#colour film was already a thing too............

[feyd-meowtha]

Last Line Tag

Innumerable thanks to @swifty-fox and @blixabargelds for thinking of little old me, have some xmas au (even though it isnt even december yet.....)

+++

“You stole my cab,” Gale said quietly, he didn’t really mean to do it but he was experiencing levels of irritation hereto unknown to science and it kinda just slipped out. It was too quiet and the guy just squinted at him.

“Come again?”

“I said, you stole my cab. My cab from New York, I hailed it but then your case tripped me up. When I got back up you were already gone.”

The stranger, John, gaped at him for a second before his grin was back on his features. “Did I now? Damn, that’s just the worst. I really am sorry about that, it's my bad but I swear it was a total accident. I’m a lot of things but I’ve never been a thief a day in my life,” he paused then, shaking his head in a way that made him look genuinely regretful before fixing Gake with twinkling blue eyes, the exact same colour as his faded levi’s. "Really man, I had no idea that was your cab. I never would have taken it if I’d known. What can I do to make it up to you?”

“That isn’t necessary,” Gale said, waving his hands in front of him to indicate that it really, really wasnt. John was well past listening.

“Come on, I gotta do something. I'm sorry, I really am. How about I buy you a hotdog and a beer?”

“No thanks.”

“Just a hotdog then?”

“You really don't have to ”

“A coffee?”

“No need.”

“Life savers?”

“No.”

“A magazine?”

"I said no."

"Some gum?"

“Really,” Gale said, perhaps a little too forcefully. “I don't need anything,” but John was not so easily put off.

“Oh, I know. You like baseball?” Bucky asked, not waiting for Gale’s answer (which would have been a resounding no) before rummaging in his backpack and pulling out a handful of baseball cards in film wrappers, fanning them out to show Gale a bunch of names that meant absolutely nothing to him. “Take your pick.”

+++

In return I tag.... @polifandom @c-goldthorn @irregularcollapse (no pressure, of course 💖)

[nicastamatis]

biggest L of the change in timeline in amc iwtv vs the books is that talkies came about in 1927, two years before the murder attempt, so they can't adapt lestat assuming a vision is fake bc it had video with sound

[andresylupin]

went to the cinema yesterday to see The Name of the Rose, which I had seen only once before, like ten or twelve years ago, and it was such an incredible experience to rediscover that film, and since i was in the mood i decided to start watching the new adaptation that came out a few years ago as a tv series and. it's a different experience for sure. i'm only 25min in, so i'm not really forming an opinion just yet, but i'm having thoughts. (also Michael Emerson is here, as the abbot, which surprised me because based on what i know about the character, it doesn't seem to require that "little freak" vibe that emerson has, but i am glad to see him there!)

also i have never read the original novel, which i'll rectify in the very near future.

[raspberry-gloaming]

All I know about the new descendants movie is osmosis from tumblr and combining that with the media I think of when someone says Alice in Wonderland is making for tbh the movie in my brain is probs very different than what I've heard the new one is like.

And that media is the Royal Ballet's Alice in Wonderland. Its a lovely comic ballet, and my favourite dances are The Mad Hatter's Tea Party (tap! in a ballet! also in this clip played by Steven McRae, who i want to know more about and watch more of his stuff as i have heard good things about from other dancers I know), and the Tart Adage, which is frickin hilarious. (also the way that the King of Hearts just droops around in the background and its like yup. thats Red's dad apparently.)

So uh everyone should watch these clips simply because they're amazing and I love them.

[bloomingsalma]

okay... so I get why I was hesitating to watch soulmate (2023)

[tojisun]

Okay, now I need something about bf!logan and his girl making a porno (bonus points if wade finds out after the show they put on for him and that man is willing to RISK IT ALL to see that sex tape😩🤣)

cw: porn link; f!reader; smut; consensual filming during sex; slight sexting at the end // divider by @/plutism!

this is definitely the porno they were making <3

logan has you on your knees, your ass dimpling with every one of his greedy caresses, his heavy hand kneading your flesh. you’re whining to be creampied—to be bred—and logan indulges you with a quiet chuckle because you’re so adorable like this, all needy and demanding, babbling nothing but nonsense because he’s fucked you to the point of incoherence.

you jut out your chin at his croon. he tells you to do it yourself if you really want his cum; says that you’ve got to show him how much you need it.

“an’ here i thought i was bein’ a gentleman,” logan says, sighing in that what-can-you-do? tone like he hadn’t been fucking you so hard, you were sure that the condom was on the brink of ripping.

you grumble, rolling your eyes even mid-tears, before reaching back to where he’s got his cock rutting along the cleft of your ass. you give it a stroke, giggling breathily to yourself at its sheer girth and weight, before sliding your hand down to the pinched tip and tugging.

logan moans, and it rumbles deep, sending tingles to rise from the tips of your toes to the base of your neck. he sounds just a little too excited, and you wonder how you must look as you reach for the rubber, tugging it off the expanse of his cock. do you look desperate, the camera capturing the way you’re shivering like you’re on cum-withdrawals? or do you look like the brat that you are, whining how sex is not enough until logan’s pumping you full of his sperm?

god, the thought that this moment is being immortalized makes you clench at nothing, your hole puckering as it waits to be filled.

the condom comes off with a pop, the rubber snapping off and into itself. it sounds so lewd and dirty, like the two of you are really starring in a corny porno, and it fills your cheeks with warmth as your need wanes in the face of your shyness.

you fling the condom to the side, before burrowing your face on the pillows, as though that alone can hide the palpable hunger rippling from you. logan laughs at your reaction like he’s not softly humping his cock between your thighs, rutting it along the wet mess he’s made out of your cunt.

“y’ready, bub?” logan asks, still giddy with his laugh. you grumble a reply, before jutting your head in a stilted nod.

he taps his weeping cock along your folds, testing, and you shuffle in your impatience. you feel the itch exploding, the need to be stuffed bloating, but logan continues to tease and god, pleasepleaseplease—

“i’ve got you, darl,” he grunts, then he’s pushing in, steady and filling, and, and—

the moan that’s ripped from your throat sounds foreign, like you’re a damn wounded animal. you don’t even get to adjust to his width—pussy lips going taut at his thickness—before logan’s drawing his cock out until all that’s left is the head. there’s a bated breath that you two share, leaving you suspended in anticipation, then he’s bullying it back in.

you flop on the bed, all useless now like you’ve got your strings cut loose. logan doesn’t seem to mind, not with the consistent ringing slaps of his pelvis meeting your ass echoing in your quaint room. god, your brain’s being scrambled right now, you’re sure, because you can’t even think of anything but logan—

loganloganlogan.

you’re already cross-eyed by the time he sprays his first load inside you.

.

wade gets a five second clip from logan’s number. the thumbnail is just a blur of colours and wade’s interest is piqued because logan rarely reaches out to him—a video is just unthinkable.

he was expecting many things—that the video is the one of deadpool being broadcasted on national television with the words “hero or criminal?” after he’s accidentally set the robber’s van on fire, or that the video is an accidental recording of logan’s butt because that wolverine suit was tight and wade can’t even think where logan must keep his phone with him.

but this—

wade wasn’t expecting this.

it was a video of you—wade’s not even embarrassed to admit that he’s memorized the way you look from all angles; what? one doesn’t get a show of wolverine fucking his girl without gaining a new hyperfixation—reaching for logan’s monster cock. wade breathes in sharply as he watches you reach for the condom before tugging it off with a filthy, filthy pop. the video cuts into a next scene of logan relentlessly fucking you hard; the audio is a mess of squeaks and slaps, but also the wet squelches of logan’s cock fucking in-and-out of your gaping cunt.

two things:

1. that’s fucking hot.

2. that video has clearly been tampered with; it was edited to show the barest of the highlights.

this was a conscious decision, with deliberate efforts. this was personal.

an invitation.

wade rubs one… okay, fine.

wade rubs three out before he’s running back to that apartment he’s daydreamed about. mid-parkour, another notifcation comes in. wade falls, because of course he does, but while he waits for his ankle to mend itself back into its socket, his eyes devour the new message.

> darl wants to know if you’re in.

wade sends a dick pic as a reply.

wade busting a fat nut behind tim hortons because he’s patriotic like that

(ext)

[vivwritesfics]

Sweat, Baby, Sweat - MV1

Singapore is hot, incredibly hot. So, what do you do when you sweat through your shirt? You borrow your simp of a teammates shirt.

Max Verstappen x RB Driver!Reader

1.6K

Masterlist

Singapore was Y/Ns favourite track. It was taxing, but it was her favourite. High adrenaline and incredible heat. Anything could happen out there on the track.

If anywhere was going to end Red Bulls reign of dominance, it was Singapore. Y/N L/N and Max Verstappen had worked together, teammates in harmony, to keep the winning streak going.

On the rare instance Max wasn't on the podium, Y/N was in his place. More often than not they shared the podium, spraying the champagne with the biggest grins on their faces.

Only twice that year Y/N had gone out in Q2, not making it to Q3. When that happened, she couldn't face Christian, couldn't look at Max. Nobody was a bigger critic of Y/N than Y/N herself.

Singapore was hot, hot, hot.

As Max and Y/N did those little press videos (for the life of me I can't remember what they're called SOMEONE HELP PLS) Y/N was sweating. Several times while they filmed, she was pulling her shirt away from her neck, trying to get at least a little bit of air.

Sweat beaded on her forehead. She had long since taken off her Red Bull hat, too hot for that extra fabric on her head.

The press video was hard to get through. Y/N had gotten through at least three bottles of water before they finally finished. While they filmed, Max kept looking at her, frown on his face. Clearly, he was concerned.

Actually, all of the Red Bull team was concerned, but none more than him.

As soon as they'd finished filming, Y/N ran off to the bathroom. She did her business, splashed some water on her face and smelt the inside of her shirt.

It wasn't pleasant. The Red Bull shirt was such dark colours, no wonder Y/N was having trouble. She'd have to change before she and Max got on with the next round of press.

Y/N rushed off away from the press and the cameras. She ran by a concerned Max, who tried to grab her by the arm, and past the Red Bull team. "I'll be back in ten minutes," she said to Christian as she ran past.

Y/N made her way back to her hotel room. It wasn't too far away from the track, and she had almost all of her friends (aka, the other drivers) on the same floor as her.

When Y/N first started in F1, driving for Toro Rosso, there was a mixed response from fans. At that point, the fans were mostly older men and their sons. Their reactions were a mix of sexualising her and slut shaming her. Most had fears that she'd distract the rest of the grid by sleeping with them all before every race.

But the F1 Fans had grown used to her. And they loved her. They loved her as much as they loved Carlos and Pierre and Magnussen. They loved her as much as they loved every other driver on the grid.

Once in her hotel room, Y/N got changed into another Red Bull shirt. She didn't have many left, certainly not enough for the next three days of the grand prix (if things were keeping up the way they were).

After getting changed Y/N quickly checked her phone. Messages from Max and Christian, her manager reminding her of the next bit of press she had to do and her parents wishing her luck on the qualifying.

By the time Y/N got down to complete the press interview, she was already sweating. Anxiety bubbled up in side of her. What if she smelt bad? What if the cameras picked up on her pit stains?

Before the interview started, Max nudged her with his elbow. "Is everything okay?" He asked her, keeping his eyes trained forward.

Max had always been considerate when it came to Y/N. He knew what she had been through at the start of her career, the things she had to deal with from the fans. He was more aware than anybody that it was still going on. If Y/N was caught having fun with any of the drivers, they'd ridicule her online.

"Yeah, Max, I'm fine."

Y/N made it through the day in that shirt. She went to bed that night in only her underwear to try and keep cool.

By breakfast that morning she had already begun to sweat. Not through her shirt, not yet. She made it to lunch before she had to get changed.

Before the qualifying, Max pulled her to one side. Out of the prying eyes of any camera, Max grabbed her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. Once again, she wasn't wearing her hat, making it easier for him.

"Something is going on with you. You keep disappearing," he said to her, not loosening his grip. And he wouldn't until she told him what was going on.

Y/N shook her head. "I'm okay, Max, really."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"Just tell me!"

Letting out a sigh, Y/N looked up at him and pulled his hat from his head. She placed it on her own and smiled. "Is it hot in here, or is it just me?"

"It's just you."

Max's flirting had been really subtle since Y/N became his teammate. He hadn't wanted to toe the line, didn't want to receive the repercussions of trying to date his teammate.

Qualifying was horrible. Y/N swore in all the years before it had never been this bad. The heat was distracting and she was out in Q2, taken out by Lance fucking Stroll.

Y/N was fuming. There was only one person who could comfort her. And he was currently driving around the circuit with the fastest lap.

Y/N's post qualifying interview was short. She answered every question with one word answers, her face like a slapped ass. As soon as the interview was over she was off to her drivers room to sulk.

She was only granted two minutes to herself before there was a knock on the door. Christian didn't wait for an answer before he walked in. "How are you doing?" He asked her, leaning against the door.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. It was far too hot to think.

"Well, whatever it is, have it sorted by tomorrow," he continued. "And, come and celebrate with your teammate."

The next day went much the same. Y/N sweated through breakfast and, by the time she got to lunch, she was having to change her shirt.

But there was one problem. She didn't have any shirts she hadn't already sweated through.

With nothing else to do, Y/N tucked her hands into her armpits and walked towards her boss. "Christian," she muttered almost timidly. It wasn't like Y/N to be timid. There wasn't room for it, with her being a woman in the sport.

She took him into her drivers room and made an embarrassing confession. She couldn't look Christian in the face as she told him how much she had been struggling in the heat and that she had no more shirts left.

Christian pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "Well, I know for a fact Max has another shirt. I'll go and grab it for you," he said, sparing her the embarrassment of telling somebody else.

