythm, and you both exchange pleasured moans with one another as you finally start relieving the sexual frustration you both have been dealing with. 

Neither of you care about the water spilling over the tub. You don’t care about your shampoo falling off the tub’s ledge, or Dice’s body wash following suit. None of it matters. Nothing matters right now. There is nothing that can take either of you away from this moment. You’ve more than earned it tonight. 

Hungry kisses, tongues fighting tooth and nail for reign over the other’s mouth. Hands sliding over skin, groping each other’s chests. Low, pleasured moans and growls emanating from your mouths, hanging open, drool spilling from their corners. Foreheads bumping against one another, resting against each other for a sense of security. Soapy bubbles moving along with your bounces, sliding back and forth with the bath water. 

How could you ever want to be anywhere else? It’s just you, and the one man in the entire world that you trust with your life. Sharing a bond unlike any other. Being vulnerable with each other. 

It’s beautiful. Exquisite. You doubt that there’s anything more perfect than this. There couldn’t be. 

“King, oh my GOODNESS, please keep going! I need you!” You whine loudly, crashing your lips onto his, vocalizing your helplessness into your mouth. “I’ll do anything, my King! Anything!” 

“Look at yourself, you sexy little doll-! You’re coming completely undone, and I’m barely even hitting your spot!” Dice growls into your mouth, holding the back of your head with his hand. “You want me to go faster, huh? Do you?!” 

“OH, FUCK! PLEASE, KING! PLEASE, GO FASTER!” 

That’s all he needs to hear, and a few seconds later, you both are surprised that the tub is still filled even with the amount of power you both are putting into thrusting against one another. It really is a workout, trying to push against the water like that, but it feels so good, it’s completely worth the struggle. 

Your hands slowly find their way to the sides of his head, holding on for dear life as you try and pick up the pace. Fortunately, your fingers graze over just the right spots on those lavender pips of his, effectively sending Dice into an absolute frenzy. 

The sudden, ferocious yell from your husband almost makes you jump right out of your skin as he throws his head back, eyes squeezing shut as he pounds his hips into you. Fuck, you’ve never seen him so eager in all your years of this relationship. 

The showman is on a mission; trying desperately to chase after not only his orgasm, but your own. He’s always prided himself on being the best around in the bedroom (or in this case, the bathroom) and he’ll be damned if he can’t prove that to you. It’s not like he needs to, you know perfectly well just how good he is at satisfying you, but it’s nice to see that he has incredibly high standards for himself out of all things. 

His ego may be large, but he holds himself to that as well, which is oddly refreshing to see. 

“FUCK-! FUCK, DOLL, I’M GETTING CLOSE-!” 

Little does Dice know, so are you. In fact, you’re right on the edge of your peak. Just a little more and… 

“I’M GONNA CUM, DICE! OHHH, FUCK!~” 

The scream you let out is enough to slightly rattle the walls as you finally let go of what you’ve been holding onto for hours, your seed erupting from between your thighs as your legs shake from the impact. 

Just seeing you come undone in front of him is enough for your husband to reach his own climax as well. With a final shout of ecstasy, Dice shoots his spent inside of you, filling you up as much as your body can take. A few drops of his fluids still leak from your ass, trickling down your crack and finally landing on the surface of the now lukewarm water, halfway down your legs. 

A sudden bout of silence washes over you both as you gaze at each other, panting heavily as you scan your faces for any signs of pain or discomfort. As always, neither of you find a damn thing. 

All you can see is the pure adoration you have for one another, through the slight smiles on your parted lips, and the gentle sparkles in your eyes. 

Still trying to catch your breath, you weakly lift yourself off of your husband, blushing sheepishly at the translucent mess that’s formed all over your legs. While you might find it embarrassing, Dice doesn’t believe he’s ever seen something more perfect. The way you look, standing completely naked above him, your seed spilling out of you and combining with his own? Now that’s what Dice would call a pretty sight. 

“Sweetheart…” 

You tilt your head to the side, watching in slight curiosity as Dice stands up with you, lovingly wrapping his arms around you in a warm embrace. Leaning against him and resting your hands on his shoulders, you tilt your head up so you can look him in the eye. 

Your partner grins lovingly down at you, cautiously stepping out of the tongue with you and drying you off with the towel you had grabbed before you came in. 

“I love you, more than anything money can buy.” Nine words. In nine words, Dice wraps you up in a loving trance. In nine words, Dice reassures you that there’s nothing in the world that’s as precious as your marriage. 

Completely speechless, you watch him spend extra time carefully cleaning the seed off of your legs, not wanting to agitate the soreness in certain areas. How incredibly gracious of him, to care for you like this. What have you done to deserve this sort of treatment? 

