#i decided that was a stupid idea and not to do that

[tokidokifish]

i’m rewatching the hbomb video and decided to check up on james somerton and Whoof

however! a lot of people are thinking this might be fake, so i really wanted to unpack the evidence on our hands.

first of all, this listing has been taken down, but there are still copies on the wayback machine. this version of the listing, with james somerton’s name in the description and a halifax address, was last seen in may 2024. a month later, in june, the address had been changed to mississauga, and james somerton’s name had been removed:

and as far as i can tell that’s how it stayed until it went down after this reddit thread.

so. is it fake? on the one hand, this page would have been launched QUITE close to when james was found to be posting stolen hole on alt accounts after his false suicide scare. and it’s called fucking MEMORY media, after james claimed his blatant and repeated plagiarism was due to memory issues, so either that’s a joke at his expense or the man truly has no shame.

on the other hand, this page was up for almost a YEAR before anyone called it out, which is a long-ass con for minimal returns. and james’ name wasn’t even on it for most of that time. so it seems to me we’ve got a couple of options:

1. it’s fake and created as a joke. no one noticed at the time, though, so whoever made it just kinda had to sit on it before either someone finally found the page or they released the info themselves? idk. the timeline is weird for a fake. and i think the jump to wedding photographer is a weird one for a gag?

2. it was genuinely an attempt at rebranding. james initially launched the page with his name on it, before realizing what a stupid fucking idea that was bc his name is toxic and even if people didn’t recognize him immediately, one google search would get his ass. during this time, they also relocated to mississauga. this also explains why he would have used stock images and fake reviews; it was just to make a fledgling operation look good. it managed to fly under the radar until march of this year, when someone was doing the exact same thing i was: googling him on a whim, whereupon they got a hit for a cached version of the original page, and posted that version.

now, the page hadn’t been updated since 2024, which seems sus, but i think in the “it’s genuine” case there could be a pretty easy explanation for that: it didn’t work. james has shown an almost pathological avoidance of actually putting effort into what he does, and you cannot ACTUALLY plagiarize your way through a career in wedding photography. he had nice, expensive cameras and he couldn’t go back to youtube, so wedding photography probably seemed like a viable option (as someone with a degree in photography, SO many people suggested i go into that after college), but it’s hard work! and either james just couldn’t hack it or lost interest, and left the page up, gathering dust, bc he couldn’t be assed to take it down until the internet took notice.

but! at the end of the day i don’t know and i don’t REALLY care. i was just briefly distracted by the puzzle of it.

James Somerton is working as a wedding photographer with a plagiarized portfolio, btw

YoutubeDrama thread where this came out.

He truly seems incapable of not passing off others work as his own.

[zlut4rina]

I NEED YOUR THOUGHTS ON BOTTOM GISELLE

This but she's also fucking around with her best friend :P and the bsf is also g!p

Parirings: Giselle x G!p!Femreader

Warnings: Drugs and Alcohol use, unprotected sex, slight oral mention, holy plot 💔, Uh yea 👅

___________________________________________

You and giselle met in uni. You both had mutual friends, and one day, they decided to all group up and hang out. You were quite the shy and reserved person, so speaking to a new group of people was like a death wish. Giselle approached you first, drink in hand, and a big smile on her face. She reeked of alcohol, and was that maybe a hint of weed? Who knows? Honestly, you could hardly remember what happened that night, especially after meeting her. You were too intoxicated to even comprehend what happened the next morning, still hungover. After that night, you both grew closer. You told each other any and everything. Your mutual friend would make silly remakes about how connecting you two was a bad idea.

And to be honest, it was. You guys went everywhere together, you did everything together, and you two were like the ideal friendship everyone wished that they had. Despite her chic and bad girl demeanor and style, she was a completely different person when it came to sex. You two told each other about your sex stories all the time. You didn't have much since you never really liked socializing. But giselle practically had bedtime stories for you every night. At some point, she stopped doing that. She stopped fucking around, it's been a while since you heard one of her outrageous sex stories. Anytime you'd ask her about it, she'd brush you off, saying, "It's just not my style anymore" or how she needs to focus on other things.

Her true reason being was because of you. She couldn't stop herself from having disgusting lewd thoughts about you, especially after she found out about you little 'secret'. The day you told her you had a dick flipped a switch in her brain. That was all she could think about that night. Even though she hooked up with some guy, she could only imagine how yours felt. You were so oblivious to this that it actually turned her on sometimes. The way she would purposely sit in your lap a certain way, just to fulfill a small part of her fantasies. The way she would grind on your lap just a little, masking it as her 'Trying to get comfortable'.

Your stupidity brought her to her breaking point. One night in your doorm, you two were played up cuddling, watching some drama on your laptop. A random surge of boldness ignited in her, her hand that was rested on your chest slowly made its way down under the covers cupping your bulge. You both were only in your underwear. You both established that it was fine to be dressed like that since you're so close.

And you know, one thing led to another. And here she is, back arching for you, face buried deep into the pillow soaked of her tears and the drool from her mouth. You never thought this day would come. Honestly, I mean, you dreamed about it sure, but for it to actually come true was insane. Take this opportunity to fuck her raw without a condom, only cause she asked so nicely. Your fingers digging into the flesh on her hips. Trying to keep as quiet as you could, drawing orgasm after orgasm from each other. By the time you both were completely fucked out, you both looked like you survived some sort of war. Both of you bitten and bruised, the sheets drenched in mixed fluids. After that night fucking your best friend become such a normal thing, obviously you couldn't tell anyone about it though. But of course some of your friends got a little suspicious.

"You two always go home so early. It's like your dating or something."

You weren't necessarily dating, nor were you necessarily NOT dating. It was complicated, but in a good way. You didn't mind getting to fuck the pretties girl on campus whenever you wanted. Having her all to yourself was like a dream you never wanted to wake from. Giselle would wear skimpy, slutty outfits when going out just for you to ruin her in.

"So that's why you wore this, huh? Just for my attention?" You were balls deep inside her. A handful of her hair in your grasp, as you pounded her from behind. "You're so dirty, baby." You whispered into her ear, nipping at it. Giselle is a backshot warrior. Like omfg, the first couple of times you twocdid it, she would always want you to bend her over. You loved it too, the sight of her back angled so perfectly for you, ugh to die for. The way she whines into the pillow when you hit 'that spot' repeatedly. Her nails would be scattered all over your bed with how hard she was gripping the sheets. Her makeup stained your pillow once again.

Everyone thinks she's such a badass and takes the lead with everything she does, just not in all casses. The second she's with you behind closed doors, she's like putty. She's immediately on her knees, ready for her instructions on how to please you. Sucking you off with the prettiest hooded eyes. Her lipstick smudged on her lips as mascara ran down her face. She'd stick her tongue out and place it on the bottom on your tip as you shoot loads into her mouth, some of it hitting her nose and teeth. You weren't usually rough with her unless she'd as or she'd done something to rile that up in you. Spitting in her mouth and pulling her head back by her hair, demanding she swallow it. gulp

She absolutely loved it when you're rough with her, too. Making you upset at an outing, and the only way to calm you down is if she's bent over and taking your full length. Crying your name out as you handle her body roughly. Saying she deserves this for being bad and how she wanted this. "Don't tell me you can't handle it, princess." Meanwhile, she's literally struggling to even breathe against the soaked pillow. Her hair is a complete mess, sticking to her face from all the sweat. So, of course, you have to help her out. Taking a handle full of it and pulling her head back. While saying the dirtiest things to each other all night.

That's usually how most of your nights went. Bending her over or having her on her knees, you got whatever you wanted out of her. She's your best friend, that's what best friends do, right? They take care of each other's needs.

___________________________________________

[thewretched1999]

── .✦ bailale, mi amor.

cw: established relationship, jealousy, luis serra is alive!! (i scream as they drag me away.) reader is an agent + is also implied to be like, latina, but it’s hardly (heavy on the hardly) mentioned.

a/n: finish literally any fic i’ve had in the vault and post it? no. post a imagine/drabble i wrote cus i was listening to a song? yes. anyways. short n sweet i guess. will be posting a real fic soon, promis :3

word count: 577

Imagining Leon going out with you to like a baile or something, Leon doesn’t dance, would rather roll on broken glass and pour salt in his wounds than ever humiliate himself like that in front of anyone, especially you.

He opts for the safer option, stays behind, nurses his drink and takes in the setting, everything was going fine but for some god forsaken reason, you dragged Luis out to dance.

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to let you two be all buddy buddy because now he’s silently seething watching you both dance together. You’re not doing anything bad, per se, just having fun with a friend, a friend.

It’s not that Leon doesn’t trust Luis, he does!

…He just has to remind himself that there would never ever be anything between you and Luis. He remembers how Luis was all too eager to hit on you any chance he got back in Spain, granted he stopped once he figured out Leon had a thing for you, but that was basically on the helicopter ride home.

A little too late for Leon’s liking.

He still knows a little bit of spanish from Spain and what he's learned from you to know he doesn’t like what the lyrics are saying at all.

Something about turning someone on and needing to feel their body close to them. You’d be proud of him for making the words out.

But he can’t focus on that right now, not with the way his brain is just screaming at him that you and Luis just look too good together, too natural.

Luis twirls you, you stumble a bit but recover by leaning into him with a laugh, Luis’s hand makes it’s way to the small of your back, pressing you just a tiny bit closer against him.

Leon’s fingers tighten subtly around the glass, jaw clenched and brow furrowed. He’s being stupid he knows he is, but he can’t help it. He’s jealous.

Eventually the song ends and you bound back to the booth meanwhile Luis slips outside, probably to smoke, Leon’s just glad you’re back with him.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, he forgets you know his tells.

“Nothing.”

“Your face is doing that thing, Leon.”

He stays quiet for a moment, wonders if he should just tell you or not, but he sighs and decides he doesn’t want to ruin your night.

“Did you have fun?” He asks instead, cringing slightly.

Fuck, even he knows his tone was bitter and snarky, you picked up on it too, judging by the momentary look of suprise on your face that’s being quickly replaced with a grin, he knows he’s screwed.

“You’re jealous.”

You gasp and point an accusatory finger at him. Like it’s the discovery of the century.

He just glares at you, slugs his drink while you cackle, because it’s hilarious to you, it’s absurd.

“You’re jealous!” You repeat.

He’s jealous of Luis? You can’t help but laugh at the notion. If you weren’t a couple drinks in you’d have taken him seriously and reassured him.

But right now all you can do is laugh.

“You wanna play like that?” He grumbles, “Wait til’ we get home.”

That shuts you up real quick, paints a pretty blush across your face that lets him know he’s got you right where he wants you.

Needless to say, he makes sure you remember your place by his side once you both get home that night.

[joyfulhottubfuntik]

Here is an idea for a GF fic that my friend and I came up with which I'm not sure I'm gonna do anything with.

***

Ford calls his mom shortly before a family reunion that he's not sure about attending (given that he usually doesn't). Caryn joyfully tells him that Stan, who no one's really heard from in a while, is also gonna be coming for the first time since he was kicked out. And Ford is... well, he doesn't know how to feel about it. If anything, he is surprised. The first time Stan didn't try reaching out on their birthday and then on other family holidays, he kinda saw it as confirmation that heis brother really didn't want to come back and apologize. Family reunions never felt the same afterwards, so Ford just stopped coming. Now though... well, it's just strange and very unexpected. But a small part of him that he desperately tries to push down is hopeful that maybe Stan will finally apologize and perhaps they will at least be on speaking terms again.

So, against better judgement, Ford does go. And Stan is there, just like his mom said he would be. He seems to be doing well for himself, just like Ford thought he would, exuding confidence and chatting with people. What's strange is that their father is one of those people. Because Stan has never been so calm when speaking to him, and it's unbelievable to see, especially after all that has happened. Their father seems to have picked up on the confidence, something that he's always wanted his sons to exhibit, so maybe that, along with how well off Stan seems to be, may explain his change of attitude. Stan, however...

