#Thought this was posted but apparently not

[firstkanaphans]

🖤🤍

[motorsportbarbie13]

The Yapping Hour is Upon Us - Theo's First Race

Having a child changes Max in a way he never could have predicted.

warnings: none, this is 100% self indulgent fluff. Pairing: max verstappen x podcaster!reader word count: 3.1k words

yourusername posted

459,029 likes liked by maxverstappen1, assistantshannon, jennythenanny, and others yourusername texas will always hold a special place in my heart. last year, we learned i was pregnant for the fourth time with what we hoped was our miracle baby. this year we get to bring that miracle baby to the track with us for the very first time. my entire heart is so full watching this all come full circle. i cannot wait to show theo how amazing his daddy is when he gets in that car. maxverstappen1 my two favorite people here this weekend. i can already tell this is going to a good race <3 user0198 i cannot handle the amount of dad max content we get. user111 max carrying Theo kangaroo style in a baby carrier??? sobbing rn >>>user0019 SERIOUSLY jennythenanny ah! so excited to be with you guys this weekend!!! >>>yourusername theo is so excited to be back with his bestie! >>>jennythenanny eeeee! cannot wait! >>>user020 why is this the cutest exchange i've ever read

“Maybe we should leave Theo here with Jenny today instead? Max says, concern settling into the corners of his eyes. 

You look over at him, eyebrow raised, from your seat on the floor of the hotel suite. In front of you, five month old Theo is on his tummy staring up at you with his signature gummy little grin. The three of you were in Texas for the US GP, which was supposed to be Theo’s first time in the paddock but apparently, your husband was having second thoughts. 

“What? Why?” You ask, confused. 

Max had checked the weather (multiple times) this morning and had declared that it wasn’t going to be too hot for Theo to be out and about. The sun was out and there was a gentle breeze whispering through the trees outside your hotel room. Max was leading the championship for the first time this season and he was starting on pole. COTA was historically a really good track for him and you were confident in his chances at winning. Plus, COTA meant a lot to you. It was right here in this very hotel that you had found out you were pregnant with the little elf that was babbling up at you right now. 

Max wrings his hands together, casting a worried glance down at his two favorite people in the world. With how dramatic Theo had come into the world so early, Max had found himself being a little extra protective over him. And you for that matter. He had refused to hear any talk about bringing Theo to the track before this weekend and after seeing all of the crowds at the track yesterday for the practice and sprint qualifying, he was having second thoughts 

“There were just so many people and I don’t want him to get lost.” 

You chuckle before reaching forward to take Theo in your arms. Standing up, you cross the room to where Max stands and hand him his son. Max instinctively reaches out, cuddling Theo to his chest. Watching Max become a dad over the last five and a half months had been one of the most rewarding things you’d ever been privileged to witness. He had slipped into the dad role so effortlessly it had surprised Max, probably due to his own childhood and difficult past with his father. You weren’t surprised though. You had known the moment that Theo was born that Max had been born to be a father. It really was that simple. 

“Baby, he can’t walk. He won’t get lost, I promise he’ll never be out of his sling for more than five minutes.”

“No one holds him other than you and Jenny?” 

You blow out a breath, unsurprised at how he’s gone into papa bear mode. You had seen it on his face yesterday during sprint qualifying. He had surveyed the paddock crowds with a deeper than usual frown on his face, making comments whenever he heard an errant cough or someone clear their throat. ‘Cesspool of germs’ was a phrase he used more than once, now that you thought you it. 

“Yes, my love. He will stay in the sling with me and Jenny no matter what. I have his ear defenders here too and we’ll keep to hospitality. But I know he’d love to see where daddy works. You know how much the sound of those engines sooth him.” 

Max pokes a finger into Theo’s chubby cheek, cooing nonsense at him as Theo giggles back. His mind flickered back to one particularly hard night right after you had brought him home from the hospital during the summer break. Theo had been a bit of a colicky baby back then and the hours between 1 and 3 am were often the worst. He would scream and cry for hours, unable to be soothed back to sleep despite all of his needs being met. This night, in particular, was difficult and you had been on hour four of trying to get him to settle. In a desperate attempt to try something, anything that might work, Max had turned on an old race, but just the ambient sounds of one of his wins from YouTube, without any commentators voices. The sounds of the engines revving had instantly calmed Theo down. 

Both you and Max had stood there in your apartment, lights dark with the exception of the glow emanating from the tv in front of you, as Theo had stared unblinkingly at the television, tears still puddled in his little neck folds, but totally quiet and enthralled. 

Max’s eyes dart over to yours and you smile, reaching out a hand to touch his elbow. “I know you’re nervous, baby but Theo will be fine. He’s going to have so much fun, and I know once you get to the paddock with him in your arms, you will too.” 

He sighs, knowing that you’re right. You usually are when it comes to matters involving Theo. “Okay, but first person to cough on him gets banned from the paddock.” 

The Miami sprint race had been your first race all those years ago when Max had swept you off your feet that very first weekend he flew you to him so it seemed fitting that Theo’s first trip to a race was also a sprint race weekend. Max parked the sensible but giant Ford Explorer that he had insisted on driving this weekend in his designated spot before hopping out, telling you not to move. 

You giggle to yourself, amused that even after all this time, Max still insisted that you never touched a door handle while he was with you. Even on hectic days like these, you and Theo were always in the front of his mind. 

When Max opens your door, his hand immediately finds yours as he helps you out of the tall car. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” He asks, dropping a kiss onto your forehead before moving to the back seat to get Theo from his carseat. 

“I’m so excited to be back, it feels like it’s been forever.” 

Which was true. After Theo had been born, he had needed to stay in the NICU for quite a while. Max had nearly missed the race in Spain the weekend after Monaco because he had refused to leave your side. In the end, it had been Daniel that had convinced him that missing Spain would be detrimental to his championship hopes. Max trusted Daniel with his life and knew that his friend, someone who he knew had a good head on his shoulders, wouldn’t give him bad advice. He knew what missing a race would mean to everyone on the team and back at the factory. 

He had won the race with a 15 second lead. 

Your credentials hang heavy around your neck as you pull the diaper bag out of the back of the car, Theo already nestled securely in Max’s arms. It always made you chuckle, the way Max always seemed to have Theo. You swore whenever he was around, that baby never touched the floor or his crib. 

The pressure in your chest squeezes as you watch Max tote his little boy towards the paddock entrance. Both you and Max had made a conscious decision to keep Theo’s face out of your social media, with the exception of very carefully curated images that you and Max tightly controlled so this was the first time Theo would be photographed by anyone but you and Max. You knew the fans, both yours and Max’s, wanted to see Theo and you hoped that bringing him into the paddock despite him being so young was well received and a positive experience. 

“Max! Who’ve you got there?” A photographer yells the moment Max scans his badge at the paddock entrance. Several photographers are standing by the gates, waiting on the driver arrivals. Max is dressed in his team kit, of course, and you’ve got your traditional navy blue on, today in the form of a loose maxi dress that would allow you to maneuver while caring for Theo during the race. Even Theo had a Red Bull onesie on with gray shorts pulled on over his chubby little legs. 

“The best team mascot in the paddock.” Max jokes, a smile crinkling at the corner of his eyes as he pauses to show off a now giggling Theo. 

Your heart catches in your chest when you see the look of pure happiness on your husband’s face. There were few things that brought out a smile that bright on Max and the fact that him showing off your baby to the world was one of those things had your heart hammering in your chest. You watched as Max showed Theo off to several of the photographers and Red Bull staff members, seemingly forgetting all about his hesitations from earlier. Theo loved it too, the sights and smells and sounds were so much for him to take in and he was so content to be in his daddy’s arms just taking it all in. 

“Mon petit lion!” A voice rings out as the three of you walk towards Red Bull’s garage. You grin, watching as Charles fusses over Max refusing to give up custody of Theo but eventually relents. “Give me my godson, you heartless man. Keeping the poor little man away from the track for five months! Horrific!” 

“He’s a literal infant, Charles.” Max argues, a full on pout popping out of his full bottom lip. You suddenly have to quell the urge to bite it, he looks so handsome. 

“Your gorgeous wife told me how much he loves the sound of my Ferrari.” Charles argues back, bouncing Theo up and down, eliciting a peal of giggles tumbling from your baby’s lips. 

Max shoots you a glare that has ‘you’re a traitor’ written all over it. All you do is reach up on your toes to peck him on those full lips of his, completely ignoring the annoyed look he still regards you with. 

“It was the sound of my Red Bull that calmed him the first time.” 

“Keep telling yourself that, Max.” Charles chuckles before handing Theo back to you, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. “I’m so glad you two are here, the paddock ins’t the same without you.”  

“Thank you Charles.” You say, cuddling Theo into your shoulder just a little tighter. 

As the three of you continue on, your final destination being the garage so Max can check on the car, your pace is just a bit quicker than Max’s. He watches you for just a moment, the way Theo’s chubby arms wrap tightly around your neck as he takes in the buzzing activity of the paddock. His heart squeezes fiercely at the way your hips sway back and forth as you carry his baby on your hip. This was how it was always meant to be: his wife and his child at his side while he worked. He had always pictured this day in a way that always seemed like it would come sometime in the future. That was the strange thing about how life progressed. Suddenly, some day is here and you’re watching your wife cuddle your miracle baby. When Max thinks of that afternoon in London all those years ago when he made his way into the recording studio to be on some silly little podcast, he had no idea that this was where that interview would lead but here he was, every single one of the fantasies he had dared to hope for right in front of him. 

You turn back to Max, sensing that he’s fallen quite a bit behind. The look of awe on your husbands face as he watches you has your heart aching. You knew that the past few months had been hard on Max. He hated being away from you, had even tried to float the idea of retiring mid-season. You had flatly refused, saying that everyone in the factory and the garage was counting on him and eventually, he had agreed. But you knew being here was a balm to his lonely heart and you were wildly happy that Theo was finally old enough to accompany Max on this triple header. 

But looking at the way his eyes shined with unshed tears as he stands stock still in the middle of the paddock, just staring after what you know is his entire world, you feel something lock into place. Something that you’re going to have to discuss with him later tonight. 

“Come on, Maxie.” You call as you hoist Theo up higher on your hip. “You’ve got a meeting with Horner and I don’t want him yelling at me because you’re late.” 

Max seems to snap out of the trance he’s in then and chuckles. “Christian is terrified of you, liefje. He’d never yell.” 