To wrap the whole night up with one final gesture, Dice covers you with the towel and picks you up, carrying you off to bed with the intent on tucking you in for the night. 

Before you can be lulled to sleep by the comforting sounds of his feet pattering against the floor, your words return to you, and you can finally reply to your lover’s earlier remark. 

“I love you too, my King. Just one kiss from you is worth a thousand rings.”

The showman watches in awe as you finally nod off in his arms, absolutely smitten over what you just said. A thousand rings… 

Well, with you in his arms? He certainly feels like a million dollars. 

#cuphead #cuphead dont deal with the devil #the cuphead show #king dice #king dice cuphead #king dice x reader #king dice headcanons #headcanons #smut

[cheolsfae]

Pls do han jisung love life thank you

Low key been waiting for this one lmao. No, he isn't my bias but was kind of curious.

January 28, 2024

*Disclaimer: solely for fun! Please do not take this seriously. For entertainment purposes only!*

Past: the world, ace of cups

He might have been someone who was very loving (not that he isn't now), but he could have been more expressive about it. Emotionally more open towards people who he was taking an interest in. Get the vibe that he really didn't have a type. It was just kind of oh I like that person, they're interesting. Just kind of whoever he vibed with. He could have viewed everyone who walked into his love life like a soulmate, when the more likely reason was for a lesson. Just to teach him something new about life or how to approach people properly, romantically.

Present: the hanged man, 10 of swords, queen of wands

Currently, I don't think he's really looking into love at the moment. It seems like he's holding on to some pretty heavy things. I get the feeling it's more negative vibes in regards to love. Like he's kind of open to the idea but I don't think he really wants anything. He's just flirting around and getting to know people. Not really taking anything with anyone too seriously. He does want to eventually change this mind set, I don't think he really wants to right now though. He needs to start unloading those more negative things out with his members/friends/family. Not to just keep it all in. It's doing more harm than good at this point.

Future: 7 of cups (reversed), page of swords

He could be taking a more serious approach at some point. He could be looking for someone who aligns with his values or at the very least similar. Again, he won't be taking it all to seriously but definitely more serious than he is now. Definitely not looking for a marriage, but possibly a partnership, sure. He's going to do more inner work. Healing his inner child so he is more emotionally available than he is right now. He's going to be working on his more avoidant issues than anything. So that's a plus.

Bottom of the deck: 5 of cups

This feels like he's just disappointed by what's happening in his own life. Could be things outside of the dating realm. Most likely, work related. I do see that he could be taking a leap of faith towards something that is more secure but still kind of a risk, it's going to pay off! He needs to rely on his instincts. Just do what he feels is the right move for him and not to worry about what the others might think or whoever is negatively influencing him. He needs to get away from them and do what he thinks is right for him.

*Oracle deck was also used!

#stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #stray kids scenarios #stray kids reactions #—faes readings #stray kids tarot #stray kids #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #lee yongbok #lee felix #han skz #han jisung #hwang hyunjin #seo changbin #bang chan #christopher bang #lee know #lee minho

[stopscammingartists]

last message i will send but I was just saying we should probably give a little more benefit of a doubt to cohost about this. also agreeing with reporting and/or reporting a user for committing a very serious offense and then very seriously talking about it a lot and talking a lot about the other weird bad things that user has done very much implies you want the user banned, but *surely* I'm the one with reading comprehension issues.

I was just saying we should probably give a little more benefit of a doubt to cohost about this.

Why? They claim to be trying to create a trans-inclusive environment.

But push come shove they don't put their money where their mouth is and fail to uphold the standards they claim to. If it's not malicious bias, then it's incompetency, which is no better. You put a black and white easy to recognize rule in your TOS and you fail to even acknowledge it when someone violates it? Give me a break.

also agreeing with reporting and/or reporting a user for committing a very serious offense...very much implies you want the user banned

Genuine question:

Are you transphobic? Wait, sorry, it's rude to ask sarcastic questions. You're a transphobe.

No, seriously, from the "it's not really deadnaming if the names are only 1 letter off" and this shit, I think you're just transphobic.

Pointing out that someone deadnamed someone else and reporting it is an upstanding thing to do. If you cared about trans people you would understand how bad deadnaming can be, and reporting is the only avenue to try and make it stop.

The floraverse community was given a letter by Jolly with the very first sentence saying "I consider my old name to be a dead name, do not use it."

Eevee was informed. She has even used the correct name in the past for Jolly.

She just doesn't care. Why should the person she's deadnaming, the person Eevee is slandering, reach out to her again? Why should Jolly, or anyone who cares about them have to put themselves in that position for someone who has already been informed, shows that they are in fact, fully informed, and doesn't care because the cruelty is the point?