When Christian returned with a shirt for Y/N she was quick to change. She put on some more deodorant and pulled Max's shirt over her head. Lifting the collar to her nose she breathed in. Max. It smelled of Max. It smelled amazing.

When she walked out of her drivers room, there were stares. She wasn't much aware of the stares she was getting, her eyes searching for one person and one person only.

Max didn't know what to do when he saw her. The shirt was slightly too big, hanging down to her thighs. It was oversized on her, the short sleeves almost at her elbows. Wow. That was all Max could think. Just wow.

He couldn't take his eyes off of her. He watched as she lifted the collar of the shirt to her nose and smelt it yet again. His heart fluttered. Wow. Just wow.

Y/N turned around and spotted Max hidden behind a team of engineers. She wove her way around the engineers, approaching him. "Thanks for the shirt," she said with a smile.

Max didn't know how to respond. He kept staring at herm unable to take his eyes off of her. It was struggle before she was wearing his clothes, but now Max didn't stand a chance.

When Y/N took his hat from her head, he finally looked at her face. "It suits you," he managed to say. She was irresistible. It was almost too much for him.

No, it was too much for him.

"Fuck it," Max whispered under his breath. He placed his hands on her hip, catching Y/N off guard. Max wasted in time in leaning in. He pressed is lips to hers in a somewhat awkward kiss.

But it didn't take Y/N long to get with the programme. She pulled the hat from her head and wrapped her arms around his neck. Closing her eyes she deepened things, leaning into him.

When she finally pulled away, Max couldn't stop staring at her.

"I've wanted to do that since we became teammates," he whispered, taking the hat from Y/N and placing it on his head.

"What stopped you?"

[cherrynflowergarden]

angel baby || matt sturniolo (smut)

an; hellooo thank you sm for 50+ followers<333 i love y'all omg!! this is my first time writing a one shot and smut😥

matt thinks he just won the lottery. his beautiful, beautiful girl dressed up all for him. and only him.

after a long and tiring day spent filming for his youtube, he didn't think his day would suddenly turn good. seeing his girl friend, all dolled up in a new and pretty pastel pink colour lingerie, waiting for him, he swore he won the jackpot. all he needed now was to peacefully burry himself in her sweet little cunt.

her doe eyed almost glassy eyes made her look so innocent and naive; her actions however were totally contrasting to her looks. pulling matt inside the room she put his hand on her clothed breast urging her boyfriend to squeeze the soft muscles.

she's an angel. he thinks. groaning quietly, matt gently pushed her towards the bed. locking the door he slowly came up to her, like a predator does to it's prey.

"fuck angel, you look so pretty all dolled up for me. c'mon angel sit on my lap like the angel you are." he said as she moved to sit on his lap. grabbing her by her neck he fiercely put his lips on hers. slightly choking her with one hand, his another moved to grope her body. when he squeezed her satin covered breast a too forcefully she whined. the sound travelled straight to his dick and in a minute she was laying on the bed, under him as he left open mouthed kisses and lovebites on her skin.

"matt please, don't tease." she whined out softly which turned into a whimper when matt moved down only to lick and suck the soft skin of her thighs. he was so close to where she needed him yet so far.

"shush angel let me get the taste of those panties, yeah?" he licked a strip over her pink satin panties. as he continued licking her folds and sucking her nub over the cloth, she grew desperate and impatient. "fuc- matt please no more teasing please" whimpers leaving her mouth as he ate her out over her panties. "baby please, let me enjoy the taste" he said as divided down in her clothed pussy. "mhm mmm m-matt shit oh oh god mmm" her mouth hung open in moans as matt pushed her panties aside. running two fingers down her wetness, he spread open her folds. kissing her bare button of nerves, matt doesn't stop gulping her juices. not even for a second.

finally putting his index and middle finger in her, he moves to make out with her bundle of nerves. slightly biting and sucking her nub, while he fingers her to death? is this what heaven feels like? she thinks. however her last stroke was when matt came back to eat her out while his fingers were ripping her apart. he also caressed her clit in '8' motions with his thumb. this seemed to do it for her because she was cumming all over his hands and face with a loud moan.

"fuck angel you taste divine." he says as he 'cleans' her leaking juices and cum (making her more dirty and messy in the process.) he looks at her. fucked out expression. eyes still rolled back in pleasure. sweaty body. messy tangled hair. tits almost spilling out of her bra cups. and his favourite; panties pussed to the side while her juices leak and disappear in the sheets even after matt cleaning her mess.

he thinks he's the luckiest man on the earth. his angel looks and sounds like an absolute angel. yet the unholy things he just did with her was a proof that his angel is not so angelic. perhaps he was a devil. a devil set to ruin this angel. his animalistic ravage added to it. yet he wasn't satisfied. not yet atleast.

groping her right boob harshly, he leaned down to whisper "you already tired angel? too bad we aren't stopping till i rip this thing apart."

he ended up ripping the set apart that night. he also ended up buying a new set for her as a apology, knowing very well it will serve the same in the near future.

[andy-wm]

I have thoughts on Jimin's SGMB

It's the gayest thing I've ever seen.

And by that I mean it's joyous, light-hearted, bright, and fun.

We can all agree, I think, that this is a happy and totally harmless song. Who could criticise Jimin for declaring his love in such a sweet and innocent way?

Of course not everyone will like it, and that's fine. You don't have to like everything he does - or everything BTS does - you are an individual with thoughts and feelings of your own - I hope. But putting that aside you'd have to be a troubled person indeed to take offence at anything here.

So, it is definitely a fan song, right? Jimin is singing to his fans... isn't he?

Maybe.

But if it is (I and I'm not convinced) it's not just a fan song.

It's sweet, so sweet, but....

Maybe it's a little too sweet?

We know Jimin is CUTIE SEXY LOVELY and LOVELY LOVELY LOVELY, but let's be honest, he's also a grown man. And Army are not children (mostly). In fact we have had many many conversations about how ARMY are not children.

But this whole production is pushing the sweet and innocent barrow so hard that I can't help wanting to look underneath and behind and inside to see what's really going on because it's so sweet it's hurting my teeth.

Compare the sophistication and self awareness of FACE to the bouncy, bright and child-like song-and-dance in the SGMB music video. They are WORLDS apart and we were told very specifically that the albums were linked.

"Following his first solo album, “FACE,” where he sought to explore his true identity, “MUSE” documents his journey in search of the source of his inspiration." said the Weverse notification.

So what's really going on here?

What are you doing Jiminie?

And more importantly, why are you doing it?

You could call it a pageant, or a carnival, or a circus - with Jimin as the ringmaster.

But my view is:

This a pantomime. And it's very clever.

According to the Oxford Dictionary, a pantomime is "A dramatic entertainment,  originating in Roman mime, in which  performers express meaning through  gestures  accompanied by music." Yes, that describes it.

Merriam-Webster tells us "[A pantomime] is an ancient Roman dramatic performance featuring a solo dancer and a narrative chorus" That also makes sense.

Oxford also specified that it's a modern BRITISH tradition. "a theatrical entertainment, mainly for children, which involves music, topical jokes, and slapstick comedy." It's a perfect fit.

The British link is already there - Jimin clearly told us he's influenced by The Beatles' Sergeant Peppers Album. There's also the styling of his suit. The stovepipe pants, narrow tie, and fitted jacket are very 1960s (and 1980s) British pop.

There's something old-school about a pantomime. It harks back to childhood, and to the nostalgia of holidays. And the styling of the MV is in keeping with that nostalgic feel too - from the Mountain scene with the vintage film title, to the intertitles - or title cards , to the circular frame of the opening scene.

But back to the Pantomime itself...

A quick google search told me the following are important elements of pantomime. And we have most, if not all of them in this production.

Gender role reversal - TICK

Slapstick comedy - TICK

Colourful costumes - TICK

Audience participation - TICK (the children ARE the audience)

Exaggerated facial expressions - TICK

Take another look at the music video - it's all there.

Wikipedia tells us that pantomimes traditional told fairy tales or folk tales - often love stories - and that the primary role in a Pantomime was:

The 'Principal boy', a hero or charismatic rogue, traditionally played by a young woman in men's clothing.

Smart, very smart. With all the other conversations we've been having a round gender this is totally on the money.

Wikipedia goes on to say "Another pantomime tradition is to engage celebrity guest stars... Contemporary pantomime productions are often adapted to allow the star to showcase their well-known act.... If the star enters into the spirit of the entertainment, he or she likely adds to its overall effect"

Welcome, Loco.

(yes, I know collabs are de rigueur, but that doesn't change the fact that it fits - celeb guests are an established practice in Panto.)

So if this IS a Pantomime (and I'm not saying it definitely is but it looks like one to me), then it's intended to be a sung-story, told as much through dance and gestures as through words.

If it's a pantomime, what is it about?

I'm glad you asked! This little charade is the story of a young person called Jimin who is looking for love. He finds romance easily enough...

but real love takes a little longer.

Fortunately for our hero, he's brave (he will confess to his lover) and he is patient (he encourages them to do so too).

In between, there are shenanigans and goofing...

But our Charismatic Rogue is charming (if devilish) and wins the hearts of the audience - and his lover.

Let's take a closer look at how the story unfolds...

At the start of the MV, as the initial credits appear, Jimin is on stage vibing with his band. Loco is chilling on a rock like a lizard in the sun.

We get the ye olde intertitles, welcoming the audience and introducing.... SMERALDO Garden Marching Band

It's not Smeraldo Garden - Marching Band. It's Smeraldo *pause* Garden Marching Band. Smeraldo (secrets) has the emphasis.

After the intertitles, the scene opens on a group of children - they are ostensibly the audience of the band. They're playing paper-scissors-rock to see who will call for Jimin's attention.

The children run over to him and the tale begins.

Jimin, the main character of this story, immediately launches into song.

He starts off singing about Bangtan - mentioning their harmony (song and personal I think), he shows the Bangtan hand gesture we all know so well, and he sings "we gift happiness every day".

But he mentions June 12th.

Why June 12th?

Why not 13th, their debut day?

BECAUSE THIS IS NOT A SONG for ARMY. He's making it clear that at this point he's referring to Bangtan specifically, not the whole juggernaut of the fandom and fame. June 12th precedes ARMY.

He's made it clear from the start - this is NOT ABOUT ARMY.

Then he leans in and whispers to the children - and the camera -"lets talk about us".

Look at the kids' faces - they're miming shock. Ooooohhh! This is a big secret he's about to tell them - and us.

Look at Jimin's expression - he's just a tad smug. This is not a shocking secret to him, this is a fun secret.

Yes, he is indeed the charismatic rogue of this story.

He sings:

"All the things we couldn't say before

And your hidden feelings too (just for you)

Don't you worry anymore

Since we're together now**

Let's be a little more honest."

So it seems our main character has a LOVER. Someone who couldn't be revealed and who hid their feelings.

<Wow, I have no idea who this could be...>

Hang on, what's happening in the MV??

On his journey, it seems our young hero has a few short-lived romances. And if you look carefully, they are all with men.

He accepts the rose from a man, and plants himself on the bench right up close to .... a man. He jumps up unperturbed, and gifts the rose to (you guessed it) another man.

Jimin manages to sidestep (or completely ignore) all the women except one, who he sends graciously into the arms of a random man before continuing on his journey.

Wait one moment... his romantic partners were ALL MEN??

ALL MEN??

ALL MEN?!!!!!

Yes darling, all men. Let's continue.

So, it seems none of Jimin's previous romances grew into anything more, but he takes his own advice with his mysterious lover and confesses first.

He smirks. He flicks his jacket with pizzazz. He's ready.

He sings:

"Ooooh I love you babe,

I'll come closer to you

I want to hold your hand,

I want you babe (yessir)

Please note the hand gesture in this choreo - it's another one we've seen many times.

The dance ends and Jimin scans the surroundings and spots his old friend...

[Enter stage left: Loco]

Oh look, the friend is a rapper a few years older than Jimin. They seem to have a lot of fun together, Jimin and his rapper friend. There are ZERO romantic overtones here. This guy happily goes along with all the goofing and silliness even though he looks a tiny bit mortified. Either they are both very good actors, or a lot of the time, Loco was holding in his laughter. And Jimin seems incredibly amused by that.

They hang out together until.... something in the atmosphere changes:

The colours become richer, light become warmer, and oh look....

It's *The Golden Hour*

I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP, PEOPLE. HE REALLY DID THIS.

Jimin leaves Loco, chasing the golden light as he sings about "the dazzling sky." Golden confetti (champagne, anyone?) falls all around him and then ...

fucking sunflowers bloom.

SUN FLOWERS.

BLOOM.

FOR HIM.

<I need to lie down and process this>

SUNflowers...

Remind me again what sunflowers are known for? Oh yes, they are symbolic of the sun. Guess what else? They turn to face the sun.

Yup, the sunflowers all turn their faces toward the camera. I'm not crazy, okay?! I'm not.

SMH... let's move on.

Jimin re-joins his band, and the sunflowers do their sunflower thing, and Jimin sings:

"So tell me how you feel,

let whatever you feel

wash over you"

Then he sings

"I love you babe, (yessir)

I'll come closer to you

I want to hold your hand,

I want you babe (yessir)

Please note the hand gesture again

👉 👈

The bridge is next, and Jimin takes us back to Bangtan. As all the stars appear (that ocean of purple light that surrounds them at concerts) and everyone takes their place on stage, they turn up the music. <Are my eyes watering? Perhaps>

"I think we're ready now

<NGL I may have shed a tear here>

Lets begin 1, 2

<Ok fuck, I bawled at this point. Goddammit Jimin!>

Put your hands up"

*cute wiggle-dance commences* and Jimin spots his good friend the rapper again, hiding on the sidelines. He pulls him into the chorus line and they do more silliness and everyone is having a great time.