You shrug, “I suppose you’re right.” 

Max slips his fingers into yours before giving them a squeeze. “Come on, let’s introduce the little lion to the garage.” 

Max wins the sprint that day, just like the first sprint you watched him win all those years ago. The nostalgia you felt watching him pull up into that first parc ferme spot had something twisting deep in your stomach. It was so satisfying watching Max do what he loved while you held his little boy in your arms. 

It was a whirlwind of media after his win and then he was swept off for race debrief before qualifying for the Grand Prix the next day. By the time Theo’s bedtime rolled around, Max was still busy in engineering meetings. You sent him a quick text telling him you were taking Theo back to the hotel to put him down. Max had wanted to tell you to wait, he’d be right there, but he had known this wasn’t true. He knew that it was going to take several more hours to wrap up all his duties on the track so he reluctantly agreed. 

This was the part of racing he hated. The late nights, the long flights to every corner of the world except to where it mattered most, the danger that lurked on the track. He hated being away from you, had always hated being away from you. Despite his reservations about you quitting your job all before you had gotten pregnant with Theo, he was glad that you had spent those few years traveling with him. It wasn’t about the fact that you ‘followed him around’ like some publications liked to taunt. It was the fact that Max was able to do what he loved while providing for his family and keep you close at the same time. 

But things had shifted when Theo had been born and his priorities had changed. Having you at the track wasn’t an option anymore, not with how little Theo was. And even now, at 5 months old, he knew that this wasn’t sustainable. The options of what to do after this season all played in his head as he got into the car late that night to head back to the hotel. He knew he had a big decision to make, one that had been many years coming. 

It’s dark by the time Max fishes the keycard to the hotel room out of his back pocket. You have a two bedroom suite booked this weekend so he’s not worried about waking Theo, although he still holds out a little hope that he might be awake. It’s been hours since Max has seen him and the only thing worse than being away from you for an extended period of time is being away from both of you. 

The door whispers open and Max spots you laying down on the couch, staring blankly at the tv in front of you. On the coffee table sits the baby monitor and a bottle of wine. 

When you hear the door snick closed, you pick your head up, blinking sleepily towards the door. “You’re home.” You whisper, sitting up so Max can join you on the couch. 

He immediately pulls you into his lap, nuzzling deep into your neck. “I’m home.” He breathes, letting your perfume settle over his senses like a warm, familiar blanket. 

“I’m so proud of you. Sprint win and P3 for tomorrow.” 

“Thank you, schatje. How was your night? How’s the baby?” 

You hum softly, your lips finding Max’s in the dark. They’re warm and inviting and everything that sets your soul on fire. You’re fairly certain that you’ll still feel this way when you’re 90 years old kissing Max late at night. “He’s good. Just finished his last bottle of the night, went down like a champ.” 

“That’s my boy. I’m sorry I missed bedtime tonight.” 

You pull away so you can look at Max’s clear blue eyes. You’re a little surprised to see a bit of sadness sitting in those baby blues you love so much. “It’s okay baby. He did just fine without you.” 

Max frowns before pulling you closer. “And that’s what breaks my heart. I don’t want him to grow up without me.” 

You chuckle, “Oh, Max. He’s not going to grow up without you. If you really want, you can do the middle of the night feeding. He’ll be up in a few hours anyway.” 

Max nods, he usually did those late night feedings anyway. He loved the way the entire world was hushed and asleep. He felt cocooned in the most calming way and those nights where it was just him and Theo were some of his favorite. 

Silence stretches out between you. Your heartbeat matches up with Max’s eventually and your eyes get a little heavy with his warmth pressed up against you. You’d missed this kind of calm presence that Max brought to your life. It was always there, of course, but sometimes it was a little further than you liked during the season. Having him here now was so soothing, making you feel like you could conquer anything that came your way. 

After a few quiet moments, Max’s deep voice finally breaks the silence. 

“I think I’m done after this season, liefje.” 

You’d had this conversation countless times over the years, so much so that the words don't even make your heart race anymore. There’s something different in Max’s voice tonight, though. He sounds tired, worked over, resigned. Like the years spent on the road are finally catching up to him and you know, deep in your chest that it’s time. 

“I know, Max.” You whisper, dropping your forehead to his before brushing a kiss against his nose. “Come home to us. Theo and I are ready to have you all to ourselves now.” 

And that's exactly what happens.

maxverstappen1 posted

5,039,504 likes liked by yourusername, redbullracing, f1, and others maxverstappen1 this sport has been part of my life for most of my time here on earth. i started in karting not long after i started walking. motorsport brought me to the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. 7 championships. the love of my life. my child. this sport has brought me to all of the most important milestones of my life. but all good things must come to an end. i've achieved everything i set out to do all those years ago and my priorities have shifted. at the end of may, i became a father and suddenly that pull to retirement got stronger. @/username knows how many times i threatened to quit mid-season so it wasn't a surprise to her when i came to her after texas and told her it was time. after twelve seasons racing in the pinnacle of motorsport, i'm officially announcing my retirement. to my team, thank you. you have forever shaped who i am. to my wife, i love you. you are all the good things in this world and i am so lucky you chose me to be your husband. to my theo, you changed me in a way no one else has. being your dad is the most important job i've ever had. i can't wait to watch you grow into the person you're destined to become. to my fans, thank you. your devotion means the absolute world to me and i would not have made it to where i am today. thank you, from the bottom of my heart. yourusername theo and i are so so proud of you. welcome home, my love. >>>user9292 *sobbing* charlesleclerc congratulations on a lifetime of acheivments. can't wait to see what you do now, my friend!! lando congrats GOAT. excited to finally not be asked 'how does it feel to lose to max verstappen?' EVER AGAIN >>>charlesleclerc now it'll be 'how does it feel to lose to charles???' >>>lando stfu redbullracing we're not crying, you're crying!!! lewishamilton you will be missed, max. enjoy retirement with that gorgeous family of yours!

Tag List: @shelbyteller, @martygraciesversion381, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @linnygirl09 @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream @daemyratwst @dramaticpiratellamas @mochimommy2002 @llando4norris @iamaunknownsecret @maxivstappen @imlonelydontsendhelp @nina-or-anna-or-nora @a1leexxa @littlegrapejuice @sunflowervol18 @freyathehuntress @finn-dot-com @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @chirasama @lauralarsen @dr3wstarkey @saskiaalonso @rbv3rstappen @ilovechickenwings @guaaafiiburg @mcmuppet @mindless-rock @piastri-fvx @mel164 @schumi-angel @myescapefromthislife @supertrashbread @sunny44 @tinystudentblaze-stuff @sarx164 @lestapiastrisgirl

[avelera]

(Arcane Meta) The Hexcore was already controlling Viktor in S1

As a follow-up to my post about how the Hexcore's control over Viktor in S2 is probably best compared to the One Ring from Lord of the Rings, in that it magically amplifies desires but to what extent its manipulations could be confused with free will is very hard to determine, I wanted to offer this piece of comparison to Lord of the Rings as further evidence that Viktor is under some level of control from the Hexcore as early as S1.

I was fortunate enough to take a course on Tolkien's works in college and there's one point our professor made that stuck with me. He pointed out that Frodo was always doomed to fail at casting the One Ring into Mt. Doom because he was already unable to do so back at Bag End, before he'd even spent significant time with the Ring.

It's less apparent in the show than in the book, so here's the quote,

"To Frodo's astonishment and distress the wizard threw it suddenly into the middle of a glowing corner of the fire. Frodo gave a cry and groped for the tongs; but Gandalf held him back."

Though his time with the Ring has only barely just begun, already Frodo is distressed at the thought of harm coming to the Ring and is trying to save it, before he even stepped out his door. How then was he ever supposed to throw it into the fire of Mt. Doom after having spent months in close proximity to it?

Well, this moment reminds me rather strikingly of this one:

This is only S1, the corruption of the Hexcore has only spread to Viktor's hands and leg, but it has also just killed Sky right in front of Viktor. He has been weeping on the ground, mourning her when he then resolves to destroy it and rises up, brandishing the stool.

Unlike Frodo, who had no idea what the Ring was at that point and still was distressed by the idea of harm coming to it, Viktor just saw the Hexcore kill someone right in front of him. And yet, like Frodo, he can't bring himself to harm it.

The Hexcore then actually physically shies away from the stool, which is where I get the notion at least that it is sentient, and then because Viktor had the audacity to raise a hand to it and fail to follow through, it knocks him out like a light:

This is why Viktor has to beg Jayce to destroy the Hexcore, and even there he can barely get the words out, and he only makes this request while far away from the lab and the Hexcore.

I would argue that the reason he doesn't explain more to Jayce there is because he might even be unable to, even asking that much might have been a strain. Or, I'll admit, perhaps there's any number of human reasons he didn't, like shame and fear.

Shame and fear that is of course gone by the time the Hexcore has consumed him when he finally tells Jayce what happened to Sky.

I would argue that the look of hopelessness and disappointment on Viktor's face when he decides to leave Jayce isn't because of the weapons blueprints he might have spotted on the lab table. Or at least, it's not only that.

Personally, I see that as Viktor knowing that he was now so physically consumed by the Hexcore he had no hope at all of fighting it anymore. To quote Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde, "I knew myself, at the first breath of this new life, to be more wicked, tenfold more wicked, sold a slave to my original evil..."

So when people ask why Viktor is suddenly going along with everything the Hexcore wants, when before he wanted to destroy it, I would argue this: because it was already infecting him in S1 and in S1 he realized this and begged Jayce to destroy it because he knew it could stop him from doing so already. But because he was unwilling, or unable, to tell Jayce more about why he wanted it destroyed, Jayce instead defied his very strange request and used it to save Viktor's life as they had originally planned.

From that point on, I would argue, Viktor is under the thrall of the Hexcore and is carrying out its virus-like desire to spread itself and grow. I mean, just look at him, it now has consumed nearly every part of his body except his face. By the end, it has taken that from him as well.

Viktor might still have his own intelligence on top of it, but how much is very much the topic of ongoing debate. For the man to say that there is always a choice to suddenly say that there is no choice, the man who tried to destroy the Hexcore now freely spreading its power, and who once lashed out at the very notion of the use of Hextech as weapons making his own army of apex Hextech robots and using the Hexclaw against Jayce, and who looks so horrified at what he has done once the Hexcore's shell has been broken off of him by Ekko's bomb and Jayce's revelations, I would argue that we should assume at least some level of control was overpowering Viktor for much of S2, and that is exactly the fate he was trying to avoid in S1.