I think it's just worth pointing out that, when faced with someone who is deadnaming you, who knows she's deadnaming you and doesn't care, your ultimate solution ends up being "shut up and take your licks". Because Eevee won't stop unless the platform she is using to deadname the person makes her stop.

That, I think, is unacceptable.

and talking about the other weird bad things the user has done

You can thank the toonimal post about this where another user got banned from cohost for doing similarly "weird bad things"!

...But lets not call it that vague nonsense, lets call it as it is: its pedophilia enabling behavior in the best case scenario.

Which, for the record, I only reported Eevee for deadnaming my friend. The ways Eevee has enabled pedophilia have not been done on cohost, and I do not believe that to be an actionable report on cohosts part.

I just think people who enable pedophiles are dangerous and should be avoided.

but im the one with reading comprehension issues

You make too many assumptions and you looked forward before you leaped.

Seriously, what planet do you live on where the first known violation of a rule such as no deadnaming would result in an instant ban? I don't believe anyone reasonable would expect, or demand, a ban on the first offense like that. It's not my problem that you make assumptions and have unreasonable expectations. Jolly just doesn't want to be deadnamed.

#glitchedpuppet #floraverse #forbidden flora #forbiddenflora #fox flux #purplekecleon #forbiddenflor #foxflux

[perpetuelledaydreaming]

Are we still friends? | chapter eleven

summary:  hangman's threading on thin ice

listen to: Delicate- Taylor Swift | Brutal - Olivia Rodrigo |(playlist here)

warnings: violence.

word count: 2k

series masterlist + read the next chapter early on my ko-fi!!

Your eyes flickered from Bradley’s caramel eyes to his lips as you sat down next to him. You’d paid attention to your exercise, you’d taken Mav’s feedback but right now -as Mav chewed up Harvard and Yale’s ear- you could only think about how Bradley’s eyes turned amber with the sun hitting his face just like that.

This was stupid, looking at him like that when you were supposed to be focused on the mission but you couldn’t stop yourself.

As soon as you returned from the base on Saturday, Rooster dragged you to his room this time. He’d been adoring your body, every kiss he had placed on every inch of your skin felt like a prayer. It happened again on Sunday until your body ached to the point that Rooster filled up a bath for you. You both sat in the tub, smiling and laughing as the bubbles surrounded you.

You hadn’t talked about what this meant though, Rooster hadn’t said anything and you refused to be the first to tell him about your feelings. Maybe he was just drunk and the rest of the time he was just horny. Ice had argued that Rooster was definitely head over heels for you when you’d called him to tell him that you’d kissed, excluding everything else that had happened. Clearly.

Part of you trusted Ice’s words, you’d seen how Rooster’s gaze lingered every time you woke up next to him or when the orgasmic haze cleared. He’d looked at you like that before, sometimes but they just became more obvious now. The other part of you wondered if you were just suffering a case of confirmation bias. Maybe this was just a simple matter, a physical need. Nothing more.

Rooster turned for a second towards you, his eyebrows furrowed together as he noticed the puzzled look on your face.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, you snapped suddenly and simply nodded, turning your attention to Maverick.

His caramel eyes lingered a bit more on you, as your cheeks warmed up. Rooster smirked slightly as he read your face, he slid his hand across and squeezed your thigh. It was a warming gesture, he’d done it before but now that his hand lingered on your leg, you felt like pressing your thighs together.

You rose your eyebrow at him while his lips quirked up even more, his amber eyes on you. Your heart leaped on your throat, and his hand on your leg felt like it was burning your skin. Quickly, you glanced at Maverick for a moment as you then placed a hand on Rooster’s thigh. It was delicate, it could be seen as innocent, you glanced at Yale and Harvard who were next to you and Rooster on the seats, they were too focused on the exercises. Rooster’s eyes fell to your hand, swallowing hard as you draw small patterns on his thigh.

Slowly but steadily, climbing up to where Rooster needed you the most.

“What happened?” Maverick’s tone snapped both Rooster and you from whatever unspoken conversation you were having, both of your hands quickly returned to their place as you looked at Maverick.

“I flew as fast as I could,” Hangman started with a smug smirk on his face. You could see the dimples from your seat next to Rooster. “Kind of like my ass depended on it,”

“And you put your team at risk and your wingman is dead,” Rooster said as he laced his hands together and glared at Hangman from his seat.

“They couldn’t keep up,”

You rolled your eyes at the statement. Maverick remained quiet as he stared at Hangman, your eyes remained on your father. Hangman was more like Maverick than he wanted to admit, you could see it. The challenge on those sea-foam eyes that stared back a Maverick. Not an inch of fear.