Eventually, Ford finally talks to him. It starts with an apology, a surprisingly straightforward one too: no averted eyes or nervous hand movements, no hasty explanations or excuses. In a way, that's all Ford has wanted: a straightforward genuine apology, an admission of guilt. But somehow that also feels entirely wrong, like someone playing the part of his brother in a play, doing it well, but only as well as someone reading from a script could. That's when Ford gets the creeping thought that whatever's in front of him is something that's pretending to be his brother.

Of course, at first he tries to write it off as just him being paranoid, especially seeing how the rest of the family doesn't seem to think anything's off. And, after all, it has almost been ten years. But the more he watches, the more he notices the numerous small inconsistencies, like all the mannerisms he clearly remembers from years ago being completely gone.

At last, Ford can't bear it anymore, so he decides to use something that is extremely personal (and painful) to both of them: their childhood dream. He casually comes up to Stan and starts a conversation. Eventually, Ford brings it up and Stan's reaction is something along the lines of "Well, that was just stupid, wasn't it? I mean, it's a childish dream, something we did to pass the time, but it could never work. Sometimes you just have to outgrow things like that, you know. I wish I had just done it sooner, rather than later". And it's so utterly wrong it's straight up uncanny. Like, of course, Ford did choose to pursue his own aspirations instead. Maybe Stan could find other things to do too, that's believable. But this doesn't mean the dream no longer matters, and for Stan out of all the people to talk about it like it doesn't and hasn't ever...

So, right then and there, Ford decides that, whoever he is talking to is not his brother. And thus he sets out on a mission to find out whatever happened and, most importantly, where Stanley actually is.

***

Or alternatively, Stan somehow stumbles upon some sort of mind reading supernatural creatures who pretty much push him to make a wish. That wish is kinda contradictory in itself, more so two of his deep wants combined: Stan wants his family to accept him and love him again, but he also wants to stop being himself, Stanley Pines, the homeless grifter and the screw up.

The solution to this problem is: a sort of magical clone of Stan is created, which is designed to, while mainly relying on Stan's own memories, act in a way that will make the people he cares about like him. Overtime, the copy will correct its mistakes and become more and more like the real thing, and Stan will forget who he is, which would free him of all his regrets and let him begin life anew.

The flaw with all of that? Stan severely underestimated how much his twin actually cares and how much he's willing to do for him.

***

I have no idea how this would actually go or work and neither does my friend. A rescue mission, a lot of upsetting realizations, that's for sure. Anyway, I like this idea too much to just let it quietly perish in our imaginations. So I'm putting it into yours too lol

[vioartemis]

Charlotte Matthews

(Post rescue! Lottie Matthews x non Yellowjackets! Fem! reader)

You meet lottie at a mental institution you were both sent to, and quickly, a bond creates between you two.

I am back from the dead lol. I don’t know what this is, or if it makes much sense tbh, but yeah I tried something. Title is shit idk 😓 I just love Lottie sm (this was written after watching the very beginning of season 3)

For some reason it was decided that you would have a new cellmate/roommate -you never knew what to call it- and it made you nervous. Charlotte Matthews, that was her name. You’d seen her around, of course. She was hard to miss. But you never tried to talk to her.

Not that you didn’t want to. You did. It did too. And for that exact reason you kept a safe distance between you and her. That being said… you couldn’t help but feel drawn to her.

“Are you okay?”

Her voice brought you back to earth, and you realized you were staring at her while being lost in thoughts.

“Ah- yes, sorry…”

You looked down at your lap where your book rested, hoping she’d go back to journaling or whatever it was she was doing.

This wasn’t a good idea. Both of you in the same room wasn’t a good idea. You knew it because It was content. She seemed like a nice person, you didn’t want her to get hurt.

“You look… preoccupied” she remarked, putting her pencil down

“I’m not” you replied quickly, too quickly to be honest

Even if you weren’t looking at her, you could feel her gaze on you.

“I’m not your enemy you know?”

Her voice was soft, inviting.

“I know”

“Talk to me then. I can help you”

She closed her notebook and put it down in her bed, scooting closer to the edge of the mattress to be closer to you. You want to believe her. But no one can help you.

At your lack of answer, she tried again,

“What led you to ending up here?”

It was a nice way of asking what was wrong with you. You grabbed your bookmark and put it in your book.

“I went caving with a group of people. We thought it was safe but a tunnel collapsed and we got stuck in there for god knows how long”

You paused, trying to find your words and selecting which parts to tell. You didn’t want to talk about It. Whatever It was, you were sure it was with you down there in the caves. And It was not good.

Charlotte was silent, looking at you patiently.

“We barely had any food, and tensions were quick to rise. People died for stupid reasons. We all… did bad things in there. To survive.”

A longer pause. You weren’t sure how to finish your story.

“What happened when you got rescued?” she asked, noticing your struggle

“We didn’t”

“What do you mean?”

Here came the hard part.

“We didn’t get rescued. One day a… another part collapsed. It created a hole. I barely fit through it, but I managed. It lead to the outside. None of the others followed me. I don’t know if they didn’t fit or if it collapsed again after me. But when I found help and told them, they said it was too risky to try to save the others…”

You still felt guilty. Maybe you could’ve helped them out if you had tried to make a bigger path. If you had insisted to try to save them anyways. If you had-

“It’s not your fault”

You heard her words at the same time as you felt her hands holding yours. She was kneeling in front of you, dark brown eyes looking up at you with sympathy.

“You did what you had to do to survive”

You had a weird feeling that she knew how it felt. You looked down at her, your eyes meeting.

You both stayed like that for a moment, in silence, looking in each other’s eyes. Reading in each other’s soul.

You didn’t need words to know. You saw It in her eyes. And she did too.

From that moment on, you got closer to Lottie. Her presence was comforting. Her touch soothing.

You both had your fair share of nightmares at night, and found solace in each other’s arms to the point where there barely was any night where you didn’t sleep in the same bed.

“Can’t sleep?” Lottie finally asked after you shifted in her bed for maybe the twelfth time

You shake you head no.

“Come here”

She pulls you in her arms, a hand on your back, the other in your hair.

“What’s on your mind?” Her voice was soft, as always

You didn’t know what to answer. ‘A lot’ was a little vague. ‘You’ was too honest.

“Nothing” a lie, not much better than the other options

Lottie’s hand went from your hair to the back of your neck, tilting your head up slightly.

“Look at me”

And you did, almost immediately. It was almost amusing to her how quick you always did what she asked. She found it cute.

She took a moment to get lost in your eyes, giving you some time to get lost in hers as well.

You knew she could read you like an open book, but you didn’t mind. It was easier than saying it out loud.

She rested her forehead against yours, the tip of her nose touching yours.

“Stay with me?”

“Always”

You both knew you meant it. This wasn’t like anything either of you had ever experienced. It was natural. It felt right. It would probably come for you both at some point, but at least you’ll be together.

It was content, for now, and so were you.

[iluvsieunsveinydihh]

Hellooo pls dont mind my grammar im not very good at english but anyways can you do a geum seungje x reader ff that the reader is go tak's sister and is very bratty when reader finds out abt what seungje did to her brother she decided to plan a revenge then she decided to team up with hu-min the mission is to make seungje fall in love with her and then lure him somewhere private then let hu-min probably kill him? But little did she know seungje is very much aware of her plan idk you can improvise the other part of the story you can make it a oneshot or series but pls include a smut?? If possible

Fool Me Once


Geum Seungje x Reader (Go Hyun-Tak’s sister)


warnings: Revenge, manipulation, enemies-to-lovers(?) tension, betrayal, smut, power play, angst.

You were always the brat. The loud one. The one who clung to Hyun-Tak’s arm and stuck your tongue out at his idiot friends, always the kid sister no one took seriously. Until Seungje broke your brother — and something in you broke too.

It started with fury. Pure, blinding fury. You watched Hyun-Tak fade — from your proud, protective little brother to a shell who barely looked you in the eye anymore.

You wanted Seungje to bleed for it.

Hu-min had the same idea.

He didn’t like you at first — called you loud, spoiled, said this wasn’t a game. But you knew how to get under people’s skin. Especially guys like Seungje.

“He’s arrogant,” Hu-min had said. “He’ll fall for you. You’re just his type. Pretty, bratty, loud — like a challenge he can break.”

And so you played your part. Tight skirts, glossy lips, batting lashes.

It didn’t take long.

Seungje liked to win — and you made him chase you like it was a war.

He kissed you the first time in a stairwell, hand slamming the wall beside your head, tongue pushing into your mouth with a force that made your knees buckle.

“Didn't think your brother would let you run around like this,” he muttered against your lips.

You smirked. “He doesn’t let me do anything.”

The irony tasted sweet.

You knew every touch, every stolen moment was a step closer to your trap. You let him drag you into corners, let his hands explore, whispered in his ear like you wanted him.

And maybe, sometimes, you did.

That scared you.

But you kept going. Because he deserved to suffer.

So when you texted him to meet you in that empty apartment — the one Hu-min had prepped — you wore a very short skirt with your uniform.

The one that clung to your hips and made Seungje’s eyes darken every time.

He came. Of course he did.

You smiled as you let him in, door clicking shut behind him.

“You alone?” he asked, voice low.

You nodded. “Thought we could finish what we started.”

His eyes raked over you. “You sure you’re ready for that, brat?”

You walked backward, pulling him by the belt until he hit the wall.

“I’ve been ready.”

His mouth crashed into yours — rough, desperate.

His hands pushed your dress up, fingers digging into your thighs, lips trailing down your neck.

“Been thinking about this every time you strut around like you don’t know what you’re doing,” he growled. “You like playing with fire?”

You gasped when he slid his hand up your skirt into your panties, fingers teasing, circling.

“Say it,” he said. “Tell me you want this.”

“I want it,” you whispered — breath hitching when he slid a finger in, slow and taunting. “I want you.”

But something shifted. His other hand grabbed your wrist — the one behind your back, the one you’d used to signal Hu-min.

“You think I’m stupid?” Seungje’s voice dropped to a venomous murmur. “You think I don’t know what this is?”

Your blood ran cold. “W-What?”

He pulled his hand back, and suddenly you were slammed against the wall, your back hitting hard — his body pinning yours.

“I’ve known since the beginning. The looks. The timing. You think I don’t know who your brother is to me?”

You struggled, heart pounding. “You don’t know shit.”

He smirked. “I know you wanted me to fall. Too bad I like being in control.”

Then his lips were on yours again — harder, hungrier, like he was proving a point.

Your body betrayed you, hips grinding against him, heat pooling between your legs despite the panic. You hated him. You wanted him. You couldn’t stop. “I’ll let your little friend show up,” he whispered, licking a stripe up your neck. “But you’re not walking out of here the same.”

His hands were everywhere — bruising your waist, tugging your dress down to your hips as your back scraped against the wall. The room was dim, cold, and silent except for your uneven breathing and the thud of your heart.

“You thought you were running the game,” Seungje growled against your mouth. “But I’ve been playing you since the start.”

You tried to twist away, but he caught your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“You want to hate me so bad. But you’ve been getting off on this — on me.”

His fingers trailed down your chest, over your bra, then yanked it down with one swift pull. You gasped — from the shock, the cold, the way his mouth closed around your nipple, tongue flicking, teeth grazing.

Your body arched — traitorously.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, voice rough. “Tell me this isn’t what you came for.”

But you couldn’t. Because you didn’t know anymore.

The plan was to seduce him. Use him. Get your revenge.

So why were you melting under his touch? Why was your core throbbing for him, even with your brother’s broken face etched in your memory?

Because he knew. He saw through you — and still wanted you.

You didn’t say stop.

Instead, you gripped his shoulders and pulled him closer, your lips crashing into his.

That was all he needed.

He turned you around, bending you over the arm of the dusty old couch. Your panties were ripped down, your skirt bunched around your waist.

“You wanted to play games?” he murmured, voice low and lethal. “Let’s play.”

He didn’t tease this time — just slammed into you in one hard thrust.

You cried out, fingers clawing the cushions, back arching as he filled you completely.

The stretch, the burn — it was brutal, and you loved it.

