#and he can easily fill the stage by himself

[fastandcarlos]

Pregnancy Squabbles : ̗̀➛ Lewis Hamilton

summary: after walking out the door that morning, lewis is determined to fix things with his pregnant wife, only for things to not quite go to plan and send him into a panic

Your eyes shut in frustration as you heard the apartment door opening, knowing exactly who it was. You remained frozen to the spot in the kitchen as you heard Lewis’ footsteps march through, glancing up as soon as he walked into the room, noticing the spring that was in his step. 

That soon stopped however as he noticed you staring across at him, standing still to match your own stance. The enthusiasm from his day seemed to quickly disappear as the tension that was in your apartment from the morning crept back in. Neither of you quite knew what to say, an uncomfortable silence present.  

Lewis was the first to move as he walked over to the sink and grabbed himself a glass, filling it up from the tap. He took a seat at one of the barstools in the middle of your kitchen, refusing to back down as you began to move again. 

“How’ve you been today?” Lewis asked, watching your eyes turn away from him. 

You could only manage a hum in response to him, placing one hand over your growing baby bump as the other reached to turn the oven on as you began to prepare food for you both. Lewis frowned, not expecting you to be quite so blunt with him.  

“Love, please can we not carry on with the arguing,” he asked of you, watching nervously as you struggled to stretch up and reach one of the pans out of the cupboard. 

Once you had it, you slammed it down on the counter before turning around to face him. “I wasn’t the one that decided to be insulting this morning, or the one who decided to walk out before we got a chance to talk things through, that was all on you Lewis.” 

Deep down he knew that much of your argument from the morning was down to him, he took advantage of your hormones and knew he could give himself a good battle with you. Things had been heated for a while, with Lewis still racing whilst you entered the final stages of pregnancy, causing you both a bit of a headache. 

“I’m sorry that I was so rude to you earlier, I know there was no need for it,” Lewis softly spoke, offering you a faint smile. “Everything’s just getting on top of the two of us.” 

It was busy, and it was stressful, but it was still no excuse for you both. You’d squabbled a little with each other, but your argument that morning was unlike anything that you had experienced for quite some time. 

“I’m trying to make things right and somehow it feels that you couldn’t care less about that right now.” 

Your eyes widened as you opened up the fridge, “not all of us can go to work and come back and carry on like nothing has happened. I’ve been nonstop all-day Lewis; I haven’t got time to sit and fix things with you right now.” 

“Don’t you think you should be taking it easy?” 

Your head shook as you took out the ingredients that you needed, focused on getting things done. Lewis’ eyes watched you, searching for every opportunity he could to try and talk to you, but you didn’t give him a chance. Lewis was clueless as to how hurt you were and how unwilling you were to just carry on as if nothing had happened. 

Your hormones only made things worse for you, you snapped quicker, got frustrated more easily, and found yourself much harsher towards Lewis than you usually were. 

“Love, please sit down and I’ll sort dinner out,” Lewis requested, worry beginning to set in as he noticed how tired you were starting to look.  “I don’t care how mad you are, just let me sort this.” 

“I’ve done everything else today, I might as well do this too,” you sighed as you placed your ingredients down.  “You sit and relax; you seem to be good at that these days.” 

You continued to ignore Lewis’ protests as you went over to the cupboards, opening up the top one to grab more ingredients. The first time you went up on your tiptoes you were alright, the second time however, things didn’t quite go to plan. 

As you went to reach up, a sharp pain ripped down the right of your bump causing you to let go of a hiss. Your hand immediately landed where the pain was, doubling over as you leant on the kitchen counter, breathing through whatever it was that had become unsettled.  

“Babe,” Lewis quickly spoke, rushing up from the stool and racing around the counter to get to you. 

A pair of hands at your waist made you jump, glancing back to see Lewis right there with you. He held onto you tightly as you slowly stood yourself up after giving yourself a moment, allowing Lewis to guide you over to take a seat, settling you down with his strong hold. 

“Are you alright? Do I need to call someone?” Lewis nervously asked, moving across and taking his glass of water and placing it down in front of you. Lewis’ anxious eyes studied you closely, wanting to check for himself that you were alright. 

Your head shook as you took a deep breath, “I think I’m good.” 

Lewis brought his seat around so that he was sat right beside you, holding his hand over the top of both of yours. “I’m sorry, you shouldn’t be working this hard, I need to be at home more and taking better care of you.” 

“You’re allowed to work, I shouldn’t be expecting you to be here holding my hand all the time,” you whispered in response, finally finding yourself letting Lewis back in again. 

Lewis’ head shook as you spoke, even people at work were surprised to see him there as much as he was. With only a couple of weeks to go, they tried to encourage him to be at home more with you, but Lewis very rarely listened. 

You were guilty of being pretty stubborn too, you were determined that you could do everything even though your body was beginning to slow down. You hated that your pregnancy was seeing you begin to lose your independence, all those easy jobs that you did daily were suddenly some of the hardest things in the world to do. 

“I promise that I’m going to be around to support you whenever you need me,” Lewis insisted, “you’re my priority, you and the baby should’ve always been my priority.” 

Your head came down to rest against Lewis’ shoulder, feeling one of his arms wrap around your frame, pulling you tighter into his side as your body relaxed again. 

Lewis’ other hand moved away from your own, resting it over the top of your bump, reminding himself silently of what was the most important thing for him, raising his family and taking care of them as he should. 

“Can we forget about this morning?” Lewis nervously asked. 

“Yeah, I think we should.” 

“I promise I’m going to be here,” Lewis reminded you once again, “I know I’ve been far from perfect recently, but you and the baby are by far the most important things to me, I just need to do a better job of proving that to you.” 

You hummed in acknowledgement as Lewis spoke. “Maybe I should be asking you for help more too, rather than just doing things on my own all the time. It’s so hard not being able to be the person I once was, as exciting as it is to have this baby, I feel like I don’t recognise myself and all the things I used to be able to do anymore.” 

“I know it’s hard, but these things we can do together,” Lewis smiled, “maybe starting with making dinner?” 

Your head nodded as you let go of a giggle, “we’re supposed to be a team, it’s probably about time that we start working like one again, don’t you think?” 

“I couldn’t agree more. How about I start taking more time off work and you start giving me a list of the things that you need me to do so that I can help you out more.” 

“It might be a pretty long list Lew.” 

He shrugged back at you, “I don’t care. I’ll do all the things that I need to do in order to help you out, it doesn’t matter how tricky they are or how much time they’ll take for me to complete.” 

“In that case, you can definitely start by reaching up into that cupboard and getting out the things that I couldn’t,” you joked. 

“Now that’s a job I definitely can do.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[bunny-jpeg]

kink-o-ween - day twenty-three

max verstappen - filming/recording

tags: smut/pwp, filming/recording, dirty talk, established relationship, large chested!reader, use of red bull merch

a/n: thank you for the patience while i wrote these. managing my schedule better has helped greatly. thank you for all of the kind words, i hope that these (late) fics are as good as you hoped for <3

kink-o-ween master-list

your relationship with max verstappen was private. the most you had online was a casual picture of him on a private instagram account. you wished to keep it low-key. you naturally a private person, you didn't need a media circus because the person you chose to love was a well known and beloved racer.

max agreed, it was a piece of privacy that he could have. years of his life were heavily documented, someone could easily find photos of him at every stage of life. so to have something private, only for him, was a breath of fresh air.

and while your public presence was minimal, you both had a massive archive of private, intimate material of one another.

"i can't believe you're making me wear this. is your ego not big enough, my love?" you asked as you exited the washroom in nothing but a red bull branded t-shirt and hat. specifically his t-shirt and hat with the number '1' plastered across it.

max sat up a little more in bed and felt his cock twitch in his tight briefs. his fingers reached for his phone.

you looked at him and crossed your arms, "is it that horrible?" you shifted from one side to the other, uncertain. the shirt wasn't long enough to cover your lower half so your lover got a good glimpse of your cunt.

"this is far from horrible. this is perfect." he swallowed, "can i take a picture?" his fingers itched for the phone, "i want to see this over and over again when i'm in texas."

you dropped your arms and placed your hands at your hips, "don't you already have a massive collection of photos?" then crossed the room towards him. your hands soon played with the bottom of the t-shirt.

max replied, "you know how people paint fruit over and over again, and it's never enough. that's me with you."

you giggled as you climbed into bed, "so you're saying i'm a bowl of fruit, mister verstappen?" then took him by the face to give him a heated kiss on the lips. he put the phone down and wrapped an arm around you for a moment.

when you pulled away and straddled his waist, he reached for the device once more. he then pushed up your shirt to expose your large breasts.

he angled the camera to you and snapped a few photos. he then licked his lips. he knew if his phone got hacked. there would be so many photos of you leaked online. from your first date to your first holidays together. and even your wedding. next to no one knew about that marriage, except family, two of his friends, and your best friend for university.

max made sure to get a photo of you holding up the shirt with your wedding ring on display. it excited him. his wife exposing herself to him. it was arousing as he snapped a few more photos of your sweet face.

"happy? you'll survive texas." you giggled as you put the shirt down your torso and straddled his waist further. but you weren't on top for long as mac got you onto your back and he stripped himself of his briefs.

"i can never get enough of you, my love." he chuckled, "i could fill my entire phone with photos of you and i'd still need another phone to take more photos." he palmed your breasts through the shirt and when his hat fell off your head, he placed it back onto you.

he took you by the waist and slowly sank his cock into you. he watched your expression change and he cooed at you, "my wife, my darling wife." his groaned got a little louder.

the stretch was perfect. and it made your own noises a little louder.

"i want you for the rest of my life or as long as you'll have me." he worked your pussy with heavy thrusts. he loved you, if he didn't, he would've never made a life with you. a private piece where you two could happily live.

he married you, he loved you. he planted his hands on either side of you as he got a better angle to fuck you with. the moans echoed through his head as he worked your beautiful cunt.

"please, max." you moaned as your nails dug into his strong shoulders. he was your champion, your lover, your husband. you could feel yourself grow sweaty in the red bull shirt.

he kissed your warm cheek, "you look so good in my kit. that number looks good on you." he joked as he laid another heated kiss onto you. he held the covers under him. his heart rate picked up as he fucked you. he could taste the pleasure on his tongue.

"mmm, maybe i should wear mclaren orange next time." you remarked and your husband fucked you a little faster.