[anistarrose]

kind of obsessed with the notes on this one

[ID: collection of tags reading:

i thought this was a shitpost but then i went into the notes and this is about pokemon apparently

(all caps) oh this was about pokemon.

this is about pokemon???

apparently this is pokemon. but sometimes a good post is just a good post

this in stars and time/deltarune/undertale fanfic goes crazy

i thought this was a random post wait. pokeoemn???

(all caps) it's *pokemon!?!?*

having just binged malevolent twice in a row i immediately assumed this was some kind of shitpost about kayne. i was Not prepared to look at the notes and learn that it was pokemon. what. wtf is going on over there

prev i checked the OG post is pokemon. (caps) IDK whats happening in pokemon RN hell

LMAO. his pet flower who he vaporized those people for is also there

if you told me yesterday AZ was gonna be a tumblr sexyman hotelier within 24 hours I'd have called you a liar

End ID.]

Walked into the local marriott and guess who was behind the front desk. yuuuuuuup. the immortal king of legend who vaporized so many people it permanently fucked up the timeline.

[cynicalneoprincessism]

A Hole/Courtney Love/Kinderwhore inspired drag look I wore for a drag friend's birthday cabaret last year where I did a silly little feminine rage number~

Apparently some girl copied this look like a week after I posted it on tiktok and thought nobody would notice, but someone did notice and told on them to me lol

[itz-queenayt]

Hear Me Out Cake

HMO = Hear me out.

I got so lazy...

Also inspired by : @plumipal

I'm sorry it's not that good cause I'm so lazy.

My leg hurts :(

One day you decided to invite the Adeuce over to Ramshackle, they're your friends after all! Plus you did ask them if they wanted to do a hear me out cake, and who doesn't know what hear me out cakes are, well these guys apparently (except idia).

As soon as the duo arrived, you explained the rules to them, unaware of their true thoughts, you decided to go first to demonstrate how the game works.

It was silent in the room for roughly around 5 minutes, until you decided to speak up, that was when the two started arguing, until they agreed to go at the same time.

As the two went at the same time, they had placed a photo of someone who looked awfully like you.

Ace: how did we fall for someone this naive

Deuce: there's no we in this situation, she obviously is just in denial.

Note: Azul birthday post is gonna be super late...

[podraje]

3. Pamiętaj, abyś dzień święty święcił

[bledyn]

hey, I have already posted here once and I don't know if I count for this, but I need help.

I am a trans asexual and lesbian person and I have 22yo rn and I need some support because I don't know what to do. I need to find the money and finish a huge medical payment for myself and I am having panic attacks after panic attacks because it seems like everything is stacked against me. I feel pretty broken rn because I found a job (it doesn't pay much but is something at least) but apparently I won't be doing that for long; i have mobility and back issues and apparently i cannot even stand for long without pain and the hours are awful for me when I have to work the nights because I am also depressed and I've been medicated for not even a year and breaking my sleep schedule like that, going to sleep again after 1am, will have repercussion.

I need money for this medical payment, I need money for my psychiatrist and my meds, I need money for my savings (that are gone now) because I want to leave my abusive home. I feel pretty untethered and I can't seem to see a way out, but I remembered this post and I thought to try again.

I hope someone will help, even a little, and I would be really grateful for that if it happens. Who knows, maybe I just needed the help of (my) community.

My ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/bledyn

My paypal: paypal.me/bledyn

Thanks in advance if anyone helps, at least I tried.

How about we just have like... hey trans people, post your pay links or wishlist or whatever you got. No limits, no trans excluded, intersex welcome, any and all genders off the social conventions included. I'll just reblog em a bunch.

I need a reblog to share your info, please use those, not comments or tags. I try to reblog immediately every instance I see between 10am and 10pm, everything else goes into the queue.

Additionally, Reddit has some donation resources, which are outlined and linked in this post. However, there are potential difficulties associated with these resources, with more details in this post.

Potentially useful links as I find them: Guide to Fundraising.

[shy-taylorsversion]

Bite That Old Man

moodboard for the vibes ; reader has no physical description

Summary - She wants to bite Joel. for some reason, he lets her.

Warnings - biting, teeth, no actual smut, one mention of a boob (plus nipple!!) other wise no physical description, language, age gap in my head but not actually mentioned. heavy kissing. 3rd person pov

word count -1.3k

a/n - this being the first Joel fic I've posted is insane. this entire thing is sooo silly to me but I wrote it in one sitting and well, here ya go I guess.

   She wanted to bite him, maybe wrap her arms around him and squeeze. 

 She didn’t even mean it that way, nothing sexual. Well, maybe a little. It was only a fleeting, absent thought. Something that flitted through her mind that morning as they had breakfast. Following the revelation, Joel Miller was fucking adorable. 

  She wasn’t sure how she missed it this long. The way his hair would curl and fall across his forehead, the honey-glow of his eyes in the sunlight that would make her heart ache, she knew that. The heat that ran through her when his jaw clenched or the muscles of his back flexed when he peeled off his shirt, golden skin slick with sweat from the beating sun that she so badly wanted to lick off. Oh, she knew that. 

   But the giddy bubbling in her chest, she never let that take hold - never felt it hit so suddenly. 

   He sat across from her at the kitchen table, listening to Ellie’s joke. Shaking his head, failing to repress the smile that pulled across his face - the apple of his cheeks pushing up and eyes crinkling. 

      Ellie and Joel resumed their meal but she kept staring long after the moment passed. Focused on sipping his coffee, he was oblivious to her eyes.   Still focused on his face, trying to will herself to calm the school-girl crush threatening to consume her. 

      “Why’re you being weird?” Ellie said, mouth full as she swatted her on the arm with the hand not shoveling eggs into her mouth. She jerked back, breaking her trance and looking at the girl. 

       “I’m not”  It came out too rushed. Her voice was too high, guilty. She’d always been a shit liar, everyone knew it. Face burning, she looked away and busied herself with her drink.        

  “Ellie.” Joel warned.  

 “I’m not the one staring at you like you’re the meal.”  

       “Ellie” 

 “I’m out.” She stood from the table, all teenage attitude and snark. Mumbling under her breath as she walked out. “You guys are fucking gross.”

She had half the mind to beg her to stay, just to avoid being alone but it would’ve been worse. Ellie never filtered her thoughts - much to her current dismay and apparently Joel’s by the way he was looking at her. 

  “I wasn’t being weird.” Damn it.   

He didn’t respond, face blank and bored as he chewed his last bite. Asshole was siking her out, he’d done it before. The silence stressed her and he knew it. Figured it out the first time she lied to him, the day they met and she said she wasn’t armed. Shit liar, horrible under pressure. When she decided to stick around, a very serious conversation was had about not being a dumbass. She was lucky she made it this far in the fucking apocalypse. 

  The way he was staring at her, gaze gripping hers. She was fucked. It had her picking her cuticles, and anxiety replaced the dopey, girly feeling. She wanted to rip her hair out or dart for her bedroom.   

   “You’re cute” The words tumbled out. Hands flew to her mouth like she was stopping any more from falling out. 

 His eyebrows shot up, shock covered his face for a split second before he was nodding. He still didn’t talk, sipping his coffee again. Shit. 

   “And I want to bite you. Wanted.”  She was going to die. She groaned, burying her face in her arms. He was going to kick her out, call her a weird bitch and tell her to pack her things.

  She heard the clink of his mug against the table, the scrap of his chair against the floor but he never stood. She peeked over her arm. 

   Joel sat, legs spread and arms crossed. 

“C’mere then.”  

“What?”  Her head shot up. He couldn’t be serious, he was. Her hands were covering her face again. “You’re making fun of me.” 

   “No ‘M not, darlin’.” He patted his thighs. Oh god. “C’mon.” 

Her face was searing as she stood, bare feet against the cold wooden floor she padded over to him. Stopping next to him, she looked up to meet his eyes. A glint of amusement passed through them though there was something else. He motioned for her to sit on his lap. When she didn’t move fast enough, his hands were on her waist pulling her down and knocking the breath out of her. 

    They’ve never been this close. Warmth radiated from where they touched. Knees bracketed his thighs, not sitting down completely holding onto his neck to prevent her from tipping them off the chair. 

  She was a whirlwind of emotion, an amalgamation of everything she felt in his presence for years. Her heart was aching with affection and beating in her ears, a slight heat simmering low within her from where they were pressed together, and that giddy feeling, that primal urge to sink her teeth into him bloomed in her chest again. 

  “Where?”  His head tipped back, gazing at her before his hands slid down to rest on her hips, pulling her down the rest of the way. She inhaled at the new contact. Brows knit in confusion when she processed the question.

   What was he- Oh. 

        Where.  

She lifted her hand from his neck and circled his cheek with her fingertip, barely breathing. 

   “Go for it, baby.” The corners of his mouth twisted into a half-grin “” M all yours.” 

She groaned desire and embarrassment fluttering through her. Her head hit his shoulder and she buried her face in his neck. This was mortifying. She didn’t understand why he was entertaining her weirdness. 

  “Joel-” She mumbled in an almost whine, feeling his pulse jump when her lips brushed skin.  “This is stupid.” 

For a moment, calloused fingers moved across the skin between her shorts and the top that had ridden up, calm and reassuring. Only breaths filled the room as the morning sun filtered through. Then he tapped for her to sit up. She pulled back, hands resting on her knees. 

   “I can’t.” She shook her head, hands going back over her face. He peeled them away by her wrist and pinned them to his chest. 

 “You can.”  He was smiling at her, a real true teeth-showing smile that reached his eyes and had his cheeks all full. 

She exhaled a laugh, embarrassment waning as she realized he really did want her to and she let herself go. Leaning forward until they were nose to nose, she grinned as his smile grew and giggled. Moving to the right, she let her teeth graze the skin of his cheek. 

     Something ignited in her. 

Hands braced on his shoulders, she nipped at his stubbled jaw down to his neck, teeth catching his earlobe. His head dropped backward as she bit at his throat, teeth just hard enough to leave an impression, tongue darting out against to soothe the mark. 