Seungje grunted behind you, one hand gripping your hip, the other tangling in your hair to yank your head back.

“You feel that?” he growled. “That’s what you wanted from the start.”

He set a brutal pace, each thrust rocking your body against the couch. You were gasping, moaning, cursing him — hating how good it felt.

“Louder,” he snapped. “Let your little partner hear how much you love being ruined.”

Your eyes widened. ���H-Hu-mi—?”

Seungje laughed darkly. “He’s outside. Has been the whole time. Watching. Waiting.”

You clenched around him — part fear, part shame, part sick thrill.

“You’re lying—” you gasped.

He leaned down, breath hot on your ear. “Then why are you so wet?” You hated him. You hated yourself more. Your climax hit like a freight train, making your knees buckle. You cried out, back spasming as he kept pounding into you, chasing his own release.

When he came, it was with a groan and a bite to your shoulder, his grip bruising, possessive.

You both collapsed onto the couch — sweaty, breathless, tangled.

Silence. Until his lips brushed your ear. “Tell your brother I said hi.”

[mycroftrh]

People do always love to be like “oh Anakin was so stupid, keeping secrets for no reason, he should’ve just told the Jedi about Padme and everything would’ve been fine, doesn't he know Ki-Adi-Mundi was given an exception for survival of the species to have wives in Legends”

And when rewatching RotS I was forcibly reminded: he wanted to. He wasn’t actually the problem there. It was Padme.

Padme: Wait, not here. Anakin: Yes, here. I’m tired of all this deception. I don’t care if they know we’re married. Padme: Anakin, don’t say things like that.

A few scenes later, it’s Padme, again, not Anakin, who says:

Padme: If the Council discovers you’re the father, you’ll be expelled.

And Anakin who’s like “don’t freak out about that now, just enjoy that we’re about to have a baby”.

Back in Attack of the Clones, it was technically Anakin who offered the idea of a secret relationship first, but it was in response to Padme being insistent that he would be expelled from the Order:

Padme: You listen. We live in the real world. You come back to it. You’re a Jedi Knight…. Jedi aren’t allowed to marry. You swore an oath, remember? You’d be expelled from the Order. I will not let you give up your responsibilities, your future, for me. … Anakin: It wouldn’t have to be that way. We could keep it a secret. Padme: …Could you live like that? Anakin: No.

And then it was Padme who first introduced the idea of lying to Obi-Wan:

Padme: Ani, I told you I wouldn’t let you give up your future for me… Anakin: What about Master Obi-Wan? Padme: I guess we won’t tell him, will we?

And also Anakin, rather importantly, as you may have noted in the conversation a bit above, actually believed that a secret relationship was a bad idea in the first place, to the point that he stopped making advances on Padme because of it, until suddenly she started making advances on him:

Anakin: You love me?! I thought we decided not to fall in love. That we would be forced to live a lie.

And the thing is. Like. Anakin’s number one source of stress in Revenge of the Sith is that he does not want to be keeping secrets, and everyone around him is trying to force him to. From Obi-Wan to Palpatine to Mace and Yoda to, yes, very much Padme, as we saw in the very first quote above.

The Jedi are trying to make him keep secrets from Palpatine, which he very openly hates; Palpatine’s trying to make him keep secrets from the Jedi, which he also expresses extensive upset about and eventually refuses to do any longer; Padme’s making him keep their relationship secret when he explicitly doesn’t want to.

And he actually takes every possible opportunity to tell someone the truth about something, for the first three quarters of the movie!

He’s considering keeping the dreams secret from Padme for about three seconds before she’s like “Be honest with me” and he immediately tells her, honestly, without minimization or deflection. And then the very next scene, probably less than five minutes of screentime after the vision itself, is him telling Yoda, in as much detail as Padme’s rules will let him.

He doesn’t tell Palpatine about the Jedi Council’s plans because he’s trying so hard to be good and obedient towards everyone at the same time, but he’s so visibly upset about it that Palpatine deduces. (I firmly believe Palpatine had him put on the Council specifically so they would tell him to spy on Palpatine and thus break his trust in them, but that’s a side point.) Anakin dutifully ferries all information he’s given back to the Jedi Council without, as far as I can see, filtering it at all.

And the big one, of course - he learns Palpatine’s the Sith and immediately runs to tell Mace Windu.

(And Mace proceeds to only half-believe him, which, frankly, doesn’t make sense? He says “If what you told me is true, you will have gained my trust” but like. Mace’s primary concern about Anakin’s loyalties seems to be that he thinks Anakin’s loyal to Palpatine over the Jedi, in which case… what kind of next-level Machiavellian reverse-psychology triple-agent plan did he think Anakin had, that involved lying to Mace about Palpatine being MORE of a threat than they had believed and suggesting Mace go arrest and/or execute him, advising maximum force? It turns out Anakin is, in some ways, playing into Palpatine’s plans by doing this, but like… that’s because Anakin is telling the truth, and the truth is the problem here, and if he had been lying, things would’ve been fine for the Jedi. But that’s somewhat beside the point.)

Like. It’s been established since Phantom Menace that Mace and Yoda both tend to not be… friendly, let alone understanding, towards Anakin, and that continues to be the case in Revenge of the Sith, and yet still his first response is to run to them with any big truth he has, because they’re the Proper Authorities, and he hates secrecy, and he’s reaching out for any life-raft he can find.

Anakin is, in the end, the one who killed the younglings, yeah. But the secrecy? That was never his problem.

In conclusion - behold, Anakin’s synthesis:

[a-calico-rabbit]

Hi! Sorry for using þis to ask a question—first i’ll say I had þe notion þat it was way easier to move around in þe rest of þe world, such þat it was normal for people to work in different countries from þe ones in which þey lived. I guess I was wrong. But besides þat, I have a different idea of þe why behind þe ego, and none of þe people I @ed to get þeir responses replied, so i’m putting it here. Sorry for þat. Anyway…

Mini-rant incoming; you have been warned. Any response telling me why or why not you þink þis is wrong is appreciated and appropriate:

Þe real, undeniable reason we’re so fucked (one of þem, at least) is þis:

We only have two parties, we’ve only had two parties since þe beginning, and þese two parties have been making moves to deeducate, disempower, disenfranchise, and socially isolate þe populace for ocer a century. And it’s seen everywhere. And it’s spreading out of þe USA too.

I’m not writing it all out, because I can’t, but everyþing wrong wiþ our country, wiþ little exception, can be boiled down to an us-vs-þem mentality. Everyþing, EVERYÞING in america is framed as a competiton wiþ a winner and a loser. Þat’s why we do it. Þat’s why when we talk about our problems, þey have to be þe worst. Þat’s why our achievements are þe best. Þat’s why liberals are “idiots” and conservatives are “ignorant”. Þat’s why we have to have þe last word and þat’s why we must be right. Because it’s not about þe facts. It’s about who’s won.

Take anyþing about America, anyþing at all. And frame it as a game, wiþ þe only rule being þat you can’t get caught. Þat þe winner is decided by popular vote, or by who’s left to laugh at þe loser’s grave. And It becomes so much easier to understand it all.

We’re taught to be hypercompetitive from þe moment we can talk. Our entire government, legal system, work, education, social life, everyþing. Everyþing is structured as a competition. Þat’s why. It’s not it, but it’s most of it.

It’s stupid and it’s bad. But it’s þe bitter truþ.

Rant over | additional points:

Anyway yeah, þe only countries I can þink of þat we share þis (or a similar to þis) trait wiþ are auþoritarian, so þis feels fairly logical as an explanation. Þere’s also þe fact þat our entire country is founded on þe slaughter of millions in a bid to “manifest our destiny” which I don’t know if we got from anoþer country besides Britain.

Anyway, if any of þese points are wrong or not unique, please bring up specific points about why not, so I can actually learn instead of just knowing þat i’m somehow wrong.

Þank you for reading þis, have a nice day.

im american and i knew that like in kindergarten so i think some of you are just stupid sorry

[shadesofhogwarts]

where Sirius appoints Regulus as his Chief Slytherin Analyst to find out which Slytherin James is sneaking off with (spoiler: it's Regulus)

Wordcount: 1.7k

Sirius Black was a man on a mission.

A mission that involved a corkboard, red string, and a fervent belief that James Potter, his best mate, his brother in all but blood, was sneaking off at odd hours. Alone. Suspiciously cheerful. Secretly smiling like a love-struck fool. Betrayal. Treason.

And worst of all– Sirius knew it had to be with a Slytherin. He was sneaking off to cavort with a Slytherin– a Slytherin– behind his back.

Unacceptable.

So he did what any normal, rational person would do: he turned an empty classroom into his personal investigation headquarters, complete with grainy surveillance (read: badly charmed photographs) and a complex web of suspects linked together with increasingly frantic scrawls of color-coded accusations.

"Right," Sirius barked, slapping a picture of Barty Crouch Jr. onto the board so hard the entire thing shook. "Look at his face. Look at it. No one with that much evil in his eyes gets that close to James unless he’s planning something."

Regulus Black, younger brother and resident Slytherin consultant, sat cross-legged on a desk, inspecting Sirius's work with barely concealed amusement, nodded solemnly, "Definitely suspicious. Maybe James is into... evil types?"

Sirius froze. Horror dawning.

"Oh my God," he whispered. "James has a villain kink."

Regulus coughed violently to cover his laughter.

"You know," Regulus said, tapping a photo of James talking to Evan Rosier during Potions class, "it could just be classwork."

Sirius scoffed, violently connecting Rosier’s picture to James's with a length of string.

"Open your eyes, Reggie. James hates Potions. And Rosier smells like cabbage. There's no way James is suffering that unless he's involved."

Regulus blinked, a picture of serene innocence. "Of course. Must be a love affair, then."

"Exactly!" Sirius cried, missing the heavy sarcasm entirely. He stabbed the marker at Rosier's photo. "But maybe it’s Mulciber. James did pass him a note in Charms once–"

Regulus arched an eyebrow. "Maybe he’s secretly courting the entire Slytherin house?"

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "Don’t be stupid. James has standards."

Regulus made a thoughtful hum, twisting the silver ring on his finger to hide his smirk.

Meanwhile, James– bless his stupid Gryffindor heart– was probably lurking two corridors down, waiting to drag Regulus into a broom closet and whisper "Did he buy it?" against his mouth.

(Spoiler: Sirius had bought it, paid extra, and tipped the cashier.)

And here Regulus was, actively assisting his brother in hunting down... himself.

Sirius stared at the corkboard like it had personally betrayed him.

"This isn't adding up," he muttered. "We need more evidence. We need–" He snapped his fingers. "–to spy on him!"

Regulus clapped his hands slowly. "Bravo. Very mature."

"I am mature," Sirius said rather proudly, missing the mockery. "And you, little brother, are going to help me."

Regulus sighed, sliding off the desk with the slow grace of a martyr.

"Fine. But when this blows up in your face, don't say I didn't warn you."

"Blow up?" Sirius laughed, throwing an arm around Regulus's shoulders. "Reggie, this is going to be legendary."

Regulus smiled thinly, already planning how best to break the news when– not if– he eventually got caught with his tongue down James' throat.

Legendary indeed.

Fast forward: three hours later.

The corkboard looked like a crime scene.

Regulus had been promoted to "Chief Slytherin Analyst."

Sirius had drawn a diagram titled "James's Possible Lovers" with a graph that included "Snape," "Rosier," "Mulciber," and, alarmingly, "Lucius Malfoy."

("If James is into blondes," Sirius said grimly, "we're all screwed.")

Regulus, at this point, had mentally divorced himself from reality.

And then– oh, and then– Sirius had an idea.

A terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad idea.

He decided they would tail James.

In disguise.

Wearing stupid Muggle sunglasses and trench coats they stole from McGonagall’s lost property closet

...

Sirius: "Keep low. Stay cool. Act natural."

Regulus, deadpan: "We are hiding behind a suit of armor, Sirius."

James, fifteen feet away, secretly dragging Regulus away.

"Oi, Reg, keep a sharp lookout everywhere yea- Reg..?"