"maybe my orange. dutch orange." he replied, "but not mclaren. never. not while i'm still breathing." he kissed you with a heated passion as the bed shifted under you. his strokes were heavy and it made your thighs tense up around around his waist.

after all this time, he still knew how to make you moan. how to make pleasure pool in your soul. comforting and familiar. pleasure was a heated affair between you two.

he leaned further against you and rutted upwards into you. the heat throbbed in his mind as he watched your body move with his. wearing his clothes, having his last name. you were perfect. his lovely wife.

with a bit of space between you two, he scrambled for his phone. he documented the sight of your body, how you looked in his t-shirt. he kept going at a steady pace and pressed against areas that left you seeing stars behind your eyelids.

he even captured a small video of his cock thrusting in and out of your slick pussy. your wetness made his cock soaked. he groaned, "that's my beautiful wife."

his words made your noises become more needy as you gripped onto the soft covers under you. you swallowed back the pleasure as to not get too loud. you then said, "fuck, you're perfect, max. my perfect husband."

he licked his lips and continued to work your hips. work his cock into your pussy. his length throbbed in you, he needed his beautiful wife, "i lucked out. you complete me. that's why i have so many photos of you. i need you in every way i can get you.' he picked up the pace and put the phone further onto the bed to really admire you without a screen.

"max."

he looked over you once more. his cock pressed against your softest parts. and you couldn't help but get louder. you couldn't deny yourself the pleasure anymore. it felt so good.

"please, max." you said loudly. your back arched, only your husband could make you feel this good. the kind of pleasure that left you awestruck.

"i'll always love you." he said as he put his all into it. your body moved with the force of his movements. you came quickly and a sweet noise left your lips and it made max ache for more. he ached for you. the thrusts continued as he felt the similar heat course through him. you felt amazing and soon after you came he finished as well.

he kept every inch inside of you as the pleasure clogged his brain.

"max."

"my lover, my everything." he said with love bubbling in his tone. he slowed to a stop before he pulled out, his face was flushed and his breathing was heavy.

you both soon ended up under the covers. you ditched the hat, but kept the shirt on at his request. your nipples poked through the fabric which made something rouse in your husband as he held you close.

he admired you while he was blissed out. it didn't take long before he felt so relaxed that he fell asleep, dozed off with soft snoring.

you played with his hair and held a smile for him. while he had a large collection of photos of you. you had the same with him. you reached over him to the nightstand to grab your phone. you snapped a photo of his sleeping face before you put it down onto the bed next to his and then kissed him on the lips <3

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

so yandere young justice (platonic if possible if not then normal yandere will do) x reader with very strong psycick powers and has to keep their emotions in check but to do so they act cold and thus treets and thinks of the team as coworkers like the ones that you do not like, (cuz reader is only on the team so the JL wont constantly bother them) now I want the team to think reader is a piece of shit in the start but then they witness reader showing kindness to a kid controled genlte kindness, now young justice will think why do they not get this kindness why does reader hate us why why WHY, and thus an obbsession would form and eventually delousion with the memory of reader helping the kid being twisted into reader helping them showing that gentle kindness that they oh so wish to have.

(That became a ramble but I think there Are 3 patos we can go for why the JL bothers reader here, A the JL Are becoming yandere for reader, B reader is so powerful that they could easily pull mountains out off the ground, rip giant ships out of space or rip it spart in space (this reader is very inspired by star killer from starwars) or option C its a combo of the 2 previously mentioned.)

Yandere young Justice x reader

The day you joined Young Justice was a day that would forever be etched into their minds, though not for reasons anyone could have anticipated. You stood before them with an expression so blank and emotionless it felt like you were looking through them, not at them, as though they were mere shadows rather than people. Your tone, flat and detached, set the stage for what would come to define your presence among them.

“I’m not here to be your friend,” you said, voice calm but cutting, each word sharp enough to slice through the fragile threads of camaraderie they’d hoped to extend. “I didn’t choose to be here, and I don’t want to be here. This is strictly business.”

The room had fallen into a stunned silence, the team exchanging glances filled with confusion, irritation, and a faint flicker of disbelief. Wally, never one to keep his opinions to himself, had scoffed loudly and leaned back in his chair, the movement exaggerated as though he needed everyone to see just how unimpressed he was.

“Well, that’s one way to introduce yourself,” he said with a roll of his eyes so dramatic it could’ve been mistaken for an acrobatic stunt.

Artemis, who was never far behind when it came to expressing her disdain, crossed her arms and gave you a once-over that screamed skepticism. “Let me guess,” she said with a sneer. “You’re one of those people who thinks teamwork is for suckers, right?”

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t react at all. Instead, you regarded her with the same detached indifference you seemed to have for everything around you. “I’m here to complete missions,” you said simply. “Whether you like me or not doesn’t matter. Just stay out of my way.”

If you had thrown a punch, it would’ve landed softer than your words. The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to choke on, and though no one said it outright, the unspoken consensus was clear: they didn’t like you, and they didn’t trust you.

But that suited you just fine.

From the very beginning, you were an enigma wrapped in steel.

Mission after mission, you fulfilled your role with precision and efficiency that bordered on inhuman. Where others might falter or hesitate, you moved with unwavering confidence, your psychic abilities tearing through obstacles like they were made of paper. You were power personified, a force of nature contained within a vessel that seemed utterly devoid of humanity.

It wasn’t that you were incompetent—far from it. Your skills on the battlefield were unmatched, and your ability to assess a situation with cold, calculating precision often meant the difference between success and failure. But outside the chaos of combat, you were a ghost. You spoke only when absolutely necessary, offering clipped, impersonal responses that left no room for connection or understanding.

It didn’t take long for the resentment to set in.

“Do you ever think about anyone but yourself?” Robin had snapped one evening after a particularly grueling mission, his voice sharp enough to cut glass. His mask couldn’t quite hide the anger burning in his eyes as he stepped closer, his frustration practically radiating off him in waves.

You had barely spared him a glance, your tone as indifferent as ever. “I did what needed to be done,” you said simply, as though the conversation bored you.

“Yeah, and you ignored the rest of us while you did it!” Wally interjected, his voice rising in pitch as his frustration spilled over. “It’s like you don’t even care if we live or die, as long as the mission gets done!”

For a brief moment, your gaze flicked between the two of them, your expression unreadable. Then, with a shrug that spoke volumes about how little their opinions mattered to you, you turned and began walking away. “You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

Your words left them seething, but they didn’t follow. They couldn’t.

Because deep down, they knew they wouldn’t get through to you.

In truth, their accusations weren’t entirely wrong. You didn’t care—not about their opinions, their feelings, or their endless attempts to drag you into conversations that didn’t concern you. You didn’t care because caring was dangerous.

Your power wasn’t just a gift; it was a burden, a constant weight pressing down on you with an intensity that would’ve crushed anyone weaker. Every emotion, every flicker of feeling, threatened to unravel the fragile control you’d built over the years. A single moment of anger could rip a building from its foundation, a fleeting surge of fear could crush the air from someone’s lungs, and a whisper of sorrow could unleash a psychic storm capable of leveling a city.

So you didn’t allow yourself to feel.

You buried your emotions beneath layers of apathy and detachment, locking them away where they couldn’t hurt anyone. It was easier that way. Safer.

But the team didn’t understand. They couldn’t.

And so, they labeled you as cold, unfeeling, and selfish.

You didn’t correct them.

Everything changed during the mission in Qurac.

The objective had been straightforward: neutralize the alien technology that had been manipulating a local village into violent hostility. The team worked as a unit, moving through the conflict with practiced efficiency, their movements honed by months of training and experience.

You stayed on the outskirts, your psychic energy swirling around you in a tangible aura of power that seemed almost alive. You tore through the enemy with ease, dismantling their defenses like a child breaking apart toys.

But then, amid the chaos, you found him.

A boy, no older than five, huddled beneath a crumbling pile of rubble. His body shook with silent sobs, his tiny hands clutching a broken toy as though it were the only thing anchoring him to the world.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you hesitated.

Slowly, you knelt before him, your movements deliberate and measured, as though afraid any sudden motion might scare him further. “It’s okay,” you said softly, your voice a gentle whisper that barely carried over the noise around you. “You’re safe now.”

The boy looked up at you with wide, tear-filled eyes, his small frame trembling as he clung to the remnants of his shattered world. Carefully, you extended a hand, your psychic energy weaving around him in a protective cocoon that shielded him from the chaos.

“I won’t hurt you,” you promised, your tone softer than anyone had ever heard it.

The boy hesitated for only a moment before reaching for you, his tiny fingers wrapping around yours with a trust that made something in your chest tighten. As you lifted him into your arms, your energy wrapped around him like a blanket, cradling him with a tenderness that felt foreign yet instinctive.

“It’s going to be alright,” you murmured, holding him close.

You didn’t notice the team watching.

They couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The image of you holding that boy, your voice filled with a kindness they’d never heard before, played over and over in their minds like a loop they couldn’t escape. It was so unlike the version of you they thought they knew, so completely at odds with the cold, detached figure who treated them like insignificant coworkers.

For Wally, it became an obsession. He replayed the memory in his mind constantly, dissecting every word, every gesture, every flicker of emotion. He wanted—no, needed—to see that side of you again. But this time, he wanted it for himself.

M’gann’s thoughts took a different path, though no less consuming. She convinced herself that the kindness you’d shown wasn’t an anomaly but a glimpse of your true self, buried beneath layers of pain and fear. “You do care,” she whispered to herself, clinging to the thought as though it were a lifeline. “You just don’t know how to show it.”

Even Robin, the logical and analytical one, found himself unraveling. He began watching you more closely, searching for cracks in the facade you’d built around yourself, desperate for another glimpse of the humanity he now believed was hidden beneath.

They all wanted the same thing: you.

And as their obsession grew, so too did their desperation.

(A/n: it's lacking smth idk what but I tried making it platonic but I think I went overboard and kind made it into romantic??? Please Tell me if I did and be honest 🙏🙏)

––TAGLIST!

@maicenitas

[nonranghaes]

hyunjin's... a little disappointed when he opens your gift to find another pair of sketchbooks waiting for him--one still wrapped in plastic, the other not. but he smiles politely nevertheless, always happy to see you taking his hobbies into account, and looks up with a soft, "thank you. i'll use these the soonest--"

you only smile, though, and suddenly he gets the feeling that you know something he doesn't. chris is already searching for the next gift to hand over to him (jisung's, he thinks is what he said), but he looks down at the sketchbook on top with furrowed brows. when he looks at you again, you just mouth to him, "open it."

he glances down and then to you again. here? in front of everyone? what's the point in opening a blank--

oh.

the first page is a careful recreation of a picture you and hyunjin had felix take of you. there's several pictures the two of you admittedly staged so you could post pretty pictures on your anniversary this year (two years!) to gush over one another, and this one is the two of you sitting on a bench, overlooking the river. he leafs through them and he keeps seeing pictures of himself. all lovingly drawn by you, or painted, or inked. art was what brought the two of you together. but how long...?

changbin's leaning over his shoulder now. "woah... did they do these?"

and hyunjin snaps the sketchbook shut, "stop looking at them." changbin can look later, once hyunjin has seen everything for himself. he sets the filled sketchbook into his lap for safekeeping, and accepts jisung's gift when chris hands it over to him.

hyunjin kisses you once everyone is gone, though, and the two of you are cleaning up what the others missed. "i love you," comes so, so easily from him. it always does, but this time it feels like breathing.

you kiss him back, clumsy and against the corner of his lips. "happy birthday, hyunjin. i love you, too."