   A strangled mix of a laugh and a grunt escaped him. His hands trailed up from her hips to her waist, raking her shirt up and stopping when his thumb grazed the underside of her breast. She gasped when he paused, waiting for her permission. She nodded against his neck, inhaling the faint scent of his soap mixed with something she could only describe as Joel. His hand slipped underneath her shirt, fingers brushing against her nipple eliciting another gasp - feeling it pebbled under his touch. 

     She was a panting, desperate mess when their lips met, a clash of teeth and tongue and years of repressed tension. He licked into her mouth, nose brushing against her cheek, hand on the small of her back pressing her flush with him. A ragged breath escaped her as she broke for breath, foreheads pressing together. 

       “Christ, I told you.” Ellie’s voice rang from the doorway, hands covering her eyes. “You guys are fucking gross.”

[orphee-aux-enfers]

@miggyluv your post is singlehandedly helping combat the last 510 and a bit days.

Non obligatory ramble under the cut but in short form: thank you so much for giving me a little bit of faith back in humanity.

My spouse is a UK citizen. I have lived about half of my life here via various set-ups. I l love the UK and thought it was my favourite place I'd ever lived, though I've yet to actually meet residency requirements due to visa types/tiers.

My current visa started 01 October 2023. Due to the holidays, we delayed our return from visiting family back to the UK, after a few months, away until 13 October 2023. Then 7 October happened. We were afraid to fly but needed to return or I'd forfeit my visa.

Arriving in the country was tragic in many ways. It was my spouse and I, and a bunch of shell-shocked, visibly Jewish people swamping Heathrow. We all looked so downtrodden, even the children who were the only people to smile at my spouse and I (other than a very excited border control agent who had never personally seen my current visa). Adults were trying to pretend that if we all just ignored each other we'd be less noticeable. I think it just made us all more miserable.

But, we arrived back in a place we'd called home for a While, sad, grieving, but we at first saw a lot of support for both sides initially -- and then it shifted. And since late October 2023, has ramped up, including our synagogue being regularly vandalised and protested. We no longer attend due to risk.

We lost most friends in January 2024 when we finally broached the subject with them and received that we were "far right" for supporting both an Israeli and a Palestinian state (aka a two state solution, historically something considered moderate). We've moved to a new town now, to escape the weekly to daily protests which could become at times quite hostile and now have escalated to full Holocaust inversion on a daily basis.

In our new flat, we've switched to DVDs and officially do not pay for a licence which funds the BBC, because of the most recent issues. I personally am bereft about this as the BBC was how I was taught to read the news, as a reliable global news source to compare back to. I don't trust them for anything, not now. So hearing it from you, too, not just other Jews? Revolutionary to my world view. I'm so sorry it comes with what Jews face for questioning the BBC for you as well. It isn't easy, and especially when it's your family, it's especially difficult. I think for me this makes your post all the more meaningful.

I was genuinely beginning to think no one would grow positively, only negatively, on this issue. I've experienced even British Jews refuse to engage with us because we are Mizrahi to them (though we're a mix due to a mix of heritage), and Mizrahi means Israeli to specifically young British Jews, and this is, to a small amount of them, apparently the most heinous evil.

Your attitude seems rare, or is rare in my life, and it is so, so meaningful to see. So, this is all to say, genuinely thank you for giving me this little bit of faith back. I had lost it, and I have needed it desperately, especially in the last few days.

I stopped wearing my Star of David. You've inspired me to try again in our new town. Thank you for that, too.

The moment for thinking “what would I have done in Germany before and during Hitler’s reign” is over. Look back over the past two years. What did you do? What did you think and feel?

Did your opinion about Jews change?

If you went from supporting all Jews to thinking that a least some Jews, (namely “Zionists” or “Israelis”) deserve suffering, exile, and/or death, then you fell for modern antisemitic propaganda, and you would’ve fallen for it in Nazi Germany, too.

Maybe you would blink if the police today started rounding up the Jews in your neighborhood, or smashing synagogues, or arresting Jews off the streets. But would you feel better about it if they call them Zionists or Israelis? They’re not arresting “good Jews”, they’re arresting Zionists, to make them pay for their crimes.

It’s not too late to fix that, though. You can come back from being sucked into antisemitism. You can do better going forward.

[veephoenix]

guys, this is just a reminder that making gifs takes time. writing fanfiction takes time. creating fanart takes time. i'm saying this because i've seen a few gifs of mine being reposted and while i love to know you guys enjoy the content i post -whether they are gifs or stories or whatever- i think it's necessary to remind everyone, once in a while, that there's a ton of dedication put behind the scenes. i use photoshop to make gifs, and sometimes i spend over 30mins or more to make a gifset containing 4-6 gifs. i do this for my enjoyment first and foremost, but when you see it being reposted somewhere else without credit, it just feels... not nice.

if you come across a gif or gifset that makes you feel things or that you really enjoy, you can reblog it from the original source and write a caption, you can use tags, you can leave a comment or tag your fellow mutuals... it's that simple, and that way, you'll be giving the creators the visibility they deserve without devaluing someone's work.

and while i'm at it, same goes for fanfiction. i write because i need it; because it helps me understand myself, process my own thoughts and emotions; it helps me understand others; and i write because i enjoy it, the process of researching, getting better at expressing myself and everything else that comes with it. i share some of my writings here because apparently a bunch of you enjoy my little things (thank you, babes), but if you take a moment to think about how much time i've spent writing and editing what i post... well, it's a lot.

so please, support your creators. reblog, don't repost. leave a comment, send a message. appreciation is needed; it means the world to us. and we'll forever be grateful.

that's it, thanks for listening. ✨☺️ love you all x

[what-even-is-thiss]

There’s certain areas of the planet that can’t support very much large scale industry or civilization for one reason or another and it’s interesting to talk about those places but if you characterize them as empty people will understandably get mad because there’s usually people there even if at small scale. So I thought to myself well how empty this place is is important to what I’m talking about but I know there’s people there so I’ll mention them in passing so people don’t get mad but apparently this somehow makes people more mad and perhaps it’s my problem but I’m not entirely sure how to fix how I talk about this sort of thing in a way that both satisfies the people who live there and recognizes how empty these places are

And this is just a personal rant. If this post blows up and is taken wildly out of context, *fart noise in your general direction*

[dailylcy]

A DIFFERENT EQUATION - an anton lee oneshot

이찬영 “ ”the right side of my neck, still smells like you”

⊹₊⟡⋆ pairing. nerd!anton x popular girl!reader MINORS DNI

genre. smut 𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀 word count. 1.4k — a/n. first post of best month of the year!! ( bini seokie n toni bday month ) :3 ( also this is my first time writing smut pls forgive if its not that good i tried my best ) playlist i listened to while writing. playlist

synopsis. Anton Lee is a quiet genius, he’s probably more comfortable with equations than people — until the popular girl from his math class asks him for tutoring. What starts as a study session quickly turns into something else, proving that even the shyest nerds know how to take control.

warnings. unprotected sex‎ ( dont!! ), anton got a size kink, fingering in semi public ? tell me if i missed anything

the library was quiet, all you could hear was the faint rustle of pages and the occasional cough echoing through the room. Anton Lee —also known as Lee Chanyoung to those who cared enough — sat next to a table at the back, his nose buried in a thick calculus textbook. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, the part you couldn’t see was beneath the hood of his oversized gray sweatshirt. glasses on his nose, slipping slightly as he scribbled equations in his notebook, his long, slender fingers moving with precision. He wore loose black jeans, the ends brushing against his sneakers, and a faint flush colored his cheeks from the hot air. At 6’2, he towered over most people when standing, but seated like this, he seemed almost normal — a nerd in his natural state .

The faint scent of old books and polished wood filled the space, the late afternoon sun streaming through tall windows and casting golden streaks across the floor. Anton barely even noticed the world around him, lost in numbers and formulas, until a shadow fell over his page. He glanced up, and nearly dropped his pencil. it was you, the popular girl everyone whispered about since you joined — confident, smiley, and completely out of his league. Your hair was styled in loose waves, framing your face, and you wore a fitted crop top that hugged your curves, paired with a short pleated skirt that moved a little everytime you shifted your weight. The faint shimmer of lipgloss caught the light, and your presence always carried a subtle floral scent that cut through the musty library air.

“Hey, Anton” you said, your voice smooth and casual, like you hadn’t just flipped his entire world upside down by knowing his name. You leaned against the table, your hip brushing the edge of it, and he swallowed hard, his eyes darting to where your skirt rode up slightly, revealing some of your thigh. “I heard you’re like, a genius at math. and I’m totallyyyy failing calculus, so I thought I could use some help. You free?”

Anton’s mouth went dry. He pushed his glasses up, stuttering, he said “Uh, y-yeah, I mean, sure. I can help, I will help you.” His gaze lingered on you, your size difference even more apparent now that you were so close — he could see the way your body curved close up, how small you looked compared to him, and it sparked something deep in his chest. It was his kink that he’d never admit out loud, but it was there.

You slid into the chair beside him, scooting close enough that your knee brushed his under the table. “Great” you said, pulling out your textbook and flipping it open. “Let’s start with this chapter. I don’t get any of it!” Your tone was light, but there was something in your eyes that made his stomach twist.

He nodded, trying to focus as he Explained derivatives to you, his voice soft as always. But then your hand rested on his thigh — just a light touch at first, fingers brushing over the fabric of his jeans. He froze mid-sentence, his breath hitching. “Keep going” you whispered, your lips curving into a smirk as your hand slid higher, teasing him slowly. Anton’s heart pounding, his composure cracking as heat flooded his system. He glanced around — nobody was near you two, the stacks of books shielding you both from view — and then back at you, your gaze locked on his, daring him.

His hand trembled as it found your knee, sliding up your bare thigh until his fingers brushed the hem of your skirt. You didn’t flinch, not even once, instead, you parted your legs slightly, like an invitation he couldn’t ignore. “You’re gonna get us caught” he whispered, voice rougher than he intended, but he didn’t stop. His fingers slipped under your skirt, tracing the edge of your panties before pushing them aside. You were already wet, and he bit his lip hard to stifle a groan as he slid one finger inside you, then two, amazed at how tight you felt around him.

Your breath hitched, but you masked it with a cough, leaning forward as if studying the book. Anton’s free hand gripped the table’s edge, his knuckles white, while his other hand worked you slowly, his thumb circling around your clit with a precision that mirrored his math skills. The contrast drove him wild — your small frame squirming against his big one, the way you fit so perfectly around his fingers. “Anton” you whispered, voice shaky, “faster.” He listened immediately, his movements growing more intense, the slick sound barely audible over the library’s hum. Your hand clamped over your mouth as you came, thighs trembling, and he watched your face, mesmerized, as you unraveled for him.