“Rooster, you’re up,” he stated, while still glancing at Hangman. “Yale, Harvard you’re up to,”

Rooster gave a curt nod to Maverick and he stood up before walking out of the classroom with both Yale and Harvard. You glanced at your father, you could see how tense he was feeling, and you could see the dread in his eyes. No one had completed the mission as planned and you were running out of time.

It only got worse as you heard Rooster’s radio beeping.

“We’re fine. Speed is good,” he assured Yale.

Maverick glanced at you as you stood up next to him watching the simulation. He was lying, the speed wasn’t good. There were few ways to do this mission correctly and if you didn’t do it, then you would be shot down. Dead. All of this wouldn’t mean anything.

“Dad?” you whispered as you watched the time run out on the screen.

Maverick glanced at you without saying a word, his lips tight as Yale and Harvard cursed when they realized that they’d lost.

“It isn’t the plane, is the pilot,” you stated as you tried to ignore Maverick’s disappointed gaze. You were up next and honestly, with the way the exercises were going that day, you weren’t sure about how well it would go.

“Exactly,” Maverick answered back before he walked out of the room for a moment.

You looked back at the screen as you bit your cheek. Hondo in the back was already telling Rooster that they needed to land fast, it could be the last exercise of the day if Maverick didn’t have it in himself to watch you all fail one more time.

“Your boyfriend isn’t very good at this,” you heard Hangman stating as he returned to his seat. You glanced at him and frowned slightly.

“Boyfriend?”

“Well, Maverick almost threw me against a wall on Monday because I left some hickies on your throat,” Hangman stated nonchalantly as he gulped down an energy drink. You felt your cheeks getting warmer by the second. “The thing is, I only remember you having your tongue down my throat but no hickies, I’m not that sloppy,”

Hangman’s lips quirked up slightly as he watched your face drop. You squint at him as you noticed how amused he was.

“You’re a good friend, Hangman but you treading on thin ice,” you replied as you walked away from him.

“Just saying, it reflects on his flying,” he muttered.

You rolled your eyes at him before you were walking out into the tarmac, waiting for Rooster. You were acutely aware of the tension between Maverick and Rooster, and how it was brewing slowly. Rooster and Maverick got along so much better before the shit that Maverick pulled on Rooster, it had gotten a lot better since it’d happened but now, with the mission.

It just brought bad memories.

When you arrived at the tarmac, Maverick had beaten you to Rooster. You could see the Rooster’s face dropping as he heard Maverick, that vein on his neck popping slightly, the licking on his lips, the way he couldn’t quite hold Maverick’s gaze.

You were walking towards them before you were aware of it yourself. You couldn’t quite hear what they were saying but when Rooster’s eyes fell on you, Maverick stopped immediately as he turned around.

“What’s wrong,”

Maverick didn’t even let you finish, his tone cold as he glanced at you. “To the class, Lieutenant,” Maverick stated.

Your eyes widened slightly, you opened your mouth but then you looked back at Rooster, he wasn’t even looking at you. Often, when you were younger, you would search for some safety in others’ eyes. You wondered if Hangman had told anything to Maverick, you wondered if it even was about whatever was going on between Rooster and you.

But you couldn’t disobey your father any longer, insubordination was not a good look on anyone’s record. Even if it was your father and even more knowing that you were one of the few women in the field.

You gave a final look at Rooster before walking away. You returned to the class as Hondo began with the feedback on the exercise while Maverick was too busy with Rooster. Yale and Harvard were already in the make-shift class while you waited for your father and Bradley. They arrived a few minutes later, Maverick quickly taking over the feedback while Rooster didn’t sit next to you, instead choosing to stay in the last seats.

You frowned at the action. He hadn’t been able to take his hands off you for days, and now it seemed like the sight of you repelled him. You glared at Maverick from your seat, not really listening to the bickering between him with Yale and Harvard, Rooster occasionally too.

Until something caught your attention.

“There’s more than one way to fly this mission,” Rooster stated softly, a stark difference against his past harsh bickering.

Hangman chuckled slightly as he glanced upward and turned around to see Rooster. “You really don’t get it,” he stated with that characteristic smirk. “On this mission, a man flies like Maverick here, or a man does not come back.”

“I’m not reckless like you, Hangman,” Rooster snapped back at Hangman as he shifted in his seat, the itch for a fight. “I actually care about my men, the people with me. I’m not a total son of a bitch,”

It stung. You could see it in Hangman’s eyes as he frowned slightly, his lips dropping as he heard Rooster’s words. Rooster was already going on the fire that Maverick had started, Hangman had added to the fuel and there it was, old sweet Rooster turned into the guy who knew how to hurt people.

You could almost cut the tension, as all of the other pilots watched the interaction. Then, a malicious smile replaced the smugness he usually wore so well.