[its-opheliasgarden]

the acolytes | a sims 4 dump

entering their third year as acolytes, dorian, ari, shika, nur, and thorne share a bond forged by untamed magic—and a terrible secret. only they know the truth about what happened to their former classmate last year, a mystery shrouded in whispers and half-truths. burdened by guilt and the fear of exposure, these "friends" must navigate a new school year filled with twists and turns that may push them to their breaking point. life stage: teen occult type: spellcaster cc included: ✅(e.g., skin details) download: ⬇️ moonstone guild (cc).zip (140 mb)

notes: each sim comes with full set of 98% vanilla outfits inspired by lore above. some skills, preferences, etc. are included. please do not reupload or claim as your own or put any of my creations behind paywall of any kind. please respect their race, ethnicity, gender identity, and sexual orientation. more details under the cut.

shika (she/her), the self-appointed leader, is an overachiever with a short fuse. her arrogance often gets the best of her. her best friend, thorne (he/him) is a tortured romantic who yearns to find his soulmate.

dorian (he/him) is a hedonistic egomaniac with little regard for anyone but himself. but he can't seem to deny his attraction to shika. nur (they/them) is fiercely loyal as they are funny. cursed at birth to die young, they live each day to the fullest.

meanwhile, ari (ze/zir) loves stirring the cauldron with zir knack for drama and always has the lastest gossip to share. ari is doing zir best to keep the group's dark secret under wraps—for once.

only i would have a whole sims dump inspire me to start a new save again...sigh! anyways, hope you enjoy using them as much as i did creating them including the lore. i had way to much fun connecting with the sims 4 game lore (which could definitely use some improvements). also know that you can easily change them to be young adults, humans, if you want to use them for other storytelling or gp reasons or don't play with occults a lot.

-d.

[cypherscript]

Perpeptual

Some of Young justice are teleported/isekai'd during one of their battles to an underdeveloped world barely out of the iron age.

The planet confuses them, perpeptual night but the climate is warm and the flora abundant regardless of the missing sunlight. It has a single yellowy green moon that is stuck in orbit at the same point in the sky as the stars move around it.

Some of the locals have accepted them into their small village, their language is close to spanish; esperanto Wally says. Atleast they can somewhat communicate now. The people are unsettingly human with only slight changes to their body; lighter skin, pointed ears and glowing eyes.

They spend a little over two weeks helping the locals with their building some kind of stage for a festival. A large corridor of metal, spires of green crystal that Connor says make him woozy on top of his already low solar energy from the weeks stranded here and thick braided cord wound around the bases of the spires and inlayed into an intricate pattern winding their way to the corridor of metal.

The chief, Degelinta Stellumo, is happy to say the festival can begin early. When asked about the festival they cant translate much other than it's to thank their god for keeping them safe. About how thousands of years ago the day god Rox tried to consume their world, the night god Phan covered their world in protective night to protect it from Rox's anger.

The team is perplexed as the festivities begin, rhythmic chanting fills the air as one of their young men, that Megan recognizes as Stelo, walks forward dressed in furs and a iron crown upong their head. He steps into the corridor, the crystals glow brightening as he does so, almost alive in the perpeptual moonlight and the chanting getting faster and faster. Duh-duh-duh-duh-da-duh-duh-da-duh-da~.

There is a massive flare of light coming from the corridor, the crystals shatter and fly everywhere and the people cheer. Stelo steps, no floats from the now blackened corridor changed; his body glows in a pale white light, hair once black now pure white while his eyes are toxic green from his previously white and a cloak of stars floats behind him in an invisible wind.

He looks around confused, tired, until his eyes settle on the young superheroes going from Connor's house of El crest to Miss Martians skin to Robins stylized R.

Everyone is shocked as the being speaks to them in echoy but clear english, "You lot are a long ways from home, arent you?"

"Uhm, yes... sir," Tim hesitantly asks hesitantly unsure how to address this being? God? Entity?

"Right, well not to belittle your situation but we're holding up the festivities I'm certain the Sheo'lp people have been working on for some time. Let us celebrate a bit then we can talk about your situation."

"What are you," Megan blurts out, confused, "Stelo stepped into that corridor and his mind is gone and now theres just static."

"I suppose i can answer that easily enough. My name was/is Danny and I dont know what I am anymore. Once the festival ends, Stelo will return to himself. I promise."

The now named Danny stops floating and walks over to the tribespeople, stopping to hug and greet everyone by name and accepting food and drink happily. He cries as he eats the food and drink, thanking the people in esperanto repeatedly as he does so, this goes on for several hours before the partying starts to die down and Danny takes the group over to a dying bonfire.

"Right, I suppose you have questions but I would like some verification."

"Verification?"

"Yup, just need to know if you are who I think you are. It's been forever since I've been around earth but you look familiar.

He points at Miss Martian, "M'gann M'orzz?"

Pointing to kid flash, "Bart? No... Wally West."

Points to Robin, "Damian Wayne."

Points to Superboy, "and that would make you Jon Kent."

They partially confused, partial perturbed that this entity knows some of their names. Tim looks him square in the eyes, studying him, thinking about protocols for what to do when a godlike entity just namedrops your baby brother like its no big deal.

"Its just Robin as I am," Tim says, eyes never leaving Danny's.

"Shit right, apologies I forgot about superhero 101, no names. Its been a while since I had to worry about names, time is blurry these days to me. Now! What about those questions?"

"Can you get us home," Tim asks straight forwardedly. "We've been missing from earth for a few weeks now."

"Sure," he says nonchalantly, surprising the team, "Well yes and no. *I* can get you home but I know something who can but you need to Promise me that you'll follow my directions once you go home. Deal?" He holds out his hand to Tim, who looks at it before shaking it.

"So long as it doesnt endanger those i care about then Deal."

Danny nods before taking a deep breath and holding out a hand, a small crack running through the seam of reality as green light fills the area, from the crack a scroll flies through at high speeds as he catches it. "Hello old friend," he says tiredly, seeming to have dimmed greatly from that stunt.

"A scroll," Connor asks incredulously.

"A map," Danny corrects, "of everything. Take hold of each other before taking the Map, once you do take the map and say where you want to go." He looks at connor briefly, "it wont be a pleasant trip for Jon but it is nessesary for you to get home. Hopefully this trip should innoculate your biology against ecton radiation."

"Wait radiation," wally yelps.

"Its harmless to humans, mostly. Its the fastest way to get back to Earth, youre on the other side of the universe kids. Now, once you're back on earth tell the Map to return home and let go. So take the map, i need to go speak to the chief for a bit. Thank you for being here and letting me help." Danny groans as he slowly gets up and walks over to the chief's tent.

"Do you think he's okay," Megan asks the group as Tim looks the rolled up map over.

Connor watches as Danny leaves, "He's low on energy. Like how Kryptonians are without yellow sunlight."

"Unfortunately we cant focus that right now, grab hands its time to go." They each take the others hand as Tim holds up the map, "take us to the Justice Leagues Watchtower on Earth." The map unfurls as a blue energy grows over the group as they begin floating and the scroll begins to drag them across the sky, a similar crack as before opens before them and swallows them up and the next couple of seconds are filled with blurred visions of vast green voids, purple doors and massive beasts lurking in the distance, the eyes following the team as the fly past.

As quickly as it began its over as a final crack tosses them out at a fast speed into the Justice Leagues cafeteria, scattering on impact and flinging food everywhere as the security systems begin to screech as the team sigh in relief.

"We're home..."

***

"So you mean to tell us you've been trapped on another planet for all this time," Barry asks as the members of young justice sit at the conference table with the other adult members of the justice league.

"Yes sir."

Batman is pensive as hes thinking, "and this entity called you by your names?"

"Mostly, he thought Kon el and I were our younger counterparts."

"Hnn."

Kid Flash leans over to Megan and whispers, "that's bat for I dont like this." Barry cuffs him over the head.

"So should I return the map to Danny?"

"Did someone say my name," a chipper young voice says as he sticks his head through the table, familiar glowing green eyes and white hair who freezes at the sight of the map, "how do you have that? B What's going on?"

"The young justice team has been stranded on a distant planet for several weeks, they just got back with the help of this artifact. Do you recognise it?"

"Course I do, don't know how you have it because its supposed to be with FB in the zone."

"Wait a second," megan exclaims, suddenly recognizing the static she was getting from him "You're Danny! What happened to Stelo?"

"Who?" That takes the wind out of her sails, "oh... i get whats going on here. Classic time travel, don't tell me anything. If you have the map then FB or I gave it to you for a reason. You should send it back."

"Do as he says Robin," Batman says nodding in understanding.

Tim takes the map in his hand, "go back home, uh... map?" He drops it as it unfurls and zooms off through another green crack. "What's all this about?"

"Dunno," Danny says as he leans back as he floats through the table, "hasn't happened yet."

______________________________________________

Authors note:

Little more detail on what happened between the gods in the Sheo'lp's tale. Their sun was going supernova and Phantom in a last ditch effort to save the planet wrapped his being around the planet as the sun exploded around them. His ice core cooling the suns now explosive heat, his body giving them stars to look at and his core to give them light. Their planet is essentially a terrarium surrounded by a critical nuclear reactor. Due to time dialation from earth to there hes been holding back the sun for over a thousands of years by the point YJ arrive.

The festival is a recreation of the fenton portal that they offer one of their own for Phantom to overshadow to partake in their food and drink as thanks. Once he runs out of energy from the crystals his overshadow breaks and he returns to his duty leaving the host with memories to later become the chief and lead their people with their knowledge.

[30somethingautisticteacher]

Buck's favorite words

Just a little idea I couldn't get out of my head so enjoy this ficlet 🙂

***

Buck isn't sure why he likes the word so much, but every time he says it, it's like sugar on his tongue. It makes him feel warm and fuzzy and like everything is right with the world.

"Sorry, I'm flattered but I'm seeing someone," Buck says to the pretty girl he's just evacuated from a 3-alarm blaze. His voice is kind but firm, a far cry from the Buck of old who might have preened at the attention.

"Oh come on, handsome hero man. Give me your number," she purrs, reaching out to touch his arm.

Her relentlessness gives Buck a little push, and he finds himself using the word for the first time in public. It rolls off his tongue easily, filling him with a quiet pride.

"Sorry, but like I said, I'm taken," he says, gently stepping back. Then, with a smile that's both apologetic and genuinely happy, he adds, "I have a boyfriend."

The word 'boyfriend' sits in the air between them, and Buck feels a warmth spread through his chest.

From then on, he finds himself saying it as often as he can, each time feeling that same warmth, that same quiet joy.