“C’mon” he muttered, pulling his hand back and wiping it discreetly on his jeans. “My dorm. Now.” His tone left no room for argument, the shy nerd was now replaced by something hungrier. You nodded, grabbing your bag, and followed him out, panties full with your own release. the air between you filling with unspoken need.

Anton’s dorm was a small, cluttered space on the third floor of the campus residence hall. Posters of rock bands and a periodic table all over the walls, books stacked neatly on the desk. The bed was unmade, sheets tangled, and the faint scent of his cologne — something woody and clean — He locked the door behind you, turning to face you with a look that made your knees weak. That nerdy boy from your math class was long gone ; this Anton was all sharp with quiet intensity, where was he hiding all this?

He stepped closer, towering over you, and cupped your face with his hands -that you thought were bigger than your head- “You’re so fucking small” he muttered, almost to himself, his thumb brushing your lower lip. Then he kissed you — hard, messy, all teeth and tongue, like he’d been starving for it. You stumbled back toward the bed, and he followed your steps, taking off his sweatshirt to reveal a broad frame, his t-shirt clinging to his biceps.

He pushed you onto the mattress, climbing over you, his weight pressing you down as he yanked your skirt up and panties off in one swift move. “Been thinking about this, for so damn long” he admitted, voice low, undoing his jeans buttons with shaky hands. His cock sprang free—thick, veiny, and intimidatingly long — and you gasped softly, feeding that size kink he couldn’t hide. He didn’t bother with a condom, neither of you cared right then.

Anton lined himself up, the tip brushing your soaked entrance, and started thrusting into you, groaning loud as your pussy clenched around him. “Fuck, you’re so tight for me” he said, hands gripping your waist hard enough to bruise. He set a brutal pace, fastening it each time he thrusted into you, the bed creaking under his force. Your legs wrapped around his waist, but he still loomed over you, his broad shoulders and height making you feel tiny, helpless beneath him.

Sweat showed on his forehead as he fucked you stupid — your moans turning into broken gasps, eyes rolling back as he hit every spot inside you. His glasses fogged up, slipping down his nose, and he took them off, tossing them aside without breaking sounds. “So good for me huh?” he panted, one hand sliding up to squeeze your breast through your top, the other pinning your wrist above your head. The room filled with the sounds of his heavy breathing and your whimpers.

He pulled out suddenly, flipping you onto your tummy, and yanked you up before slamming back in. “Look at you” he growled, “taking me like this.” His hand fisted your hair, tugging just enough to make you arch, and the new angle had you seeing stars. Cum dripped down your thighs — his and yours mixing in a sticky mess as he chased his release, fucking you through the overstimulation until he came spilling inside you with a choked moan. Thick ropes of cum coated your walls, some leaking out as he slowed, his chest heaving.

Anton collapsed beside you, both of you breathless, the thick air filled with sweat and sex. He glanced over, a shy smile tugging at his lips despite everything, and he muttered a “Uh… you okay?” The nerd was back, but the glint in his eye said he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

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[whizzing-fizzbee]

I'm going on vacation, so as a tiny parting gift and since everyone seems to love Subastian, I give you...

Ignorant.

Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit/MDNI; all characters are adults Words: ~4000 Tags: female reader insert, 2nd person POV, no y/n, smut, soft dom/sub, Subastian Sallow, teasing, edging, orgasm denial, revenge, marriage, post-Hogwarts, aged up characters, MDNI

Summary: You already know what this one's about. That incident. On this day five years ago, Sebastian Sallow had the audacity to call you ignorant during an argument in the Undercroft. You forgave but you sure as hell didn't forget. Now, you're exacting some revenge five years later to show your new husband who the ignorant one really is. In other words: MC is petty as hell for remembering and exploiting the "ignorant" incident in the form of sexual revenge.

Notes: I love how the "ignorant" incident has become an ongoing joke within the HL fandom, so this is just something silly and stupid I thought up. Major thanks to @newdreamlove95 for helping me sort through the logistics of this one.

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

Today was special. It marked a particular anniversary for you and your beloved husband. No, it wasn’t your wedding anniversary, nor was it the annual marking of the first day you met, or even your first date.

This anniversary held a much more facetious meaning. Perhaps you were petty for remembering it, but you never claimed to be perfect.

It all started five years ago, when you were caught in the middle of a whirlwind school year. You had just started at Hogwarts, already years behind your classmates in your lessons. Then you discovered that not-so little secret about your ancient magic and Ranrok’s mission to turn Hogwarts and its surrounding hamlets to hell on earth, all while your new friend Sebastian decided to dip his toes into dark magic to try and save his sister.

Needless to say, your first year at Hogwarts was a bit much. But plenty of good did come from it. You saved the school – and probably the entirety of the surrounding Highlands – from Ranrok, Rookwood and their loyalists. You took down a notorious ring of poachers and saved the golden snidgets. You exposed Cassandra Mason and took over her decaying Hogsmeade shop, gave Puffskein Duncan the ridiculing he deserved and helped that sweet old goblin reunite with his dear mooncalf Biscuit. All that, and you even managed to make that freckled friend of yours fall in love with you.

You hadn’t meant to. Sure, you’d had a crush on Sebastian from the start, and apparently he had it bad for you the moment you demolished him in that Defense Against the Dark Arts duel. But he spent most of your fifth year chasing down a cure for Anne’s curse, while you spent that time chasing him down in hopes he wouldn’t get himself killed. 

It wasn’t until all the dust had settled – after Solomon’s death, Ranrok’s demise and Ominis Gaunt’s decision to keep quiet about Sebastian’s crimes – that Sebastian realized how important you had become to him. It was somewhere around Christmas of your sixth year that he finally crafted the courage to tell you. 

Since then, you and Sebastian Sallow were synonymous. Where you went, he went, and vice-versa. When someone spoke your name, his followed. It was no surprise to your Hogwarts classmates and professors that you eventually became Mrs. Sallow.

But your great love story wasn’t without a few hiccups. You and Sebastian were both bold and brash. You both liked to fight fire with fire, and while he was much more impulsive, you were stubborn and clever. It was inevitable that the two of you occasionally tussled, but you also loved one another far too deeply to ever let your grievances get too far.

Except for this one tiny, little thing.

You brought it up only on rare occasion. If anything, it had become an inside joke of sorts between you and your husband – a silly memory of your rocky beginnings. He apologized profusely and you’d forgiven him ages ago. But that didn’t mean you forgot.

So on this particular day, which marked five years since that irritating little incident, you decided it was time to remind your husband to be mindful of how he speaks to you.

The two of you left work promptly at 5 p.m. You were both Aurors, another example of how in tandem the two of you were. You’d spent your Hogwarts days as partners in crime only to graduate and become partners who chased down criminals.

But today, Sebastian was the only one who would be paying for any crimes – even if they had technically been forgiven five years ago.

You entered your London townhome per usual, tossing your coat on a hook by the door as Sebastian whined about being hungry. You barely acknowledged his words. You were far too excited to serve revenge, not dinner.

While he rummaged through the cabinets for something to eat, you kicked off your shoes and continued to your home office. It was your own secluded space where you kept your most important belongings – notebooks about the repository, research on ancient magic, observations about that stupid relic Sebastian had stolen your fifth year. You kept it all filed away safely under lock and key. The remainder of your office housed a desk covered in trinkets, an old armchair and a row of modest bookshelves. And in one corner of the office sat the old triptych. 

You took Isidora Morganach’s triptych with you upon graduating Hogwarts when you and Sebastian decided you couldn’t risk leaving it for someone to stumble upon in the Undercroft. It now posed as a pretty piece of artwork, its significance only meant for you and Sebastian.

You gazed at the triptych and smiled to yourself. It represented a monumental portion of your past, particularly with Sebastian. In many ways, you might even say it brought the two of you closer as you spent months during your fifth year searching for its missing canvases. And then, there was that moment, which occurred on this day in front of the triptych five years ago.

“Oh, darling!” you called out. “Can you come here?”

You leaned with your back to the desk, wand held lazily in one hand as you waited. Sebastian’s footsteps padded against the wood floors until he was lingering in the doorway of your office.

“Yes, love?” He stepped into the room, his brow furrowed as he noticed you gazing at the triptych. “What is it?”

“Oh, I was just thinking about this old thing,” you said innocently as you gestured toward the triptych. “Brings back quite a few memories.”

Sebastian blinked, unsure what to make of your sudden nostalgia. “That, it does,” he agreed. “What’s the reason for this trip down memory lane?”

“Oh, nothing,” you shrugged. “I was just thinking back and realized what day it is.”

“What day it is?” Sebastian repeated blankly. You smirked as you could see the panic surging through his head. He was certainly trying to recall important dates, terrified he’d forgotten your birthday or anniversary. “Sorry, darling, I don’t recall.”

You stepped toward him, hooking one arm around his neck to pull him close, your bright eyes shining as you smiled at him. “You don’t remember what happened with this triptych on this day five years ago?”

Sebastian fought to remember, his frown deepening as he struggled for a response. “Five years ago? I’m sorry, love,” he admitted. “I have no idea.”

“Oh, well that’s okay,” you said with a shrug. “It’s not really that big of a deal.” You reached for his tie and tugged him into a slow kiss, offering him a cheery smile when you pulled away.

“But if it’s important to you-” Sebastian started. You cut him off with another kiss, stepping toward him to press your body against his. You knew he’d forget all about that triptych now.

As you dragged your tongue against Sebastian’s bottom lip, you rocked your hips forward into his. His fingers pressed into the small of your back. You nudged him backward until he was against the desk, his thigh between your legs. You grinded yourself against him and moaned, your eyes falling shut as you rocked. 

“Fucking hell, what’s gotten into you?” Sebastian breathed. You kissed him again, the flat palms of your hands raking down his chest until they were in his lap. You smirked against his lips as you felt the bulge in his trousers.

“I love when you get hard for me,” you whispered, one hand stroking over his length. Sebastian groaned at your touch. You continued to rub him through his trousers until he was fully erect, the fabric now straining tight around him. You shifted forward against his thigh. 

“Tell me you want me,” you breathed in his ear.

“You know I do,” Sebastian murmured. 

“Where do you want me to touch you?”

