#i like to think he's got a mirror in there and he's just practising his evil smile
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I'm obsessed with this G-Man animation that got datamined recently. What is this devious little guy up to
(thread is from @/frogsnatcher on twitter)
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Summary: You're a princess locked in a tower and guarded by a big, scary dragon. But is he as scary as it seems? tw: female reader, deceit, manipulation, murder (not reader), stockholm syndrome(?) My ko - fi <3
As the youngest princess, you'd always known you would end up like this. In some far off land with little to your name other than some jewels, stuck in a tower just like your mother had been before she got married to a foreign lord, and finally allowed to re-join society. It was such a cliche it was funny at first, but now you just felt like screaming at the top of your lungs from boredom.
At first you didn't feel the unknown presence. The tall man was lurking in the shadows, as if part of the ancient building. You could smell the herbs in the air around him - the minthy fragrance trailing long after he had retired to his chambers. Then little by little you started to recognise him - in certain shades of sunlight, in the back of mirrors, in the tiny lizards crawling at the corners of the stone walls. But nothing could prepare you for that first morning when you saw him - really saw him.
You had woken up early, startled by noise reminiscent of that a bird makes during flight - but multiplied tenfold. You had looked through the window with a weak, fluttering heart. And then you saw his true form - massive yellow wings covered in what looked like pure gold burning brightly in the sky. Long, hard body made of sun - kissed flakes; so sharp they could be used as arrows. And a thin, curled tail drawing circles around your tower.
One of his empty moonlit eyes turned towards you, and it was all over. He immediately dissapeared into thin air, the only evidence of his existence being miles of thick gray smoke. But you weren't going to let the only living creature around run away so easily.
"I saw you!" You screamed long before you could even begin thinking of proper etiquette. Ladylike behavior be damned, you were dying of loneliness in this stupid tower. "Please..." You begged, voice hoarse and desperate from weeks of forced silence. "Come here." You continued ruefully, playing with your hair, chest riddled with anxiety - after all you hadn't spoken to a human being in so long.
You heard a long, almost pained sigh, which made you turn around. You were greeted by a tall brooding figure. It wore the face of a man, but its long golden hair and broad, muscular shoulders pointed to something a lot less human and a lot more devine. He must have been twice your size - trully intimating in all his shining glory. Even in his human form his skin seemed to glow just like his sharp almond - shaped black orbs, constricted in his yellow pupils.
"I'm always here, Your Highness." You remember his exact words simply because you were taken aback by how soft his voice was - just like fine silk. It wasn't the voice of a dragon, but the voice of an angel. "You just never see me." He added with what you then assumed was a hint of playfulness, but now recognised as annoyance. With that he leaned against the wall, crossing his hands together.
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Many months passed since that fateful day. You slowly got to know your new companion - or perhaps, guardian. You learnt that many called him Cain after the fallen son* - once a strong soldier of the Lohemian Kingdom, his injuries had made it impossible to keep fighting. That's how your father found him - abandoned by his brothers, lying in a mudded puddle of his own blood. The rest was history.
He didn't speak very much - but he never left your questions unanswered.
"Cain..." You'd call out with practised uncertainty. Even so far removed from your peers, you still couldn't escape the twisted societal ideals of propriety. You could never be too eager to speak to a man - even if he wasn't fully human. "Is that your real name?" You wondered, genuinely curious. You slowly looked away from the book you were holding and towards your friend, the book long forgotten. The dragon was sitting in the other corner of the room. Despite all the time you had spent together so far, he was still hesitant to come near you. There was a certain stiffness in his strong shoulders - as well as his jaw.
"Princess..." The man mumbled softly, your heart aching by the sheer tenderness of the term. Usually you'd pay it no mind as it was your right from birth, your title - but titles didn't matter here. There was no place for status or riches between those four intimate walls that always felt small despite the spacious squares. "Don't you know curiousity got the cat's tongue?" He responded with a crooked smile that didn't quite reach his eyes - even his smiles were serious and stoic.
"You have it all wrong." You huffed, standing up from your comfortable chair just to make a big, dramatic gesture with your hands. "It's curiosity killed the cat." You stated confidently, waving your finger at the dragon. He let out a soundless chuckle and averted his gaze away from you. He still couldn't get over the fact that you weren't afraid of him.