You glanced at Maverick who was tensing up. Closing his eyes and licking his lips. You felt your muscles tensing up too as you listened carefully to Hangman’s words, for some reason they seemed filled with poison.

“Look, I don’t mean to criticize,” Hangman explained nonchalantly. “You’re conservative, that’s all.”

“Lieutenant,” Maverick stated.

“We’re going into combat, son, on a level no living pilot’s ever seen,” Hangman said as his eyes returned to Mavericks. “Not even him,” Maverick’s eyes widened slightly, frowning as he glanced at Hangman, and then he let the venom out. “That’s no time to be thinking about the past,”

You frowned at his words.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rooster asked, his tone harsh.

“Rooster,” Maverick warned.

“I can’t be the only one that knows that Maverick flew with his old man,” Hangman explained as the tension drowned the room in total silence.

“That’s enough,” Maverick intervened.

“Or that Maverick was flying when his old man…”

Your heart dropped.

“Lieutenant, that’s enough!”

Maverick’s words were the last thing you heard as you stood up from your chair. You could hear the noise in the background, the way everyone immediately stood up as Rooster tried to launch himself at Hangman, and Hangman stood up to face him.

Everyone was trying to intercept Rooster, too busy with the 6 ft pilot to even notice how you had thrown yourself first at Hangman. How you’d launched across the makeshift hallway with the chairs and how your small fist had knocked Hangman straight in the jaw.

It happened too fast, the rage blinding you, the sound that your knuckles made when they touched Hangman’s jaw, the way Jake’s face fell when he noticed he wasn’t going against Rooster but against you, the louder the room got and then, how Rooster’s arms wrapped around your waist as he caught you, holding you back.

“Brat, what the” Coyote managed to mumble as he tried to gain space between you and Hangman who was holding his jaw in complete shock.

“Brat!,” Maverick screamed while you trashed in Rooster’s arms.

“I told you, Hangman,” you snapped back. “You were treading on thin ice,”

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taglist: @mirandastuckinthe80s @thehouseofevangelista @sergantbarnesbitch @tallrock35 @maverick-wingman @notanordinaryprincess95 @hey-its-kayla-claire @lonelywitchv2 @abaker74 @tallyovie @shadowsndaisies @chaoticweirdogeek @unluckymonaghan @chaotickyrith @allie131313 @anotherr-fine-mess @nemtodd-barnes1923 @mak-32 @rintheemolion @affabletimelady @k-k0129 @bluelicioususs-blog @classyunknownlover @shaninamallina87 @melllinaa @alanadetigy

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author’s note: as always thank you for reading!! thank you for your patience

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feedback is always welcomed!!

want to invite me a glass of wine so I can write the smut?

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw blurb #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #rooster #rooster x reader #rooster angst #rooster headcanon #bradley bradshaw headcanon #rooster x you #top gun maverick #rooster top gun #rooster x y/n #miles teller #miles teller smut #top gun spoilers #top gun pilots #top gun smut #are we still friends?

[theriu]

River Reads Midnight Sun

Chapter 2: Open Book

In which Edward faces his fears and spends an agonizing amount of time hyperfixating on Bella.

<-Chapter 1

So we jump into chapter two AND next week, as it has been six days since Edward (shockingly) succeeded in leaving town forever (citation needed)! He is chilling (ha) in a snowbank, staring up at the stars, which are truly magnificent. Or he knows they would be, except he can't quite see anything except Bella's face. Yes, the girl has haunted him straight to (checks location on a map) oh he's in ALASKA, okay! I wasn't sure where Denali was, but I was PRETTY sure even Edward couldn't drive a car to Russia. (You'll see why I considered Russia in a minute.)

Anyway, the "unremarkable" face of this girl he's literally never spoken to directly has been haunting him for six days, which is indeed troubling. While he is brooding on this, the thoughts of a new character come leaping towards him. This is where we meet Tanya, a vampire with silver skin, blonde-but-almost-pink curly hair, amber eyes, and full lips. Mary Sue Tanya is stunning and exquisite, at least from Ed's memory, since he still can't see past the face permanently branded on his eyeballs.

So anyway, Mary Sue Tanya does a cannonball into Ed's snowbank, burying him alive with snow but not burying the image of Bella. It becomes clear that she has been crushing on Ed and is sad he will be leaving soon and doesn't return her affections, although he is very polite and gentlemanly about it.

(Honestly, I liked her well enough until we got to the "I'm not used to rejection" line, and then she starts sifting through the memories of all her human male conquests next to the actual mind reader who she is attracted to, to which I say WOMAN REALLY??? I don't think making the guy you like EVEN MORE UNCOMFORTABLE than he's already admitted you kinda make him is an effective way to gain his affections?!)