“You know where.”

You fiddled with the knot of his tie and yanked his shirt open to slide it down his arms until it was a crumpled heap on the desktop, then you kissed a trail across his jawline and returned flat on your feet so you could tug his trousers off. “Here?” you asked as two fingers traced the tip of his bare cock. 

“Yes, there,” Sebastian hissed.

“What do you want me to do to you?” You ran your tongue across your bottom lip as you held eye contact.

“Everything,” he breathed. 

“Such as?”

“Ride me.”

“And what do you want to do to me?”

“Ruin you.”

You pulled away just far enough to gaze upward at him with soft doe eyes. He was beaming, clearly under the false impression he was going to bend you over that desk.

“And you really don’t remember what today is?”

“I’m sorry, love, I don’t.”

You tutted, your hand gently cupping his face as you pouted at him. “That’s a shame,” you mewed as you gazed into Sebastian’s worried eyes. “Didn’t realize you were so ignorant.”

You flashed a gleeful grin as you watched the realization and the horror swell over Sebastian's expression.

“Y- you actually remember the specific date of that?” he whined. “You cannot be serious.”

“Oh, love, I am so serious,” you breathed as you steadied your wand hand. “Petrificus totalus.”

Sebastian’s arms snapped to his side and his legs locked. You caught him before he could crash to the floor and eased him down gently until he was flat on his back. You smirked into his eyes, which blinked back at you in disbelief. 

“Sorry, dear,” you said merrily as you leaned over him until you were inches from his face. You dropped your wand next to his body to taunt him, leaving it within reach though he couldn’t move. “But I’m going to show you who the ignorant one is here.” 

You stood over Sebastian, his torso between your feet as you started to unbutton your blouse. You maintained your stare down into his eyes as your fingers worked slowly and deliberately until you were slipping your arms from the sleeves. You tossed the shirt into a corner and returned your fingers to the clasp of your bra. You let it drop from your body so that it fell across Sebastian’s chest. 

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” you whined dramatically as you wriggled out of your skirt and kicked it aside with your bra. Looming over Sebastian in just your soaked panties, you flashed him a cheeky grin. “Can’t you tell?” He blinked in despair.

“Oh, sorry, love,” you said with nonchalance as you reached for a pillow from the armchair. You tucked it beneath Sebastian’s head to prop it up and smiled. “There. Is that better?”

You smiled at his lack of response and stepped out of your panties. Now fully bare, you sank to the floor until you were straddling Sebastian’s chest, your parted knees on either side of his biceps.

“Merlin, what a day it’s been,” you declared. “I was so tense all day.” You spoke with slow drama, your hand carefully snaking down your chest and past your stomach until it was between your thighs. You stared at Sebastian as you dragged two fingers over your entrance and let out a melodramatic moan, drawing long, slow swipes across your clit until you needed more. You sank a finger inside yourself and inhaled sharply at the welcome intrusion, extracting it slowly to ensure Sebastian could see your slick arousal. 

He hated when you made him watch, which rarely happened because he was always quick to ravage you the moment he became jealous of your fingers. But not this time.

“That’s better,” you breathed as your wet fingers found your clit again. You worked as slowly as you could withstand, sexy gasps and whimpers chorusing from your throat to emphasize just how much you were enjoying yourself. Your thighs locked around Sebastian’s biceps as you brought yourself close to a climax. Though his stiff body remained still, you could hear his breaths becoming ragged beneath you.

Your hips jutted forward as the heat mounted within your nerve endings until it sent searing spasms deep below the surface of your skin. You choked out a pitchy moan as you rubbed yourself to completion, your eyes clamped shut until it was over.

You peeked one eye open once your body stopped shivering. Sebastian was staring up at you with desperate defeat in his eyes. You flashed your canines at him.

“Oh, that was good,” you moaned as you remained seated on his chest. “But it certainly could have been better. Too bad I’m too ignorant to get myself off properly.”

You heaved a dramatic sigh as you rose to your feet, offering Sebastian a full view of the aftermath of your solo play until you sauntered toward the door.

“My, I’m parched,” you mused, casting a smirk downward at Sebastian. “Pardon me, love. I’m just going to go fetch something to drink.”

You wanted to prolong this as long as you could. You wanted to relish it, remember it, commit it to memory, because if you knew your husband, you knew he’d find some way to exact revenge sooner than later.

By the time you returned with a glass of water in hand, you almost felt guilty for what you were doing to your poor husband. He remained on the floor, eyes blinking upward as you lowered yourself into the armchair with a satiated smile to sip casually from the cool glass. 

“I was so thirsty!” you drawled as you allowed some of the water to spill onto your chest. “Oops!” It trickled between your breasts, down your body, toward your lap. “How ignorant of me,” you laughed as you set the glass on the desktop with a crisp clink.

“Now,” you said as you knelt on the floor next to Sebastian. “I took care of myself. I suppose it’s only fair that I take care of you too, given your sorry state.” You crawled closer to him and leaned over to peer into his eyes. “How’s this?” you cooed as you dragged your palm down his chest. You lowered your lips to his neck and sucked gently against the skin. 

“Why are you sweaty, Seb?” you teased in his ear. His eyes shifted in reply. You barked a laugh and returned your lips to his body. You kissed down his chest toward his navel and stilled, peering into Sebastian’s eyes with a new sense of seriousness.

“Do you want me to keep going?” you asked as you studied his eyes for any sign of protest. “Blink once for yes, twice if you really want me to stop.”

Sebastian blinked once. You smirked at him and dipped your head, placing a kiss just below his belly button until you eyed his erection. 

“You poor thing,” you cooed, your hot breath ghosting over his cock. You hovered above it, your lips painfully close to making contact. Sebastian puffed an impatient breath through his nose. The tip of his cock glistened with arousal.

Finally, you ran your flattened tongue the length of his shaft. You moved slowly; you knew Sebastian – ever the impatient one – went wild whenever you did that. 

The room was still as you wrapped your lips around Sebastian’s cock and sucked. Your tongue danced circles around the tip each time your head bobbed upward. He always moaned and groaned when you did that, but this time, you savored his silence.

Your jaw slackened and you eased your throat around Sebastian’s cock until it reached the back. You hummed as you held him there, your eyes shining with satisfaction because you knew he was undoubtedly on the cusp of losing his mind. As you glided and gurgled around his tip, you were almost certain you could hear him whimper. You hastened your movements until your hollowed cheeks ached from pulling against his cock. 

You listened carefully to Sebastian’s breathing, ready to time your next move. When you heard sharp, short puffs of exhale emanating from his nostrils, signaling his impending peak, you let his cock pop free from your mouth. You smirked and licked your lips at him. His labored breaths sounded painful.

Sebastian’s body may have been incapable of movement, but it clearly wasn’t immune to temperature change. His skin was scalding hot and you could see beads of sweat glistening in the low light. 

“What’s the matter, Seb?” you teased with the back of one hand placed flat against his forehead. “You’re absolutely burning up.” 

You leaned down to plant a kiss on his lips. His nostrils flared as his eyes bore into yours.

“Now, what else was it that you wanted from me?” You tapped your chin as you pretended to think. “Ah, yes. Something about me riding you? How does that sound?”

Sebastian blinked once. You cackled in response. He was foolish if he thought you were going to be doing any of this for his benefit, and his eyes looked worried for what else was in store.

You climbed on top of him, your thighs hugging the sides of his hips as you arched your back to show off your body. Sebastian typically called the shots when it came to sex. He was dominant and you liked the way he took control in the bedroom. But not today. Today was yours.

You could feel Sebastian’s erection pressing against your entrance. If the anticipation didn’t kill you, surely Sebastian would. He was never very apt at the slow burn dance that was foreplay. 

A low hum formed in your throat as you sank around his cock, your slick arousal exposing how badly you needed him. Regardless, you remained focused on the task at hand. You hovered around his tip rather than allow your weight to pull you downward around Sebastian entirely. Your hips rose and dipped until you were moaning at the sensation of his tip dragging against the spot that made your toes curl.

Sebastian’s eyes seemed to scream for relief but when you studied them, he didn’t blink. Your control of your husband made you giddy. But while you wanted nothing more than to prolong this, you needed your release. Finally, you allowed yourself to accommodate him fully, his cock spearing your innermost core. Your walls were already threatening to quiver as you began to bounce. His cock poked and prodded the swollen pressure inside of you until your moans echoed off the office walls. 

Below you, Sebastian’s fragmented breaths competed with the sounds of your slapping skin. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whined as you rocked with more fervor, desperate to snap the cord tightening inside you. It strained until it severed, your tension breaking in the form of sharp spasms that made your legs quake. You issued a guttural wail as your walls pulsed with pleasure.

When it subsided, you were left gasping for breath, your hands supporting your weight against Sebastian’s chest. His eyes were squeezed shut. When they cracked open, you smiled at him innocently. 

You eased yourself upward with slow deliberation to provide Sebastian with a view of your soaked entrance as if you were about to rise to your feet. You locked eyes with him again and winked.

“What’s wrong?” You feigned confusion as Sebastian’s eyes shifted. “Did you think I was done? Oh Seb, how very ignorant of you.”

You chuckled and leaned backward this time as you rode him with your hands resting atop his knees to offer him a better view of the union happening between your hips. The angle nearly made you cry out, still sensitive as the anterior wall of your cunt glided against Sebastian’s tip. When it still wasn’t enough, you lifted yourself onto your feet, your knees falling wide open as you rose and dipped around his cock.

“Do you like what you see?” you taunted, panting as you continued to roll your hips, your arms locked at the elbows to support your upper body weight. Sebastian’s legs remained rigid beneath you. Your breasts jiggled with every movement and Sebastian’s eyes darted around as if they were overwhelmed by the vision that had unfolded above him. The obscene view was only rivaled by the crude sounds of his cock pounding your wet cunt.

“Oh god.” You bounced until your thighs burned and arms shook as they supported you, your own eyes falling shut as the heat inside your core began to surge up your spine again. Your hips increased their pace until you were smacking hard on top of Sebastian, whose face flushed crimson. You ground him into the floor with rough rocking motions until you were howling through an orgasm, your hips held in place until your walls stopped seizing.

You remained perched on top of Sebastian as you caught your breath, your head hazy and pulse racing. But as soon as your gaze met his, a wicked smile spread across your lips. Sebastian’s eyes were exhausted. Though he hadn’t moved a muscle, he looked as if he’d been through hell and back. But his trip wasn’t over just yet.