"Whatever my Princess says, goes." Cain teased, eyes narrowing further - now they looked like two pitch black slits. He tuck one disobedient lock of gold behind his pointy ear, making the glass beads of his earring jingle in tone. "Just don't say I didn't warn you." He whispered with slight condescension, toying with the dancing little crystals. "My name is Kaajin, if you must know. I doubt you can spell it. It's in Lohemian." He suddenly stared at you as if in a challenge. "Does this change anything? Anything at all."
You shook your head - of course no. There was little your protector could do to make your feelings change; not when you had been so terribly alone without him. Not when he looked at you as if you were precious - breakable, yet precious.
************************************************************************
The days went by slowly. There was nothing there to help pass the time - just your voice and his voice blending together in the echo of the tower. Again and again and again.
"Entertain me." You asked authoritatively, looking at your friend from down below while you were sitting on the ground. You were bored - so very bored. "I don't remember ever signing up to be your personal jester, my Princess." Cain, no, Kaajin replied succinctly, showing off two pointy fangs - and you couldn't help recalling the story of the Sleeping Beauty and the spindle that sent her into deep, eternal slubmer. You wondered how his teeth would feel against your finger - and your throat. Whether they'd tire you or save you with the kiss of true love.
"Please?" You asked sweetly, just the way he liked - just like you had done that cold winter day in December when you first met face to face. It seemed to work, because soon after that you could feel him move through the room with a tired step - ever so dramatic, closing in on you. "Sure." The dragon breathed in your ear, enjoying the way the flesh quickly reddened with emotion. He reached behind the sensitive shell and slowly waved his fingers just short of your nose. In his hand just milimeters from you was hanging a thin silver chain with a little red rose dangling down. "Here. Have fun." He let it slip past his slender fingers and you swiftly reached to catch it before it could break in thousand pieces.
"What am I supposed to do with it?" You asked, puzzled - still looking at the delicate bracelet and the way it seemed to come alive under direct sunlight. "I am not a child." You suddenly puffed, stuffing it into the pocket of your long skirts. Kaajin only clicked his tongue, gently tugging at your wrist until you took it out of your pocket. "Don't be so ungrateful." His strict yet plush voice took you out of your little outburst, and you finally looked up. His eyes were measuring you up, scanning for any hidden movement - any secret emotion. "I am a dragon, remember? We tend to be awfuly protective of our things."
Your eyes filled with curiosity once again. "You mean your jewels?" He nodded rhytmically, trying to keep his composure at the mention of his old, forgotten customs. "I've read some stories about dragon kings stealing piles of golden coins and locking them away for all eternity. "You chuckled to yourself. "Like they could ever use them." Even after all those years you still found the thought amusing. Humans spent their youth slaving away so they could waste the money gained once they were old and wise. Dragons, on the other hand, were satisfied with holding onto wealth and jewels and all those shiny human things - with little understanding of the subejctive value they held in the human world.
"Yes. It's true indeed. Dragons-" Your guard nodded yet again, now somewhat uneasy. "We take good care of our..." He averted his eyes far away from you. "treasures." He finished stiffly, gaze basically burning the ground. "So you shouldn't take my gift lightly. You should wear it with pride. And perhaps in time you'd find another use for it, too." The man explained, a slight blush spreading across his usually high, cold cheeks.
You smiled gingerly, kissing your fingers around the chain before pressing it to your chest - close to your heart.
"I shall cherish it forever, then." You exclaimed, feeling warm inside. You were uncertain as to why, but your stomach was spinning wildly, as if filled with bubbles. "But you still owe me some fun." You giggled, running to start the old phonograph in the corner of the room. It was your favourite thing in the whole world - which didn't mean a lot up here, but it was enough to make your legs move on their own.
As you danced to Vaarlen's famous spring waltz, the air seemed lighter and the cramped hall just slightly more grandiose. It was easier to breathe. You extended your hand towards your dragon, asking him to join.
"You know I don't dance, princess." He grunted, his mood souring. He never told you why he hated it so much, but the man was never too fond of music. Still, you decided to try again. "Oh, come on. Just this once." He didn't seem convinced. "Let me teach you as a thank you gift. I'm serious." You tapped your chest playfully. The man rolled his eyes, then gently took your hand in his. You almost broke into a giddy giggle - for the first time since your family locked you up in the rotten tower you felt happy.
And he always gave into you.