At the flower shop, where he's picking out a bouquet for his and Tommy's dinner date, the florist asks, "Do you need help picking something out for your girlfriend?"

"Boyfriend, actually," Buck replies with an easy smile. "And I'm good, thanks."

At the coffee shop, he leans on the counter, eyes scanning the pastry case. "Do you have any cranberry orange scones? My boyfriend loves them," Buck asks the barista warmly.

Later, at the bar waiting for Tommy, a pretty girl sends a drink over. Buck catches her eye, raises the glass in thanks, and then gently shakes his head. When she approaches, he's ready with a now-familiar phrase: "I'm flattered, but I have a boyfriend."

Each time he says it, 'boyfriend' feels more natural, more right. It's not just a word anymore—it's a declaration of who he is, who they are together. And Buck finds he loves that feeling almost as much as he loves Tommy.

There's nothing better than the word boyfriend. That is, until a new word takes its place.

At a restaurant, the waiter approaches with menus in hand. "Would you like to order an appetizer while you wait?"

Buck's eyes light up, a grin spreading across his face. "No thanks, my fiancé should be here soon." The word 'fiancé' rolls off his tongue like honey, sweet and perfect.

On a work call to a new gym, Buck finds himself pacing with excitement. "Wow! This place is nice. Do you have a free trial? I bet my fiancé would love to try it out." He can't help but emphasize the word, feeling a thrill every time he says it.

Later, meeting with the wedding caterers, Tommy sits right next to him, their hands intertwined. Buck squeezes Tommy's hand as he says, "No, we definitely don't want German chocolate cake. My fiancé is allergic to coconut." He glances at Tommy, catching his soft smile at the word.

With each use, 'fiancé' becomes more than just a title. It's a promise, a future, a declaration of forever. And Buck realizes that while 'boyfriend' was wonderful, 'fiancé' is magical—a constant reminder of the commitment they've made and the life they're building together.

But the magic of 'fiancé' only lasts for so long before it's also replaced with something even more profound.

At the hospital, Buck's heart races as he approaches the reception desk. "Hi, I'm Evan Kinard. I just got a call that my husband was here." The word 'husband' feels both new and familiar on his lips.

The receptionist nods reassuringly. "Oh sure, it looks like your husband has just been discharged. Just smoke inhalation and a minor concussion."

Later, at Maddie's place, Buck finds himself chuckling as Chimney and Tommy argue about movies. He turns to his sister with a grin. "I don't know whose husband is more stubborn, yours or mine."

At the 118's karaoke night, Buck takes the stage, his eyes locked on Tommy. "I'd like to dedicate this song to my husband," he announces, his voice full of love. As the opening notes of "I Can't Help Falling in Love With You" begin to play, Buck starts to sing, his voice soft and sincere. Tommy's face flushes with a mix of embarrassment and deep affection as Buck serenades him in front of their friends and colleagues.

Each time Buck says 'husband', he feels a surge of pride and love. It's more than just a word—it's a testament to their journey, their commitment, and the life they've chosen to share. And Buck knows, without a doubt, that 'husband' is his favorite word yet.

[n0tamused]

Hiii*** I luv your work sm 💓💓💓 you encapsulate the characters so well

How do you think the elves would react to a human s/o who has a beautiful singing voice? maybe she travels thru to sing as a job? Like a bard almost? im lowkey envisioning Lana Del Rey haha 💓💓 stay safe queen 💓💓💓

A/N: Hello! I'm so happy to hear you say so, thank you so much <3 But I can definitely do that- I hope you like this! And you stay safe as well!

Contents: Glorfindel, Lindir, Thranduil, Legolas x GN!Reader(all separate)

Words: 1728

Ko-fi

☀︎Glorfindel

-Glrofindel’s affections towards the traveling bard are nothing unknown, both to his kin and others. It is no secret he has a love for all sorts of crafts but song is one he favors the most out of all of them, it comes easily and he is also known to sing himself. It is not rare to hear him humming when he comes and goes down the hall, unburdened with duty and tasks

-This love of music is only further amplified when he begins to court his beloved bard. He hums even more often, trying to form rhymes and compositions on his feet that he may write down once he is back in his chambers with a quill in hand

-He loves to hear you sing, if that was not clear enough by now, and he takes so much pleasure in simply staying quiet while you take the stage

-Glorfindel is also known to mention you a lot in conversations concerning art and music and poetry, besides the usual conversations as well where he simply likes to remind everyone how great you are - he is your greatest supporter tbh, your own personal cheerman

-Although he does share the love of music with you he does find it a bit hard to actually find the right words that rhyme, it does take him ages sometimes, and that’s where he appreciates your input and thought. This leads to a lot of sweet moments of you two coming up with some verses together. Some nights spent with you are filled with a back-and-forth conversation about possible verses, compositions or instruments that may be used in particular songs

-(You two are the Middle-Earth's equivalent of song cover makers lol, I love it)

-He was rather saddened when you once came to him with your broken instrument, and he was just as quick to seek someone out to repair it, and in the meantime he was the one singing to you to distract you 

♪⊹ ࣪ ˖Lindir

-Lindir is a song man, quite literally in name too! So it is no surprise that he does take interest in your own music as well. At first he didn’t understand the songs you brought from the world of Men, they all were a bit foreign to him and he was rather indifferent to them. They did not carry the same depth as elven songs, he once commented to a fellow elf, unknowingly being “eavesdropped” by you (you were simply walking by), and since then it seemed to him you had set a lifelong goal to expose him to as much Man music as possible..

-But as your stay in RIvendell prolonged itself and you kept on filling the air with your voice and harp, he couldn’t help but relay some attention to you. He could no longer force his head and ear away, and his interest inevitably grew. What once were shallow verses became something he found himself humming in times of tranquil silence

-He would have listened and watched from afar for a long time before one day approaching you about a certain part of a certain song, telling you how some part could use improvement and how it didn’t make sense to leave it as is. He was rather polite with it for his usual sass and far less critical than when he first met you and heard your songs

-From that conversation it was clear he had spent quite some time listening  to you play and sing. And from there he had approached you more, sitting off in your sight or close to you while you played and sang. It slowly evolved to him offering to teach you to play another instrument, a flute perhaps? Or a high harp perhaps? There are many instruments of elegance in Rivendell that Lindir would be more than happy to introduce you to. Word spread out quickly from there - Lindir had asked you to allow him to court you. Lindir doesn’t understand how the word spread quickly, or who even winessed the private moment between the two of you, but he has no time or energy to find the culprit, so he begrudgingly accepts his predicament and finds himself sassing back anyone that asks too much about his relationship with you

-Once he was allowed leave from RIvendell and he took the chance to travel with you, accompanying you on your journey to a nearby settlement of Man, where you gathered much attention from the young to elderly. He couldn’t help but feel so proud and happy. He stood to the side, almost in the shadow, admiring you from afar and sometimes stealing a glance at the others who were admiring you as well

-Safe to say, Lindir has found a new form of love for Human songs, and even greater love with you

𓄃Thranduil

-The elven king, however aloof, has an eye for things of good craft but also an ear for a good tune

-Often, on his walks with his kin through the woods of his Realm, he hears the quiet humming and singing of one or two individuals, and on some occasions he joins them as well. By now the others that are frequent guests on his walks have come to know his two favorite “walking songs” and make it a point to start singing them if their King seems to be in damp spirits. This has lead him to not like the said songs anymore, since singing them so often had the opposite of the desired effect

-As it is not that often than Men are that far in his Kingdom, it was quite interesting to see you come before his court, and with a voice that even the walls grew ears to listen to. It happened in the years he was in grief, dressed in darker clothes to show his state, but to you it may have not appeared so meaningful, as you brought a song of joy and spring rather than the songs of mourning

-The gesture, who some of his court deemed misplaced, was something Thranduil was very grateful for

-He has since made further arrangements for your stay and made inquiries about the next time you’ll stop at Mirkwood. Not many singers from outside like to take their chances in the forest, and while the elves there were generous and protective of their guests, you got further protection upon your departure, being safely escorted by a number of elven guards

-The time following, robbed of your presence and music has left Thranduil feeling somewhat impatient, although he’d never admit that outloud. It is in the times when he is left alone that he has to remind himself that patience is what he needs, not the other way around. And should you come again to his court, he’d be more than willing to offer you a permanent place at his side

-It is safe to say the offer was a pleasant shock to you. Especially considering how the others outside his borders love to talk about him, how rude he is and how greedy - yet all you saw was a just hand ruling a Kingdom cast into darkness, a lonely light in the spotless night sky. All his guards wore jewelry, and you could not think of another king that treated his servants and guards half as well

-Time passed swiftly, and you found a spot at his court, and after a time - at his side as well, more than just a singer

..☘︎ ݁˖Legolas

-Legolas is as fond of songs as a young Prince can be, and more. He has always been a free spirit, inquisitive about the world around him and he tackled the new events and findings through music and instruments

-His Father did not leave him lacking in this regard, and Legolas was taught to pull harp strings and the ways of holding a flute properly when he was young. Later he’d go to try his hand at drums as well, but he found himself preferring finger cymbals over drums

-It is not a far stretch to say that your song was a natural and most welcome noise to his ears. He could not think of a better way to be lead to another person, or a better way to swim into introduction

-Amidst war and carnage, you had led the audience to a mental state of reprieve by a simple motion of strumming your harp in hand. Your voice was that of a Maia, and he could not get enough

-War suddenly seemed so far away, and he felt nearly human, sympathising with the Men in the small crowd that was your audience

-He had met you later when you were adjusting the strings of your harp when one suddenly snapped against your fingers, broken. Legolas did not have harp strings at hand but he had a spare bow string that was too short for his bow, which he offered to you. He repaired the harp as best as he could with the provided item, and while it was not the best solution, it was all there was

-Any tune coming from you was a good one, he told you, flattering you more through flowery elven phrases as his long fingers tightened the string and made sure it wouldn’t come undone

-He was quite happy when you tried out the new string after he handed it to you

-Legolas did not rejoice in leaving the place behind, but duty was heavy on his heart, and a whole world was at stake, and with a bow he bid you safety and farewell

-After the war he found you on the streets of Gondor, singing once more. And much to his surprise you still had the bow string on your harp. The sight, so small, held much too much meaning for him, and found his heart feeling full, not just from the familiar comfort of your song, but a certain form of admiration

-Nothing stopped him from seeking you out after your performance, but you’ve already seen him past the heads of people and children, standing at the edge of where four streets met in the square.