Confetti- flower petals fall, there's laughter and happiness all around, and they bow and bid us good bye.

The show is over.

*THE END*

But wait, I am not done.

A few more things bear mentioning here:

I saw quite a few comments saying this song is for ARMY.

It is categorically NOT for ARMY. Besides the fact that we already have Closer Than This - a fan song - on this album, Jimin specifically chose a date before debut - before ARMY existed - to place in this song. No mention of ARMY at all. Accept it graciously, this is not for you.

I wanna hold your hand

This lyric is a reference not only to the Beatles song "I Want to Hold Your Hand", It's also a common theme with Jimin and Jungkook. We see them finding any feeble excuse to hold hands, shake hands, touch hands. Yes, we see you two...

I am you, You are me

The gesture used in the choreo when Jimin is singing his confession - I failed miserably to catch it in my screengrab but there's no doubt it's their "I am you, You are me" gesture. Take a look for yourself.

All Jimin's romantic moments happened with men.

I'm not saying in his life, I am saying in this MV. All of them. The only interaction he has with a woman is one brief moment where he grabs her wrist as she passes by and he swings her into the path of a guy behind him. He even scoots around the women and sidesteps them. That can't be accidental. He's making a point.

The addition of 'yessir' in the lyrics makes it clear that he's confessing to a man.

I cannot see any reasonable way to refute this. The BH subtitles include it even though you have to listen carefully to catch it. THAT IS A CHOICE, NOT AN ACCIDENT.

"Even though we're together now"

These lyrics could mean theyre an established, committed couple. But if we think a little broader than that, and a little more literally, who is he together with right now?

It's strategically brilliant.

This is his 'tell all expose' but he has built in a rock solid escape clause by using the panto format. Staging the whole love story - including the prior boyfriends and the man he's now in love with - as an over the top comedy show makes it easily dismissible as pure fiction. By including the fantasy/magical elements he just makes it more so. Deniers will be able to come up with a dozen reasons to reject this... 'It's a fantasy story', 'not all songs are autobiographical', 'he's making a point', 'he's raising LGBTQIA+ awareness'... all true maybe, but that doesn't change the fact that this is HIS song, about HIS muse. If you've been paying attention (and even if you haven't) you will know this is certainly not pure fiction.

AND FINALLY....

The most important one, I left till last. I actually want to scream this, in all caps, in the biggest font possible. But I will restrain myself.

The song is bookended by references to BTS.

That is hugely important. For those who may not be aware, this is a literary device. Bookending a story provides a start and end reference point. Here, the Bangtan bookends provide context for the rest of the lyrics - they frame the lyrics within them. That means the events happening in the song, happen within the context of Bangtan. Reading between the lines, the person he is singing to/about is within Bangtan.

This is not reaching. This is like mixing blue paint and yellow paint together. You will get green paint.

💛+💙=💚

So yes, this song is the gayest thing I've ever seen.

And I DO mean it's joyous, light-hearted, bright, and fun.

But yes, it's also absolutely and totally really really GAY

🏳️‍🌈🐥🦄🌈🏳️‍⚧️🌻🐰☀️🏳️‍🌈

Thank you Jiminie

[cy-cyborg]

The Untrustworthy Fake: Disability Tropes

[ID: A screenshot of Willy Wonka from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory as he limps towards a crowd using a cane. In the picture, he has a brown top hat in his hand, and he's wearing a suit with a purple jacket, multicoloured bow tie and cream coloured pants. Beside him is text that reads: "Disability Tropes, The untrustworthy Fake" /End ID]

Tell me if this sounds familiar: A new character is introduced into a story with some kind of disability - usually visible but not always. Maybe they're a seemingly harmless person in a wheelchair, maybe they're a one-legged beggar on the street, or maybe they're an elderly person with a cane and a slow, heavy limp. But at some point, it's revealed it's all a ruse! The old man with a cane "falls" forward and does a flawless summersault before energetically springing back up to his feet, the wheelchair user gets to their feet as soon as they think the other character's backs are turned, the one legged beggar's crutch is knocked out of his hand, only to have his other leg pop out of his loose-fitting tunic to catch him.

All of these are real examples. Maya and The Three introduces one of it's main protagonists, Ricco, by having him pretend to be missing a leg in order to con people (something that works on the protagonist, at least at first), Buffy The Vampire Slayer had the character Spike, pretend to be in a wheelchair, until the other characters leave and he gets up, revealing it's all a ruse and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory introduces Wonka by having him slowly limp out into the courtyard of the factory, only for his cane to get stuck, causing him to "fall" and jump back up, revealing that he's actually perfectly fine. Virtually every single major crime show in the past few decades has used this trope too, from CSI to The Mentalist, Castle, Law and Order and Monk all having at least one episode featuring it in some way. Even the kids media I grew up with isn't free from it; The Suite Life of Zack & Cody sees Zach faking being dyslexic after meeting someone who actually has the condition in the episode Smarter and Smarter and the SpongeBob SquarePants episode Krabs vs Plankton has Plankton fake needing a wheelchair (among other injuries) after falling in the Krusty Krab as a ploy to sue Mr Krabs and trick the court into giving him the Kraby Patty Formula.

No matter the genre or target audience though, one thing is consistent: this trope is used as a way to show someone is dishonest and not to be trusted. When the trope is used later in the story, it's often meant to be a big reveal, to shock the audience and make them mad that they've been duped, to show the characters and us what this person (usually a villain) is willing to stoop to. Revealing the ruse early on though is very often used to establish how sleazy or even how dangerous a character is and to tell the audience that they shouldn't trust them from the get go. Gene Wilde (The actor who first played Willy Wonka) even said in several interviews that this was his intent for Wonka's character. He even went so far as to tell the director of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory that he wouldn't do the film without that scene because of how strongly he felt this trope was needed to lay the foundations for Wonka's questionable intentions and motivations. His exact words are: "...but I wouldn't have done the film if they didn't let me come out walking as a cripple and then getting my cane stuck into a cobble stone, doing a forward somersault and then bouncing up... the director said, well what do you want to do that for? and I said because from that point on, no one will know whether I'm telling the truth or lying."

There's... a lot of problems with this trope, but that quote encapsulates one of the biggest ones. whether intentionally or not, this trope ends up framing a lot of actual disabled people as deceitful, dishonest liars. Now I can already hear you all typing, What?! Cy that's ridiculous! No one is saying real disabled people are untrustworthy or lying about their disabilities, just people who are faking!

but the thing is, the things often used in this trope as "evidence" of someone faking a disability are things real disabled people do. A person standing up from their wheelchair or having scuff-marks on their shoes, like in the episode Miss Red  from The Mentalist isn't a sign they're faking, a lot of wheelchair users can stand and even walk! They're called ambulatory wheelchair users, and they might use a wheelchair because they can't walk far, they might not feel safe walking on all terrains, they might have unstable joints that makes standing for too long risky, they might have a heart condition like POTS that has a bigger impact when they stand up or any number of other reasons. Also even non-ambulatory wheelchair users will still have scuff marks from things like transferring and bumping into things (rather hilariously, even TV Tropes calls this episode out as being "BS" in it's listing for this trope, which it refers to as Obfuscating Disability). A blind beggar flinching or getting scared when you pull a gun on them isn't a sign they're faking their blindness like it is in Red Dead Redemption 2. Plenty of blind people can still see a little bit, it might only be a general sense of light and darkness, it might be exceptionally blurry or just the fuzzy outlines of shapes, or they might only be able to see something directly in front of them, all of which might still be enough to cue the person into what's happening in a situation like that. Even if it's not, the sound of you pulling your gun out or other people nearby freaking out and making noise probably would tip them off. A person needing a cane or similar mobility aid sometimes, but being able to go without briefly or do even "big movements" like Wonka's rolling somersault, doesn't mean they don't need it at all. Just like with wheelchairs, there's a lot of disabilities that require canes and similar aids some days, and not others. Some disabilities even allow people those big, often straining movements on occasion, or allow them to move without the aid for short periods of time, but not for long. Some people's disability's might even require a mobility aid like a cane as a backup, just in case something goes wrong, but that still means you need to carry it around with you, and unless it can fold down, it's easier to just use it.

Disability is a spectrum, and a lot of disabilities vary in severity and what is required of the people who have them day to day. This trope, however, helps to perpetuate the idea that someone who does any of these things (and many others) is faking, which can actively make the lives of disabled people harder and can even put them in very real danger, physically, mentally and even financially.

Just ask any ambulatory wheelchair user about how many times they've been yelled at for using accommodations they need, like disabled toilets or parking spaces. How many times they've been accused of faking and even filmed without their consent because they stood up in public, even if it was to do something like get their wheelchair unstuck or as simple as them standing to briefly reach something on a high shelf. I've caught multiple people filming me before, so have my friends and family, and it's honestly scary not knowing where those images have ended up. This doesn't just impact the person either, a friend of mine was filmed while standing up to get his daughter (who was about 4 at the time) out of the car. He was lucky to have stumbled across the video a few days later on facebook and contacted the group admins where it was posted to get it taken down, but had he not stumbled across it by chance, pictures with his home address and his car's number plate, his child's face and his face all visible would have just been floating around, all because a woman saw him stand briefly to pick up his daughter.

Many people don't stop at just saying a nasty comment or taking a photo though, a lot of people, when they suspect people are faking, will get violent. I have many friends who have been pushed, slapped in the face, spat on or had their mobility devices kicked out from under them. I've even been in a few situations myself where, had I not had people with me, I think the situation would have turned violent.

There's even been cases where those photos and videos I've mentioned before have been used against real disabled people and they've been reported to their country's welfare system as committing disability fraud. While cases like this are usually resolved *relatively* quickly, in many parts of the world, their payment will be halted while the investigation is in process, meaning they may be without any income at all because of someone else's ignorance. If you're already struggling to make ends meet (which, if you're only living off one of those payments, you probably will be), a few weeks without pay can mean the difference between having a home and being on the streets.

Not to mention that when there's so many stories about people faking a disability in the media, especially when the character is doing it to get some kind of "advantage", such as getting accommodations or some kind of disability benefit, it perpetuates the idea that people are rorting the systems put in place to help disabled people. If this idea becomes prevalent enough, the people in charge start making it harder for the people who need them to access those systems, which more often than not results in disabled people not even being able to access the very systems that are supposed to be helping them. A very, very common example of this is in education where accommodations for things like learning disabilities require you to jump through a ridiculous number of hoops, especially at higher levels, only to have some teachers and professors refuse to adhere to the adaptations anyway because they're convinced the student (and usually disabled students as a whole) is faking.

Yes, the "untrustworthy faker" is a fictional trope, and yes, it does occasionally happen in real life, but not as often as media (including things like news outlets) would have you believe. However, when the media we consume is priming people to look for signs that a disabled person is faking, it has a real impact on real disabled people's lives. "Fake-claiming" is a massive problem for people in pretty much all parts of the disabled community, and it ranges from being just annoying (e.g. such as people spamming and fake-claiming blind people online with "if you were really blind, how do you see the screen" comments) to the more serious cases I mentioned above. It's for this reason a lot of folks in the disabled community ask that people leave this trope out of their works.

[angellayercake]

RITE HERE RITE NOW RANT

Where were the other Papas??⁉️? It isn't right that they had a combined thirty seconds of screen time!! 😡😡 If it wasn't for them Then copua wouldn't even this opportunity would he?🚫?

ANd to make it worse🤬 it was lonG‼️So there should have been more time.to. honour papas of the past🙌 but I have already made this point. I had to go to the BATHROOM🚽two times 2️⃣ because it was so long. also who wants tolook at him that long anyway👹

why??????❓❔⁉️ does he get so many outfits! Designer outfits twenty of the same jackets in different colours??🔵🔴🟡⚫🟢 some papas just wore their robes(boring) and some papas were forced to have their shirts sewn into their jackets with very improper tailoring just because ""if you INsist on white gloves that need To be changed every day we have to cut costs elsewhere👿"* but cooia gets two robes ANS everything else???

Papa Iii is much more handsome 🧛and would look much better in the hd4k surroundsound big screen then HIM SO papa iiI deserves a film more and they should bring jim back just to show everyone this😏 and go show the people what its like to see songs sang. Properly!!! you have not been ciriced until you have been ciriced by papa 3💜💜💟 or so I have heard snyway...

YHE ONLY THING that is good is that it accurately shows what a rude SELFish self absorbed man this cOPis is(although the old man deserves no respect 👍🏻👍🏻) just tonight he ate the last cannoli without offering to aNYONE!!! ELSE‼️‼️ SO this i do think the film does right

BUT....

The door slams open and he almost drops his phone in surprise. He was sat where he had been sat all evening, collapsed into this chair in the clergy commons after his disappointing dinner, thinking. His expression soured even further now it seemed another one of his brothers was here to ruin his day.

"Are you reading reviews of the movie again, frattelino?" Secondo asks, squinting at him across the dark room. "There is steam coming from your ears."

"I am not reading them no," he smirks a little, pushing the glasses he usually pretends not to need up his nose before continuing to tap away at his phone with his pointer finger. Secondo flicks on the light switch disrupting him once again with the blinding light so he shoots him a quick glare before resuming his somewhat frantic yet stilted typing.

"I do not like that look," he accuses, pointing at him as he crosses the room. "What are you doing then?" He circles the armchair in which Terzo is slouched, leaning around to look at the screen over his shoulder.

"None of your business," he pulls the phone to his chest to hide the screen. "Why must you stick your big old nose where it is not wanted eh?"

"Let me see!" He tries to wriggle away from his brother's seeking hand, tustling each other like they used to when they were children. He almost slides free but his escape is thwarted but his stupidly large brothers hand clamping onto his shoulder and pulling away his phone with the other.