So you two danced, both lost to the music and your own racing thoughts. Kaajin kept his distance, but his hold was strong onto your wrist - unrelenting, like he never wanted to let go. Your body twisted and turned, perfectly synced to the chords, blind to the pass of time. You only realized it had become evening once your back hit the window - it was dark outside. Yet another day gone. Yet another day lost.
"Kaajin..." You could feel the tears burning at your wet lashes before you could stop yourself. You had promised yourself not to think about it anymore - not today, or ever for that matter, but it was impossible once you were faced with the Creator of All. The Master of everything, of everyone - time. How could you ever pretend otherwise?
"Do you think-" You bit the inside of your cheek, your hands fighting the guilt as you let go of his. "Do you think my father would ever let me go into the outside world?"
The guard gulped dry, taking a step back to give you space.
"I-" He took a deep breath, gaining the courage to look at you. "I don't know. The war is still going. Your kingdom has lost many brave men and women. Even the strongest soldiers are starting to capitulate." He couldn't bear to look at your pretty face all messed up by the pain and sorrow, but it was for the best.
"I understand." You muttered, turning your back to him - curling back into yourself. You felt his arms wrap around you, and you remained quiet - neither fighting it, nor embracing it. "Don't cry, my princess." The man whispered. "No matter what happens, I will always be by your side." He meant it. You knew it by now, and that only made it all the more tragic. "I swear on my life." You believed him, you had no reason not to - he was the only one you had left.
As for your father, he couldn't really give a proper order now, Kaajin thought. After all, dead men tell no tales.
#yandere#male yandere#male yandere x reader#yandere oneshot#yandere dragon#yancore#yandere male x reader#yandere x you#yandere oc#yandere oc x reader#yandere smut
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'I look in the mirror'
At the Cavern, 1963, photo by Michael Ward
Photo by Mike McCartney
August 13, 1966, photo by Bob Bonis
We wrote with two guitars, John and I. And, as Iâve mentioned previously, the joy of that was that I was left-handed while he was right handed, so I was looking in a mirror and he was looking in a mirror. We would always tune up, have a ciggie, drink a cup of tea, start playing some stuff, look for an idea. Normally, one or the other of us would arrive with a fragment of a song. âPlease Please Meâ was a John idea. John liked the double meaning of âpleaseâ. Yeah, âpleaseâ is, you know, pretty please. âPlease have intercourse with me. So, pretty please, have intercourse with me, I beg you to have intercourse with me.â He liked that, and I liked that he liked that. This was the kind of thing weâd see in each other, the kind of thing in which we were matched up. We were in sync.
(Paul McCartney, about Please Please Me in The Lyrics, 2021)
gifs by javelinbk
A lot of what we had going for us was that we were both good at noticing the stuff that just pops up, and grabbing it. And the other thing is that John and I had each other. If he was sort of stuck for a line, I could finish it. If I was stuck for somewhere to go, he could make a suggestion. We could suggest the way out of the maze to each other, which was a very handy thing to have. We inspired each other.
(Paul McCartney, about Eight Days A Week in The Lyrics, 2021)
gifs by nikidontsurf
When John and I met, the first year of our friendship was spent talking about these cover versions, the records we loved, and then playing them again and again. As we got to know each other, we practised these various covers until one day the conversation went, âYou know, Iâve written one or two songs.â And he said, âYeah, so have I.â That gave us something in common that was itself wholly uncommon. I went to a school of a thousand boys and Iâd never met anyone who said heâd written a song. Mine were just in my head. So were Johnâs. We took each other by surprise. And then the logical extension was, âWell, maybe we could write one together.â So thatâs how we started. And we became versions of each other.
(Paul McCartney, about The Other Me in The Lyrics, 2021)
gifs by stewy
Q: "Can I ask you about Lewis Carroll?" A: "Oh, Lewis Carroll. I always admit to that because I love 'Alice In Wonderland' and 'Alice Through The Looking Glass.' But I didn't even know he'd written anything else. I was that ignorant. I just happened to get those for birthday presents as a child and liked them. And I usually read those two about once a year, because I still like them."
(John Lennon, June 16, 1965, interview for BBC)
Paul McCartney in his garden at Cavendish Avenue, 7; photo by Barry Lategan (for Observer 'What Makes A Man Stylish?', July 1968)
I think of the imagined world of Lewis Carroll [Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There] that John and I both loved so much.