Sirius blinked at the empty hallway.

"Wait... where did he go?"

Cue five straight minutes of Sirius running around the castle screaming "REGULUS? REGULUS??" while Regulus and James made out behind a tapestry.

(They were laughing so hard they almost got caught.)

...

It happened on a Tuesday.

Because of course it did. Tuesdays were cursed.

Sirius was tailing James again. (In broad daylight. Wearing a massive floppy sunhat. Looking absolutely deranged.)

He was alone this time– Regulus, the little traitor, had "homework" and "couldn’t make it."

('Suspicious,' Sirius had muttered. 'Snake behavior.')

He gripped his walkie-talkie and whispered into it (Regulus said he would be actively listening in on whatever he reported) "Operation Find James's Secret Slytherin Lover is a go."

Peeking around the corner, Sirius watched James sneak into the abandoned Transfiguration corridor.

Suspicious. Very suspicious.

Sirius crept closer, holding his breath.

And then–

LIKE A SCENE OUT OF A SOAP OPERA SIRIUS WOULD NEVER ADMIT TO WATCHING–

James reached out.

Grabbed someone lurking in the shadows.

And kissed them.

Right there. In the open. Full-on, no-holding-back, hand-in-hair, body-pressed-up-against-the-wall, movie scene kiss.

Sirius’s jaw hit the floor.

"WHO—"

he shrieked.

The “someone” turned their head–

and Sirius saw.

It was Regulus.

His Regulus.

His little brother Regulus.

Sirius made a noise that started somewhere between his toes and ended somewhere in the stratosphere.

"REGULUS?!" he howled.

James broke the kiss, beaming like he’d won first prize at the fair.

Regulus just smirked, lazy and catlike, like he hadn’t just committed literal fratricide.

Sirius pointed between them wildly, as if by moving his hands fast enough he could undo reality.

"YOU–" (James)

"AND YOU–" (Regulus)

"–ARE–" (both of them)

"NO!!"

James snickered. "Surprise, Pads!"

Regulus, perfectly unbothered:

"I told you this would blow up in your face."

Sirius stumbled back like he’d been slapped.

"No. No no no no. WHAT. WHAT. THIS IS ILLEGAL."

Regulus crossed his arms.

"Pretty sure it’s not."

"IT SHOULD BE!"

James slung an arm around Regulus’s shoulders.

"Face it, mate. You’ve been helping us hide it for weeks."

Sirius clutched at the air like he was trying to hold onto his last brain cell.

"You made me– I– you made me build a CONSPIRACY WALL–"

Regulus, expressionless:

"You built that yourself."

James, tilting his head:

"Reg did suggest the 'villain kink' theory, though."

"YOU WHAT?!" Sirius screeched.

Regulus smiled serenely, like a horrible little angel.

"I thought it was funny."

Sirius just crumpled to the floor.

Sat there.

Completely dead inside.

His best mate was dating his baby brother.

His conspiracy board was a lie.

His floppy hat was crooked.

He stared at the ceiling and whispered, brokenly:

"I need a drink."

Regulus patted him on the head condescendingly.

"Good luck with that, you're sixteen."

James laughed so hard he almost collapsed.

...

Later that night:

Sirius set the entire conspiracy board on fire.

(In the Quidditch pitch. At midnight. Crying real tears.)

James and Regulus made out behind the bleachers.

Mission: Complete.

A/n: inspired by this thing I read on pinterest. hope it made you smile like it did me💗

[rusalka52]

Disc Discourse

Sirius Black x Fem!Slytherin!Reader

Summary: An unlikely companionship between you and Sirius begins to form after you two share a cigarette at the annual pureblood Christmas party. Everything seems to be going very well until an argument over whose music taste is better arises.

cw: mention of bloodpurist attitudes, mention of drinking, smoking, Sirius and Reader are both a bit sleazy lmfao, Reader is a Beatles fan

4.5k words

A/N: this is a rewrite of a fic I wrote last year. I really liked the idea but hated how it was written so I redid it. It ended up completely different than the original one but the premise is still the same, enjoy!! 🫘

masterlist

This year’s annual pureblood Christmas party-gathering was by far one of the most boring ones you had to endure and your body was desperately aching for a cigarette. You hope that it will take the edge off and give you a much needed break from all the small talk you had to get through today.

Barty managed to convince his father, Mr Crouch Sr., to let him stay home and not drag him to this stupid party by using the excuse of needing to complete this three page essay assigned by professor Slughorn over the holidays. Or maybe Mr Crouch is a bit too embarrassed to be seen outside with his son’s pierced face and ears, messy hair and disruptive personality.

The Rosier twins, Evan and Pandora, were engaged in a “riveting” conversation with your classmate Mulciber. You would quite frankly rather sit through an entire two hour period History of Magic class, listening to professor Binns talk at length about another goblin war, than hear about Mulciber’s family trip to Venice or Paris or Mykonos or the Bahamas for the thousandth time with no escape.

That left you with your friend, and host of this year’s party, Regulus Black. Reggie was a really really good friend, trustworthy, reliable, helpful, and despite being a year younger than you he was really mature and a great conversation to have. However, regardless of all his redeeming qualities, he was so uptight! He would of course sit with you while you smoked to keep you company if you asked but that also meant having to endure the diatribe he was bound to launch into about all the health hazards of nicotine and its effects on the human body.

You essentially had no choice but to go looking for a quiet, secluded space in order to have a smoke. Your objective now is to find an empty balcony at the Black manor where you could get at least five minutes of peace. You carefully open the door of the gathering room, making sure no one sees you, and you slip out of the room into the long hallway. You scurry down the ornately decorated corridor, eyeing the various portraits suspiciously, praying that they don't decide to question why you're not with everyone else. If your mother finds out you smoke you're dead. Right before you reach the staircase you hear a familiar voice behind you.

“Where do you think you're going, young lady? The guests should be in the other room, not wandering the corridors” Mrs Walburga Black asks in a shrill voice. You turn around panicked, your eyes widening like a deer caught in headlights. You relax slightly when you see that it is in fact the portrait of her likeness speaking and not the real one.

“Good evening Mrs Black, lovely party tonight, thank you so much for inviting my family.” You reply hoping this distracts her; she stares at you with her gaunt, piercing eyes, waiting for you to continue.

“I was just, uh, looking for the bathroom. I need to touch up on my make-up you see.” You explain looking around nervously.

“Well the guest bathroom is the first door on the left of this hallway. You are not permitted upstairs.”

You are about to give up on your mission when suddenly Kreacher appears from the kitchen holding a tray of cakes.

“KREACHER,” she shrieks, “No, no, NO! How many times do we have to tell you that these cakes are served AFTER the wine, not before, stupid elf.” She turns her piercing gaze to the poor house elf, who just apologises to his Mistress and returns to the kitchen to fetch the wines instead. You almost feel bad for him. Almost because his mistake acted as the perfect distraction for you to slip away up the stairs unnoticed.

You tiptoe up the grand staircase that leads to the upper floors of 12 Grimmauld Place, grimacing at the shrunken house elf heads that were mounted on the walls. Merlin, no wonder Sirius behaves like that in school, if this is his childhood home. Sure, your parents were blood purists too but this was madness!

~

You finally reach the landing of the first floor and you look around, making sure that it’s empty. You make your way towards the door that is furthest down the long hall, admiring the intricate wallpaper decorating the walls. You stifle a laugh as your gaze lands on a framed photograph of Sirius when he was approximately five years old, crying because a lollipop got stuck in his hair. The next photo in the line is him with a shaved head and a pout on his plump toddler cheeks. Your hand lands on the snake carved door knob and you twist quietly hoping that the room is empty. Luck seems to be on your side tonight as you find the drawing room empty — what a perfect place to have a smoke. You enter the long, high-ceilinged room and take a moment to admire the dark olive green striped tapestries on the walls, the lush, expensive looking persian carpet beneath your feet, the roaring fireplace that kept the room warm despite the freezing London winter that controlled the weather outside. You approach the large windows that overlook the street below and, pushing aside the dark velvet curtains, you open the window and step outside, exposing your skin to the harsh elements. You curse at your past self for deciding to wear a short sleeved, knee-length dress because now you were absolutely freezing. At least the thick material kept your core somewhat warm but it was nearly not enough for you to feel comfortable.

You reach your hand into your handbag and pull out a nearly empty pack of Winston cigarettes along with a metal lighter. You put a cigarette between your lips and cup your hand around the lighter in order to prevent the wind from blowing out the fire but, unfortunately, to no avail — the wind was simply too strong. You turn over, facing away from the direction of the wind and looking out towards the courtyard of the Black household, effectively blocking the wind and finally lighting the cigarette, burning your hand in the process. You take a drag from the cigarette, wincing and shaking your hand in hopes it alleviates some of the pain. You look down at the Muggle cars rushing past, people either returning from or heading to various Christmas celebrations.

Your attention seems to be too focused on observing the various cars and couples stumbling down the street to notice the door to the drawing room creak open behind you and the footsteps, muffled by the soft carpet, that are steadily approaching.

“Boo!” You hear a male voice whisper directly in your ear and you jump in shock letting out a noise of surprise. You spin around to face the person that had just startled you, accidentally dropping your cigarette from the balcony. Your gaze lands on the dark grey coloured eyes of none other than Sirius Orion Black staring back at you with a teasing glint and a taunting smirk playing on his beautiful lips.

“Shouldn’t you be downstairs rubbing elbows with ministry officials? What are you doing here all by yourself?”

“Nothing.” You reply a bit too fast.

“Oh right, nothing…” he walks past you and leans over the balcony rail, “I’m assuming that the still lit cigarette below just apparated here by itself then?” He smirks, turning to gaze at you lazily, supporting himself on the rail with two elbows propped against it.

“I- uh, it’s not- look, please don’t tell anyone.” You plead, you were way too worried about someone discovering your unhealthy habit and telling on you. Sure you were no longer a kid but that didn’t mean you stopped being anxious of your parents. You chew on your lower lip nervously, waiting for his reply. Black finding out was one of the worst outcomes, besides being caught by your parents of course, he definitely could — and would — use this against you.

“And why shouldn’t I?” Sirius asks, a lazy smile plastered on his lips. “I mean, seeing as you are the one littering on private property.”

“Please don’t, my parents will be very cross with me!”

“Alright, I won’t tell anyone…” You exhale in relief, “if you give me a cigarette.” A wolfish grin spreads on his face.

“Are you blackmailing me, Black? And here I thought Gryffindors were honest and virtuous.” He chuckles in response and you dig into your handbag retrieving two more cigarettes. You really didn’t mind sharing, especially now that Sirius wasn’t being a total arse like he was in school. Being around his friends and trying to impress James really seemed to make him act out, but now that he is by himself, with no one around worth impressing and gaining the approval of, he was actually being quite tolerable, you'd even go as far as to say that he was even being slightly pleasant! Probably just trying to make the best out of a bad situation like you, and you can sympathise with that.

You take out your lighter, placing the cigarette between your lips and attempt to light it again. The wind however seems to have other plans once again. Sirius watched you, an amused expression on his face, and he snorts when you hiss in pain as you burn your thumb again.

“Shut up!” You chide, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance as you rub your thumb in pain.

“Here let me do it.” He fishes in his trousers pocket for his lighter and takes out an intricately chiseled silver lighter. You go to grab it from his hand and he brushes past your arm and brings the lighter close to your face. “Allow me.” He whispers; he was so close you could smell the lingering scent of alcohol fanning across your face, and he could no doubt sense the two glasses of wine you managed to sneak without your parents catching you.

“You have to inhale, remember?” He chuckles, teasing you. You quickly do as he says, turning around once your cigarette is lit, hoping that he didn't catch the faint blush prickling at your neck and rising to your cheeks. If he mentions anything you can just blame it on the freezing December weather.

“I know that…” You roll your eyes, mentally berating yourself for acting like such an idiot in front of a guy. You didn’t like him or anything but it still is embarrassing to make a fool of yourself like that in front of anyone, not just him!