Finally, you crawled off of him, still on all fours as you positioned yourself above his legs. 

“Looks so painful,” you purred as you eyed his erection. “Want me to relieve it?”

Sebastian blinked so hard, a bead of sweat trickled down his temple, reminiscent of a tear. You giggled at him.

“Alright, fine,” you simpered as you dipped your head. You pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of his cock. 

With only the tip of your tongue, you licked slowly – so slow, you could feel every ridge of Sebastian’s length. It was still slick from your previous acts, and you hummed at your own taste. You teased his tip at a tantalizing pace.

Finally, your head bobbed faster as your entire mouth engulfed him. You raked your fingernails down his chest until they pricked the tops of his thighs, sinking with slow intention while your mouth worked. Your lips dragged over his flesh with fervor until you could hear Sebastian’s breaths becoming broken sniffles. Your nails dug deeper and you moaned a series of vibrations around his cock, pulling and licking in sensual patterns until you were certain he was about to rupture.

And then, you released him with another soft pop. His eyes squeezed shut in sheer, unmitigated agony.

When you straightened up to take his cock in your hand, Sebastian sighed through his nose in relief. You traced a gentle finger over the apex, the body-bind spell preserving his erection, raw and red, aching for release.

Your fingers curled around Sebastian’s cock, your thumb tracing circles over the tip until you began to stroke him – hard. Sebastian’s watery eyes shot open at the intense friction while you pumped your hand at a fervid rate. It was tenacious and brutal, much rougher than how you typically treated your beloved husband, but you wanted this to linger in his memory for another five years, just in case he ever dared to call you anything but breathtakingly brilliant.

You stroked faster and harder until Sebastian’s nostrils were whistling with strenuous breaths. With one hand still working around his cock, you reached for your wand with the other.

“Reparifors.”

The body-bind spell fell and Sebastian’s entire body seized. His chest heaved upward as he gasped for breath, his legs kicking against the floor. He let out a carnal cry, his back arching off the floor as his cock erupted, twitching in your hand as it spurted his grand release in hot ropes across his own stomach. It left him a wheezing and whining mess of a man, sprawled out across the floor like a ruined ragdoll.

You, however, were drunk on power. All the ancient magic in the world couldn’t match this feeling as you batted your lashes innocently at your listless husband.

“Alright, love?” you asked with faux concern, your tone laced with saccharine sincerity.

Sebastian, whose hair was now plastered to his sweat-soaked face, glared at you with subdued eyes. He was still catching his breath, his body now limp and lifeless. 

You smirked at him with absolute elation as you leaned over him, your eyes staring deep into his to emphasize your point.

“Sorry, darling,” you breathed quietly. “Guess you shouldn’t have been so ignorant.”

[dramaticallytotal]

For Your Entertainment Headcanons: Part One

Idea Post

• Chaos Gremlin Noah, my beloved! Chris purposefully starts drama in the show to entertain Noah because, as mentioned before, a bored Noah is a scary Noah. This is why he was so mad at Duncan for quitting. Noah was looking forward to the love triangle drama! Now what was Chris supposed to play on?

• Noah getting Harold kicked off was more brutal than any of my other aus. Bro compared Harold to Chris, and Harold took that personally. This happened after the challenge in Egypt was over, and they settled into the hotel they would be staying at for a while. A lot of people were chilling by the pool, and Noah was one of them. Noah really liked pools despite the crowds they attracted. Plus, he promised Izzy he would watch her do a handstand and walk the entire length of the pool while doing so. He had been doing so until he got bored and started reading Construire avec le peuple (Architecture For The Poor) by Hassan Fathy when Harold decided that he absolutely had to interrupt Noah to start a debate.

He had done this four times previously, and Noah was done.

Apparently, Harold could not let go of all the cultural insensitivities they encountered today and just had to tell the 50th person around so. All the while wearing that stupid tinfoil hat he made. Actually...that gave Noah an idea. An awful idea. It gave Noah a wonderful, awful idea!

• He laid into Harold about wearing the tinfoil hat and that by wearing it, he was being culturally insensitive. "You're basically stating that you don't believe in their history. You wearing that...thing...is a statement that you agree with erasing people's hard work and labor for a brain-dead conspiracy theory. Hard work and labor that was significantly important to not only their history but their culture.

You keep harping on about Chris and the Network but are just as bad as them. Maybe even worse, too, considering you keep telling everyone you know everything about Egypt. If you're so well read and educated about it, that makes your fashion choice all the more insulting. And all the worse because I'm pretty sure Chris's knowledge of Egypt is purely from The Mummy, Cleopatra, Gods of Egypt, and other movies.

Do better."

• Absolutely destroyed Harold. This made Harold determined to prove Noah wrong and to maybe appease himself of guilt. Which cultivated in him having to point out everything that could be seen as culturally insensitive.

• Each time Harold annoyed someone, Noah had to hide his widening smile. Especially if the someone was Chris, his annoyed expression was just too funny!

• Alejandro flirting with Leshawna and Bridgette was also really entertaining to Noah because of how the others reacted. Especially Harold! He was so mad and sad, and it was hilarious because he kept trying harder to seem cool and good, and it was failing spectacularly!

• Like I said before, Noah is pretty apathetic and only cares about Team E-Scope and Owen. He also holds little grudges against some competitors! Like, noticeably, Harold. Another one that may come as a surprise is Bridgette, which is why he found such joy in her predicament in the Yukon. Before he got eliminated on Island Noah, he didn't like many people there, but he thought Bridgette was pretty cool and nice, and he did think she was pretty. It was a small crush, one he knew he wasn't going to pursue but that didn't mean he couldn't be her friend.

Apparently, this must have given something away, though he had no idea how, and instead of talking to him, she joked about it to some of the girls knowing damn well that Geoff and his "bros" were listening in. It was most likely to see if the guy would get jealous, considering everyone knew the two were crushing on each other. That somehow made it worse to Noah because from then on, he started getting the Harold treatment from Geoff, Duncan, and DJ.

That pissed him right the hell off. He had done nothing, and all of a sudden, he was getting shoulder checked when walking to the mess hall. His books would go missing from time to time if he didn't hide them first. Just small shit like that, and he was over it.

It was one of the reasons he got himself voted off. He was not about to stick it out in a shitty summer camp while these dude bros wanted to act like high school movie bullies instead of focusing on the competition.

• He had no remorse. He had more fun watching the competition from the luxury of his resort room or the game room.

• So he has little grudges against Bridgette, Geoff, DJ, and Duncan because of that whole mess. Everyone else he just doesn't care about. He tried to get to know some of them on Island and in Aftermath, but it was like they were humoring him. And he knew some only interacted with him because he was Owen's best friends. He was content with that, though, because the way he saw it, he at least tried, and that's more than he can say for the others.

So yeah, he doesn't really care what happens to everyone else.

• Izzy and him are chaos siblings, and Eva is terrified that they are on the same team without her being there to keep an eye on them and be their stern voice of reason. She should be.

• The number of times that Chef has had to carry them under his arms away from areas they weren't allowed is too much. All the while, the two are giggling maniacally.

• When Noah told Alejandro "Good Work," about Bridgette in the Yukon. Alejandro was afraid his teammate had found him out and went on the offense, which was flirting. He figured he could distract Noah with the flirting, and they could forget the whole mess.

It seemed to work if the blushing was anything to go by. Or the way Noah looked away if he complimented him and smiled a little. He was a little surprised when Noah would compliment him back of whisper snide comments to him, and he figured that was the snark's way of flirting back.

He assumed his plan worked and didn't pay any more close attention to his teammate. Which was a mistake he later learned.

• Noah knew he shot himself in the foot when he complimented Alejandro on a job well done with Bridgette, but he didn't care because it led to more entertainment for him! Alejandro started flirting with him, and the expressions of the females were delicious! So he acted shy and coy and would reciprocate the flirting here in there in his own way, and the way Alejandro fell for it was also hilarious. It took everything in him not to cackle.

• The crew and interns love their gremlin boss, which is why they have a code for if they think he's getting bored and they really can't have that! So if they see even an inkling of boredom, they call a Code B-72 and rush to find something that will entertain him. Most of the time, it's helping sneak him to Chris and Chef's room so Chris and Noah can watch Love Island together with excuse that Chris misses his trash TV buddy.

Or they sneak him books!

• After the confrontation in the cargo hold, Alejandro is always close by Noah looking at him with absolute moon eyes. Noah thinks this is still Alejandro flirting with him because he caught him, but no....Alejandro is just a simp now.

• Before their next challenge, Noah makes sure to get Alejandro alone so he can tug him down by his necklace again. He doesn't notice that the guy doesn't seem bothered by this in the least. "You're going to try today. That's not a question. You are going to actually try and win with the rest of us, and if we lose. We lose. But at least we lost when putting in effort. If we win? All the better. Understand?"

Alejandro, breathless, "Si."

"Good boy." After making his point, Noah once more patted Alejandro on the cheek before walking away again. And again, he left Alejandro absolutely flustered and heart eyed.

• Next challenge was the Amazon, and Alejandro did still get punched by Owen, but Noah thought it would be funny to fuss over the hunk of a guy in front of everyone, especially the girls. Alejandro could die happy with the attention he was getting from his zorro.

• Alejandro went down the zipline with Noah, and Noah let it happen because there was no way he was doing that himself. He just went along for the ride and clung to Alejandro, who swore he was in heaven the entire ride down.

• When they stopped to make camp, Noah made sure to act like he wasn't doing much besides indulging Izzy and Owen in their shenanigans, but he was also telling them to go get firewood while Alejandro told Trent, Tyler, and Justin set up their sleeping bags and such while he and Noah went to find some food.

Thank goodness Noah was in the Boy Guides of Canada when he was younger even though he didn't stay long. Plus, he read those survival handbooks, and his sister was studying to be a horticulturist, and she had a phase where she wanted to harvest her own food or take trips into the forest to find "hidden snacks" and of course he got dragged along.

• No Owen being taken by the giant caterpillars. Alejandro is a simp, and he knew Noah would be angry. Of course, Noah noticed his anger with the oaf and how he didn't let him be taken, so he rewarded Alejandro with a smile and pat to the head. It had Alejandro on cloud nine.

• Noah's all about reward systems.

• Thankfully, his friends respond to them, too! And so does Alejandro! Win win.