"Give that BACK!" He struggles out of the squishy chair pushing his glasses back up into his hair so he can glare uninterrupted at his brother who is now scrolling through his review, shaking his head and tutting like a stupid old chicken.

"Terzo this isn't very nice," he says it so patronisingly he has to resist stamping his foot in frustration. Why should he be nice! He never got a moment like this and if he had he knows he would have done more, done better. And shouldn't Secondo be mad too?

"I stand by what I said," he huffs crossing his arms indignantly. "Aren't you annoyed? That we barely got a mention? Just that we were dead?"

"Well I would say I got about twenty of the thirty seconds we were on screen so how can I complain?" He expects the typical reaction he usually gets when he teases his brother but when Terzo instead, visibly deflates before flopping back into his chair he realises this might be a bit deeper than he thought.

"Terzo, come now, what is really the matter?" He moves to perch on the arm of the chair, handing him back his phone. When he doesn't respond straight away he reaches over to mess with his brother's habitually pristine hair, ruffling it into a birdnest as he used to before whenever Terzo got in his head and needed a distraction.

"Ay!" He shouts batting at his hand but at least he is glaring at him again instead of pouting dejectedly.

"I am happy for Copia, I suppose," he starts hesitantly smoothing his hair back into place. "It's just, we all worked hard too, and yes we may have not been as successful but without us to lay the ground work whose to say he would be 'rite here, rite now'." He waves his hands around, air quoting the title of the film dramatically.

"You are not wrong frattelino," he pauses before continuing trying to decide how to best console him. "But that is not what this story is about. It is about truly experiencing the moment you are in now, and not letting the times of the past or the what ifs of the future ruin it." His shoulders drop with a sigh so he wraps an arm around him squeezing him firmly.

"I just never got to..." He trails off but they both know what he was about to say.

"I know," he squeezes him again. "And none of that makes what they did to you right but that is in the past. People still love us no? We still have many praising us and screaming our names no matter what Copia does. We all have a place. Ours was over there, back then but who knows what the future will bring?" He stops when he sees his brother finally perking up.

"You are right I suppose," he shoots him a sideways glance. "This time at least." He picks up his phone and repositions his glasses on his nose. "I better delete all this then" He starts to tap away at the screen but Secondo stills his hand.

"I didn't say that," He says with a smirk. "You should add one about how his wig looks terrible."

"But Copia doesn't wear a... Oh!" They are far too old for this, Secondo thinks as they giggle like children coming up with more and more ridiculous complaints about the film. But right here, right now, he doesn't care.

[halcy0n-skies]

synopsis: gojo likes buying flowers for you.

a/n: just something short! Maybe I'll do a series of sorts with this and a few other characters.

When it comes to flowers, Gojo Satoru is always one to go big. No matter the season, the occasion, or your mood, you can always expect a large bouquet that’ll take up half of whatever counter you place it on.

When it’s spring, growing into warm summer, he’ll spend some time browsing through different local florists as he walks home. Hundreds of people pass him by as he scrolls through different business names…that is, before he habitually walks into the same one he always goes to. The light ding of the furin chime swaying in the wind easily blends with the high-pitched ring of the brass bell hung above the door.

Summer is always his favourite time to come in here, mainly because everything smells so sweet. Handmade bouquets burst from each shelf, a multi-coloured tapestry of amber, scarlet, lilac, and cerulean. It’s styled in light woods and deep reds, not unlike the shinto shrine near Tokyo Tower. The first few times he came in here, he was somewhat overwhelmed: it was like they stuffed every flower field in Furano into one room.

A surprising feat, considering who he is.

However, the more he visited, the better he got. Both with picking up what flowers you liked, and when the shop got a new stock.

Considering it’s not public knowledge, they’re always surprised to see his face in the early morning when they’re still unloading and sorting it.

(He says he has a work thing earlier than usual, but, in reality, he’s already in the store picking out flowers for you.)

Aside from it smelling so damn good–he did say mainly, didn’t he?–he loves coming here in summer because there is always an unsuspecting student working a summer job. If he were completely honest, other than seeing the pure joy on your face when you receive them, either in person or through photos if he’s away–though he always prefers seeing your reactions in real time–the reaction from the florists is practically his favourite part.

So, when he casually slips out his credit card and asks for a bouquet of a hundred roses, he has to steel himself not to smile too hard or laugh at how far the kid’s jaw drops.

It gets even better when he asks for some ribbon–the expensive stuff lined with silver thread. No matter the flowers, he almost always goes for light blue or white. It may or may not fuel his already large ego when you compliment it.

Sure, it’s somewhat awkward to take home–even with all the times he’s bought big ones like this and decided to carry them back himself–but nothing compares to the unmistakably dumbfounded–yet happy–look on your face.

He’s bought them for you many times, but your reaction never changes. It never fails to make his heart swell.

It’s not always roses, though. He’s trawled through enough terrible romance films over the years to know that it gets old.

When he sees the old ones wilting in their vase–both of you having left them long enough to get as much out of them as possible–he’ll find some time to walk down to that same florist shop and note down all of your favourite flowers. He’s pretty sure the usual workers have got a list or something in the back rooms of what he usually orders, because each time he does, they just raise an eyebrow and state, “Fifteen minutes, sir.” with a curt nod.

Never in his life did he think he’d become that predictable.

In winter, when Tokyo’s goliath skyscrapers seem more ice-topped mountains than buildings, and when the sakura’s branches are heavy with pearly snow, he’ll always go for something colourful.

While he doesn’t mind the cold, finds the snow–on the increasingly rare occasion that it does snow–quite delightful, especially when it gets cold enough to give him an easy excuse to cuddle with you on the couch, he hates how dreary everything ends up looking. Knows you aren’t too fond of it, too.

So, he happily brightens your apartment with flowers: the large red roses disappear, and are instead replaced with small, soft memories of summer.

Seasons aside, your favourite time to receive flowers is when he hasn’t been home in a while. Rest assured, surrounded by the ceramic roofs of Kyoto or the soft sand of Okinawa, he’s thinking of you.

Designing a bouquet based on floral meanings is rare for him. Very rare. He sits down with the florist and their archaic leather book which knows the words inscribed on each petal of each flower, and hand arranges it himself. Even if he complains he doesn’t know shit about it, they always turn out beautiful.

If you were to ask him why he doesn’t do it often–since a gift with an intricate meaning hand crafted by himself is such a thoughtful way to show his love–he’d say he doesn’t need complex, well thought presents to show how he feels.

Your heart may be the most complicated organ in your body–he knows it each time he listens to the thrum of your blood–and the gentle hum of your soul may never truly be touched by anything but his eyes, but he knows his affections have no need to be as elaborate.

Loving you is easy. He hopes his roses and red carnations let you know that.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Her Words

Summary: You are introduced with the prince as his second option for a marriage in your family. But how will the Prince react to you own affliction and the backlash from your family |  Mini-Series Masterlist

Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

A/N: You all asked for a part 2 so ask and you shall receive! Again thank you for the request on this one it was really fun to write :)

Warnings: hitting, some sexual suggestions

You could feel your handwriting getting progressively worse as the weeks went by.

That was one thing you had not considered as a side-effect from spending so much time with Aemond.

Every hallway, every corner, every walk in the garden. There was always some off-chance that your paths would cross. And every time this coincidence seemed to happen, there was a stupid smile on your face and your hands grip on your notebook seemed less and less. One a few of occasions he had dared to close the space between you, whether it was to brush a hair from your face or to run a warm hand over yours. All of this serving to send warmth to your cheeks that a smile that reached your eyes.

Nobody was more surprised of this behaviour, than Aemond himself. Though he would never admit it to himself.

He had already gifted you one book, written entirely in cursive Valyrian, promising to read you through it, to teach you how to pronounce the words like a native. The book had been kept well and separate from the rest of them in the library. The cover was a wine colour and there was not a rip on it.

And when he extended the book out to you, your hands delicately traced the patterns on the front, inspecting all the details as if it were the most precious thing in the world. Your eyes had found his, wide and bright with gratitude and a slight film of tears coated them, mouth pulling into a line to stop yourself from crying at the kind gesture.

 "Ziry iksos issa jaelagon naejot rȳbagon ao pikībagon bisa, issa riñnykeā"

 When he spoke Valyrian, it almost seemed too perfect. His voice was suited to it, and it was a shame that he could not speak it all the time. The way he formed the words, his intonation, all serving to set off a spark inside you. And at the notion that he spoke only to you. For you.

It is my wish to hear you read this, my lady.

The words were sweet. But you relished in the way he said them more so.

The book nestled in your arms, you looked down, trying to hide the blush that very quickly was heating your face from the Prince before you. Your hand smoothed over your clothed arm, picking at the wrinkles in it with anxiety. Your hand went to your side and the mind raced at the notion that your notebook was not there.

And he was stood before you, regarding you and the way your anxious face formed being separated from your notebook. Of course, it had not been an accident. You had dared for this day to leave it behind, but now the space where it would have been seemed endless. Like those soldiers who return from battle with a limb missing, but still feeling it, still being able to control it.

Your eyes briefly met Aemond's and he could see the panic in your eyes. And you need not be panicked or anxious, you knew he was patient and kind, despite appearances.

"gūrogon aōha jēda…" He said quietly, he had his hands laced behind his back and his good eye looked down on you softly.

Take your time.

He looked so peaceful it bought a pain on your heart. Nobody was as patient as him. Nor had anyone in the past been.

You send him a ghost of a smile in thanks, looking away to pull in a long breath of air, so much so that your lungs ached. You let yourself exhale first before bringing another burst of air in, mouth open to form the words,

"i-iska…no, iksā to-l-lī sȳz…" you manage, the nerves being the cause of it more than anything, "…d-dārilaros Aemond…"

You are too kind, Prince Aemond.

You dared look back up at him once you'd finished the sentence. There was that look again, the darkened look he always gives you whenever you say his name. Your grip on the book tightened once again seeing him take a step towards you and he could hear a breath get caught in your throat. He was so close you could see all the details of his dragon-shaped clasps on his tunic. So close you could smell his scent around you. So close that you thought he might touch you.

"nyke hae ziry skori vestrā ñuha brōzi…"  

I like it when you say my name.

His hand came to a lock of your hair at the side of your face, running the strands through his dextrous fingers. His other fingers ran across your jaw, sending a chill through you, only to come to rest his palm on your cheek. His motions were so slow and calculated that it sent a heat through your body that settled in your stomach. You swallowed back, suddenly nervous in his presence, even more so when you felt his thumb trace the outside of your lip.

Your eye never moved from his.

"ivestragon ziry aril"

Say it again.

To anyone else it would have been a command. But he seemed desperate to hear it again and a shuddered breath came from you again.

And before you could even prepare yourself, do all your breathing and calming, the words seemed to pass your lips as naturally as the sun rises over the horizon.

"Aemond…"

He was so close still, a smirk on his face and a smile on your own. All anxiety seemed pressed down below the surface, replaced with something new. Something you thought you would never experience.

Desire.

A desire for his company. For his understanding and patience. But also a desire for him. For him to be pressed to you as if in need and desperation. You could feel your throat constrict at the mere thought.

"kostan ūndegon skoros iksā otāpagon…" He started.

I can see what you are thinking.

"…ñuha riña"

Against his better judgement, he withdrew his hand from you to place behind his back once more, standing back to revel in the effect he had on you. You knew what he was doing and it was not original in the slightest, but it still made you smile bashfully, fingers desperately gripping the book he had given you.

He cleared his throat as if he himself was also nervous, " kessa nyke ūndegon ao tolī…tolī ñuha gūrēñare?" he asked. Shall I see you later, after my training.

You nodded in earnest and watched as he turned to leave, his gaze on yours the entire time until his back faced you. Marvelling at his form as he walked away, he took one more glance back before rounding the corner and you wondered how someone could be so expressive with only one eye. And yet even the smallest glance could send a spark through you like no other. That, combined with his words, was the greatest pleasure you had known.

Even the way he walked away served to stir you so. The way his long legs carried his strides and the way he commanded his space with his form, such confidence at face value and yet so often, in your shared language, he had said that it was not always this way. He had learned the cold stare of feigned confidence through the many years he spent hiding himself away, learning to use his words as his weapon and training his body to be his deadliest.

Who would think that a man like this could be so gracious in the presence of a woman.

Of you.

Hurriedly, you half-ran back to your chambers, letting out a deep breath at being alone and able to let out your thoughts on the man. The book he had gifted you was placed lovingly on your bed as a maid softly knocked at your door. All you could do was face the mirror and uncontrollably smile as she loosened the ties of your dress, pulling the gown off your shoulders to pool at your feet.

"You seem in good spirits, my lady" she remarked, preparing the other dress to be worn at the feast. You could tell that when she said it, she was smiling, "Would the Prince have anything to do with that?"

In the mirror you met her gaze very briefly and shrugged, her hm in response seemed to satisfy her question. Without pressing any further, she draped the dress at your feet and once stepped inside pulled the heavy garment up your body to fasten at your front. This maid was quick about her work and laced it effortlessly at the front and at the back, using metal ones at the front that were coated with gold to compliment the deep forest colour of the gown.

Once the skirts were smoothed down, you observed your figure in the mirror. It was quite possibly the only thing you wore which truly fit you and it was here you felt you looked truly beautiful, for the first time maybe ever. All the small gold fastening attached at the front reminded you of the endless times you had seen Queen Alicent with her seven-pointed star accessories, and you thought she had looked beautiful then.

One your hair was styled the way you preferred, not overly braided, the maid stepped back to admire her own work.

"Beautiful, my lady"

You nod your head in thanks as she takes her leave.

You yourself look on your silhouette and shake slightly. To be his betrothed is one thing, but to be his wife. To tame the blood of the dragon. You felt underequipped for the task at hand.