You take a long puff of your cigarette looking around at the entrance to the Black family home. The drawing room balcony overlooked the street below and you could faintly make out a couple, tucked away and hiding behind a tree across the road, snogging. No doubt two guests that had snuck out of the party for some alone time. The atmosphere could have been slightly enjoyable had it not been for the dry, winter breeze that picked up as the minutes go by. You shiver, taking another quick drag of your cigarette and expelling the smoke. You just wanted to finish your smoke, go back inside and warm up, and maybe tell your mother that you feel unwell and that you want to return home to rest.

“No need to be so uptight, love, there’s no rush, just enjoy the smoke.” Sirius mentions off handedly from beside you; you almost forgot that he is still next to you. He is being uncharacteristically quiet tonight, especially juxtaposed to his loud, raucous attitude during school.

“I’m not being uptight.” You roll your eyes. “I’m cold and I don’t want to freeze to death on your balcony.”

“Oh, my! Well, where are my manners?” He gasps dramatically, taking off his black suit jacket with a grand, theatrical gesture.

“No- Stop, you don’t have to.” You begin to protest but he dismisses your objections, grabbing your upper arm and turning you to face him, he wraps his jacket around your shoulders.

“Now what sort of gentleman and proper host would I be if I didn’t take care of my guests, hm?” He quizzes, his grey eyes locked on yours and his arms still placed firmly on your shoulders, keeping his jacket on you. His scent engulfs your senses as you breathe in; the perfume he put on before the party started, smelling strongly of musk, leather and citrus, alongside the cigarettes he has smoked and the drinks he has drunk, is making your head spin.

“What’s wrong, love? Cat got your tongue?” He teases, his smirk deepening. You tut and pull away, turning back around to face the balcony, leaning on the railing in hopes he doesn’t notice the blush forming on your cheeks – you can’t blame this one on the cold anymore.

A comfortable silence forms around you two, the only sounds that can be heard is the muffled classical music from downstairs, people laughing and glasses clinking, the whistling of the wind and the rustling of the trees from the park across the street.

“We should go back in…” You sigh, putting out your finished cigarette, and throwing the butt in an ashtray on the balcony table nearby. You turn to go back inside the drawing room when Sirius’ arm stretches out in front of you, trapping you outside on the balcony with him.

“Wait, no! Don’t go.” Sirius exclaims, almost frantically, while putting out his cigarette, discarding it and stepping in front of you, completely blocking your exit. You cock your head in confusion.

“I just- look none of my friends are here and I’m so bored.” He slouches, relaxing his shoulders.

“Alright, can we at least go inside the drawing room, I don’t want anyone coming up here looking for us and seeing two fresh cigarette butts in the ashtray.” He grins at your acquiescence, stepping aside allowing you entry back inside the house.

“Ladies first.” He bows dramatically and, despite yourself, you giggle at his antics.

~

You both take a seat on the mahogany carved couches. It felt almost illegal to sit on such an intricately designed couch.

“You still have my jacket, you know.” Sirius mentions flippantly as you both get comfortable.

“Oh, sorry.” You make a move to take it off and return it to him but he puts his hand over yours.

“No, no, keep it, you look good like this.” He says, his eyes trailing over your body as if you’re not even there.

“Okay…” You draw out. “So what do you want to talk about?”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly planning on talking much.” He replies, his tongue sticking out to wet his lips, as he glances down to yours and back to your eyes. You catch his hint immediately and your thoughts start to race. A popular, albeit rude, attractive boy from your school wants to kiss you. Sure it won’t exactly mean anything special, but you’re not looking for that deep of a connection either. You’re both two bored, unsupervised and slightly intoxicated teenagers. Fuck it, what’s the worse than can happen?

“Oh yeah? And what were you planning on doing then?” You smirk playfully.

“Oh, I think you know.” He replies leaning in closer but you pull back, leaning on the velvet armchairs.

“Hm, I don’t believe I do, you’ll have to tell me what you want.”

Without missing a beat, and with no reservations whatsoever Sirius replies. “I want to kiss you.” His piercing gaze makes your heart beat in your ears and heat rise to your cheeks as you try to come up with a witty response, but no words come out of your mouth. You were not expecting him to be so straightforward but with such an arrogant man you should’ve known that this was the approach he would take.

“Can I?” He smiles smugly, taking note of your flustered and startled expression. Trying to outwit Sirius Black was a futile act and you should know that, especially after being in the majority of the same classes with him for the past seven years. You can only muster up a pathetic nod in response to his request.

He slithers over towards you, his one arm wraps around the back of the couch, around your shoulders, and his other rests on the arm of the sofa, cornering you.

He leans down closer to your face, your lips almost brushing and you wait for him to lean in.

“Don’t you want to kiss me too?” You hum in response.

“Use your words please, can you do that for me?” Your breath hitches. You can smell the alcohol and nicotine on his breath and it’s making you reel.

“I want to kiss you.” You reply.

“Well, go ahead then.” Without taking a moment to think about the fact that you're the one leaning in to kiss him and not the other way around, you’re already crashing your lips against his. You feel his lips form an insufferable smirk as you're kissing and you curse yourself internally for giving into his charms so easily.

His arm snakes around your waist as your hands root themselves in his raven hair, pulling him impossibly closer. You both pull away for air but your brief moment separated is quickly gone as Sirius buries his face in the crook of your neck, peppering soft, yet hungry, greedy, kisses along the exposed area of your neckline.

Your eyes glance towards the unlocked oak door of the drawing room and back down to Sirius who was busy planting kisses along your collarbone.

You give his hair a tug, pulling him back as he groans in annoyance.

“What?” He questions, rolling his eyes, his lips red and puffy from the kiss.

“Sirius,” you push the boy away, catching a glimpse of the door again, “someone might come looking for us…”

“They’re too busy downstairs to notice we’re missing, it will be fine, no one visits the upper floors anyway.” He explains, leaning back down, but you put your arm on his chest, stopping him.

“I mean guests, family members, classmates might stumble in looking for the loo, you never know. I don’t want word to spread that we’re shagging or something. You can guess how Slyherins are with rumours.” You roll your eyes.

“We can go to my room. It has a lock. Please?”

You nod in response. Seeing Sirius be so needy for you made your chest swell with pride. He takes your hand in his and leads you out of the drawing room, his jacket laying abandoned on the room’s ornate couch. You follow behind him up the stairs, past the scornful and disapproving look that the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black shoots his great-great-grandson on the second floor.

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, young man!” You hear him shout from downstairs as you reach the third floor.

“Ignore him, my room is on the last floor.” He tugs your arm, pulling you upstairs quicker, heat rising to his cheeks from his being embarrassed by the portrait’s remark.

You finally reach the topmost landing and you’re faced with two doors; one leading to Sirius's room, and the other to Regulus's. The latter was marked by a sign on the massive oak door — “Do Not Enter Without the Express Permission of Regulus Arcturus Black” —what a dork, you think to yourself. The former had a Gryffindor banner hanging from the top of it and a red tie fastened to the serpent shaped doorknob. It’s painfully obvious which door leads to Sirius’ room.

As Sirius opens the door a sudden foul stench infiltrates your senses. It’s a vile concoction of spray deodorant, wet dog, body odour, unwashed bed sheets, cigarette smoke and dirty socks. You think you are going to vomit. How can boys be so disgusting?

He walks in and turns on his lamp, illuminating the high ceilinged room.

“Ta-da! Welcome to my humble abode.” Sirius says, returning next to you.

“Merlin, Black, do you ever open any windows here?” You turn to look at him, your face grimacing in revulsion.

“Do you open the windows in the Slytherin dorms?” He raises his eyebrow, pushing you inside the room and closing the door behind you, locking it.

“Touché, you know we can’t, we’re under the Black Lake.” You roll your eyes, turning to look at him. “I mean seriously, Black, do you ever clean up in here? The room is filthy!” You continue your complaining, your eyes landing on the mess on the floor. Discarded clothes everywhere and vinyls strewn about next to his shelf, at least his record player is taken care of. You’re pretty sure you can see his underwear tossed on the ground beside his desk. You don’t have enough time to make a fuss about the obnoxious posters of motorcycles and half naked women plastered on his wall when he starts to push you towards his bed –and unmade bed sheets.

“Well I sincerely apologise, your majesty, I wasn’t exactly expecting guests tonight…” He whispers pushing you down on his bed.

“Do you need to have guests in order to clean? These aren’t acceptable living conditions, you're a grown man.” You say, your hands resuming their previous position in his hair as he lays on top of you, supporting himself on his forearms.

“Look, are we going to snog or will you keep chastising me for my unkempt room?” You answer his question by pulling him down by his hair and crashing your lips onto his again. He returns the kiss almost immediately, kissing you with much more fervour and urgency than before. Your one hand is still tangled in his messy hair while the other wraps around his neck pulling him even closer. He bites your lip, making you yelp. He takes advantage of your parted lips to slide his tongue in your mouth. His mouth leaves your lips as you take a deep breath. He starts peppering kisses down your face, over your jawline towards your neck. His hungry, drunken kisses turn into light nibbling and sucking in an attempt to leave a mark.

“Fuck, love, I want you so bad.” He whimpers against your neck.

“Oh Salazar, what would Regulus think if he saw you here like this with his brother. Merlin, what would mother and father think if they saw marks all over your neck?!” Your thoughts start to race but still, you’re too caught up in the momentary pleasures you’re feeling to push Sirius away. You feel his hand trail up your thigh, hiking up your dress and at the same time you turn your neck to give him better access. Your gaze then lands on the record shelves by his bed.

You learned about the muggle contraption from one of your classmates in third year and you fell in love with it. The idea that the ridges of a vinyl, when put in that machine could produce such lovely tunes without the use of magic simply amazed you. The record player is perched on a dark oak bookcase that contains at least fifty different vinyls, all from some of the most popular bands of the past two decades. Some of the records are worn out and tattered from the years of use, probably second hand, and they’re placed either on the bottom shelves or they’re messily thrown on the carpeted floor, while others are in pristine condition and delicately placed on the upper shelves of the case, those are his favourites, you assume.

Sirius is, of course, quick to notice the lack of attention being given to him and he follows your gaze.

“What sort of music do you listen to?” You turn back to look at him and you see his hair dishevelled and a strong blush staining his otherwise pale cheeks.

“No offence, darling, but I didn’t bring you to my room to talk about music.” He whispers leaning into your ear.

“At least tell me your favourite band.”

“Fine. I guess I’ll have to go with the Rolling Stones. Can we go back to what we were doing now?” He replies exasperated.

You pause.

“…what?”

He pulls back more, laying on his forearms now, and looks at you quizzically, head cocking like a confused puppy.

“What’s wrong with the Rolling Stones?”

“I mean there’s nothing wrong with them per se but how can you say that the Rolling Stones are your favourite band when the Beatles are right there.” You scoff, pulling yourself up more so you can properly look at his face.

“Ugh don’t tell me you’re a Beatles fan…” Sirius groans, rolling his eyes. You sit up fully now.

“Yes actually, I am.” You continue. “And they’re much better than the Rolling Stones for your information. I mean Paul McCartney and John Lennon are lyrical geniuses!” You explain.

“Oh are they now?” He says, the teasing tone returning to his voice.

“Yes, they very much are!”

“You know,” you continue, “I bet you fancy yourself as another Mick Jagger or something and that’s the only reason you like his band.” You giggle, twirling a strand of his hair at the nape of his neck around your finger.

“Well of course I do, honey, I have the hair, the eyes, and most importantly the sex appeal, wouldn’t you agree?” He teases again, lightly pinching your thigh on the exposed part of your leg after he hiked up your skirt.

You hum in response.

“Go on then, enlighten me. How are the Beatles that much better than the Rolling Stones? Because last time I checked John Lennon wasn’t the one who came up with “Sticky Fingers” or “Let It Bleed”…” He asks, his voice dropping an octave .