ANYWAY, thankfully they get off THAT subject quickly and have a really quite nice conversation, wherein Ed apologizes for getting her hopes up by coming to her home territory and Tanya tries to be a good friend. We see a mention of her "long-lost Russian accent," thus my uncertainty about location, and she tells him she knows he won't keep running from his mystery problem because he's the type who faces things head-on. Mary Sue TANYA then runs away across the snow, so light and fast she doesn't even leave footprints, suggesting a connection between vampires and wood elves.

Encouraged by this pep talk, Gary Stu Edward also gets up and runs footprintless across the snow, determined to be brave and go back and face those "bewildered chocolate-brown eyes," and hopefully not eat the girl attached to them.

SCENE CHANGE!

Edward's back in town, and his three vampire siblings/classmates are huddled around him as they head into the lunchroom, being quite adorably protective, honestly. Alice is trying to foresee any problematic eventualities, Jasper thinks it's funny that EDWARD is the one everyone's fretting over instead of him, Emmett is acting like a bodyguard, and Ed is just exasperated with all of them.

To his surprise, nobody at school is thinking about them, suggesting that Bella didn’t blab about his black murderstare from last chapter. After all, a normal human would have asked around about it, because humans and especially teens all like to feel NORMAL and FIT IN and be a "featureless flock of sheep" and WOW, should I be more annoyed at Ed or the author for this intense bias against high schoolers?! But of course Bella isn't like those OTHER kids, she doesn't do things like talk to people when something weird happens!

About this time, Bella walks in and Alice is all, "Act human!" To which Emmett responds by taking out the snowball he compressed into an ice chunk with his superstrength and chucking it at Alice, who casually deflects it across the room at superspeed, where it cracks a brick. This does, ironically, draw attention away from them. Everyone is annoyed at Emmett, which is fair, but also, ALICE COULDN'T YOU HAVE JUST CAUGHT IT INSTEAD OF POTENTIALLY SHOOTING SOMEONE?

Ahem. So Bella's in the lunch line, and Mike Newton, Regular High School Guy And Insignificant Human Rival, is worried about her. Ed starts also worrying about if she might be sickly, what with her translucent skin. (Are we 100% sure BELLA is human?!) The vampires do a slightly better job of acting natural, and Edward decides to refer to Bella as “Bella” and not just "the girl,” "as if she were the only girl in the world," which is HILARIOUS considering where we all know this is going!

After eavesdropping on Bella and Jessica whispering about him looking at her (Bella thinks he's mad at her, after the whole murderstare incident), Bella hunkers under her hair and avoids eye contact, although Ed thinks she keeps twitching like she WANTS to look at him. Then, at long last, lunch ends and everyone starts going to class. There is another internal struggle while Ed reviews what all of his vampire family members have advised about this situation. (Emmett sounding the least helpful, as he has apparently encountered two such delicious-smelling-people incidents that... uh... sound like they did NOT go well?) But Ed is determined to prove to himself that he has the self-control to sit through biology without murdering Bella, so off he goes.

(By the way, Rosalie complains she doesn't want to have to move because they're almost finally out of high school. Again, why are you pretending to be high school students?! It's not like you'll age whether you're there or not?! HOW DOES THIS HELP YOUR COVER??)

Edward gets to Biology to find Bella at their table, doodling randomly. He decides to introduce himself. He gets briefly lost in gratuitously detailed descriptions of her eyeballs and how they are simultaneously like chocolate and strong tea, and how could anyone so frail be deserving of his unwarranted hatred last week? He's also holding his breath, but has enough air in his longs for a reasonably lengthy conversation AND a short laugh, during which Bella is... surprised/startled that he called her Bella? Because her dad introduced her to everyone as Isabella? But she's apparently told multiple people since she got here that she prefers Bella? So he probably could have learned that even without his super vampire eavesdropping powers? WHY is this weird enough to be suspicious, and HOW does it indicate she is intuitive?

Well, the book and Ed believe she is insightful and intuitive, so I guess we should just go with it. Ed does eventually needs to breath so he can talk, and even though just breathing through his mouth is like tasting the FIERY COALS of her deliciousness, and their brief moment of making skin contact is like an ELECTRIC SHOCK, he manages to continue acting normal.

By the way, along with being unconventionally if lopsidedly pretty and smelling delicious, Bella was also in advanced-placement biology at her previous school and Knows Science! Edward realizes this must mean she is ESPECIALLY intelligent for a human, which of course makes perfect sense. After all, she was the first student in two years to look him in the eye long enough to notice they'd changed from the Murderstare Incident's I'm-going-to-eat-you black to today's calmer I'm-probably-not-going-to-eat-you-except-by-accident amber/gold! My friends, may I remind you this man previously admitted he has two medical degrees, a thing that probably required some amount of physically attending college. I really wonder if Ed's standards would be more realistic if he ever once SOCIALIZED WITH HIS HUMAN CLASSMATES.