(Paul McCartney, about Iâll Get You in The Lyrics, 2021)
Weâd been together so much that if you had a question, we would both pretty much come up with the same answer. [about their hitchhike to Spain by way of Paris] <âŚ> Itâs a bit crude, but itâs fair to say that, in general, Iâd had a good life and John hadnât. His life had been tougher, and he had to develop a harder shell than I did. He was quite a cynical guy but, as they say, with a heart of gold. A big softy, but his shield was hard. So that was very good for the two of us. Opposites attract. I could calm him down, and he could fire me up. We could see things in each other that the other needed to be complete.
(Paul McCartney about Ticket To Ride in The Lyrics, 2021)
youtube
Sometimes I look in the mirror Is nobody there? But I just keep on staring and staring No Can it be? Can it be? Can it be? And if I look in the mirror And nobody´s there But I just keep on staring, and staring No Is it me? Is it me? Is it me?
(John Lennon, circa 1977)
#john lennon#paul mccartney#john and paul#mirror mirror (on the wall)#the songs we were singing#the nerk twins#Youtube#please please me#i'll get you#eight days a week#the other me#i've got a feeling#interview: paul#interview: john#lewis carroll#get back#peter jackson#the beatles#george harrison#ringo star
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I'm going to need everyone to go look at this picture please
Done that? Thank you. Now you may understand why I was gripped by the need to write 3k of landoscar fisting in the middle of the night. If that's your cup of tea, please enjoy!
âMate, I thought you said youâd prepped already?â
âI have-â
âI can barely get two inside, Osc.â
Oscar had got to four. Four of his own fingers, crammed inside himself in the bathroom of his stale flat, teeth locked on the sleeve of his hoodie because Lando had leaned over in the McLaren jet and said-
Said they could try it. What Oscar wanted. What he knew Oscar wanted, because heâd fucking nicked his phone and looked at his PornHub history like a cunt.
Well. Theyâd done it the other way round, first. Because Lando had assumed and Oscar- Oscar didnât know how to want out loud, like Lando did. To bitch and beg and coax his way into things and somehow come out charming at the end of it.Â
Itâd been fine, anyway, the other way around. Oscar had come. Lando had come, with a bit more pizzazz. Ticked off, sorted, not one for the repeat list but good to have tried it.Â
Except. Lando had looked across at him, when theyâd taken up strategic spots either side of the wet patch, and that lax, open face had tightened up. It was still astonishing, how much Landoâs face moved when he was thinking.
âThat wasnât how you pictured it, was it?â heâd asked, quiet. Oscar canât remember now, which hotel it was â after all, it wasnât a night for the scrapbook. Itâd had soft lighting, the kind that made Lando look improbably handsome, even when he was curled like a speech mark towards Oscar, all his softnesses on show.Â
There mustâve been some kind of tell. Oscarâs not sure what it was; wants to know, so he can train himself out of it. Practise in the mirror until it vanishes into his smile. Whatever it was, Lando had reached out and wrapped his big hand round the top of Oscarâs thigh where his bent leg kept him from toppling into the space between them. The tips of his fingers stretched far enough to graze against swell of his arse, pinky at the line of his taint.Â
Oscar had shut his eyes against the noise heâd made.Â
âAlright,â Lando had whispered. âGood to know.â Heâd squeezed, then retreated; rolled onto his back. âTriple header soon, but after the season? When I- when weâve won.â
So. Four weeks, and one FIA gala later: Lando whispering in his ear on the flight back from Rwanda, shirtless and slutting it up as Oscar squirmed. Getting a separate car to his fucking hotel, like he wasnât going to hop straight back in another car to get to Oscarâs. Telling Oscar to start without him. To send pictures.Â
And now heâs pussying out.Â
âOsc, Iâm not sure we should.â Landoâs mouth is twisted in concern, even as he slides the pads of the two fingers heâs managed to squeeze inside back and forth over Oscarâs prostate, faint and damning. âWhat if itâs, like, proper- nah, thatâs not it. Propriat- Proportional?â
Oscar is breathing too heavily to gape at him, but itâs a near thing. The leftover lube on his hands has gone tacky, but heâs sweating; his fingers slip on the outside of his own thighs. âWhat?â
âYou know. Like how youâre not meant to put stuff in your ears thatâs smaller than your own elbow. Or, like, up your nose.â Lando puts his spare paw over where Oscarâs still holding himself open for him. His pale palm disappears entirely under Landoâs hand.Â
âDo you think my arsehole is directly proportional to my hands?â
âCould be! I mean, could be anything, like George has big feet and heâs eight feet tall, and Iâve got big hands and a massive cock, and youâve got-â
âAlso a massive cock,â Oscar says, firmly, because Lando has tried humiliation kink out of the blue before, even if he canât remember it didnât get him fucking laid. Theyâre not even that different, really; itâs just the perspective, when Landoâs hand is on him, versus his on Lando. Itâs what had got him thinking about it all in the first place. âThatâs not how it works, weâve got different feet and weâre the same height, you fuckwit-â
âYeah, but maybe it does for arseholes, I can google.â
âOh for fuckâs sake, if it worked like that youâd be gaping-â
âTook all of you, didnât I?â And heâs looking around, distracted, like he doesnât remember dropping his phone on the sheets when he came in, a blown up picture of Oscarâs wet fingers still on the screen.