“Well, you must be daft if you think those albums are better than “A Hard Day’s Night”! And besides, the Beatles have albums filled with hits while the Rolling Stones have what? Maybe three good songs spread across ten albums”

“Hah, James always says the same thing!” He laughs. “Well, to me it seems that you just have shitty music taste and you hate listening to fun stuff.” He sticks his tongue out and blows a raspberry in your face. You laugh at his silly antics.

“I’m so sorry that I prefer something with a little more substance and meaning than the Rolling Stones.” You roll your eyes, smile still plastered across your face as your hands bury themselves again in his hair. You pull him back down.

“Oh finally, you’re apologising!” He exclaims in faux surprise, eyebrows raising dramatically.

You shake your head mirthfully. “It’s okay to admit that the Beatles are better than the Rolling Stones, you know? I won’t tell anyone. Promise!”

“But they’re not though.” He mumbles against your jawline, underneath your ear.

“Yes they are.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

He’s about to reply with yet another “no” when your legs wrap around his waist and a sharp tug on his hair brings his face back up to your lips, making his brain short circuit and completely forget any part of the conversation you two just shared.

[oopsiedaisydeer]

Hey inez! So i have a request about hallway!Chris. So i don't know if you fw this idea, but maybe one of chris's friends wanting to date/ask y/n to prom and asking chris to help him by getting closer to reader and find out what she likes (flowers, colours etc). This leads to reader feeling false hopes bc she thinks chris is actually interested in her and when she finds out she feels bad and sad.

Im a sucker for angsty fics, sorry if you dont like the idea :)

ꜰᴀʟꜱᴇ ʜᴏᴘᴇꜱ

It starts the way most crushes do... so quietly you almost don’t notice it at first.

You just happen to share two classes with Chris. He sits a few rows ahead in English, always slouched in his seat, hoodie bunched at the back of his neck, scribbling half-finished notes in the margins of his worksheet. Sometimes he drums his fingers against the desk without meaning to. A small, mindless rhythm you find yourself memorising.

You time your walks between periods just a little too carefully. You slow down by the vending machines, pretending you’re still deciding between pretzels or chocolate, but really you’re just hoping he’ll show up.

Sometimes he does. Sometimes he catches you looking and smiles. This shy, lopsided thing, like he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it, and it leaves you dazed for the rest of the day.

You tell your friends it’s not serious. "It’s just a dumb crush. He probably doesn’t even know my name," you say, laughing it off, even though you can feel the way your heart kicks up whenever you catch a glimpse of him in the hallway.

Chris doesn’t notice you really. Not like you notice him. But you’re kind to him. You always are. And you laugh at his jokes even when he doesn’t think they’re funny, and maybe that’s what makes him assume you're just being nice.

Maybe that’s why, when one of his friends nudges him at lunch and says, "Hey, you have English with her, right?"

"Yeah, why?" Chris says, half-distracted.

"She’s cute. Think you could help me out? Find out what flowers she likes, her favorite colour, that kinda thing?"

Chris agrees without really thinking about it. It’s simple. Just a favor. And it gives him an excuse to talk to you more, which he tells himself isn't the worst thing in the world. You're cool.

It’s harmless. Sweet. Chris likes harmless things.

The first time he tries, it’s awkward. He leans against the lockers after class, pretending like it’s nothing, like he just happens to be there.

"Hey, random question — what's your favorite colour?"

He says it so casually you almost believe it’s innocent. You laugh, a little flustered, and tell him. He grins, that bright, easy grin you’re already starting to adore, and you can’t help but ask him the same thing back. He tells you it’s orange. You file it away like it’s something sacred.

After that, it gets easier. He starts walking with you to your next class sometimes, joking about the terrible cafeteria food or complaining about your math teacher’s impossible pop quizzes.

You find yourself telling him things you didn’t mean to. How your favourite flowers are your favourites because they remind you of your mum’s garden, how you hate slow walkers more than anything, how you once broke your arm falling off a bike because you were too scared to use the brakes.

Chris listens to you. Looks at you while you talk, making you think he's really listening, paying attention like every word is important. It makes you feel like maybe you’re someone worth paying attention to. Like, maybe, just maybe, it wasn't a dumb crush after all.

So you let yourself believe it's not stupid, and you pay attentiont to him in return. You tell yourself, if nothing else, that maybe you've found a good friend in Chris.

Sometimes you notice the little things without asking. How he always chews the end of his pen when he's thinking. How he hums quietly under his breath when he's happy. What his dog's name is. How he sneezes, what his lockscreen is, how much he loves his friends.

And so you start to believe. Maybe he’s not just asking about your favourite flowers randomly. Maybe he’s asking because he wants to know. Because he cares. Because he likes you, the way you like him.

So you start imagining it. Hoping and wishing for it. The way he might ask you to prom, shy and smiling, holding a bouquet of your favourite flowers behind his back. Eyes full of hope.

The way he might hold your hand when you say yes. The way it would feel to finally be chosen.

You don’t see it coming, the way hope sharpens into heartbreak.

It happens fast. You’re lingering by the gym doors after school, just close enough to overhear when Chris’s friend claps him on the back and says, laughing, "Thanks for doing recon, bro. Now I know exactly what to get her for prom."

You stop mid-step. Something inside you flickers and then goes out.

Chris looks up and sees you. And for a split second, something like regret crosses his face.

He opens his mouth, maybe to call after you, to explain, to say something, anything. But you’re already turning away, blinking fast and breathing hard and telling yourself not to cry in the middle of the stupid hallway.

You don’t hate him. You hate yourself, a little, for believing. For hoping. For thinking you could be the exception to the rule.

You walk away, pretending it doesn’t hurt, even though it feels like your heart is unraveling thread by thread.

hallwaycrush!au taglist: @courta13 @snoopychris @sweetshuga @st7rnioioss @throatgoat4u @sheluvsthesturniolos @sturnslutz @chrislova @chrisslut04 @mi-co-uk

a/n: tysm for this request anon,, i hope u liked it!!!!! lmk if u want a part 2 or sumn :>> there is no canon with hallwaycrush!chris,, so you can request anything you'd like with him (pls request stuff jsdfbhsj) !!!

@bernardsbendystraws for the dividers <3

[lunawolfiefoxy]

Okay....

Earrings and Nicknames: Wild meets the chain and immediately screws them all over by getting kidnapped

The Darkest Hours: Wild's now part of the chain after the others meet him and decides befriending Dark is a good idea and gets himself manipulated, once more screwing the chain over

Pre-Calamity Shivers: Link watches everyone around him die and decides to trust the person who killed them until his friends hit him over the head to make him realize this is a bad guy

Pitiful Memories: Dark kidnaps the chain and the chain, minus Wild, go crazy until they snap and try to kill Dark but instead Dark kills Wild and they break

Who Would've Thought?: Tons of dumb stories with the boys doing stupid things, for example, Legend gets scared by a dead spider and Twilight plays the innocent card after putting a ghost pepper in Warriors's soup

Why Can't I?: Four likes to flirt with villains but forgets that the chain is watching him flirt with said villain

I'm Not Who You Say I Am: Legend is being a brat and takes it too far but then decides that pretending he doesn't exist around the group is the best alternative

He's Our Collector for a Reason: Warriors gets bored and decides to snoop around Legend's house, and ends up finding dirt on the Vet in the end

Nightmares Bring out the Worst in You: Legend has nightmares and decides to not tell anyone is the best thing to do and slowly makes himself go insane until he's forced to confront his nightmares himself

Linked University: Legend goes to school with 8 other Links, looses his Uncle, girlfriend, and father figure (sorta) and lets himself get into an abusive relationship because he wants to distract himself from the sorrow of loosing people

For the Tax Benefits: Legend hates taxes. Therefore, he marries Ravio to get the benefits and perform tax fraud

@sleepyy-27 @birb-boyo @iolitemoth @mysteryn0te @snowymountain (?) I think all of y'all write fanfiction-

I'm bored and have many writer friends so let's have some fun!

Describe the premise of your fic/s in the absolute worst way possible and then tag 5 friends.

I'll go first:

Shadowed: Wind has middle child syndrome, tells Hylia she's can't tell him what to do because she's not his real mom, Four changes career track and becomes a sleep paralysis demon.

Tagging @not-freyja, @hotcheetohatredwastaken @tashacee @toyouhellohowareyou @weavingstarlight

[multi-stays]

Wanna Ride?

Paring: Popular!Jeongin X Nerd!Male!Reader

Genre: Smut / 18+ MDNI

Summary: As the nerd of your school, attention isn't something you're used to until the popular guy takes an interest in you.

Requested: Yes

My Pookies: @dis-trict9 @lezleeferguson-120 @sanriomilk

Warnings: Oral Sex, Teabagging, Mentions of Weed, Swear Words

Proofread: no

Popularity was stupid in your mind. The whole reason to go to school was to get good grades, get into a good college, and eventually get a good job. But to some school was just another place to be the best or most popular person, especially Jeongin. He didn't really care a whole lot about his grades, in fact he was failing most of his classes. But he was still the most popular guy at your school.

He drove a motorcycle, wore leather all the time, smelled expensive, and ate these blue gummies almost all the time. There wasn't a moment in the day he didn't have one hanging out of his mouth and it drove you crazy.

He could have anyone in the school, be friends with anyone he wanted, do anything he wanted, and almost always get away with it cause everyone would back him up.

~

You sat in your chair, listening quietly to the teacher when a crumbled-up note was dropped on your desk. Looking up you noticed Jeongin walking to his seat behind you and his friends laughing as they all stared at you.

The teacher was turned towards the class and always called on you to answer his questions that he knew you could easily answer. You decided to leave the note where it was so you wouldn't get in trouble and sure enough the teacher called your name.

After the teacher dismissed everyone Jeongin walked up to your desk and picked up the crumbled piece of paper after you had left. He didn't understand why you didn't read it and walked to where he thought he could find you.

His thick black boots echoed through the halls as the chains dragged the floor and everyone cleared a path for him to walk through. A blue gummy dangled out of his mouth as he gave a stare that said “yes, I'm in charge.”

No one knew why he was so popular with the exception he was super hot.

His presence made everyone silent and the loud sound of student chatter stopped as he approached you at your locker. He stopped in front of you with a squeak of his boot against the floor and let out a soft scuff. He finished the gummy in his mouth that turned his tongue bright blue and tilted his head to catch your attention.

“Do you think that's funny?” he said tapping your shoulder. “Embarrassing me in class like that wasn't nice, but you looked cool” he said with a toothy grin.

“I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about,” you said unsure why Jeongin the popular guy in class who was notably more handsome up close was talking to you.

He scuffed again and laughed, placing a hand on your cheek. Seeming you knew nothing about him, regardless of how handsome he was you pushed his hand off and walked away. You were slightly uncomfortable and his popularity didn't make it ok.

~

Some time had passed and Jeongin couldn't stop thinking about you. Every class he went to, every time he sat down or had a moment to think, his head and thoughts were only filled with you.

He'd never been pushed away and he wanted to know what made you so special. What made you immune to his charm and have no interest in him at all? The chase made him like you more and it humbled him to know some people didn't care about popularity.

He knew he had one more class with you and this was his chance. If he messed it up this time he'd have to wait longer or possibly not do it at all, which made him anxious.

When he walked into the room he couldn't spot you and he started to panic. Perhaps he had just thought he had another class and actually didn't. But he had no time to think with the teacher scolding him for staring into the abyss and not taking his seat.

The class was the same, boring, and of course, they had to write a six-page essay on some guy who didn't matter to Jeongin in the slightest. The only person that mattered was you and he was determined to catch you.

When the teacher dismissed the class this time Jeongin bolted for the door, making sure he was the first one out so he could watch and see if you were in there like he thought.

A flood of other students came out, some greeting him, others chatting and making their way to leave school. His anxiety rose as everyone seemed to be out of the room then he spotted you. You still had some things you wanted to write down and you didn't like the crowd so you waited till everyone left to get up.

You swung your backpack over your shoulder and grabbed your folder to head for the door. Upon reaching it, you were met with a subtle tap on your shoulder taking you away from the thoughts you were lost in whilst walking.