-The conversation was somewhat awkward as some time has passed, and much evil was witnessed, but in the end you parted on a good note, and a promise of more meetings 

Ⓒ n0tamused/jarttavia_. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[everytimewetouch-dot-mp3]

this is the serial killer direction i WANTED that actors au nonsense to go. all that shit is happening too, but this was the part that sparked that whole idea.

this post is loooong

warning binghe is an obsessive yandere freak 🥰 bingyuan are freak4freak tho so like…. it's fine

dead dove do not eat; he is a serial killer and he's kinda horny about it lmao

luo binghe is maybe shen yuan’s biggest fan. when he was fourteen, he saw sy as the male lead in a classical romantic opera and it inspired him to act. he’s seen all of shen yuan’s opening nights and most of his closings, and he was coached by shen yuan’s older brother (until shen jiu dropped him as a client…there was something Not Right about that boy and sj didn’t want him close). he’s got a bit of a shrine to shen yuan in his basement, filled with photos and newspaper clippings a few dried flowers—whenever he was given flowers on stage, shen yuan always tossed one back to the audience. binghe has three. he has every part of shen yuan he can get his hands on, but it's not enough.

when he and sy start working on sqh's game, it's like heaven and hell all at once. sy is even more beautiful up close, even kinder and funnier and smarter than he shows himself to be in the few interviews he's deigned to give. every moment lbh spends with him is ecstasy. every moment he spends apart from him is suffering unlike any he's ever experienced. every day he yearns to touch, to taste, to take shen yuan. to have him and keep him and treasure him the way no one else ever could. no one loves him like luo binghe loves him.

this video game they're working on—it's got a lot of endings. most of the game is the player on their own, but there's one path that gets the shitty teacher character as a companion. and further down that path…well, there are a lot of romance options in a game as big as this.

things start out fine; lbh and sy have great chemistry, it turns out. even when sy has to play the cruel teacher, it's got this undercurrent of something that could easily open the door for the romance arc later on. lbh knew they'd have great chemistry. he and sy are destined to be together; of course they'd work well on screen. they hang out between takes, eat their meals together, carpool when they can. it's amazing.

it's not enough. binghe burns with the need to possess his beloved, and every day he's denied what he rightfully deserves, that fire burns hotter. one night, he goes out to try to find a hookup, just to let off some steam. it's supposed to be a hookup, it really is. he finds someone who looks similar enough to sy from the back that he can almost pretend it's him. but his voice is all wrong, and his attitude is too brazen, and it pisses binghe off so bad that he chokes the guy just so he'll shut up.

it's just—he doesn't stop choking him until he finishes a few minutes later, and by that point, the guy is…well. mbj helps lbh scrub the body and cover his tracks, and the corpse is found a few days later with no real leads.

it happens again a few weeks later. lbh can't have shen yuan, but so many pale imitations throw themselves at him. and every time, he takes them to bed and he swears he won't get angry this time. it's not sy; he knows it isn't sy. there's no need to be angry with them for pretending to be sy when they're not.

he gets angry anyway. he can't help it. he accepts these men's advances, he takes him to bed, he kills them and kills them and kills them. eventually, news comes to light. the date-night killer, a deeply uninspired name born only from the fact that their last known locations were all night clubs. they're all around the same height, all have short brown hair and glasses, all similar builds.

one night binghe asks shen yuan if he wants to go get drinks. he knows a nice quiet lounge, not too crowded since it's so exclusive. shen yuan declines. jokes that he'd better not—the date night killer likes guys with short brown hair; maybe they'd go after him next.

the next body that turns up is…different. still strangled to death, but it seems like the killer (a copycat most likely, the cops say) felt regret afterward. on the victim's back, over and over again, is carved "i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry…"

his a-yuan is afraid of him. luo binghe hates himself, and he hates all these people who put themselves in his path, who get themselves killed by daring to try to replace a-yuan in his heart. it's their fault a-yuan is afraid. binghe is the only one who can keep him safe. he knows he is.

binghe keeps it together until they're approaching the end of shen yuan's time in the studio. the arc is almost finished, and shen yuan mentions that in a month he'll be leaving for his next show's rehearsals. some opera, binghe's pretty sure; his hearing sort of cut out when his beloved said he was leaving. the news is a knife to the heart. his a-yuan can't leave. a-yuan belongs with him, no one can take him away. binghe needs a-yuan, and a-yuan needs binghe.

that night, luo binghe and shen yuan vanish without a trace. binghe has a house. it's under a false identity, and it's way out in the mountains. there, he can keep his a-yuan safe and comfortable. there, he can work to earn his a-yuan's affection. there, no one can take his a-yuan away.

he explains to a-yuan that they're home now, that they are together as they belong, that luo binghe will be the best husband to his precious a-yuan. and sy is so beautiful, so clever, of course he figures out that luo binghe is the date night killer. it's alright though, binghe promises, because he only killed those people for daring to imitate his beloved. now that he and his husband are finally together, binghe's got no reason to kill anyone else. they'll be happy together now that there's no one else in the way.

when shen yuan smiles, it's like the sun breaking through the clouds. he shifts, asks binghe to untie his arms. of course, binghe obeys. anything for his husband. he's not a fool; he knows shen yuan might try to fight and escape as a test of binghe's ability to protect him, and binghe's ready. but instead, shen yuan reaches out and stokes binghe's hair, his cheek. 'binghe went so far for me,' he murmurs, a hypnotic gleam in his eye that luo binghe has never seen. 'i hoped that night… i thought for sure you'd take me when i turned you down for drinks, but you tried so hard to be respectful, didn't you? well. maybe someday binghe will let me see him work? i quite liked the one you carved for me, but i really didn't need an apology. you can try again, can't you? will you make something pretty for me?'

the next corpse is rather beautifully arranged. the wounds carved into the body are artistic, elegant flowing lines and flowers carved into the skin. in the middle of its back, the double happiness character is drawn. shen yuan thinks it’s a lovely wedding present.

[inchidentally]

Oscar picking up the “training camp” and Lando’s proud “uh huh!”

Oscar saying “we’re back” way too much and Lando teasing him

Lando saying “you did” to Montenegro idk that’s adorable bc like we can safely assume they filled each other in either once they got back or during the trips

Oscarisms like “well, laid on the rocks… cuz there’s no sand” tickling Lando like they tickle us lasfgljsagfjla

Lando clearly not knowing what’s in the south west of France

the mirroring each other’s words !! Oscar predicting Lando’s words by default whenever Lando pauses bc Lando might have gotten stuck !! idk I think I’ve said before but it feels like their little coded way of doing these videos bc it feels so silly to be talking to each other like talk show hosts on camera so they do their little mirroring as an inside joke and just…they are so mutually disinterested in making their dynamic and relationship PR-ified or translating it for fans and media that they keep doing those shared looks and little in-joke moments bc it feels so weird to play ‘pretend talking’ for the cameras - and Lando always saying things like how he sees himself as “relaxed” and similar to Lando in being “just a normal guy” and then them both choosing to not share their downtime with fans at all. for all that we love how we get so much high quality content from Lando w Carlos and Daniel, it’s interesting how evident it is now that Lando really did lean on those two for how camera-friendly and easy with the public their dynamics and relationships were and are. Lando being easy to get along with is all down to him tbh it’s just a quality he has - but that now we’re seeing a much more naturally Lando-type teammate relationship with Oscar bc he’s actually as nervous/anxious around cameras and crowds as Oscar is.

so idk I say it allllll the time but it’s just rly cute how they squirrel away and have their little privacy door at the hub and then when they have to peep their heads out and be on camera or on stage they all but huddle together and hold hands and eyeball everyone warily. (probably also why they get the twins from the shining comparison salfgalfjgal bc the finishing sentences and mirroring can easily be creepy if you don’t think it’s cute ???)

and as always Oscar babe Lando didn't say anything that funny it's just a comment about neck training <3 <3

[leighsartworks216]

A Waltz Of Blades And Blood

Sylus x gn!Reader

I'm not happy with it but I'm so tired of trying to get it to work the way I want it to

Based on this post

Warnings: sparring/fighting, blood, injuries, minor knifeplay, mild/implied sexual content, kissing, no smut

Word Count: 1,235 (so close 😭)

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form (Psst fill this out to be tagged in fics)

Sylus doesn’t immediately enter the ring when you go to train today. Instead, you watch as he goes to a weapon rack against the wall and grabs out a couple of knives. He’s smirking at your wide-eyed look as he holds one by the blade for you to take.

“We’re using knives today?” You take it and turn it over in your hand. It feels strange in your grip. You’d trained with guns, swords, claymores, even with a bow, but never had you dealt with a knife like this. The blade gleams threateningly in the overhead lighting.

“Not everyone is going to try shooting you in a tough situation,” he says. He lifts the rope and climbs onto the stage. You follow behind. “If, say, a mugger tries to threaten you and steal your money, you should know how to defend yourself.”

He holds his hands up in a fighting stance. You quirk an eyebrow at him. “Shouldn’t you be teaching me how to disarm first, if that’s your concern?”

He smirks. “A kitten should know how to use its claws first.”

You frown as you mimic his stance. It’s the same one used for the boxing regime he put you through, only altered by your hold on the knife.

“Try to stab me.”

You huff. You know you won’t be able to, but the idea of drawing blood with these is… unsettling, at best. Your only solace is found in the knowledge that he can heal himself.

You try to slash at his arm, but he steps to the side and pushes your wrist away, creating an opening to strike at your chest. His knife stops before it can pierce you, resting sideways against your stomach, with the flat side against your workout shirt.

“Not bad, kitten. Follow through every motion. If your knife gets stuck because you don’t keep up the momentum, you’ll be vulnerable to attacks until you get it back.”

The subsequent training sessions go much the same way. He deflects or avoids your attack, taps you where you’d be hit in such an instance, and gives you advice. You manage to get a cut or two in, but he wipes the blood away and the mark is gone entirely. When you do, he’s quick to praise you, pushing aside how shitty it makes you feel in favor of encouraging you to catch him again.

-

The next day, he grabs the knives again. “You did well yesterday, kitten. Let’s up the stakes, shall we?” He plays with the knife in his hand as you get up on the stage. “No more training wheels. A real sparring match.”

You look down over the ropes at him like he’s crazy. “First person stabbed loses?”

“What’s the matter?” He walks up to the ropes, smirking up at you with a wicked gleam in his eye. “Afraid of getting scratched?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “How about first person to get pinned down loses? Our internal organs are at less personal risk that way.”

He chuckles. “Alright, I accept.”

-

The fight isn’t easy. You both land blows on each other, punching and slicing to defend and take down. Your arms mirror his, covered in knicks and cuts. You have a cut on your right cheek, where you’d stabbed him during your first encounter with the big boss of the N109 Zone.

It’s like a dance. You strike, he blocks. He strikes, you dodge. Blood litters the floor. Glittering little droplets that smear as you step over them. A captivating waltz of blades and blood. He could easily overpower you and force you to the ground, but it’s like he’s toying with you, playing a game to see if you can figure out how to use his weak spots against him. And you’re determined to win.

You strike and he grabs your arm, using the momentum to swing it back at you. You block it with your other arm, both of your faces close as you try to keep the knife away from your neck.