âLando, if you fucking touch your phone,â Oscar growls. Lando makes worrying movements towards it, even though heâs still knuckle deep in Oscarâs perfectly normal-sized arse. His wrist jostles; Oscar grunts, and suddenly Landoâs frozen, eyes back to where they should be, on the spot where his fingers slip a few fractions further inside.Â
âThree,â Oscar bargains. âYouâve done three before, itâll be fine.â
Lando abandons his phone to scrabble for the lube instead. Oscar just about avoids clenching his fist in victory. Landoâs always generous with lube, hates a chafe, but now he slathers it on; when he cranes his neck to look between his knees, Oscar can see it run down his wrist, bright and shiny.Â
The stretch of the third is real, past the point heâd reached on his own. Four, heâd managed, four to the second knuckle, and just the tips of three of Landoâs is more. He loses the ability to shut his mouth, has to let his head fall back to the pillow and just take. Breath through it, find the place where he can relax and still hold onto the heat of it, the way every millimetre makes his cock twitch against his stomach.Â
The flare of pressure as Lando eases in his knuckles makes his eyes roll back. âJesus, Osc. You really like it.âÂ
âFucking love it,â and he means to sound flat, maybe chuck a mate on there for good measure, but heâs breathy, voice cracking. Thereâs a hint of dampness at the back of his throat, past the drool building under his tongue. Lando groans, high and whiny, in response; shuffles forwards, so his shoulders can help hold Oscarâs legs up and apart, give Lando room to stretch him out.Â
âLemme-â He wiggles, slightly; one finger drums on Oscarâs prostate and a thin spurt of precome stains his belly. âJust this, for a bit? And then, if youâre up for itâŚâ
Oscar couldnât be more up for it. But Landoâs eyes are still a little apprehensive, a little wild. Oscar can play the long game. âSure. Itâs not a sprint.âÂ
Lando, inexplicably, snickers. âKinda like one though. Cause, you know. You gave it to me-â He slides his fingers out, until itâs just the tip of his middle pressed where Oscarâs body valiantly tries to close up â-and now Iâll give it to you.â Oscarâs tongue cleaves to the top of his mouth for the push back in; the noises he makes canât strictly be called words. Lando drops a kiss to the side of Oscarâs knee, just a soft one, lips together. He gets sentimental about sprints now.
Thatâs why Oscar brings them up.Â
The ache of the stretch eases with each steady move, in and out. Lando reaches for the lube again and Oscar almost wants to stop him, chase the burn â but heâll never get to four without some compromises. When he can trust his voice again, he tries his best to be encouraging. âItâs good, Lando, itâs really good.â
âI know,â Lando groans, like heâs in pain, face twisted up. âFuck, if you could see yourself, Osc, youâre fuckinâ dripping everywhere.â
Itâs easy now, to bear down against Landoâs thick fingers. âMore,â he pants. Rephrases. âYou can- if you want-â
âOscar.â Landoâs head drops forward, curls bouncing as he stares at Oscarâs arse. At his hole. It must look like a hole now, dark and wide. Not a furl, not a clench, or a pucker. A hole. Open. âOscar, Oscar, Oscarrrrr.â
It works though. Another slosh of lube â not even cold now, warm from where Landoâs keeping the bottle close at hand between his knees â and thatâs Landoâs pinky joining the rest, all four sliding inexorably in, all the way down past the first knuckle, the second, on and on and on.