When you saw it was Jeongin a frown instantly came across your face even though it was hard to hold up.

“Just two minutes of your time, please” he said with a fake pout. He was super hot and you had an enormous crush on him like anybody else would so you agreed to talk to him in another room.

He dragged you to a section of the school that was under renovation and had no cameras. It was missing walls and looked like it hadn't been touched in quiet a long time.

“What is this place?” you asked sitting down on a half decent chair that was in the middle of the room.

“I come here sometimes to smoke weed or just get away. Don't worry no one comes here ever. I think they forgot about it or something.”

He leaned up against the wall beside you and crossed his legs. “I simply want to know why you don't like me. I rarely have a thing for anybody but you're too fucking cute not to have a crush on.”

He said it so nonchalantly and that made you more nervous. If you were hearing this right the most popular guy in school, that you have a huge crush on has a crush on you.

You didn't know what to say as you nervously adjusted the tie around your neck. Your palms got very sweaty and you knew your face was red like a tomato.

He walked over to you and hooked his finger under your chin so your eyes would meet his. They were even more gorgeous up close with the way he stared into your soul. They had this glint in them and they narrowed out making him look like a sexy fox. You swallowed your spit hard hoping he wouldn't notice but it didn't matter. He leaned into you hesitantly and kissed you slowly. The soft feeling of his lips against yours felt amazing and you were happy you could say he was your first kiss.

You felt a steady hand undoing your belt and to say you weren't scared would be a lie. The kiss was getting heated as you started moaning into his mouth from the subtle rubs and touches to your penis. He rubbed your length through your thin underwear and chuckled when you bucked up into his hand.

“Getting hard aren't ya. Don't be so tense Baby, let loose ok?” he said it like it was a question but he didn't stop to let you answer. He placed a few more kisses down your neck as he pulled your underwear down and wrapped his lips around your hard penis.

He had so much spit collected in his mouth cum and lube was not necessary. He coated you evenly in his saliva with his blue tongue and bobbed his head on your dick giving you your first blow job.

It felt wrong to you to be doing this on school property but it felt too good to tell him to stop now. His tongue swirled around your tip every time he reached the top and he took you in like it was nothing, not even gagging once.

His one hand rested on your thigh gripping it for support while the other slid your pants down fully so he could play with your balls.

You were now fully exposed in front of him but adrenaline had found you and care had left. He looked so hot sliding his lips down your dick and you were starting to like the exotic feeling of it.

After some time of him going down on you, working you towards your orgasm he switched gears. He held your penis up with his hand and licked a stripe down to your balls. He motioned for you to grab your penis which you did, blue-tinted spit still covering it. Then practically laid down between your legs, only holding himself up with his free hand. He reached his other hand around and scooted you close to the edge of the chair so your balls would dangle over. He gave a reassuring rub to your hand that was holding your penis as he slurped up your balls.

As soon as they hit his lips he moaned with them in his mouth causing you to immediately start pumping your cock. His spit still covered you making it easy to slide and his mouth sucked up your testicles perfectly.

Jeongin felt your orgasm before you did, tuning into your body as you tuned it out. He sucked hard and gave it his all so you got the most pleasure during your orgasm.

Your cum spilled out as you rubbed your penis faster with a whiney moan. It ran down your cock, over your hand, and dripped on his face. He let your balls out of his mouth with a plop and watched as your cum drizzled down. He poked his blue tongue out and licked some off your balls before getting up.

He wiped his face and mouth off on his sleeve then looked at you. His grin went from ear to ear and his eyes disappeared from how big his smile was.

“Here lemme help you,” he said untying a bandana from his belt and wiping you off. His hands were delicate as his long bony fingers wiped every spot of cum off your body and tucked it away in his pocket.

After you put yourself back together, you were then challenged with how you would get out without getting in trouble. “I have a plan.”

Jeongin opened a squeaky window just behind a dusty curtain and hung out over the edge. He then extended his hand to you.

“Is it safe?” you asked looking down the three levels that you could potentially fall from.

“I've done it multiple times and I will make sure you are safe. I'll even give you a ride home on my motorcycle, I have an extra helmet.”

He said it so certainly that you somehow trusted him. Even though it was against your better judgment it was your only option. So you shakily took his hand and hopped out the window to escape with him.

[siawritez]

hi.

i wrote this when i wasn’t really in my right mind, just needed to get it out. it’s dark and honestly kinda messed up. please read the warnings carefully before you decide to keep going.i had this idea of obsessive yujin🙏like she being yandere for reader….

i’m sorry if it’s not your thing. if you like this kinda vibe, i hope you enjoy. thank you for reading either way. stay safe.

ʟᴏᴄᴋᴇʀ ʀᴏᴏᴍ sᴇᴄʀᴇᴛs

Warnings:

Dubcon (dubious content), Forced sexual acts,Rough manhandling ,Obsessive behavior ,Slapping, hair-pulling, spanking,Overstimulation and crying,Dirty talk (mean, degrading),Explicit sexual content (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Yujin x Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Word count: 3k or 4k (i forgot)🙏

Genre: Dark smut, dubcon, obsessive romance, rough sex

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

The school hallways were almost empty by the time you made your way to the locker room. Practice had run late, and you just wanted to change and go home. You didn’t even notice the shadow that had been following you, lingering close like a predator stalking prey.

You sighed, tugging your locker open, tossing your bag in. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead. It was quiet — too quiet.

Then, the door behind you clicked. Locked.

You froze, glancing over your shoulder.

"Hey," Yujin's voice purred, low and dangerous.

Your heart skipped. "Yujin? What are you doing? You scared me."

She didn't answer at first, just leaned against the door, her fingers still curled around the key she had stolen. Her eyes were burning — not the friendly Yujin you thought you knew. This was different. Hungry.

"You never listen," she whispered, stepping closer, each boot thudding against the tiles, slow and deliberate. "I told you so many times. I don't want to be your friend."

You took a shaky step back, bumping into the lockers. "Yujin, seriously. Stop playing around."

She laughed — a short, humorless sound. "I'm not playing."

Before you could move, she lunged.

Her hands pinned your wrists above your head against the cold metal, her body pressing against yours, stealing all the space and air. Her mouth crashed onto yours, bruising, forceful, no hesitation — she devoured you, teeth clashing, tongue forcing its way past your lips even as you struggled and whimpered beneath her.

"You’re mine," she growled into your mouth, voice low, ragged.

You shook your head, eyes wide, but she only smirked darkly. Her free hand slid down your side, yanking your shirt up roughly, exposing your bare skin to the chill.

"Yujin, stop—" you gasped, but she silenced you with another bruising kiss.

Her mouth broke away only to descend hungrily onto your neck, biting down hard enough to leave a mark. You whimpered as she sucked a dark, angry bruise just above your collarbone.

"You're so stupid," she hissed, voice dripping with rage and lust. "Thinking you could ignore me forever."

Without warning, she dragged your shorts down, your underwear following quickly. Cool air hit your exposed skin, and you gasped, shivering — from fear or the forbidden thrill racing through you, you didn’t know anymore.

Yujin knelt between your legs, shoving your thighs apart with rough hands, spreading you wide against the lockers.

"You belong to me now," she said, eyes gleaming.

Her mouth latched onto your core without warning, tongue plunging between your folds, obscene slurping sounds filling the empty locker room. You cried out, hands scrabbling uselessly against the metal, nails raking down in desperation.

Her tongue was relentless, messy, furious — like she wanted to tear you apart and drink you down all at once. She licked, sucked, devoured every inch, groaning against you like she was starved.

"You taste so good, fuck," she muttered into you, voice thick with obsession. "Made for me."

You shook your head weakly, tears brimming, but your hips betrayed you — bucking into her mouth despite yourself.

She chuckled darkly against you, the vibration making your knees buckle.

"See? Your body knows who you belong to."

Her fingers joined her mouth, two shoving inside you rough and fast without warning. You gasped, arching away from the lockers in a desperate attempt to escape the sudden stretch, but she only pinned you harder.

Her fingers pumped mercilessly, curling deep inside you, hitting that spot over and over until you were moaning helplessly.

"Say it," Yujin snarled, lips glistening. "Say you're mine."

You whimpered a broken "no," but she only slammed her fingers harder into you, biting down onto one of your nipples through your bra, making you scream.

"Say. It."

Her teeth tugged, her fingers pounded into you, her free hand groping your chest roughly, nails dragging over sensitive skin.

Your head spun, pleasure and fear and shame tangling until you didn’t know what you were saying anymore. Your body betrayed you completely, clenching around her fingers, trembling.

"Good fucking girl," Yujin whispered savagely, feeling your orgasm rip through you. "You’re mine now. Always were."

She didn’t stop.

Even as you sobbed and writhed, even as you weakly pushed at her shoulders, Yujin feasted on you like she would never get enough — like you were a meal she had waited her whole life to devour.

And you realized, with horror and a twisted, humiliating pleasure...

You would never be free of her.

You barely had time to breathe before Yujin yanked you away from the lockers.

Her hands gripped your arms tight — bruising — dragging your trembling body across the cold tiles. You tried to stumble back, tried to resist, but she was stronger, fueled by something feral and unhinged.

"There," she spat, shoving you roughly against one of the wooden benches lining the locker room. "Perfect."

You whimpered, hands grabbing uselessly at the bench as she forced you to bend over it, your bare ass exposed to her hungry gaze.

"Look at you," Yujin sneered behind you, dragging her fingers possessively down the curve of your spine. "Fucking pathetic."

She slapped your ass hard, making you yelp, the sting blooming instantly across your skin.

"You fought so much," she mocked, smacking you again, harder. "But this pussy's so wet for me already."

You buried your face in your arms, humiliated, body trembling with aftershocks. Yujin crouched behind you again, spreading your cheeks open with both hands, admiring the mess she made.

"Dripping," she growled. "Fucking dripping. God, you're disgusting."

Without warning, she leaned in and spit directly onto your pulsing entrance, the slick sound echoing through the empty room.

"Need to get you ready for my fingers again, baby," she mocked sweetly, mocking the tenderness in her words. "Wouldn't want you breaking too fast."

You sobbed when her fingers plunged back into you — three this time — rougher, merciless, stretching you painfully wide.

"Fucking tight," Yujin grunted, working you open without an ounce of gentleness. "But you’re taking it. You’re gonna take everything I give you."

Each thrust of her fingers was brutal, fast and deep, her palm smacking against you with wet, obscene sounds.

"You thought you were better than me, huh?" she snarled, slamming her fingers so deep you nearly choked on a scream. "Thought you could friendzone me? Treat me like some pathetic little puppy following you around?"

You shook your head weakly, but she just laughed coldly, curling her fingers inside you until you were crying out again, body jerking.

"Too late, baby. Should've listened. Should’ve let me love you the nice way."

Another harsh slap to your ass. Then another. Your skin burned, each strike forcing you to grind your hips against the bench helplessly, shame flooding your veins.

"You’re fucking mine," Yujin hissed, leaning down, biting into the back of your shoulder hard enough to bruise. "Say it."

"N-No—" you gasped, tears leaking down your cheeks.

Another vicious slap. "Say it."

You sobbed out something — anything — but she didn’t care. She grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back so you were forced to arch for her.

"That's right," she whispered against your ear, voice dripping venom and lust. "Cry for me. Makes that tight little pussy even wetter."

Her free hand left your hair to slip back between your legs, smearing your slick mess all over your inner thighs, your clit, everywhere. She circled your clit roughly, two fingers abusing the sensitive bud while her other hand pistoned in and out of you at a punishing rhythm.

"You’re gonna fucking come again," Yujin promised, voice deadly. "And when you do, you're gonna scream my fucking name."

You shook your head, biting your lip hard, trying to hold it back — but your body betrayed you, just like before.

The pleasure built too fast, too strong, your walls spasming around her fingers, your hips grinding helplessly against the bench as the orgasm ripped through you, raw and overwhelming.

"Good fucking girl," Yujin snarled, feeling you clamp down around her hand. "Fucking slut for me now, aren't you?"