But you had already conquered him. You just did not know it yet.

You had been seated at the table for some time with one of your older brothers before people started to file into the hall. Of course, this wasn't the first time you had been in this room but it had been so altered for the feast that it was unrecognisable. There was a long table in the middle of the room with a red tablecloth and many candles decorating the middle, their flames barely flickering the room was so quiet.

Glancing over to your brother, he had his head in his hand, probably severely hungover. His eyes were closed so tightly that you thought that he might be in pain, and you half thought to ask him if he was alright but decided against it. For he had not spoken a single word to you in the weeks your family had been guests to King Viserys and Lady Alicent.

With a sigh you smooth your hands over your gown and clasp your hands together, sending a glare over to your brother who whispered shut up at your sigh.

You could not even make sound in front of your family. The kindness served to you by Aemond had made you realise how badly they treated you. Especially your father.

The echoes of fast footsteps broke you from your trance and you looked over at the entrance to see you older sister, arms hurriedly beside her in her half-run and a fierce stare tracking the room.

Her daggered eyes landed upon you, finger pointed in your direction.

"You!" the words came from her like a stab.

Her fierce look had you on your feet, a questioning look on your face as your sister made for you across the room, your eldest brother not far behind in his own half-run. The other drunken brother furrowed his brows in curiosity and all time seemed to slow as your sister threw all her weight into her palm to strike you across the face.

You could barely register the pain in your face until you looked back into your sister's hateful eyes which is when the pain started to bloom across your cheek and jaw. More shocked than anything right now, you raised your hand to your now burning face to touch, it was not sore yet but it certainly would be. Your sister looked unnaturally angry, so much so that the lines around her mouth were now visible and she was shaking. Her eyes were scrunched up with her expression, mouth hanging open slightly to say something.

"You fucking whore" she spat at you, her hand came to your bare arm to twist the skin there and you let out a cry at the pain. But she would not let go and seemed to dig her fingernails into you even further, even at the sudden presence of your eldest brother and entrance of your father.

"What is the meaning of this!" your father's voice boomed but your sister never took her eyes off you. Afraid that if she would, you would escape her tight grip.

"How did you do it, hm?" she asked, eye boring into you, "The Prince could not have fallen for an idiot like you…"

Your mouth formed into a flat line in an attempt to deflect her unkind words, pushing the brewing tears back, but an ever-present feeling was there also. Anger.

"Let her go, sister" Your eldest brother was at her side, hand hooked under her arm to pull her away. Not one look from him was given to you.

Your father was not far behind, his booming voice aching for his daughter to release her hold on you, noting the arrival of Queen Alicent into the hall, who looked shocked at the whole situation.

"What did you do then, fuck him?" she snapped and you could feel your anger bubble inside of you. Mouth open ready to say something, the familiar block stopped you, but your sister was so close, so you thought to opt for a whisper if nothing else. You could no just stand idly by while she disrespected you. That is something you had learnt from him. In only the few weeks you had known him, he seemed to have taught you more than your family ever had.

"N-n.." you start, and a moment of surprise passes on your sister's face, but the anger remains, "…not all of us…h-have to…"

She seemed to mull over the words for a long time, fingernails pushing so hard into your skin you were sure there would be bruising and welts. And it was as if it was a language she had not know, you could see her bounce the words in her head. Or perhaps she had never bothered to hear for the sound of her sister's voice before.

It all came down on your sister so quickly and she let a sinister smile pass on her face at the understanding of your words.

"You dare take the Prince from me…" she cursed, her grip tightening like a vice once more around you and you closed your eyes once more to brace yourself for another strike.

"Care to tell me why your hands are on my betrothed?" a voice rang out loud and deep and your eyes popped open again to find Aemond at the doorway, hands ever clasped behind his back, his cold, hard stare at your sister.

Her head spun around with such speed, you thought it might pop off and her confused gaze met the Prince's, but it was not long before a sinister smile returned, her hands still on you.

"I am your betrothed" she returned.

Aemond turned his head so that he could face the sister straight on, nothing needed to be said, saying enough with his gaze entire. The room seemed deathly quiet as he took his few steps towards your sister, his eye never met yours, not even once. There was danger in the room and he felt he had to address it.

"Aemond…" Alicent muttered, trying to distract him. But it was no use. He was trained directly on your sister and you could feel her façade slip away by the second as she shrunk under his look.

"Release her" he ordered. When your sister did not move, he sent a hooded glare down at her, "Now"

It was clear your sister was too out of it to move, so your eldest brother pulled her towards him, with no resistance. Your groaned in pain as your sister's fingernails came from your skin, leaving red half-moon shaped marks on you. Aemond's hand was on your arm instantly, inspecting the damage your sister inflicted on you, his touch soft against the violence that had ensued before. His fingers traced the marks before allowing his eye to meet yours and then your cheek, seeing the way the skin was inflamed, red and no doubt sore.

It was difficult to gauge his emotion at this time. But all you knew it that he was angry.

Turning to your siblings and father, he took your arm softly to push you behind him, whispering to you softly.

"Gaomas ziry ōdrikagon?" Does it hurt? He asked.

You could not dignify him with a lie and simply replied quietly, "M-mirrī…" A little.

Aemond could not tolerate anyone laying a hand on you, and you seemed to understand this as he faced your family.

"What was that?" you father asked, wide-eyed and staring at you. Silence filled the room once more and your father shuffled embarrassed, "Answer me"

"She spoke" your sister said, "So it does speak"

Her laugh filled the room, that cackle that Aemond hated so much. The one that inspired him to cast her aside, now even more annoying.

"You mean to me that you can speak all this time?" your father says, a hint of annoyance in his voice, "And then once in the company of the Prince, suddenly your idiocy is gone?"

"She is a whore" your sister seethes, but your father orders her to be quiet.

"I would suggest you use different words " Aemond warned, his voice low and protective in the face of your family.

The otherwise quiet Queen Alicent seemed to step forward, using her body to separate the two parties. For a long time, she had been the dividing force between families and had no issues stepping back into that responsibility now.

"That is enough" she said softly, her eyes forever on your father, "My Lord, no promises have been made regarding joining our houses"

All at once, the reality of the situation seemed to hit your father. His face changed from one scorned, angry and exhausted to something more hopeful.

"He is meant to be my husband!" your sister called out, eldest brother still holding onto her arm. She looked positively furious and with the opportunity would most certainly have broken free to wreak havoc once more.

"Be quiet" your father warned. Looking towards you, he jutted his jaw upwards, feeling as if suddenly he had the upper hand, "This marriage will still benefit us no doubt and you have done this family an unexpected favour, your Grace"

Alicent wasn't enjoying a moment of this and simply looked onwards, almost dissociated. Your father's tone seemed predatory, his gaze creeping back over to you and Aemond. Your fingers rested on his hand, delicately gripping him and thanking him for his support in this awkward situation.

Aemond cocked his head, knowing your father had more to say.

Stepping forward, your father dared to glower at the Prince.

"You have taken this halfwit from me, at last"

It was clear it was aimed to set Aemond off. And it had almost worked as the man before you went to take a step forward, only to be met with your hand on his chest. Confused, he looked down at you but you simply shook your head. His look was difficult to decipher as many had often said before you, but you refused to allow him to act how others perceived him, so with a soft hand on his chest you gently pushed him back to take your place before him. One hand slipped into his, you faced your father, who had a sick, satisfied smile on his face.

You could see his gaze waver slightly when you went to open your mouth.

He was the one you feared the backlash from the most. Mother, at least, had been somewhat patient and accepting until her death. But after that, it only served to turn your father bitter. If he would not be patient for his other children, there was little hope for yourself growing up with any form of endearment. What could be expected of such a man.

You felt the familiar slam of a block in your throat, and you swallowed heavily, squeezing Aemond's hand beside you. Grounding you. With a deep breath, you looked back up to your father. He would not interrupt you this time. He would not best you.

He could not have the last laugh this time.

"You…" the words came out forcefully, almost clumsy. But no block in sight, "…are no father…t-to me"

The room was deathly quiet and more than anything, everyone was just shocked. You watched your father's face carefully and saw the raw shock that was so clearly there and you hadn't realised just how tightly you had been holding onto Aemond's hand until he squeezed back, a very obvious proud look on his features.

You took a glance about the room once the silence had become uncomfortable, your siblings sharing their own form of shock in equal measure. A sudden feeling of self-consciousness overtook you and you looked over at Alicent and finally Aemond.

Alicent looked entirely neutral if not a little amused, but Aemond did not have to hide his amusement, his lips turned up into a very clear smirk as his eye looked down at you. You dared to send him a smile back, secretly proud of what you had done in the spur of the moment.

"I think it is time for you to leave, my Lord" Alicent said, cutting through the stony silence, "The King and I will send the terms for the marriage in the coming days"

The father looked wordlessly over at the Queen, now haggard and expressionless.

"I trust the matter is closed"

"Hm" was your father's only response. He gave you somewhat of a glare before turning his back, his own hand clamping around your sisters to drag her out of the room. Your brother's seemed to give Aemond a look before following also, the eldest dragging the middle by the cuff of his shirt.

You let out a breath and your shoulders dropped, now relieved of the pressure. Aemond squeezed your hand again,

"T-tolī o-o…olvie?" you ask. Too much?

He shakes his head with a chuckle, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead, "Daor, īles vok"

No, it was perfect.

 The weight of the burden your family was apparently very hefty, for as they arranged their hasty departure the next day it did not seem to bother you to see them off.

You would happily spend the afternoon sat beneath the Weirwood Tree, book softly placed in your lap. Aemond leaned against the tree behind you, reading over your shoulder as your eyes darted across the words scribbled on the page, fingers at the corner ready to turn with excitement.

Aemond smirked knowingly as his eye caught your family passing the gardens, the servants carrying their luggage. Your father leered over, a gaze that could kill settling upon the Prince, but the only thing that could occupy the space between you both was the sound of you reciting the book before you. The one he had given you as a present.

He sat by, watching every now and then as the line formed between your eyebrows at a particularly difficult word, taking staggered breaths to get the long ones through in a single utterance. And for a moment, watching you reciting the text, Aemond swore he saw the passing of regret pass over your father's features.

Your words seemed to be suited to Valyrian, Aemond so often thought, and even now as he listened to your words from the history book, he took a lock of hair between his fingers to play with the strands. A chill ran up your spine at his hand on your neck, pushing the hair away, the smooth skin hiding beneath now exposed to the cold air.

His hand remained at your nape as you finished the sentence.

"Rȳ z-zȳha…sȳrje…sk-skorkydoso gaomas…b-bisa pikībagon?..." How does this read? you pause to ask, a finger pointed at the page at an unknown symbol. Aemond sat up and leered over your shoulder at the spot,

"Valyria"

"Oh" you answer, now feeling stupid, but chuckling in response. You carried on, Aemond's chin now resting softly atop your shoulder.

"Valyria iksin se….ro-rovaja oktion isse se vys. Iemny ziry..."

"Lemnȳ" Aemond corrected, smiling.

You sigh and push the book closed to place beside you, looking up at Aemond's smug face, he was so close now that you could see the stitching of his eye-patch and a shuddered breath came from you at the hand that was still placed on your skin. His eye was once against hooded to look down at you, perhaps you would never get used to the feeling that gave you.

"Ao pikībagon sȳrī" You read well.

"e-emi mērī..sssepār rhēdan" We have only just started. You shake your head at his words.

"Nyke hae aōha elēni…" I like the sound of your voice, he trailed off and you could feel your cheeks heat up at his compliments. Truthfully, you loved the sound of his more. Especially when he spoke Valyrian. It being your shared language, there was a certain intimacy to it. And you found yourself wondering if he would speak it during…

Your sinful thoughts were cut off by his hand on your jaw, turning your face towards him. If he was close before, now he was even closer, and you held your breath and searched his eye for his intent. He was smiling down at you, finger softly dragging across your skin and it seemed like there was nothing more romantic than saying nothing at all in this moment. Eyes zoned in on him, you opened your mouth to say something, his name.

"Aem-"

His lips interrupted you and you could feel how his softness pressed against you, body heated instantly just purely with his touch. All that fire that burned in his blood, pumped around his body, to be pressed against you now; it burned so nicely that you smiled in his kiss. Allowing him to slip into your mouth as you smiled, the warmth enveloped the two of you and you hand was softly pressed to his chest, grasping the collar of his coat, perhaps in an effort to pull him closer. Aemond groaned with need, sending a vibration of desire that descended through you.

You had never felt so wanted in your life. And Gods, it felt so nice to be wanted, to be needed.

Time seemed to pass so slowly when he had you like this and the desire deepened more so when his hand cupped the back of your head, pressing further into you. A ghost of a moan left you which only seemed to spur him on more so, running swiftly out of breath.

"Aōha udra…" he broke away to whisper, forehead resting on yours, "…nyke jorrāelagon tolī"

You smiled, eyes closed and enveloped in his scent, his love. It was other-wordly.

Your words. I need more.

 Taglist:  @candypurplebutterfly @vainillasmil157 @ysa-psa @angelaevangelion @bellaisasleep @random-human02 @guardian-of-the-imagination​

[chaoticladyfire]

Things I screamed about in ATSV (spoilers)

-Got to rewatch the film so I’m just going to add the colours changing to warmer tones when Gwen hugs her father. Not even ten minutes in and I was already crying.

-Realised that we missed the Gwen-Vulture fight BUT got to see Jessica Drew enter the scene like a bad ass in her bad ass bike and hearing the audience collectively say ‘me too’ when Gwen asked if Jessica could adopt her. 

-Screaming OSCAR ISAAC when Miguel spoke

-Lyla. Just Lyla.