You shove against him hard, enough to create a small gap. You hook your ankle around his and pull his leg out from under him, almost turning his body into a lever, with his core as the fulcrum. He doesn’t let go of you as he falls back onto the ground.

Heavy panting fills the air as the dance comes to a still. You straddle his hips, leaning over him as you pin his shoulder to the ground. Both of your blades are against the other’s throat. You can feel the cold steel brush against your flushed skin, the sharp edge teasing the idea of breaking flesh as you swallow.

He smiles up at you, but his eyes can’t seem to stay on yours for long. They trail along your cheek, watching the blood that drips down to your jaw. His hand gently ghosts the edge of the knife along your skin to catch the stray drop. Then his eyes find their way to your mouth. They’re hypnotized by your parted lips as you try to catch your breath.

His knife leaves your skin. It clatters to the side. But you feel his hand as he drags it along your bleeding arm to hold your wrist, keeping you from removing the blade from his own throat. You can feel your weight shift as he flips you, kneeling between your legs with the knife still held against his neck. His other hand is by your head, holding himself up.

He leans down against the knife. You try to pull it away, but his hand tightens slightly around your wrist, keeping it in place. His face is mere centimeters away. You can feel his breath ghosting your face as you stare up at him.

“So close, kitten…” he whispers. His lips hover just above yours. Your breath hitches in your throat. He smirks. “We didn’t agree on a prize for the winner… but I think you’ll agree to these terms.”

He kisses you deeply, nose pressing against your cheek as he claims his prize. The knife sinks into the skin at his neck. A rivulet of blood slides down the flat of the blade and drips against your skin. You gasp at the sensation as the droplets slither down the side of your neck, leaving chills in its wake.

Sylus swallows the sound eagerly, growling into your mouth in return as he finally releases your wrist. The knife clatters to the side as carelessly with the other one. You grab the back of his neck and pull him in closer. Still holding himself up, his free hand finds yours and interlaces your fingers together against the floor.

When it feels like you can’t breathe anymore, like all the air from your lungs has been sucked out and your ribs ache, he begins kissing along your cheek. You hiss when his lips seek out the cut. He follows the old trail of blood to your jaw, lips becoming pink as he kisses it away.

You tilt your chin up by pure instinct as he moves lower, kissing along the right side of your neck, before making his way to the left side. His hot tongue glides suddenly along your throat, cleaning his blood off of you. When he speaks, it’s with his lips pressed to your skin.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetie.”

[namelessgakusei]

Unknown (Till The End...)

Mark Grayson x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Death and Violence, Gaku's lack of knowledge with guitars

Notes: Gaku actually had a vision about ALNST and Invincible.

Synopsis: You were taken as a performer by the Viltrumites who were fascinated by Humanity's song. Forced to sing to survive, you only hope that your voice will reach him.

"Don't even think this time's enough. Cause you baby still it's not enough. For me alright? Don't leave me, li li da da da."

You hate this.

Forced to perform for these damned aliens just because you have some stage presence. Those homicidal maniacs who only know how to conquer and dominate worlds suddenly got an interest in human entertainment?? What a joke, this must be some kind of twisted torture. Humans are pitted against each other to compete on who'll get the most votes out of their performance, and the loser will get shot to death. The winner? They'll have to sing for another round.

Contestants were treated as pets, stripped of their freedom. Families and friends were torn apart by this system, forced to compete with each other and ultimately become an unwilling accessory to murder. Those who were too mentally weak were easily eliminated, those who rebelled (and subsequently caught) were killed, only those who knew to behave survived, ...or those who had talent, such as yourself.

Not long after the Viltrumites conquered Earth and enacted this sick show, you and some others were taken into a "garden", filled with obviously fake imitations of trees and nature, it's condescending mockery of your home planet. Evey single one of you are required to undergo music classes to improve your skills, and every once a month, all of you are taken to participate in laboratory tests to see your progress. You don't know whose idea was this, but you're sure as hell would want to beat them up.

You had quite the viscous streak, always retaliating and questioning authority, leading to more bruises and injuries than you can count. Pet-Humans, you gagged at the new name, are required to have collars that's used to monitor and as a remote collar. There are some cases of well-behaved humans who are let to live without them, but you? You're never without it, with the light on yours always bright red, signaling your negative feelings.

Surprisingly, it takes three Viltrumites to restrain you, granted, they were really holding back their strength as to not damage you too much. You spat at them once upon being referred to as less than human, and it earned you a concussion that left you bedridden for at least a week. It hurt like hell.

Due to your personality, the other humans steered clear of you in fear of being involved with the punishments, it didn't stopped the younger ones from constantly swarming around you though, insisting you sing for them. Despite your disposition, you wanted to make them happy so you obliged, at least for the couple more years that they get to live before they're forced to the stage.

You were... a decent singer, if you would say so yourself. You watched performances here and there back in Earth, watched theatre once or twice and sung along their songs, but you never performed by yourself, so it was a mystery that you were picked alongside the others to survive as entertainment. You overheard some of them talk about potential or talent but you call bullshit, until you saw yourself easily composing songs that secured your spot as the winner during the weekly tests. Ah, shit.

Sometimes, you think about your past as you sat by the fake river in the false garden. Your friends and family that you hadn't saw since you got abducted. Did they survived? Hopefully. There should still be heroes fighting for the sake of Humanity back there, right? There's Atom Eve, The GDA, Invincible...

You miss Mark. You hope he's not blaming and beating himself up because of this. You know he's a Viltrumite, everyone knows at this point, but you knew him beyond that. You know him as both Mark Grayson and Invincible. And you know that he's probably fighting tooth and nail to retrieve the humans that his kind... No, that his father's kind kidnapped.

That thought kept you going, kept you alive throughout the punishments and torture you get from fighting the guards and system. The thought that he'll be coming for you kept you sane from the abuse.

Until you saw a glimpse of him within the spectators.

It took a while, but the results for the humans who passed the tests came out. Those who pass will compete on the stage, those who didn't were either given away for other purposes or burnt to death. You opened your hands and a light-blue light crackled to life, showing "PASSED". You survive for another day in this hellscape.

You were sent to the fitting room to get dolled up for the photoshoot and promotional events, all while being restrained with wires and alien machinery to keep you in place. That didn't stopped you from flipping the Viltrumites off when it's time to show off alongside the other chosen contestants. That's when you saw Mark.

He's blended in the crowd, face notably exhausted, with dark spots visible under his eyes. His eyes followed your form until you disappear back in the backstage. What the hell? He's here? He's here! Mark's here! That means that this will all be over soon, right?

The first round happened without any repercussions. You saw in your capsule how it rolled out, it was a duet between two lovers. You heard that they plan to make it a tie so no one gets eliminated. You didn't had the heart to tell them that it won't work, opting to have them have hope until the very end. Your suspicions were confirmed later on, as one of them just got shot on the neck, traumatizing their competitor. Your eyes landed to meet Mark's, he's in a Viltrumite uniform, with a downcast expression, like he has given up.

You grit your teeth.

Your round comes after. Making an appearance in Round Two, you were pitted against one of your acquaintances back in the garden. You two weren't particularly closed and you thanked whoever made the teams for that. As the elevator rises up, you mentally prepared yourself for the public retaliation.

Suddenly strumming a particular loud chord, you caught the attention of both your opponent and the crowd, Mark included. You don't know what happened, how it happened, just that Mark looks like shit. You step to the center of the stage, your restraints trailing behind you as you glared at everyone.

"Come on!"

You sang an original song, not the one that was agreed upon a few hours prior. Your competitor tried to keep up with the unfamiliar tune but you kept singing over him, even attacking to prevent any chances of him winning. It was a dirty move, but it resulted in your win nonetheless.

You only grinned at Mark's direction, happy that you got your point across while you got pinned to the ground by the guards, before forcefully shoved back to your capsule. You closed your eyes as you bled from your head injury from getting slammed too hard.

Mark stares at you from the audience, expression unreadable but a flicker of defiance was seen for a second.

[soarelesiluna-ao3]

Could you write Lukas (Katarsis) x reader? Extroverted reader would be lovely. That final got me in need for some rpf and Katarsis content is lacking 😭

Random request for tonight! A kind follower helped me figure out Lukas so I thought I'd give it a try 💙

I'm gonna be honest and say Tavo Akys wasn't a song I had much faith in, and I can't still listen to it because it stirs something in me that fills me with dread and wonder. Magical but scary. So I didn't know much abt Katarsis and I'm going off descriptions, interviews and videos I've seen. I hope it suffices!

Let's do a chill afternoon date, yes? I hope you enjoy this!

Content under the cut!

Ps. My exam got moved to Monday! So I'll be posting more often this week 💙

"Ugh..."

A tired Lukas faceplants into the bed of the Basel hotel room. You hear him groaning as his head hits the mattress. This makes you immediately get up from the desk you had been sitting on and sit on the bed instead, a hand gently caressing his back. He isn't wearing the stage costume anymore, but his hair still looks stage-ready. You had been with him today but headed back to the hotel to talk to your friends in a video call.

You press a kiss to the top of his head.

"So tired... God, being on your feet all day is sure exhausting... Not to mention the interviews and just generally being sociable... I'm so tired of having cameras all over my face."

You smile. It was your idea to follow him to Basel - you two met at a Pre-party. You made all the first moves, and slowly crept into Lukas' heart until he said yes when you finally popped the question. The other band members had accepted you easily, especially Emilja, who was like a sister to you. Your relationship was still young but it felt like your souls were destined to be together. You cherished these moments, where Lukas wasn't Katarsis' singer, just a quiet Lithuanian boy who loved music.

His head slowly lifts up so his eyes look at you with a small smile, as you tell him it's all over now, that he can rest for the night at last. He seems comforted by the though and quickly rises to sit up and hold you in his arms. It's a loose hug, very casual, but you like it just fine.

"You're gonna be cheering for us, right?" Lukas asks, leaning into the crook of your neck. "I've seen the odds and people don't think we'll get out of the semi. But honestly? I don't care. I know we're good. We are on top of our game, we've been since EvrovizijaLT!"

His eyes seem to shine a bit when he says that. Lukas has a limited range of emotions, but you can read him so well at this point. You say that obviously, you'll be supporting them, and that you know they will make it. All this effort must be for something else other than burning oneself out by answering stupid questions all day. He laughs a little and nods.

"It's all in a day's work, I guess... Thank you. You're the best thing that happened to me", a pause. "Don't tell the guys I said that. They'd chew me out until I die."

A moment passes where he lets himself become a bit of mush in your arms, just existing and feeling how close you are. You take this moment to pepper kisses all over his face, which he takes with closed eyes and a small purr on his voice.

"Let's watch a movie, yeah? And then we can go out for dinner."