• They don't win the challenge, but Noah still gives Alejandro a smile because he knew the guy was actually trying. Noah may or may not start being fond of Alejandro more than he was before. But according to his observation, Alejandro seems fond of him, too.

• Alejandro starts to let Noah see the real him behind the masks and feels so relieved when the guy doesn't hate him or finds him weird. He feels accepted, and he doesn't fail to notice how Noah opens up to him in return or the way they both get closer, and Noah gets more touchy feel-y.

Noah finds the real Alejandro worlds more interesting than his mask and realizes that he's starting to get a crush on the guy.

• Chris and Chef also notice this development and are thankful that Alejandro is keeping their little gremlin entertained, but also, how dare that charmer make goo-goo eyes at their gremlin!?

Next

[earthlybeam]

The idea is off @sophiadatomato inspired by this post Here 🤣❤️‍🔥🫶✨

Yes, his glorious forehead—smooth, unblemished, a masterpiece of elven perfection—had haunted our thoughts for far too long. 😉🤌To gaze upon it is a privilege, but to taste it? A divine, forbidden indulgence. 🫶👅

Elrond version below.

📜 𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓭

Rivendell was steeped in its usual tranquility, the air filled only with the soft rustle of parchment and the faint, rhythmic scratching of quills against scrolls. The halls, bathed in the gentle glow of candlelight, seemed untouched by time, a sanctuary of knowledge and quiet contemplation.

Elrond’s study, however, was another matter entirely. His desk, a broad expanse of polished wood, was barely visible beneath the precarious towers of books, their spines worn with age, their pages brimming with wisdom. Loose sheets of parchment lay scattered like fallen leaves, some curling at the edges as if whispering secrets to one another. Despite the apparent chaos, Elrond moved through it all with practiced ease.

He retrieved tomes from high shelves with fluid precision, his long fingers tracing over the spines as he selected each volume with a scholar’s instinct. The rustling of pages accompanied his measured steps, his brow slightly furrowed in thought. Though his expression remained composed, there was an unmistakable gravity to the set of his jaw, the faint crease between his brows betraying the weight of whatever matter occupied his mind.

And yet, none of it held your attention. Not the books, nor the intricate patterns of Elrond’s robes, nor even the ancient knowledge that surrounded you like an unseen current. No, your mind was ensnared by something else entirely—something far more ridiculous, far more unshakable.

Elrond’s forehead. It was unfair, really. So regal, so smooth, framed by the elegant braids of his dark hair, its high, noble curve catching the candlelight just so, casting the faintest glow over his sharp features. It was the kind of forehead that belonged in paintings, immortalized in delicate brushstrokes, revered in poetry—impossibly dignified, impossibly perfect. And you wanted to lick it.

The thought had been haunting you for some time now. At first, it had seemed absurd, a fleeting whimsy that you had dismissed with a shake of your head. But like a stubborn ember refusing to be extinguished, the impulse had persisted, lingering in the back of your mind, growing stronger with each passing day. It was maddening, an itch that refused to be ignored. Today, you had decided. Now or never. You took a steadying breath, forcing composure into your voice. “My lord Elrond.”

He did not look up immediately, merely hummed in acknowledgment as he slid a book back onto the shelf with careful deliberation. “I need to tell you something.” That, at least, made him pause. Slowly, he turned to face you, a single dark brow arching slightly in quiet curiosity. “Oh?” You took a step forward, closing the space between you. “But you must lean down,” you insisted, your voice hushed as though what you had to say was of dire importance. Elrond hesitated, his keen eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he considered you. Then, with his usual patience, he inclined his head, granting you audience.

Not enough. “Closer,” you murmured. His other brow joined the first, lifted in silent inquiry, but after a beat, he relented. Ever the gracious lord, he bent further, his face now mere inches from yours, the sharp planes of his features softened in the dim candlelight. His piercing grey eyes studied you, searching for whatever secret weighed so heavily upon you.

Perfect. You moved swiftly. Before reason could betray you, before hesitation could creep in, you reached up and cradled his face in both hands, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your palms. His breath hitched—just slightly, a flicker of surprise in his otherwise unshakable composure. But before he could react, before you could talk yourself out of it—

You leaned in and dragged your tongue, slow and deliberate, across the smooth expanse of his forehead. Time stopped. The taste was unexpected—subtle, yet distinct. A hint of something herbal, perhaps from the elven oils he used, mingled with the scent of parchment and ink. It was the taste of wisdom, patience, and just the faintest trace of disbelief.

Elrond did not move. He remained utterly still, as though by sheer force of will he could undo what had just transpired. His posture remained impeccable, his expression schooled into neutrality—yet there was something almost imperceptible in the set of his jaw, the way his shoulders tensed ever so slightly, as though his body itself refused to believe what his mind already knew.

You pulled back slowly, studying him with a measured gaze. He blinked once. Then again. His lips parted slightly, though no words came forth, as if his formidable intellect—honed over millennia of wisdom, diplomacy, and battle—was struggling to assemble the events of the past few seconds into something that made even a modicum of sense. There was silence. A long, unbearable silence.

At last, Elrond straightened with slow, deliberate grace. Every movement was precise, controlled, the fluid elegance of someone who refused to let even a single flicker of uncomposed reaction betray him. And yet—his fingers twitched at his side, barely perceptible, as though resisting the inexplicable urge to touch his own forehead. To confirm that what he suspected had, in fact, actually occurred.

Surely not. Surely he had imagined it. A hallucination brought on by fatigue, perhaps. A trick of the mind. And yet—the unmistakable sensation lingered. Warm. Unnervingly deliberate. An act of sheer audacity against all reason, against all understanding of decorum. Why? Why had you done this? At last, he exhaled slowly through his nose, the breath carefully measured, his composure an unshaken pillar of elven dignity. But you saw it.

That flicker. That near-invisible moment of raw, unguarded bewilderment in his otherwise unreadable expression. A crack in the marble. “That,” he said finally, his voice smooth as ever, deliberate, steady, as though speaking too quickly might shatter whatever fragile logic remained in the wake of this absurdity, “was an unexpected course of action.”

You nodded, solemn as though your reasoning was entirely self-evident. “Your forehead looked very lickable.” Elrond’s eyes closed. Briefly. Perhaps in contemplation. Perhaps in the desperate attempt to summon patience. Perhaps in prayer to whatever forces in Arda could grant him the strength to process this moment and move past it with dignity intact.

“…I see.” He should reprimand you. He knew this. He should speak of decorum, of elven grace, of the reverence and dignity of his station. Perhaps a speech on boundaries, respect, the sanctity of personal space. A lecture so well-structured, so wise, that it would make even the most foolish reconsider their choices. And yet… he did not. Because this was not the strangest thing he had endured.

It was merely another absurdity to add to the long, weary list of trials he had faced over centuries. Battles, betrayals, the fall of kingdoms, the endless tide of mortal foolishness. And now—this. A new, deeply perplexing addition to his ever-growing catalog of experiences. A quiet, resigned sigh escaped him, one that spoke not of anger, nor true indignation, but the weary acceptance of one who had long ago ceased to be surprised by the whims of others.

Elrond exhaled once more, slow and measured, his gaze shifting slightly as if searching the far corners of his mind for some long-forgotten wisdom to make sense of this moment. None arrived. At last, he spoke again, his voice carrying the same composed cadence, though now laced with something unreadable—something that might have been reluctant amusement, or perhaps just profound resignation.

“I confess,” he murmured, tilting his head ever so slightly, “that in all my years, through all my studies, and in all the vast and boundless histories of Elves and Men alike… I have never encountered the notion of one’s forehead being so—” He hesitated, as if the very words defied logic. “—lickable.”

His gaze returned to yours, piercing and unreadable, his expression once more schooled into careful neutrality. But there it was, that almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth, the ghost of a reaction that never fully surfaced. “I must wonder,” he continued, his tone contemplative now, as though genuinely entertaining the absurdity, “was this impulse sudden? Or have you been harboring such… inclinations for some time?”

His fingers lifted, finally, in what seemed to be unconscious motion, hovering near his temple before he caught himself and let his hand drop back to his side. But it was too late—you saw the moment of hesitation, the unspoken awareness of the sensation you had left behind. You met his gaze without shame. “Some time.”

Elrond inhaled deeply, then let it out in a slow, deliberate sigh, his eyes closing briefly before reopening with the steady patience of a being who had lived too long to be surprised, yet somehow still was. “I see,” he said again, though this time there was the faintest shift in his tone. Something wry. Something… dangerous. And then, after a pause— “Should I be concerned for the rest of my face?”

You smiled—slow, teasing. “Oh no, my lord. I’m after you, Peredhel. Not just your face, but all of you.” The words hung in the air, playful and absurd, yet carrying a weight neither of you immediately acknowledged. Elrond’s brow lifted—marginally, but enough to be noticeable. He was rarely caught off guard, and yet here you were, managing it twice in mere minutes. His fingers twitched again, but this time, they clasped neatly behind his back, his ever-disciplined stance unshaken.

For a long, excruciating moment, he said nothing. The candlelight flickered, casting shifting shadows across the elegant planes of his face, the smooth, now thoroughly desecrated forehead, the high cheekbones that were no doubt next on your list of potential transgressions. Then, with maddening patience, he spoke. “I must wonder,” he said, his voice deceptively smooth, “if you say this merely to test my restraint, or if I should begin drafting a formal response to such an… ambitious declaration.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. “Who’s to say?” Elrond exhaled through his nose, the slow, measured kind that one might mistake for patience, but you knew better. It was the sigh of a man who had seen the rise and fall of kingdoms, faced the wrath of Sauron himself, and yet was now forced to contend with this.

At last, he nodded, as if settling something within himself. “Very well,” he said, his tone perfectly even. “In that case… I shall remain vigilant.” And with that, he turned gracefully, retrieving a book from the nearest pile as though this conversation had been nothing more than an unfortunate distraction. But you didn’t miss it. The way his lips pressed together just a little too tightly. The way his shoulders tensed for the briefest moment before schooling themselves back into perfect composure.

Nor did you miss the way, just as he flipped the page, his free hand lifted—seemingly without thinking—to brush across his forehead. As if confirming, one last time, that yes, you had truly done that. Without another word, he turned back to his desk, reclaiming his place among his books, his scrolls, his maps. The scratching of his quill resumed, steady, unbroken—an island of reason in a sea of nonsense.