- ‘Do you say anything other than no?’ ‘No-YES!’ more of miguel and jessica pls

-The Spot’s introduction. I didn’t see any promotional stuff, teasers or even trailers before watching this film so I had no idea who or what the The Spot was which was great because he really went from villain of the week to villain of the movie. And they clearly had a great time choreographing the fight scenes with him

-Miles’ heating up the beef patty while the spot and the convenience store man argue

-Miles patting the spot’s with a ‘good cow’ text

-Gwen and Miles both having to deepen their voices to avoid being recognised by their respective cop dads

-Miles saying that he can get two cakes when the counsellor says you can’t have your cake and eat it too and then bringing two cakes for his father’s party and neither of them saying what he wanted to convey. 

-Rio and Jeff scolding an annoyed miles but instantly smiling when a relative hugs them what an universal experience 

-Gwen teasing Miles for drawing her in his notebook almost obsessively but also breaking the biggest rule to spend time with him knowing the consequences. 

-As they went to talk, my friend leaned over and said ‘yeah I bet they will talk’ and when they only talked he groaned very loudly at which point I had to remind him Miles was only 15 

-Watching Jeff talk to Spiderman about his son not knowing his son is spiderman

-The DJ increasing the volume when Miles’ parents started scolding him in the middle of the party (the real mvp of the movie actually) 

-JK Simmons cameo that no one seems to be talking about??? Embarrassingly enough I had to literally scream into my friend’s ear for most of the people to realise it was indeed JK Simmons

-Just the entire Mumbattan scene. It was so exciting to see my city be represented like that, still a bit cliched in my opinion but not like Slumdog so obviously they have updated their views. Everything from the traffic gag to Pav’s rant about chai tea had the theatre howling. Also the detail of the thought boxes (?) and sounds being written in Hindi 

-Screaming DANIEL KALUUYA

-My friend and I are huge fans of the UK punk scene (her for the ideologies and myself for the music and fashion) so Hobie was a dream come true. He was already super cool with his guitar and mohawk costume but when he revealed his face it was just so amazing

-Gayatri is every indian’s dream girl with her modern shirt-flannel and jeans combo mixed with bangles and piercings I really wish we get to see more of her in the next movie. Anyway there was a lot of wolf-whistling and hooting for her and Pav

-Also Pavitr literally means pure I don’t know if they did that on purpose or not but I love it

-His pet name being Pav cured my soul

-’This is the most emotional I have seen him’ and Captain Singh has no emotions at all

-I want to see how they came up with so many spider designs because each was so unique and immediately endearing. My friend who is also a big dinosaur fan screamed DINOSAUR 

-Kind of obsessed with how detailed Ben Reilly’s arms are they did not need to go that hard with it

-Tom Holland’s Spider-Man being referred to as ‘the little nerd’ by Miguel

-When everyone was making puns about the Spot my friend leaned over and said ‘i wonder which hole the spot prefers’ it is a miracle we are still friends actually

-The Donald Grover cameo!!!

-Peter B Parker having a cute little baby with the love of his life is what he deserves

-Miguel O Hara is one step away from becoming a Batman-Spiderman 

-Hobie’s admiration for Mayday being the avatar of chaos Spider-baby

-Screaming ANDY SAMBERG

-I think they saw the appreciation for the art style in the previous film and then trebled it for this film and I cannot thank them enough for it

-Peter complaining about how Miguel breaks the Spiderman tradition of being funny and witty and Miguel being the first anomaly 

-Every scene with the Spot is very unnerving because as I said, you watch him transform from this joker to a literal void of vengeance and it is every bit of terrifying

-Miguel is a man suffering from the destruction of an entire universe because of his selfish actions and forcing that anomaly narrative on a fifteen year old boy who became a spiderman on accident and doesn’t want his father to die because of that. Unlike the Spot, who isn’t even human anymore, Miguel is drowning in grief and guilt and trying to ignore it by holding the weight of the spider-verse on his shoulder. I hated him so much for making a boy go through that but then I just couldn’t in the end. 

-Andrew Garfield and Tobey Maguire cameo!!! Hopefully we’ll get a fun Tom Holland one too in the next movie.

-’Let me guess, he died?’ being a therapist for Spider Men must be a fairly boring job after a few patients.

-I just loved the absolute of wrongness of the scene where Miles returns ‘home’. The rain and darkness. I didn’t really think about Rio asking Miles what happened to his hair because I thought she was referring to the rain (although of course she wouldn’t ask him why his hair was wet when it was obviously raining outside) but realised something was wrong when he didn’t know about comic con but she did because in the first film there’s a joke about Peter B Parker explaining the concept to Miles. 

- This movie is not good for my father related issues

-The glaring neon welcome sign when the gang end up in Earth 42

-How did Uncle Aaron get even scarier? 

-Miles being the Prowler is honestly a great twist I saw it coming but still felt the shock of the reveal

-Prowler Miles having an accented voice meaning his father probably died when he was young and he only had his mom growing up

-Can’t wait for the original spider team to return for the third film seeing as they brought back Spider-Man Noir and Spider Ham and Peni Parker

-Screaming WHAT when the ‘to be continued’ appeared because that cliffhanger is absolutely destructive. All that adrenaline and excitement just popped. I’m still oscillating between being impressed and being disappointed. 

I probably skipped over a lot of other scenes because these were the most memorable and I only watched the film once (unfortunate) but I can’t wait for the movie to hit streaming services and watch it again and again for all the other details I missed. Ill probably keep adding things as I remember

[skzdarlings]

saturday mornings | the threesome series ; skz ; chan/reader/seungmin

masterlist.

threesome series part 1/4. -

pairing: bang chan/reader/kim seungmin content info: sexual content. threesome. established relationship. bdsm. dom!chan, sub!reader, sadistic sub!seungmin lol. these three have an established dynamic that they are very familiar with, involves lots of teasing with reader as the "good" submissive and seungmin as the "brat" who coerces her into being "bad" with him. tone indicates this is all clearly playful. physically rougher elements, daddy/sir titles, baby girl pet name, punishment play, implact play, filming sexual acts, oral sex, face-slapping (not reader), bondage, shower sex, orgasm denial.

they all luv each other n they like to have fun lol ;)

-

You wake to a kiss on your forehead and blink your sleepy eyes open to a smiling Chan.  He is perched on the edge of the bed, already dressed for the day in his baseball cap and work-out clothes.  The pale light around the curtain tells you it is still very early morning.   

You stretch under the covers, groaning as you take him in.

“Why are you dressed?”  Your voice is rough with sleep.  “Come back to bed.” 

You try to string your arms around his neck but he laughs and lowers them to the bed. 

“Just meeting Changbin at the gym,” he says.  “Then I gotta run to work for a sec—”

You slap your hands on the covers and pout. 

“Work?” you ask miserably.  “But it’s Saturday.  You promised—”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, baby,” he says.  He holds your face in both his hands and swoops down to plant another kiss on your forehead.  He follows it up with a kiss on each cheek, then he nuzzles your nose with a goofy little giggle.  He is diabolical, knowing you are helpless to resist him being so silly.  You smile back.       

“Promise I’ll be fast,” he says.  He strokes his thumb over your cheek.  His dimples are deep with his smile, but his lifted eyebrow colours his gaze with suggestion.  “You’ll be good for me today, yeah?” he asks.  “Follow all my rules?”

He is still smiling, still speaking in a soft, pleasant voice, but you feel the shift in energy.  It wakes the rest of you with a flush of warmth.  You wet your lips and nod, looking at him with your most innocent, baby-girl eyes. 

“Yes, sir, daddy,” you say, leaning your cheek into his hand.  His thumb slips over your bottom lip and gives it a little touch.  “I’m always good.”

“I know, baby,” he says.  He smiles when you kiss the pad of his thumb, winks when he flicks your bottom lip cutely.  “It’s not you I’m worried about.” 

You follow the direction of his gaze.  Seungmin is fast asleep on your other side, one leg out of the covers, laying on his front and clutching a pillow.  Seungmin tends to bat away cuddle advances when awake but he sleeps like a clingy koala bear.  You are the opposite, snuggling up when conscious and kicking the boys away in your sleep.  Seungmin usually curls around Chan when sleeping and he looks very bereft in slumber without him.  You can’t help but smile even though you know Chan’s words are right: Seungmin is a troublemaker. 

“I’ll make sure he’s good,” you say to Chan, a promise you both know will be hard to keep. 

“Hope so,” Chan says.  He leans down for a chaste kiss, lingering close to your mouth when he says, “See you later, baby girl.  Be good for me, yeah?”

“Aren’t you gonna say bye to Seungmin?” you ask when he stands up.

Chan adjusts the brim of his cap and just grins. 

“Uh, yeah, I already tried that,” he says.  “He’s a brat.  Give him a kiss for me later.  Love you both.”

“Love you too,” you say.  Your voice goes rough as you snuggle into the bedcovers, falling back to sleep.  The last thing you see is Chan’s affectionate smile.   

You wake a while later to warmth along your backside and a weight on your hips.  You stir, groggy, taking a second to register everything. 

The curtains are open and the golden glow of morning is shining in the bedroom.  The bedcovers have been pushed down but you don’t feel cold.  Seungmin is awake behind you, his arm draped over your middle.  True to troublemaking form, he already has a hand between your thighs, just resting over your shorts.  When he feels you waking, he cups you a little more deliberately. 

“Seungmin,” you mumble sleepily, “Daddy’s not here.  You shouldn’t be doing that.” 

“That’s so sad for Chan,” Seungmin says with a lot of cheeky sass, grinning a big boxy grin.  He never addresses Chan properly, not even to his face, not without a lot of effort on Chan’s part. 

Seungmin’s disrespect always makes you tingle because you could neverbehave that way.   You love being good.  You also love that Seungmin does not.   

“He should have thought about that before he went to work on a Saturday,” Seungmin says. 

“He said sorry,” you reply. 

You can practically hear Seungmin’s eye-roll. 

“Then it’s okay, I guess,” Seungmin says sarcastically. 

He is already touching you through your shorts, his knuckle gently rubbing back-and-forth and making all those nerves come alive with need.  

Seungmin is a veritable pussy addict.  Despite being equally submissive to Chan, Seungmin has trained you according to his own insatiable desires.  It only takes one look from Seungmin to go from resting to fully turned on.  He can spend hours curling his fingers inside you, stretching you out, rubbing your clit.  Hours more laying between your thighs with his mouth wet and soft, kissing and licking and tongue-fucking you until you are a wrung-out mess. 

He is more than half the reason you always wet by the time Chan finally puts his hands on you.   Then it’s you who gets teased for being wet all the time, Seungmin just grinning behind you with that smartass grin.   

He wastes no time this morning, warming you up through your shorts then slipping his fingers beneath the waistband.

“Seungmin,” you whine.  “We’re not supposed to…” 

“Stop crying,” he says, shoving his other arm under your body to hook it around you.  He pulls you tight against him while he works his hand into your shorts.  “I won’t make you come, crybaby,” he says. 

“I don’t believe you,” you say.

You pout but admittedly make little effort to stop him.  You should, knowing very well Chan’s number one rule is no coming without his permission, but you are lethargic with sleepy contentedness and his fingers feel so good.  You figure as long as you don’t come, indulging just a little touch won’t do any harm…

You should have known better.  It doesn’t take much for Seungmin to work you up completely.  You buck your hips as if to escape his hand but your shorts keep him trapped.  You squirm in his arms at the same time your legs thoughtlessly spread. 

“Seungmin,” you say, panting against your pillow. 

“Yes?” he asks, as if he has no idea what he’s doing.  He holds you tighter when you start to wriggle.  “Relax,” he says.  “Just don’t come.  Be a good girl,” he says it like a punchline, dry and humorous. 

“You know his rules—”

“Who?”

“Daddy—”

“Who?”

“Chan!”  Saying his name puts you over the edge.  Chan’s dominance is softer by nature but Seungmin likes to provoke him so you have seen his mean side often.  Imagining his reaction to your bad behaviour has you coming hard on Seungmin’s fingers.   

Seungmin, like the demon he is, strokes you through your orgasm and a little past it, laughing in your ear when you whimper from oversensitivity.  You have never known someone to be so sadistic and submissive at once.  Seungmin likes to make you cry even more than Chan does.  It gets Chan all huffy and mean, then he really puts Seungmin in his place.

Satisfied with his evil deed, Seungmin lets you go and flops onto his back.   You roll over to glare at him, trying to ignore the lingering thump in your pussy.  It feels like a heartbeat skipping beats, erratic when Seungmin smiles and puts his wet fingers in his mouth to suck.  He makes a dramatic mmmmm sound, then sticks out his tongue at you. 

“You’re mean,” you say. 

“I’m telling Chan you came,” he says, reaching for his phone on the bedside table. 

Your heart is really skipping beats now.  You climb on top of him and try to get there first.  He beats you to it and holds you back, cackling his mischievous little ha-ha as he opens it up.   His phone background is a picture of the three of you on holiday, crammed together and giggling in a hammock, and the cuteness is at serious odds with his wickedness. 

“Seungmin, don’t!” you say, trying to swipe at his phone.  “That’s not fair, I didn’t even wanna!”

“Liar,” he says.  He closes his phone and looks at you with a smirk.  “I won’t tell him but you have to do what I want.” 

“What do you want?” you ask, regarding him with scrutiny.   Last time he said that, he came inside you without Chan’s permission and earned you both two weeks of edging and denial as punishment.  Seungmin insisted it was your fault, that he was going to pull out when you wrapped around him, so Chan punished you both ‘to be fair.’   Seungmin always gets away with roping you into his punishments because you don’t argue with Chan, so you eye him warily now. 

He swipes his bangs out of his face and looks down his own body.  You follow his gaze, stopping on the obvious bulge in his boxers.  You look at him and he pokes his tongue into his cheek.   

“Fine,” you say, playfully petulant.  “Just this once.  You better keep my secret.”