Sounded like a plan.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Helloooo, I can request omega bakugou helping his mate/alpha ace reader with their rut? I thought it might be sfw since u don't feel like writing smut atp :3

Omega Katsuki Bakugou x Ace Alpha male reader

Headcanons

(aged up characters, obviously)

Seeing ace requests in my inbox always make my smile because, hey, that’s me. Where my ace homies at. I’ve very rarely written omegaverse before, but I got so much worldbuilding about it, if you guys are interested.

I have too much worldbuilding and ideas about Omegaverse, so this is a little out of the norm for your usual smut filled rut plot.

For omegaverse, I never imagine that heats or ruts turn you into a horny breeding crazed animal. Yes, with your mate you will feel a lot more arousal and might have moments where you become fueled by your desires, but the majority can still control themselves.

For you, who’s Ace as well, the breeding part isn’t present more than your bodies instincts, but its nothing extreme. It feels the same as when you are really hungry. Sure, the feeling is there, but you can easily go about your day and not let it bother you.

But ruts do more than just make you want to have a lot of pups and crawl all over your omega, even if your omega is as hot as Katsuki is. It tends to cause a lot of stress on the body, from cramping muscles to overheating, dehydration, pacing and other factors that could lead to stress.

So, in Katsuki’s situation, his job during your ruts is mainly to take care of you. To make sure you’re eating and drinking enough fluids. That you aren’t overheating by patting you down with a cold cloth or using ice packs, or even making you cold baths.

He treats it a lot like a very horribly cold for the most part. Sure, your scent also makes him slick up a little and makes his own scent sweeter and riper, but Katsuki is still clear headed and more focused on taking care of you. Especially when he knows you do the same for him when he has heats.

I imagine Katsuki is still his usual snappy growly self, but he doesn’t yell, since ruts also makes your hearing more sensitive. Instead, he just grumbles a lot. With a lot of insults that has no heat thrown in, just because its Katsuki.

As an alpha, you don’t really need a nest, but you bet your damn ass Katsuki makes you one. And only with the best rut materials out there. He won’t accept anything but the best, and Katsuki honestly stresses more about your rut nest than he does his own heat nest.

It reaches a point where, during the early stages of your rut, you just kinda have to thrown yourself in it and show him you like it and accept it.

I could imagine Katsuki worrying a lot, since he knows your ace and he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable with his own scent. Does it bother you that he starts smelling like preheat? Does it make your rut worse? Better? Does he need to leave?

He would also fear crawling into the nest with you, at least in the beginning. After you pull him in multiple times, or tell him to get in, he starts to calm down. You can’t stop him from worrying though, it’s in his blood.

Being ace also doesn’t mean you don’t feel arousal and the like, so if you need to get off, he’s not gonna stop you, and wont touch you unless you want him too. Katsuki knows it won’t go farther than just some touching, if it even gets to that, and he’s more than satisfied.

Having and Ace partner honestly probably helps take some of the stress of his shoulders. He knows you won’t have the same expectations as some other alphas, that he needs to give up on his hero career and be a “good” omega.

Which is also why he’s ready to bend himself backwards to make sure you are comfortable during your rut. Even if staying nearby and taking as much care of you as possible pushes him into preheat, Katsuki is strong enough mentally to keep it bottled up until your rut it over.

This does mean you end up having to take care of him afterwards too, and you gotta call in favors with your friends to cover Katsuki’s patrols, since he didn’t expect to go into heat.

But all in all, ruts with Katsuki are a very planned out affair. Sure, you feel miserable and like you’re boiling on the inside, never able to find a comfortable sleeping position, and like you need to claw your own flesh off. But at least Katsuki is by your side the entire time, ready to hold your hand or hold you as a whole if you need too.

You do have to put up with his nagging though, but you know its just how he shows affection, so in the end it makes you purr at him. Which just gets Katsuki to get all flustered and pretty.

[hornychristianprincess]

NSFW A-Z: WONBIN

a/n: this is just my personal analysis based off my perception and observations of wonbin's personality. all of this is fiction/fantasy

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Immediately after sex, Wonbin wants to be close to you, no matter how sweaty or gross the two of you are. While recovering in bed with you, he’ll be filled with a sort of cocky smugness as he reflects on just how good the sex was. His confidence will be boosted, causing him to be more talkative than usual and say whatever’s been on his mind. Once you’ve both recuperated, he’ll more often than not want to go for another round.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On himself, Wonbin takes a lot of pride in his abs/torso. As a dancer and performer, he works hard to achieve and maintain his physique. I can imagine him having a lot of shirtless pics on his phone.

On his partner, Wonbin is a boob man all day, every day. Regardless of his partner’s size, there’s just something about the softness of them that is comforting to him. Even just feeling them through your shirt during a hug is enough to rile him up.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I think Wonbin is a little finicky when it comes to any sort of mess so I’d say he prefers to come inside of his partner or in a condom. When he’s finished, there’s ease in being able to either throw the condom away or take a shower with you so you can wash up together.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

We all know Wonbin works really hard to maintain this mysterious, cold image, but with a partner who he feels comfortable with, Wonbin is the biggest softie. When he finds someone he loves – a feat on it’s own since he is such an introvert – they become his entire world. He would do anything to please them. He doesn’t want anyone knowing this because of how it would crack this persona he’s crafted for himself.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Wonbin has been handsome his whole life so I would guess he had no shortage of suitors. However, I don’t see him as the type to just go around slinging dick to everybody. It takes a lot for him to take interest in someone and even longer before he’s comfortable initiating sex. Still, I’d venture to say he has some experience under his belt.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Wonbin is a fan of any position where he can comfortably look into your eyes, so usually missionary or cowgirl is what he goes for. Being able to see your expressions as he pleases you is integral to Wonbin’s own pleasure. He likes to maintain intense, searing eye contact with whoever he’s fucking, and these two positions are what most easily allow for that.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

In the lead-up to sex, Wonbin uses jokes to mask how nervous or excited he is. He hopes that by being playful he’ll come off as cool. Once the sex actually begins though, he is deadly serious and intense. He becomes too focused on either giving or receiving pleasure to find anything funny. It’s similar to how he is when he performs on stage; Wonbin on stage and Wonbin off stage are two different people. Off stage, he can be personable and charming, but once he gets into performance mode, he takes what he’s doing so seriously that he can’t consider anything else.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Wonbin only bothers to groom himself when he has a partner, otherwise he can’t be bothered. In the beginnings of a relationship, he appreciates it when his partner puts in the effort to shave. But once you’ve been together for a while and built that camaraderie, he couldn’t care less.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

I think Wonbin enjoys receiving intimacy but not giving intimacy if that makes sense. Like he is fully comfortable with saying romantic things to you and watching as it makes you get worked up and emotional. But the moment when you do the same and he starts to get overwhelmed with emotion, he’ll be quick to hide his face in your neck or bite your shoulder to hold back his whines. As I’ve already alluded to, he shies away from anything that would put a crack in his mysterious persona. In other words, emotional vulnerability is difficult for him but he’s more than happy to hold space for and even provoke your own expressions of emotional intimacy.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Wonbin masturbates rarely and mostly as a means to either let off stress or cure boredom. I see him masturbating the most in the shower after a long day of work, allowing his worries to release down the drain. In many ways, I see him as someone who only appreciates masturbation for its basic utility rather than for the pleasure it brings. To him, sex is a pleasure best enjoyed with a partner.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

overstimulation (giving and receiving): Wonbin is turned on by the idea of fucking until you both literally can’t anymore. To do that requires draining each other’s bodies for all of the energy they have. This man likes to go for rounds. And he won’t want to stop until you both can’t move.

marking (giving and receiving): seeing marks on each other’s skin after sex is a pride point for Wonbin. It’s evidence of just how good the sex was. when receiving, Wonbin likes scratches on his back or even a bloody lip after a passionate kiss. When giving, Wonbin likes seeing the fleeting mark of his handprint on your ass after he smacks it, and more longlasting, hickies on every part of your body.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Wonbin doesn’t have any location preference. He is honestly down to fuck you any time, any place. Still, he’s aware that his partner would likely feel most comfortable to let loose in the privacy of a bedroom, so he’s fine with that.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Before sex even comes to mind for him, he is turned on by a person who is a little hard to get. Because he is so used to the attention of potential suitors. It’s easier to get his attention by not trying to pursue him at all, at least initially. Additionally, he is attracted to unique people with lots of confidence in themselves and their interests. 

What motivates him sexually is feeling a strong level of trust with his partner. What also motivates him is his desire to please. I think Wonbin sometimes has thoughts of not being enough for a person. He sees sex as being the thing that could make someone stay if they feel like he’s lacking in other places. When he fucks, he makes the pleasure of his partner his biggest priority. He is turned on by their reactions and praise. In many ways, he sees praise of his sexual abilities as an affirmation of his personhood. Sex is one of his ways of expressing his love. Whenever he feels a strong surge of love for you romantically, it will immediately translate to him wanting to fuck you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He’s turned off by someone who makes him feel even slightly judged for who he is as a person. I mentioned earlier that he likes people who play hard to get, but once you get past those initial meetings that define the beginning of the relationship, he has little tolerance for indifference. He wants his partner to be just as into him as he is into them.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Wonbin loves both giving and receiving head. As mentioned in my last answer, Wonbin is a huge giver. What turns him on about giving head is seeing his partner’s satisfied expressions and knowing that he possesses the power to make them feel euphoric in this way. And being the man he is, he loves to receive head. He finds you sexiest when you’re salivating over his dick, begging to have it in your mouth even after you’ve already made him come so many times this way before.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

By and large, I think his pace is dependent on whatever his partner asks of him at that moment or whatever he thinks is gonna feel the best for you. Usually he’ll start out slow just to get a feel for the rhythm of things, but he’ll have his moments where the sex starts to feel so good that he’ll get overwhelmed and start rutting into you roughly.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies aren’t Wonbin’s favorite way to fuck, but he’s also not at all opposed to them. It’s not something that happens often, especially because he likes to carve out substantial time with you so that he’s not having to rush intimacy. Still, in moments where you only have a few moments to yourselves, he’d rather have you for a short time than not at all.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

There is nothing inherently satisfying about taking risks for Wonbin. Rather, he can become so turned on by his partner that his desire outweighs any fear. If you and Wonbin are in public and he finds himself enthralled by you in some way, he has no problem with pulling you aside and having his way with you, or even playing with you under the table during a public dinner. The risk of getting caught is irrelevant if not meaningless to him. Were he ever to get caught, he would be quick to shut down any teasing or outside conversation. He prefers to keep the private life of himself and his partner out of the conversations of others.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again – rounds rounds rounds rounds. In each round, Wonbin’s first priority is to make you come, and with that in mind, he is able to hold back on his own orgasm for however long he needs to. After each round, he does need some time to recuperate, but once he’s good, he’ll be ready and needy for more. On a perfect day with Wonbin you’ll fuck, watch a movie, get bored and fuck again, get some food, fuck, and just keep going in that pattern until you collapse in bed tiredly by the end of the day. Once he’s done though, he’s done. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Wonbin is open to both using toys and having toys used on him. While he’s fucking you, I could see him reaching over to a bedside drawer, grabbing a vibrator and using it to stimulate your clit while he gives you long, deep thrusts. Conversely, if you were to incorporate a vibrator or cock ring while giving him head, he might just cry like a baby. All in all, anything that can be used to enhance both of your pleasures’ is a win for him. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Wonbin is only a tease outside of the bedroom. Inside it, he gets right to the point and doesn’t have the patience to delay anything by teasing you. His focus is on making the both of you feel good. To him, pleasure is a feeling best enjoyed when instantaneous rather than to be delayed by pointless lollygagging.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Wonbin only allows groans and grunts to come out when he feels like they sound dignified and gruff. The moment a whine threatens to come out, he’s quick to bite your shoulder to hold it back. If a means of hiding his whines isn’t immediately accessible, he’ll just look and sound really pained as he fights to hold back what he’s feeling. He always wants to appear composed and in control of his reactions.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

“I love you,” he’d say, a breezy tiredness to his voice as he fucked you for what felt like the tenth time that night. “So, so much.”