Oscar loses his grip on his legs, but Lando keeps him splayed open with the span of his shoulders. Oscar scrabbles at the sheets instead for something to hold onto. Itâs brutal, the ache. He wants to thrash. But Lando will bolt if he does. He locks his ankles together high on Landoâs back, just in case. Clamps down on the howl in his chest.Â
Lando stops moving. Oscar canât see, couldnât lift his neck if he wanted to, training be damned, but he thinks theyâve reached the base of Landoâs fingers. The point where all he needs to do â such a little thing, really â is draw back and tuck his thumb.Â
âCâmon,â Oscar- itâs not a whine. It could, perhaps fairly, be called a wheedle. He canât quite pull off coquettish, not like Lando can when he flutters up at a camera, bites his lip. He canât measure out his need into acceptable quantities. But it leaks out all the same. âPlease, Lando. You promised.â
Lando shudders, and they both shake with it, Oscarâs body rolling like an aftershock. âYeah. Yeah, alright.â He looks up, right at Oscar, and the fear hasnât gone, but thereâs something else there now, wildness abandoned for a softer, darker look. Oscarâs heart kicks in his chest. Thereâs saliva running down the side of Landoâs chin and then he bows his head again and spits a mouthful, frothy and white, onto Oscarâs arsehole.Â
Oscar shouts, âJesus fucking Christâ and quite possibly some other words his neighbours wonât appreciate, and when heâs got a grip on the situation again, Landoâs panting nonsense words against the inside of his leg, and the stretch is back, the stretch is good, and it must be- he must have- Itâs so slow, but Oscar thinks he can feel it, pressed up against the others but oriented differently. Landoâs thumb.Â
Lando rocks his way in, tiny shifts, back and forth. Past the first knuckle. The second. Down to the widest span of his hand. The palm that has sat heavy on Oscarâs shoulders, at the centre of his chest, on his throat.Â
Just a bit more, and itâll be inside him.Â
And then Lando looks up and stops pushing. âFuck. Osc. Are you- shit, Iâll.â He starts drawing back, careful but still too fast, Oscarâs body making sucking, needy noises around him.
In a panic, Oscar shakes his head. Not a neat side to side, but rolling his neck like a spooked horse, wild with it. Begs. âDonât, Lando, please-â It comes out wet and squeaky and- Oh. Heâs crying. Thatâs new. The kind of thing he might be embarrassed by, if he didnât need Landoâs fist inside him with an urgency that borders on lunacy. âPlease. Iâm okay. I- Please.â
âTell me you need it.â Landoâs hoarse with it, dark eyed. His free hand is shaking, but the fingertips still inside Oscar are rock steady. âTell me itâs good.â
Oscar gulps for air. Beneath the howl in his chest thereâs a twittering, fluttering panic. Itâs too visible, his need. If he takes it all, heâll be seen. Wonât be able to hide.Â
âYes,â he offers. There are still tears sliding down the sides of his face. Itâs not enough for Landoâs sudden solemnity. Oscar breathes against a sob. âItâs good. I want it. I need you.â
A sharp gasp. Lando presses forward again, eyes locked on Oscarâs face. In and in and in. And Oscar takes it.
The first time, the other way around, Oscar hadnât been able to watch when his fist disappeared. Heâd felt disconnected from it; like it wasnât a part of his body, inside a part of Landoâs. Like it was a toy. Heâd been gloved up almost to his elbow, because Landoâs latex fetish was as poorly disguised as all his other cravings, but that hadnât been why. Lando had still been hot and tight and impossibly delicate around him. Heâd still been able to feel.