He mimes zipping his lips shut. 

You crawl down to fit between his thighs as he spreads them, making room.  He grabs his glasses off the bedside table and pops them on, then he opens his phone again. 

“Let’s make a video for Chan,” he says.

“Seungmin,” you say, glaring at the camera then up at him.  “He won’t like us fooling around.” 

“He will,” Seungmin says, smiling down at his phone.  “You look pretty, crybaby.  Now go.” 

You glare at him one more time then move down, tugging his boxers off his hips.  He is already hard, twitching in your hand before your lips graze the head.  You look up at the camera as you lick and suck, closing your eyes when diving down the length of him.  He puts his free hand in your hair and guides you, tells you to slow down, makes you drool on it before he snaps his hips up.   You take it with practiced skill, but you can’t help the way your eyes water, living up to Seungmin’s mean nickname for you. 

“Hold still,” he says, lifting your head. 

You think he must be close, that he is stopping you before he comes, but you look up and see he is still filming.  He smiles, his free hand jumping from your hair to his dick.  It only take a few swift strokes before he’s coming all over the side of your face.  He swipes his fingers in it and shoves them in your mouth before you can get mad at him, not for the mess but simply because he came when he knows it’s against the rules. 

You say his name, though it comes out garbled around his fingers.  He rubs his fingers over your tongue as if fucking your mouth, then he gives another ha-ha before he finally stops filming.  His fingers leave your mouth with a wet pop and he swings away.  He tugs up his boxers as he gets out of bed. 

“Seungmin!” you say, wiping your face on the hem of your shirt.  You leap out of bed to grab his phone only for him to sprint into the next room.  “Seungmin!” you say again, running after him.  “You can’t send that!  You’re gonna get us in trouble!” 

“Why would I get in trouble?” he asks, typing away at his phone from behind the kitchen counter.  “You were the one with my dick in your mouth.”

You chase him around the kitchen island until you are both giggling.  He spins around and catches you unexpectedly, playfully roaring in your face with a weak little raaawr.  He pretends to bite your neck while you giggle and push at him. 

“You won’t be so funny when he gets home,” you say, to which he just repeats what you said in a mocking tone.   You smack the top of his head as he directs you to the living room couch.  “You’re such a bully.  You promised not to tell.”

“And I didn’t,” he says, kissing your neck lightly then sucking a hard kiss under your jaw.  “If you don’t tell him what you did, he won’t know.”  He looks at you, that mischievous grin back on his face.  “Unless you feel guilty and tell him.”   

You pout, making him laugh. 

“I’m so nice all the time,” you say with a melodramatic flourish, waving your hand.  “I don’t know why you’re so mean to me.”

“I’m nice,” Seungmin says.  “See, your shirt’s dirty, let me help.” 

You playfully wrestle when he tries to lift your shirt off.  You let him win, squeaking then jumping onto the couch where he chases you.  He climbs on top of you and starts kissing you, messy wet licks into your mouth then down your neck and chest.  You clench your thighs around him but he wriggles his shoulders between your legs, smiling at you.  You barely pretend to fight when he tugs your shorts down, then his glasses go crooked and his mouth is on your pussy through your underwear. 

You whine his name and rake your fingers through his hair.   He tugs the fabric out of his way and licks up your still wet pussy, being as messy as possible. 

“Tsk, tsk,” he says, surfacing for a second.   His glasses are still askew and his face is wet.  He smiles dreamily at your pussy, rubbing his fingers up and down.  “What if Chan got home right now,” he slips his fingers inside you, “and saw you like this?”  He sighs as if disappointed, casually fixing his glasses with one hand and fucking you with the other one.  “He’d be so mad.” 

“He’s at work,” you say, eyes closed. 

“Is he?” Seungmin asks.  “I think he’s outside the door.”

Your breath catches and you look at the door.  Seungmin has no way of knowing if that’s true but you gasp anyway, legs closing around his hand.  He pushes them apart, then gets up on his knees for better leverage. 

“Seungmin,” you say, grabbing his arm but not stopping him.  His fingers are curling inside you, rubbing against a tender spot that has your vision swimming.  “Ohh, Seungmin, please—”

“Ohh, Seungmin, please,” he mimics.  “You’re not coming, are you, crybaby?”

You shake your head, making a show of sniffling and looking at him with purposefully teary eyes.  He rolls his thumb back and forth over your clit.

“The doorknob is turning,” Seungmin says.  “He’s gonna see you.” 

“No, I’m not—”

“He’s walking inside—”

You come with a cry, tossing your head back and squeezing his fingers between your legs.   Chan is not actually home and Seungmin is just a menace, but that menace does cover you in kisses when you are done coming all over his hand. 

You lay on the couch for a bit, feeling each other up and kissing, then Seungmin leans back to grin at you.

“Two for you, one for me,” he says.  “I’m doing better than you.”

You swat at him.

You eventually start the day for real, going about your usual weekend routine.  Chan never answers Seungmin’s video text, but Seungmin shows you that he definitely saw it.  The little READ subscript reveals he watched it only seconds after getting it. 

You are reading a book in the afternoon when Seungmin gets back from a walk.  He kicks off his shoes and joins you on the couch.  You try to ignore how distractingly handsome he looks with his hair pushed back, casual but sexy in denim.  You can tell he wants to mess around so you pointedly ignore him and turn the page of your book. 

He tugs on the sleeve of your shirt then rests his head on your shoulder. 

“What,” you say in a dry voice. 

“It’s getting late,” Seungmin says.  “Chan still hasn’t answered us.”   

“Hm.”  You turn another page despite not retaining anything.  “So?”

“So.”  He touches your chin and turns your face to his.  “We should make another video.” 

“No, we shouldn’t,” you say, closing your book.  “You’re just gonna do something you’re not supposed to again.”

“What, me?” he says.  He flicks some hair out of his eyes and laughs.  “I don’t think so.” 

“I do.  You’re evil and you’re not dragging me down with you.” 

“Really?”

“Yes.  And nothing you say can change my mind.”

A few minutes later, you are curled over the arm of the couch, clutching a cushion while Seungmin fucks you from behind and films it.  He’s down to just his open jeans, the denim rough against your skin when he pulls you onto him again and again. 

“Mmmf,” is the noise you make, groaning into the cushion.  “You better not come again.”

“Worry,” he says, panting, “about,” he slows down a little, “yourself.”  He takes another breath and speeds up again. 

“I’m at no risk of—” Your overconfident proclamation is interrupted when Seungmin expertly circles your throat and yanks you up.  You whine and claw at him but he roughly manoeuvres you onto your back. 

“Hi baby,” he says with a sarcastic little wave, phone camera pointed down at your scowling face.  He frowns with exaggeration.  “You gonna cry again?”

“No.”  You try to kick him, pushing at his chest with your foot.  He just scoops that leg onto his shoulder and presses himself back inside you.  “This was Seungmin’s idea, daddy,” you say, covering your face with your hands.  “I was being good, I promise.” 

Seungmin just mimics your voice and grinds into you.  One hand holds the phone and the other slips down.  His thumb rubs softly and simply over your clit until you are whimpering again.    

“That’s not fair,” you say with a little hiccup.   

“Should be easy for you,” Seungmin says.  “Chan’s good little girl, right?” 

“Ugh, shut uuup, you’re the worst—”

“The rest of you would disagree, good girl,” he says.  He tips his head, looking at the phone, so you can only assume he is zooming in on your pussy gushing around his cock as he rocks in and out.  “Uh oh,” he says when you squeeze him inside you.  He knows your body well by now, having wrung countless orgasms out of you, so he is grinning before you even start coming.  “Three, two, one…!  Ha-ha.”      

You make a shaky, shuddery sound as you come, barely recovered before his hand is around your throat and he is fucking you in chase of his own completion.   There’s no point in even pretending to protest.  You just sigh and reach down, holding your thighs open as he moans and groans for show, coming inside you.   He takes his time filming it after, sweeping his fingers around to show Chan the mess he made.   He must turn the camera to selfie mode because he starts smiling his mean, puppyish grin into the screen. 

“See you later, old man,” Seungmin says.  “If you can even get it up after working all day.” 

He stops filming and laughs you when you frown at him. 

“Do you have to make it even worse?” you ask. 

“Yes.  Don’t ask stupid questions.”  He swoops down and kisses your forehead.  “Come on, crybaby, let’s have a shower.  Unless you want to be full of cum when he gets home—”

“Hmmph!”  You give him a indignant pout, but you get up when he helps you. 

You share the shower.  You keep pretending to be mad at him, only giggling a little when he touches a few ticklish spots.  He knows they are ticklish so he is just being mean, but he does compensate with little kisses over your back and shoulders.  

He stands behind you, kissing down your neck as you tip your head, the hot water rushing down your front.  Your eyes are closed against the spray but also from pleasure, smiling to yourself as he nips at your skin then licks over the bite. 

“No marks,” you say without much verve.  “You know that’s another rule.”

“That’s okay,” he says, smirking into your shoulder.  His hand starts to slide down the front of your body.  “You’ve already broken the rules, so…”

“Seungmin,” you say, your scolding tone contradictory to the way you rock your ass against his growing hard-on.   You giggle, holding onto his wrist but not stopping his descent.  “We shouldn’t,” you say. 

“He’s right,” comes a voice from the doorway. “You already broke the rules anyway, didn’t you?”

Your eyes fly open.  You look through the glass wall of the shower to see Chan leaning against the bathroom door with his arms crossed.  He is still dressed for the office, suit and tie, though he is already barefoot.  His dark hair is neatly styled, his eyes darkly lined, a diamond stud on his nose and his ears.   He lifts his eyebrows and tips his head, the expression more than a little condescending. 

“Whoops,” Seungmin says with a laugh. 

Chan exhales, unsmiling. 

You turn the water off and slide the glass door open.   The shower is a big, roomy space with two showerheads, leaving Seungmin plenty of room to step back.  He rolls his eyes and somehow manages to look belligerent despite his nudity.  You are a far more repentant sight with your watery eyes and pouty lips, naked and damp and innocent as can be. 

“I’m so, so, so sorry, sir, daddy, sir,” you say, shaking your head.  “I tried to make him stop but he wouldn’t listen.  You believe me, right?” 

Chan doesn’t say anything.  He just looks at you with the vaguest hint of amusement in his eyes.  Then he looks away with a sigh, unbuttoning his blazer.   He shakes his head as he peels it off and approaches the shower. 

“I don’t know what to believe, baby girl,” he says.  The blazer hits the floor and he loosens his tie next.  “Ya know I had to leave work early because of this?” he says.  He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows then his gentle hand reaches out to cup your chin.

You shiver from the coolness of the room, from his touch, from his gaze.  You do not dare look away from his eyes, not even to see Seungmin’s face.  You do not doubt he is just frowning and rolling his eyes anyway. 

Chan presses his thumb to your lips and you open your mouth dutifully.  He rests it on your tongue.   

“I don’t have a lot of rules, yeah?”  Chan says.  “Don’t you think I’m fair?”  

“Mhm,” you say, nodding, lips pursed around his thumb. 

“Did you not understand the rules?” he asks.  “You’re not stupid, baby. I’d find that hard to believe.”

You don’t answer, knowing you are guilty and there is little to say in your defence.  Chan just sighs and slips his thumb out of your mouth.  He cups your cheek and lovingly strokes it. 

“You know I’m disappointed, don’t you, baby?” he says.  “How many times did you break the rules today?”

“I’m sorry!” you say in a rush.  “Seungmin really did start it, though.  I was just in bed and he made me—”

“How many times?”    

“Five,” you say, sniffling.  “Three for me, two for Seungmin.  It really was his fault, though, you know I would never—”

“I know what he’s like, baby,” Chan says. He is speaking in an easy, calm voice as he draws his fingers down your chin, your neck, the middle of your chest until he has a breast cupped in his hand.  You try to keep a neutral expression when he rubs his thumb over its peak.  “But you know you’re responsible for yourself, yeah?”

He lets go and reaches past you to turn on the water.  It is a light, warm spray that makes you jump with surprise.  He surprises you again by stepping into the shower almost completely dressed.  He backs you into the wall as the water runs over his white dress shirt, turning it translucent. 

Seungmin finally scoffs, the sound mixed with a laugh. 

“You’re getting your clothes wet, weirdo,” he says. 

Chan’s gentle expression hardens.  You jump when his hand shoots out, grabbing Seungmin roughly by the throat.  Seungmin grabs onto his wrist, clearly surprised given the way his breath catches.  He tries to hide it with a grin, lifting his eyebrows when Chan looks at him.

“I’ll deal with you in a minute, Seungmin,” he says.  He chokes a little gasp out of him then lets go, looking at you again.  “Come here, baby,” he says softly.  “You know what I have to do.” 

You know he means a punishment, but you don’t know which one.  Chan is tantalizingly unpredictable in that regard. 

You nod, stepping where he gestures, under the showerhead but just behind the spray so none of the water hits you.  You shiver again, your nipples hard and skin breaking into goosebumps.  You meet Seungmin’s eye over Chan’s shoulder, Seungmin looking at you with gleeful anticipation even while rubbing his throat.  From where he is standing, he must also feel the chill, the same prickling awareness of his skin, the air like a constant kiss all over your body.      

The water hits Chan on the shoulder, running down his chest and side.  His shirt is sticking to him, drawing your eye to the ridges of muscle down his abdomen.  He taps your chin to lift your gaze, keeping your eyes locked while he undoes his tie and whips it off. 

“Open,” he says.  

You part your lips and he puts the tie in your mouth, wrapping the rest around your head.  He reaches behind you and secures it with a knot.   He taps your side, confirming the usual mute communication for when your mouth is covered.  You nod and he smiles, tapping your cheek approvingly. 