In an effort to maintain normalcy, they talk about the weather. Bella does not like the cold and wet of Forks. She clearly does not like being in Forks at all. She is vague and grumpy about why she came here, and Edward is so obsessed curious that he may implode (this is the actual word used). We learn (agonizingly slowly) that her mom remarried—and no, Edward, Bella DOES like the guy, he's nice and a minor-league baseball player; and no, Edward, her mom DIDN'T send her here, SHE sent HERSELF here so her mom could happily travel with her step-dad rather than unhappily stay home with her! Ed is certain by now that Bella "isn't like other humans" because he keeps guessing her story arcs wrong and she's just so CONFUSING and UNPREDICTABLE, and this can't possibly be because he's about 100 years out of practice having a normal conversation without a cheat code into the other person's brain.

(Okay, to be fair, there are at LEAST two moments of self-awareness where Ed wonders if he'd be this bad at reading everybody without his mindreading powers. We should give him points for that.)

But despite his difficulties, he DOES figure out that Bella is unhappy, mostly by her sending out signals that a rhino could decipher. When he confronts her with this observation, her response is, "So?" And after meditating on this for an unusually brief paragraph, Ed realizes THE ANSWER:

"She was selfless."

I'm sorry, guys, I need to break for a second, that's the first part that made me laugh out loud. Can someone lend me a combine to harvest all this corn.

(Side Note: As previously stated, I have not read the books or watched the movies, so I could be biased by the negative side of the fanbase. But my general impression of Bella has not lent itself to "selflessness." BUT, it is only chapter two and I am only going off of general hearsay! The amount of poorly concealed disgruntlement is not impressing me, though.)

Anyway, Ed guesses that she doesn't really like her situation but doesn't want people to KNOW she doesn't like it. He continues to marvel at how positively he feels towards this girl, how discerning she is, how *cough* selfless she is, not like an "average martyr" who would actually tell someone she's not 100% happy with her SACRIFICE. Bella gets annoyed, which Ed finds amusing, so there's another adjective for the list. But then she says she's annoyed because she's so easy to read, and Edward can't believe this, because he's never had to work so hard to read someone before! Again, this couldn't possibly be because she's the first person in 100+ years whose mind he can't read!

By the way, Bella also seems to be oblivious immune to the usual red flags normal humans feel around vampires! Ed tries smiling dangerously at her, but the teacher breaks up their conversation with actual classtime, so he gets to angst for a few paragraphs about why he shouldn't find this girl interesting and how dangerous this is for her and yet how MUCH he wants to know more about her. And also trying not to kill her when her thick, black hair flips in his direction and drives his vampire nose bananas.

He books it as soon as the bell rings, having survived the encounter without murdering anyone but with so many new questions about this unremarkable, shy, frail, unmindreadable-yet-highly-face-readable, delicious-smelling, selfless, quietly disgruntled human girl.

(Side Note: I have learned a new word!

"Attar—a fragrant essential oil, typically made from rose petals."

Ex: "Again, I gasped at the clean, wet air outside as though it was a healing attar."

*loud sighing noises*)

So after that brief break, he goes to class with Emmett. Emmett, IMMENSELY HELPFUL EMMETT, asks how it went, questions if it wouldn't be easier to just get it over with, reassures Ed that everyone would understand if he messed up (GIVING IN IS NOT THE SAME AS "MESSING UP," EMMETT), and then vividly visualizes a time he experienced a really good-smelling woman and ate her. Between his earlier blasé-ness about not "wallowing in guilt" over past mistakes and this section's lack of anything indicating regret about that incident, I take back any nice things I might have said about this guy. Emmett, YOU. ARE. THE WORST.

It's so bad that Ed has to bolt out of class AGAIN, although it doesn't help that Emmett follows him and continues to suggest maybe Ed should just get it over with if it's so bad, can Alice or somebody please come punch him. Ed finally gets him to leave and hides in his car. Then, "like an addict" (his own words), he searches the whole school for thoughts about Bella. From his car. My GUY, just how UNREASONABLY powerful ARE your mind radar skills???

He finally locates Bella in gym class, because Mike, who is mad about Ed talking to her, is thinking in logical, complete sentences (as one does) about how satisfied he is that Bella doesn't seem interested in Edward. He also conveniently remembers her asking "what was with" Edward last Monday (after the Deathstare Incident). So apparently Bella isn't QUITE abnormal unique enough to stay totally silent when she encounters a weird thing (not that Edward notices). Ed's response to his annoyance over Mike's satisfaction is to blast "violent music," which seems the opposite of helpful to me.