These were the sort of inclinations Wonbin would get every time he was inside you. The soft, sentimental part of him is something you only got to see, something you managed to bring out of him so easily with the pleasure of your sex. The closer he got to coming, the rougher and more restless he come feel himself being. He pinned your wrists against the bed, eyes never leaving yours as his thrusts increased in impact.

“You’re mine forever, Y/N. No one can fuck you as good as I do. You belong to me,” he’d growl, each thrust punctuated by a kiss from his signature star shaped necklace, hanging from his neck and dragging up your face. You were close, and he could tell, the feeling of you clenching around him plus the telltale shutting of your eyes giving it away. Longing to be close to you in these moments, his face collapses onto yours as he initiates a languid, messy kiss.

“Come for me. Wet me,” he’d pull away to command. “Wanna feel you drip down my cock, pretty girl.” Those were the last words you were able to register before you were launched into the most powerful orgasm of your life, Wonbin following after you with a poorly suppressed whine only shortly after.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I don’t have any strong inclinations either way. I just know that whatever he lacks in the sack he more than makes up for in other areas. Whatever his size is, it gives him no reason to not feel confident in his sexual abilities.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I’d say his sex drive is pretty average. Sex with him is pretty physically demanding so it often happens that you fuck 1-3 times a week with a day or two between each time. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Once he’s gotten all the rounds out of his system, his energy is completely depleted. He’ll sleep like a baby.

[bloodywankers]

tw; yandere, domestic abuse, child abuse, drugging, alcoholism, slight nsfw, bodily harm, unedited

Hate is a strong word but even it is not nearly strong enough to describe what Alexei felt for his father, the one who snatched his mothers budding career as a ballerina right from her. Not when–if not for him, perhaps he would’ve grown up loved and cared for by a mother instead of a changing rotation of nannies and tutors. The few memories he has of her usually include crying and screaming, cursing the boy for looking like ‘that monster’--what she called his father. Now that he’s an adult, he can’t help but agree, but most normal children at that age don’t tend to understand why mommy always screams and sobs when she and daddy are alone at night.

He hates to admit it but when desperate he’d even turn to his father for a morsel of affection, not unlike his brother but both were met with his cold gaze and treatment worse than that which you expect from strangers. Because, as his brother who was equally as young best described it, “Daddy only has eyes for mommy”. Every chance he got, their father got gifts for their mother. Jewellery, dresses and any other thing money could buy, well, anything except the freedom to leave. Alexei and his brother always had gifts on birthdays and holidays too, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out they were from the nannies who took pity on them rather than their parents.

But it wasn’t always bad! Sometimes daddy, sitting in the living room, would massage mommies feet— which always seemed to hurt and need treatment— and mommy would be too tired to cry or curse at the boys. On those occasions they would be allowed to play in the living room, but only if they didn’t make any noise. On those occasions Alexei felt like a real family, just like the one in the movies, if you ignored the half-drunken cup on the table near mommy with a substance too cloudy to be called water.

No one turns out normal after a childhood like his, that’s what his last therapist said at least. So no one should blame him for finding refuge in alcohol, his brother inheriting the family business allows Alexei to run nightclubs that bleed money quite easily. A privilege he’s willing to admit most don’t have, but most don’t have a family life like his either. Nowadays he doesn’t know what his parents are up to and usually, he’s too drunk to care.

Of course, it’s not all bad, he has a nice house where he can do as he pleases. It’s nothing like a typical rich bachelors house but instead one he saw in a movie once, he’d always been jealous of the family the character had so he purchased a house that looked eerily similar to the movie set. Hoping that the association would make it feel less empty and cold, he even got the same dog the main character had. A big golden retriever that he would take on walks in the mornings after a hangover, he even feeds it on time despite his drunken habits!

But a dog and suburban house don’t fill the void left by crippling loneliness, not when humans are inherently social creatures and Alexei actively denies himself this. The comfort of alcohol is limited, you can only consume so much before it stops working so occasionally he seeks the warmth of a person, usually it’s short-lived, most people have normal lives, and normal jobs they have to get to. So he usually goes straight back to sleep after he does whatever mundane routine he’s set to follow, waking up only after the last rays of the sun are gone, but occasionally he makes exceptions. This time, due to his brother demanding he attend an event with him, some sort of charity event that involved a ballet performance.

Alexei doesn’t remember much after he saw you dance in your little dress and stage makeup. For a moment in time it felt as if you two were the only people in the world, an unfamiliar warmth in his chest as you stared right into his eyes. He’s never been one to believe in these sorts of things but it almost felt like fate as your gazes met and his heart felt truly alive for the first time in so long, a sensation he was sure was not a side effect of alcohol poisoning this time.

He could faintly remember inviting you to one of his nightclubs and you begrudgingly accepting, looking back on it, being the brother of a major backer for the event might have been part of the reason you accepted but Alexei liked to think it was because you were as charmed by him as he was you. It all felt like a blur until he found himself in a hotel room with you, sitting on a sofa with you on top of him. By that point he had too much alcohol in his system to do much more than to beg you to keep going. Letting you guide him until he was on the floor and you in his place on the sofa.

“I’ve been a good boy, haven't I? You love me, right?” He’d mutter between, his words slurred and barely audible as he took one of your feet in his hand and kissed it.

“Tell me you love me.” This time he spoke in a clarity that made all his past drunkenness seem like an act, his eyes wide opened and focused solely on yours.

“Hmm?” His grip on your foot seemed to tighten as he eagerly waited for your reply, eyes staring right into yours and a blank expression waiting to contort based on your reply. He looked almost pathetic, especially when compared to how high and mighty he seemed to act when sober.

You were quick to respond with confessions of love, lest he cut off the circulation to your foot entirely and, to your pleasure, the reply seemed satisfactory enough as he continued, shifting his focus to your breasts instead. Continuing on until the sun started to peek through the window and neither of you had any more energy to continue, although you were sure he kept going long after you passed out. However, thankfully, you were able to get up before him, carefully dressing yourself so as to not wake him.

It’s almost routine for Alexei to wake up alone after spending the night with someone but he admits to feeling a little disappointed this time, hoping he could see you at least for a last time but he tries not to linger on it for too long, it’s always been like this and this time should be no different. Even if the walk home feels especially lonely when he sees parents walk their children to school and young couples bask in each other's company. He doesn't like to admit it but that doesn't make it any less unbearable.

He’s never lingered so much after spending the night with someone, never bothered to figure out their name or the place they work at, nor as he ever bothered to add any events they could likely attend to his calendar. It’s out of character, he acknowledges as he scrolls through your social media, careful not to like any of your posts to tip you off, at least not until the time is right. It gets to the point where even people around him start to notice.

“You’ve been going around asking for information on her, how would I not know when you called the event organisers?” His brother, Viktor, said. At this point, any normal person might’ve reprimanded Alexei for acting like a lowly stalker. But it’s so difficult to tell him off when this is the longest anyone has seen him sober. Especially when he wakes up at normal hours every day and indulges in hobbies he knows you like in the hope of impressing you. This is still despite not having met you since that day. It’s hard to tell him to go back to isolating himself and indulging in little more than slowly destroying his health. And so what if knowing how his brother is, it comes at the cost of a stranger? It was a worthy sacrifice, in Viktor's eyes, if his brother could feel a sense of normalcy for the first time in his life.

According to his original plan, Alexei was going to ‘coincidentally’ meet you again and formally introduce himself. He was going to court you and go on dates with you like normal couples do, he would propose after a year with him. He didn’t mean to have you wake up with a chain to your ankle but he couldn’t help himself when he saw your attention shifting from him to someone else. He got anxious thinking all his plans had been for nothing, as he pictured you with another man while he could do nothing but offer you bitter congratulations.

As you nervously sat in front of him in the dim office, Alexei couldn’t help but smile, taking in the sight before he continued. “Despite your skill, you still haven’t gotten a main role yet, have you, [name]?”

You knew how this went, so many of the company's favourite ballet dancers had used similar means after all, but it didn’t make you feel any less dirty as you replied. “No, sir.” He looked different from that day, his hair better kept and face not as sunken in as that night. Had you met under different circumstances you would have no qualms against admitting he was a truly handsome man.

“Well, I don’t think that fair, especially for someone as talented as yourself, so, I’d like to offer to sponsor you. Of course, that is, only if you would agree to it.” You almost laughed at this. Alexei was just as aware of this as you, if you dared to deny his offer it would mark the end of your career. You would never dance again. “Sponsor…?” You couldn’t help but feel a shiver run through you as you looked up to find him smiling, it was an unfamiliar expression. Even that accursed night his expressions had been nothing short of pitiful but now he felt like a completely different person.

You couldn’t find it within you to say yes immediately, not when you still remembered the events that took place after you left that hotel room, the way your skin burned as you scrubbed it to try to get rid of that dirty sensation you felt, the way everyone stared at you when you returned to practice at the studio. They had seen you leave with him last night and could clearly see the marks peeking through. It felt unbearable to even think about it.

While you were lost in thought, you failed to notice Alexei now standing behind you as his hands placed on your shoulders.

“You’re a smart girl, you know what I mean, don’t you?”

Everything after that felt like a repeat of that night, the only difference being that this time he was sober throughout, which felt arguably worse. At least he was somewhat consolable that time, a childish pitifulness present in his expression even as he clawed through your skin and took from you with not a shred of remorse. At least then you could console yourself thinking it was a drunken mistake but this time his eyes were clear as day as they bore right into your own. His words were perfectly coherent as he proclaimed his undying love and his movements deliberate and controlled as he twisted your ankle in ways it shouldn't.

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