He reaches for his belt next, looking you over with heady eyes.  You shiver at the clink of metal and whistle of leather.

“Hands,” he says. 

You offer them and wait as he ties his belt in neat loops around your wrists.  Your heart leaps when he yanks your bound hands up above your head and hooks the belt over the neck of the showerhead.  He slides it backwards, making you follow until your back is flat to the cold wall.  You make a startled, pained noise into the gag, flush with the sudden cold.  The temperature shock is a stark contrast to the heat spreading between your thighs.  You can do little relieve the ache, balanced on the front of your feet.   

“That’s a good girl,” Chan says with one last parting look, dimples sweetly smiling at your predicament.  Then he sighs, slicking back his now damp hair.  Maybe his make-up is just turning smoky with the heat, but you swear his eyes literally darken when he turns to face a grinning Seungmin.  “Now.  You.” 

You might prefer Chan’s gentle daddy dominance more than anything else, but that doesn’t mean you don’t like watching his mean sir routine when it comes to Seungmin.  Because Seungmin does not like it gentle.   You live vicariously through the thrills of their rougher play. 

It never disappoints.  You mewl like a surprised kitten when Chan backhands Seungmin, catching him before he can stumble.  Even his catch is rough, a hand over his mouth and his other arm hooked around his neck.  He presses Seungmin into the glass wall, his cheek flat to the cool surface.  You feel a shiver of empathy. 

“You think you’re smart, don’t you?” Chan asks.

There is a moment of quiet as Seungmin clearly contemplates surrendering or continuing.   Then he nods.  Chan’s laugh is breathy, his gaze turned upward in exasperation. 

He releases his mouth and swings his hand down on Seungmin’s backside.  You never imagined being so jealous of a spanking, but you are starting to feel like you got the worse punishment after all.  You are forced to merely watch as Seungmin squirms in Chan’s firm grip.  You are certain those marks will bruise, darkening alongside some older ones still purpling his skin. 

After a thorough spanking, Chan turns him around.  Seungmin thuds onto his knees when forced down.  Chan places him where the water can reach and Seungmin stretches upright on his knees, trying to escape where pebbles of water hit his smarting skin.  Chan smacks him and it splits Seungmin’s attention, on his cheek and his backside at once. 

You thought Seungmin was mean for lightly finger-fucking your mouth earlier, but that favour gets more than repaid.  Chan shoves two fingers far enough into Seungmin’s mouth that he chokes, attention fracturing yet again as he haphazardly grabs the offending hand by the wrist.  

Chan tugs his fingers free, a trail of spit connecting them to Seungmin’s open mouth. 

Seungmin blinks his dizzy dark eyes upward.  Chan gazes back, cool and unbothered, while unbuttoning his pants.  Seungmin looks ready to speak but Chan just shakes his head.   

“Don’t,” he says, grabbing Seungmin by the jaw and tugging him close.  “Just don’t.” 

Seungmin is so funny, calling you a crybaby only to get all dribbly from a little face-fucking.  It’s hot, though, and Seungmin is fully hard now.  His hands are on Chan’s clothed thighs, functionally so he can tap out, but doubly affecting in how he can’t touch himself because of it.  You think you can see his mental space shift in real time, going from petulant brat to something else, something content and quiet and physical.  

He gasps and leaves his mouth hanging open when Chan pulls out.  He flinches when Chan taps his cheek.   Chan just smiles. 

“That’s better,” he says.  He reaches out and snaps off the water.  It makes Seungmin shiver and you follow in sympathy.   “Come on,” Chan says, kicking at him lightly.  “Get up.  This way.” 

Seungmin stumbles when Chan grabs his bicep and yanks.   You whimper with jealousy when Chan kisses him, a filthy hot kiss that makes you tingle from head to toe.  Fortunately, you do not have to suffer much longer.  Chan manhandles Seungmin until he is facing you.  The mischief has been replaced with hazy desire, his eyes watery and mouth so pink and raw. 

“On your knees,” Chan says, pushing at Seungmin’s shoulder. 

Seungmin takes in a shaky breath but nods, getting back down on his knees in front of you.  Chan grabs his hair and yanks his head back, looking down at him. 

“You forgetting something?” Chan asks. 

“Sorry, sir,” Seungmin says.  “Yes, sir.”

Satisfied, Chan lets him go.   He helps guide your leg over Seungmin’s shoulder, cooing sweet nothings at you when you make a startled sound because he lifts the other leg too.  It raises you completely off the ground, both legs over Seungmin’s shoulders, weight partially supported by Chan and partially by the shower.   You are completely suspended, simply sitting pretty while Seungmin eats you out. 

Of course, Chan doesn’t let you finish.  He tells Seungmin to stop and start a few more times before he finally lets you down.   Your feet touch the ground again, though you rest your weight on the wall, your legs shaking. 

Chan sweeps Seungmin’s hair out of his face and tips his head back. 

“You have something to say now?”  Chan asks. 

“No, sir,” Seungmin replies, his voice rough. 

“You gonna listen to me?”  Chan asks, to which Seungmin nods.  “Good.  Then get up and do what I say.  You ready?” 

Seungmin’s job is a step ahead of yours.  Chan is still helping you out of the shower by the time Seungmin reaches the bedroom.  You sit perched on the counter, towelling yourself dry while Chan strips out of his wet clothes.  You are about to step down when Chan scoops you up.  You suppose you have lost the privilege to run ahead at will, just in case you get any funny ideas, but you don’t mind if Chan is holding you.  You cling onto him, legs and arms wrapped around him as he carries you into the bedroom where Seungmin is waiting. 

Chan lays you out beside him and waves a hand, giving Seungmin permission to kiss you.   Seungmin eagerly sprawls on top of you, kissing and licking and moaning while Chan gets up behind him. 

Your punishments appear to be contrary, you unfucked and untouched thanks to your several stolen orgasms, and Seungmin the overwhelmed subject thanks to his provocations.   It’s him Chan fucks now, you laying under him, kissing his face as he grunts and groans and whines.  Your shared kisses are breathy, gasping things. 

You twitch and buck with wanting, feeling emptier than you ever have, while Seungmin digs his fingers into the bedspread, rocking against you while Chan rocks into him.   

Seungmin comes first for once, helped along by your hands desperately seeking more, more, more.  He comes all over you, dropping his face into the crook of your neck.  Chan pulls out and finishes with a few strokes of his own hand, coming on that bruised and purple backside. 

Fucking you both is one thing, but Chan’s work is truly cut out for him in the aftermath.  But your loving boyfriend never falters, doing everythign to ensure you are both settled and soothed.  Some days you return the favour, lovingly doting on your careful dominant, but today is a day he massages and kisses and takes care of you both.  

You take care of Seungmin too, kissing his face.  He is sandwiched between you and Chan, letting you both love up on him until his character comes back to him, then he starts thrashing around with playful dramatics.   Chan giggles in that silly way of his and wraps him up, covering his shoulders with kisses while Seungmin glares at you like a disgruntled puppy.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you tease, giving him a little kiss.  “This was all your fault anyway.  I’m a good girl.”

Seungmin grins at that.  Chan just shakes his head, but smiles deeply.  He wraps an arm around you both, pulling you close.  Seungmin, trapped in the middle, whines and groans, but he doesn’t stop smiling the whole time.    

[amourcheol]

filmbro-zoned (teaser)

❝Who knew all it takes is a hot girl with top-tier taste for a man to admit he's wrong?❞

g e n r e : college! au, fluff, crack, suggestive

w o r d c o u n t : 1k for teaser (approx 20k words for full fic)

s u m m a r y : self-proclaimed movie mastermind chwe vernon minds his business—whether that be avoiding the popular, problematic kids in his college to reducing customer interest in his parents' film store. his plan of isolation, however, is completely destroyed when you, a seemingly insane disney fan, slams his perfect movie taste and ask for his help to take down an evil ex.

w a r n i n g s : loosely inspired by watching the detectives, film major! vernon who owns an outdated film store, mc is the baddest (but also the craziest) bitch in this fic, vernon is a loser, film major! mingyu who will be violated many times in this fic sorry king, mentions of many filmbro films which will also be violated, self-indulgent mentions of some of my favourite films, kissing, mentions of sex but no actual sex because im fearing god today, barbenheimer reference <3

p l a y l i s t : if you're too shy (then let me know) by the 1975 || q&a by seventeen || wonderful women by the smiths || confidence by ocean alley

t a g l i s t : @hyuckworld @hiraethmae @lllucere @intoanothermind @kokoiinuts

a u t h o r ' s n o t e : who would have thought i'd be writing a college au huh...alice will never let me live this down...also guys once again so sorry for constantly posting this hopefully i have found a way for the loophole...let us see if this teaser gets shown in the tags...

“WHAT ARE YOUR THOUGHTS ON WOLF OF WALL STREET, AMERICAN PSYCHO, PULP FICTION…FIGHT CLUB, SAVING PRIVATE RYAN, SCARFACE…”

You squinted at the list, finding the names neverending. “Jeez, this list keeps going, huh?” 

He could not help the scoff. “And you called me a Filmbro.” He set his forearms on the counter, locking his hands together. “What do you need these movies for?”

“They’re for my ex-boyfriend.” 

The term had him pausing. Of course—the ex-boyfriend. How has he heard of this man, but not know a thing about him? Shit, he did not even know your name.

“This ex of yours has an…interesting taste,” he said slowly. “What’s he like?”

“I can tell you he attends the same college as you. Well, us,” you clarified, jerking your head towards the college colours of your server’s hoodie. “Film major. Just like you, actually.” 

“Oh?” Small world. “What’s the name?”

“Kim Mingyu. Do you know him?” 

Vernon Chwe nearly shit his oversized jeans.

A hesitant nod of his head. “I have a few classes with him.”

“Oh?” Your stare was a little more intense now. “What do you think of him?”

Right. 

Another fated question—the people around him had to stop asking him such controversial questions, or else he was bound to piss someone off. You were already letting him off the hook too many times; one more judgemental comment, and he was having that Princess movie set smashed on his head.

Kim Mingyu. Fuckass Kim Mingyu. Film major—just like him. One of the most popular boys in the year—very unlike him. All the teachers love his essays, all the girls love his freakishly-perfect six-pack, which Vernon is extremely irritated (and devastatingly intimidated) by. 

What all these people failed to realise, though, was that Mingyu was the biggest piece of shit to grace the halls of his university—and the planet, if dramatics were in order. If you thought that Vernon was a filmbro, then Mingyu was Filmbrother. Filmcomrade. Filmnemesis. 

It was as if you could hear the thoughts churning in his head. “You can be honest, you know. He did dump me at the end of the day.” A smirk began to appear. “Say your worst.”

The reassurance did not help. “I mean,” he started, swiping your card, “He’s okay? I haven’t talked to him enough to have an opinion on him.” 

A half-truth—that should suffice. 

But because the fates like to shit on his head every now and then for kicks, they decided to leave you unsatisfied with his answer. “Or, you can keep lying!” 

Excellent intuition, really. “I’m not!” he exclaimed, slapping the card back on the counter. “I really don’t know much about him.”

The big man upstairs was testing him even further, when, with a determined gaze, you set your elbows atop the surface. You leaned closer, tilting your head to the side as you inspected him, and Vernon blinked back at the sheer lack of space you had created. His mouth twisted, eyes frantically darting at the features of your face, not quite taking in the entirety of your being. Your vision seemed to work perfectly, because it caught the slight flush at the tops of his cheeks, where it was just pale skin seconds before.

Your smirk deepened. “Judging by your blush, you’re either terrible at lying…or,” you offered, voice lowering a little as you drummed your fingers against the counter, “You’ve never had a hot girl this close to you.” 

Fuck everything and everyone, because that only made him blush more furiously. You could not help the chuckle that escaped, deciding to cease torturing him and take your card. “I’ll not say the answer, Mr. Filmbro, but I think you already know.”

Since he had no plans of turning into a human form of a ketchup bottle, he evaded the topic entirely, instead focusing on interrogating you. “You still haven’t told me how Mingyu is related to the movie list you made.”

That seemed to hold your interest. “Oh, of course!” Putting the list back into your bag, you began, “Well, the list holds my ex-boyfriend’s favourite films. I wanted to know your opinion on a few.”

He could not contain his sigh. Oh, he had an opinion on these films that you mentioned. Again, he would rather be buried with his thoughts on the specific genre than ever tell you. The curiosity, though, was eventually going to eat him alive.

So much for minding his business.

“I mean…” he began to think, trying to find the right words. “I don’t mind them? Godfather is a good film, but I’ve seen better from Brando. I like American Psycho, but again, people tend to miss the point of the movie.”

As you nodded, listening to his two-cents on the movies you mentioned, he paused, furrowing his brows. “Why do you care about my opinion?”

You smacked your lips together, folding the list back. “I don’t know much about you, Mr. Filmbro,” you began, “But you don’t run a filmstore without knowing a thing or two about the films you sell.”

“So?” He crossed his arms atop the counter. “Shouldn’t you have asked the guy who you made the list about?”

“Trust me,” you said, your smirk turning more into a rageful flash of teeth, “I know exactly what he thinks of these films.”

Don’t particularly know what to make of that comment. “Well, I don’t know what my opinion for these films is going to help you in any way.”

“It has helped.” You paused then, waiting to see if he would egg you on, asking how his seemingly tame opinions would play into the grand scheme of things. “All part of my master plan.”

Master plan? Vernon may have been interested before, but he was certain that, before, he could have hid it without letting you catch onto it. In a sudden flash, though, as if his mouth was beyond his control, he regrettably slipped out the words which had you smiling more than he would have liked.

“What master plan?”

He almost closed his eyes. Shit. Now I’m fucking invested.

The corners of your mouth, lifting upwards, had him almost nervous. “I was hoping you would say that.”