You collapsed against the bench, body boneless, sobbing with the force of it. But Yujin wasn’t done.

Not even close.

She stood up behind you, grabbing your hips hard enough to bruise. She shoved your thighs apart even wider, spreading you open indecently.

"Not done," she growled. "Not until you break."

You felt the blunt press of her tongue again, messy, sloppy, as she buried her face between your cheeks, tonguefucking your overstimulated entrance with a ravenous hunger. She groaned into you, the vibrations making you shudder and sob harder.

"Tastes even better when you’re crying," she moaned darkly, licking deep inside you, then up to your clit to suck ruthlessly.

You twisted against her mouth, trying to escape, but her hands held you down, fingers digging cruelly into your hips.

"You’re gonna come again," Yujin muttered, tongue lashing over your clit rapidly. "And again. And again. Until you can't think anymore."

You whimpered, body shaking violently as another orgasm built — quicker this time, brutal and unrelenting. Your vision blurred, your body betraying you again, grinding shamelessly against her face.

"Come for me," she ordered harshly. "Come on my fucking mouth."

With a scream, you shattered again, thighs trembling, your juices spilling across her lips as she growled in approval.

She didn’t stop.

Her mouth was ruthless, messy, devouring every drop you gave her like it was oxygen, like it was the only thing she needed in the world.

"You’re so fucking perfect like this," she whispered against your ruined pussy. "Ruined for anyone else."

Finally, finally, she pulled back, standing tall behind you, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, looking at you like she owned you — because now she did.

[thatgirlmendo]

I thought I’d dip my toe into the world of writing after only being a reader, so be gentle. It's my first time writing smut 😜, so don’t come at me. I'm trying.

Summary: Joel and reader have found an old trapper’s hidden away and decide to stay for a couple days to regroup after losing the rest of their party. Smut ensues. I might turn this blurb into a chapter story - not sure.

Rating: E

Pairing: joel miller x female reader

Word Count: 1760

Content Warnings: no mention of Y/N, reader is female, that's the only description, smut and a little fluff, female receiving, fingering, P in V, unprotected because well who carries condoms at the end of the world. . Also, I have not proofread so apologies for any typos.

All of Me

He can’t help but feel a warmth flood his body as he watches you in that dimly lit den. The fire crackling, he feels the stress and fear of the outer world slowly begin to fade for the first time in decades. He wishes he could take a picture of this moment and save it forever, the goofy grin on your face as you sway in the living room. You and him had found an old cassette player in the cabin and had spent the evening listening to some old brass band and drinking the last few sips from the bottle he had found the first day y’all had arrived.

Your glass in one hand you set it down to reach out for his hand and he shakes his head, “please just this once, what if we never get to hear anything as beautiful as this?” You plead looking into his deep brown eyes. You can see him considering giving in, seeing your chance to grasp his hand and wrap it around your middle, his hand planted around your waist and you sigh a little, enjoying the feeling. His eyes meet yours, you had never been this close and feeling the heat grow in your core you look away. He smirks knowing you bit off more than you could chew with this little dance idea. He knew you wanted him, he knew how you looked at him when you thought he was not looking, but he felt dirty returning those feelings. You were so young, so beautiful, still not completely corroded by this evil world, and he sure as hell didn’t want to take away from any of that. But still, holding you like this he felt that all too familiar feeling of desire, and something else ... .He didn’t know when it happened, somewhere between Austin and Denver, he started looking at you in a different light. And then stumbling across this lodge had made things different. He could pretend that things were normal for a second, he knew that was stupid, but something about you gave him a shimmer of hope.

“thank you,” you whisper leaning into the crook of his neck, and trying to subtly inhale his scent,

“for what?”

”Indulging me, and keeping me safe, I couldn’t imagine surviving with anyone else, all you do doesn’t go unnoticed,” you whisper into his chest. He shivers a little, willing that feeling of desire down, but here you were, in his arms and closer than you have ever felt.

“you’re welcome, baby”

You smile, the nickname was still new, he only started using it once you found the lodge and you mentioned how great it was to sleep in a bed, the first night you mentioned how you had slept like a baby. Feeling safe for the first time in years.

You looked up at him and he returned your gaze, wanting nothing more than to close the space between you, the air felt electric. So close. Maybe it was the music, maybe the drink, maybe something else, but you leaned in and he obliged, pressing your lips to him he barely moved. It was chaste, almost too pure. His lips welcomed yours. Pulling back your breath quickened, heart racing, you couldn’t believe you had done that. But before you had a chance to apologize he leaned in again, and your lips met, hungry this time. He wanted you too, but now that you had been the one brave enough to make that first move, he was ready to unleash his pent up desire. There was no turning back now.

His hands slipped under your shirt, running up your spine you felt the goosebumps along his path. His lips moved down your neck finding that sweet spot that made you gasp. “Is this okay?” he asks “yes, please, more” you almost beg wanting to feel more, you need to feel all of him.

“Then let's move this to the other room” he smirks a little at how eager you are to get him into bed.

His lips collide with yours as he gently leads you back onto the bed. Your hands fly to his jeans, struggling to undo the buttons while he continues to kiss down your neck. “Let's get this off,” he says, pulling your shirt over your head as he gasps, staring at your breasts. “You truly are perfect,” he whispers, taking one into his mouth, and then the other, paying special attention nipping the places that make you gasp.

Pants are peeled off and he leans you back on the bed, settling between your thighs he leans down, “tell me know if there is anything you don’t like, okay? I just want to make you feel good.”. You nod quickly just wanting to feel him between your legs, you didn’t care how.

He leans down, taking a moment to take in your beautiful body, before beginning his feast. pulling back your folds he laps up your desire, you gasp as he takes your hand and leads it into his curls, willing you to push him further in, guide him towards your pleasure. And who are you to say no? Grasping his soft curls and pulling him to you.

He slips one finger in, rocking into you, relishing in the symphony of your gasps, no one had ever taken the time to make sure you were so well taken care of.

J-Joel, please” you manage to stutter as he slips another in, never taking his mouth off you, fastening the pace he can tell you are close, he wants to make sure to send you to heaven before he gets his. He feels your walls clench around his fingers as they dampen with your finish, he lets you ride out your orgasm as he slows down, feeling you shudder he slips his fingers out and raises them to his lips.

”you taste just as good as you look,” he smirks and you feel your heart flutter with every gasp. He truly is perfect.

“Please, I want to feel all of you, Joel,” you’re begging, you want to feel more, you need to feel more, you have to be one with this man. His cock twitches, already painfully hard from your previous activities, slick with precum. He wants nothing more than to feel your tight walls around his member.

His gaze darkens as he raises from between your legs, moving you further onto the bed and covering your body with his own, you wrap your arms around his neck, and he lined up with your slit, pumping his cock a few times pausing at the entrance to take a breath, how often had he fantasized about this exact moment, he hoped he could last long enough to get you off again.

You relish in the feeling of his body on yours, heavy, needing you just as much as you need to feel his. You gasp as he bottoms out, your body slick and ready to take his cock into your depth, but still it is a tight stretch. He moans at the feeling of you around him, finally.

“Is this okay?” he asks slowly, beginning to rock into you, ever the careful lover. You gasp and nod and he leans to meet your lips, you need more “please, Joel, faster” you beg as your body begins to adjust to his size. His thrusts grow faster, but still gentle, you will let him to let go, and take you completely.

“Please, I’m yours,” you whisper - “take me, please, take all of me”

He grunts in response your permission being his undoing - nipping your lip before he moves down, he steadies one hand on your hip and one on your shoulder, burying his face into your neck you feel his breath hitch as his trusts begin to feel more wild, harder, deeper, determined. He wants to give you your every desire, so he takes you completely.

The room is full of both of your moans, and when you feel that tightening coil deep in your belly, you cling to him with every ounce of your being, nails digging into his back. His name spills from your lips over and over, pleading.

Joel groans against your throat, the sound low and wrecked, and you can feel the way he's holding himself back, trembling with the effort. But you don’t need his restraint — not now. You arch against him, meeting each rough, needy thrust with your own, matching his desperation. You hear his gasp and it encourages you.

"Don't hold back," you whisper against his ear, voice breaking on a sob of pleasure. "Want all of you."

Something inside him shatters. His rhythm breaking, growing erratic, and with a deep, broken growl he drives into you harder, deeper, the full weight of his need crashing down on you both. With every gasp you are reaching for your heaven.

You fall apart first, clenching around him as the world around you blurs, your cries of pleasure filling the air. Joel follows moments later with a hoarse shout of your name, his arms locking you tight against him as he gives you everything he has.

For a long moment, the only sound is your combined, ragged breathing. Joel doesn’t pull away — he just holds you, grounding himself in your trembling body, your racing heart pounding between your bodies slick with sweat.

"Mine," he mutters, voice rough against your sweat-slick skin. "Always."

And you know, in every fiber of your being, that you are, even if just for tonight.

[furiousflowerdestiny]

Hey, why are you so filled with hate and annoyance at everything? Genuine question

I decided to take a look at your blog, thinking maybe this is a one time thing but no, you're whole blog is filled with complaints.

Is it a rage bait thing? Or something. I hope so cause it can not be healthy to be angry at everything all the time.

Fandom is supposed to be a fun thing but you don't seem to be enjoying it here. Do you need to talk or rant about something? Let off some steam?

I'm not trying to sound like rude or anything I'm like genuinely worried but of course you can just ignore me. I'm still a little hyped up on my emotions rn sorry

will you genuinely accept the answer i give you or will you dig your heels in and refuse to see that batfam fans are actively making it impossible for fans of other dc characters to enjoy their time here and make friends?

i came into the dc fandom admittedly from non-comic sources, panda redd on tiktok! it was a lot of fun and i also do still enjoy his videos from time to time. i also read wayne family adventures and those were fun too but then i decided to read the actual comics and i started noticing something

panda redd was a liar and wayne family adventures gutted the entire batfam into something that was totally unrecognizable. i also started to notice how batfam fandom just behaves in general and it really left a bad taste in my mouth because i found i really liked other characters!

like the fandom likes to portray the batfam as more intelligent than everyone else in dc, that they have total power of everyone, batman is a fascist that hates metas and somehow can kick people out of gotham, they all can destroy all other characters easily, they all have 'backup plans' and everyone else in dc is just a support character with no personality other than to make the bats look better somehow

green lanterns for some reason in particular compared to the bats are just people there to be annoying and to get punched. supers are only relevant if they are a love interest, and they are so stupid they can't solve mysteries when clark is an investigative reporter and kon is a genius. amazons can't do anything at all and need a bat to teach them how to 'behave like humans' when diana is a diplomat. speedsters are just hyper adhd poster children who also are too stupid to solve anything on their own and can't tell the difference between robins when every single one of them is very very smart, like barry who is a scientist

and it is everywhere

you cannot escape it

it's not a 'don't like don't read' sort of thing because it is unavoidable

imagine seeing your favorite character's tag constantly filled with posts that say they suck, and if you say 'hey wait!' you're suddenly called a 'mean gatekeeper who hates fun!'

you cannot talk reason to people perpetuating this because 'it's just a JOKE' but some people actually legitimately believe these things

i had someone tell me to my face that wonder woman cannot handle a serial killer and batman needs to help her and it was not a joke they genuinely believed this. they believed wonder woman could not handle a regular serial killer with no powers

i have had people tell me that jason todd can just shoot bart allen at his top speed and beat him

it's not just a joke anymore when people are using these tropes and ideas to put down other characters to make bats look better

why do you need to do this? are the bats not cool enough on their own? you don't need to perpetuate this fandom trend to enjoy bats. you don't need to dumb-down characters and you don't need to make batman a fascist unironically as a 'joke'

im not filled with hate and annoyance at everything, just 'fans' making the fandom space hostile to every other family than the bats

sure if you love bats none of this is a problem bc they aren't getting mocked all the time and everyone loves it

how can i possibly argue against this when so many people find nothing wrong with it because the batfam fandom is so huge it makes all other fans so small comparatively?

it is like fighting people using ai and i am so tired of defending the truth, it's not that great