We end the chapter with Bella coming out of school and heading to her rusty old truck while Ed watches her creepily from his car. She almost hits another student's car when she locks eyes with him, and Ed has to laugh at her sudden increased driving vigilance, as if she might be DANGEROUS! Because of course it's RIDICULOUS to think that BELLA could be dangerous to ANYONE in ANY vehicle, as if the driver's physical frailty has any bearing on the damage a truck can do when crashing into cars or non-vampires at speed.

AND SCENE!

I'm gonna be honest, guys, that one was a couple degrees more agonizing than the first chapter. I dread how much more I'm going to hear about Ed's conflicting desires to eat Bella and be attracted to her simultaneously average yet fascinating allure. She's just so unusually unique and smart and intuitive and selfless and shy and frail and inspires protective instincts, you see, and she's not like ANY OTHER human he's ever encountered, even though we have evidence now that sometimes certain vampires just find certain humans irresistibly delicious, and we can probably extrapolate that those humans were somehow immune to vampire powers, too.

I also highly question Bella's above-average "martyrdom," considering she dropped her guard pretty fast around the cute stranger and basically broadcasted how unhappy she is with her decision, which makes it feel a bit like she did what she did so she could feel good about herself rather than because it was the best thing to do? Being selfless doesn't mean COMPLETELY ignoring your own needs, or justify using your good deed as an excuse to have a poor attitude. Of course, considering that half her traits that Ed notices and marvels over are actually fairly normal, I don't think any of us feel a strong need to trust his assessments of her character.

Next up is CHAPTER THREE: RISK. I'm sure it will feature Edward being very level-headed and undramatic. I think I need to build my endurance back up for this one. (And thanks for the likes and comments so far, they really help keep me motivated! =D)

Chapter 3->

#River reads midnight sun #twilight #vampires #edward cullen #bella swan #satire #literary analysis maybe? #My word there are 29 chapters and an epilogue #Lend me your strength yall #River reviews

[mydaroga]

So what did you think of Tune In as a whole? Did you feel that Lewisohn was somewhat biased in the way he chose to frame/ present certain events?

That's the recurring topic of debate, isn't it? And, I think, an important one. I'm glad, for example, that AKOM is doing their series outlining their issues with the book, because I definitely have become concerned about how, in certain quarters, this book is lauded as the ultimate testament of Beatles history.

And not without reason. It took me a few tries to get hooked, but I really did enjoy reading it. I loved all the context and detail, and the historical research Lewisohn has done is tremendous and so, so valuable. Early Beatles history was covered by pop critics and journalists, and it's high time we started holding this story to historical standards.

(I'm sorry, this is gonna get long, but you knew that if you're asking me.)

But I do have qualms about this book. (Don't get me wrong--I think sometimes, especially on Tumblr, those arguments can be overdone. He's by far not the worst.) I am not a historian, or an expert, but I know that no one is without bias. And ML's constant refrain that he's free of such things and totally objective is belied not just by his being a human, but by other statements he's made in public. The danger here is less the fact he's biased, and more the fact he's convinced himself he isn't. He seems to have decided that his opinion is actually verifiable fact, and if only we were as keen observers as he, we'd know it, too. And that is worrisome.

I don't think it's necessarily conscious, which is even more dangerous. And I don't think any one instance of this in the book is that egregious--you could talk me out of caring about any number of them. It's the aggregate that creates a picture that comes off as less than objective. Off the top of my head, this arises in a few different ways. 1) He picks and chooses what to include, even from the sources we know he is already using. 2) He mashes quotes up from different sources, making context blurry and inherently creating new contexts via juxtaposition. 3) He misapplies quotes from one subject onto others, which may be useful when you don't have a quote for a specific thing but is spurious at best when you're using a reference about someone's character in one instance to a totally other instance. 4) He seems to have taken certain statements at face value and applied them to an overall picture of a person, such as when he uses Paul's statement about "looking like a poet" or whatever and applies it to numerous statements about Paul just sort of faking being arty, or when he applies John's reference to confronting the Maharishi to John taking control in every single situation ever. He's using quotes to support whatever he wants, and he's doing it without cluing in the reader that we're now in the realm of analysis.

Essentially, I think his research and notating and all that are stellar and super important. I think his prose is, if not highest quality, quite readable. But I have no doubt at all that he also is making assumptions, judgments, and leaps that aren't there and passing them off as factual, not speculative or interpretive. And I think that's dangerous given that he's currently lauded as the foremost authority on Beatliana.

But what do you think? I'd love to know.

#happy to clarify anything #i love talking about this stuff #obviously #thanks for asking! #kris talks a lot #kris reads Tune In