But Oscar had done so much work to hide his petty jealousies. To make sure he made it good. Tutorials and magazine articles and advice forums, and watching Lando charm a room with half a smile and remembering he was lucky, he was so lucky, to get this close to what he really wanted. So perhaps he hadnât let himself get carried away in the prep, in the build; perhaps heâd let Lando carry the conversation, goading and filthy and a little bit clichĂŠ, as he got to the point. To the fist.Â
And then, when he was sure he was doing it right, heâd instead been caught by the way Landoâs back had twisted, how his shoulders shook, all the strength of him pushing him down like he needed downforce to stay on the bed. Heâd had the pillow between his teeth, getting it wet. Sloppy. The shine of it, of his chin, when heâd turned his head, had been the thing to rouse Oscarâs flagging dick.Â
Lando had asked, then, for Oscar to touch him. Said heâd needed more. Not that it wasnât good, mind you, heâd stressed that, said it was so fucking hot, being on Oscarâs hand like a fucking puppet. But. A touch. Something on his dick. Because it wasnât enough for Lando, to be filled. Not with Oscarâs dainty hand.Â
Itâs enough for Oscar now. He howls. Clenches down on Landoâs broad wrist. He can hear it, the squeeze against skin and Landoâs insane application of lube. Every throb of his heart, every pulse in every artery seems to fall into time with the tiny movements of Landoâs fist. Inside him and through him and with him and all of him. Heâs never been owned like this. Wanted enough for this.Â
When he glances down, away from the ceiling, Lando looks like heâs been fucking raptured. âOscar, shit, thatâs insane, youâre- I canât believe-â He sniffs, just once, but obvious enough Oscar has to crack a soppy wet smile at him; gets a lopsided gleam of teeth in return. âYou really fucking like this,â Lando tells him, like itâs a secret. Then: âI really fucking like this too.â
When he twists his hand, his whole fucking hand, just slightly, Oscarâs orgasm hits like a thunderclap. Lando groans through it, so loud itâs like heâs been wounded; Oscar blinks up at him, worry surfacing between aftershocks, but Lando shakes his head, his free hand pressing soothingly to the back of Oscarâs thigh. Which. Fuck. When the power of speech returns, what might be a full minute later, Oscar has to chuckle. âImagine telling Zak I broke your hand.â
Lando swats at him. âDonât talk about Zak when Iâm about to fucking cum all over you, Christ. Fuck, you look-â
A mess, he looks a mess, cum up to his neck, his face wet with sweat and tears and spit. But it must work for Lando, because he starts working his dick with his off hand, short fast tugs, not even stopping for lube.
âIn me,â Oscar hears himself begging. âInside, please.â
âIt will not fucking fit!â
Itâs hard to get his tongue working round the size of the thought, the way it presses at the inside of his mouth, his ribs. âNo, just- pull out and Iâll. Iâll still be open. You donât have to fuck me, just- aim.â
âOh, fucking hell, Oscar.â But Lando does start drawing back. Heâs slow about it, watching for every shiver. Itâs almost better for Oscar, coming out, oversensitive, the long drag past every nerve ending and aching muscle. If he canât keep Lando inside for hours â for ever â this will do, this shared shaking moment. Landoâs grip on his own dick has stilled, so tight itâs like heâs staving off the inevitable; like the sight of his own hand coming out of Oscar could be enough to send him over.Â
Thereâs a final squelch of lube, and Oscar thought heâd feel empty, hollow, but his bloodâs still singing with it, happy and sated. Now itâs Lando who looks desperate.
âClench,â he orders. Begs. Oscar tries. He can feel it, where heâs still open. Cold. Lando moans, and then heâs stripping his dick, first with his left and then â Oscarâs whole body tightens and itâs still not enough to close up, but Christ â Lando switches hands, switches to the hand he had inside Oscar, hot and slick and massive, presses in close and comes, hot and shivering, against Oscarâs hole.Â
Oscar catches him, when he slumps forward. Thereâs enough coordination back in his body that he can roll them out of the wet patch. The right side of the bed â Oscarâs side, usually â is largely unsullied. He curls them both up there, bodies aligned. Landoâs dopey with the afterglow, keeps trying to run his lubed up fingers through Oscarâs hair, letting out high, contented giggles. Oscarâs pretty sure his own smile looks loopy.
âMore like you imagined it?â Lando asks, eventually. Thereâs a smugness to it, like he knows the answer. Oscar indulges him anyway.Â
âYeah.â
âMint. You should- if you have any more ideas like that. Say. Cause weâre doing that again.â
Oscar raises an eyebrow. âUh huh?â
âObviously, not like, all the time. But special occasions. Championships. And- I donât know, other shit.â
Championships, plural, sounds good. So do special occasions. He wants that, with Lando. Things to celebrate. Dates to remember.Â
Heâll find a way to say it, eventually. âAnd other shit,â he hums, for now.Â
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mauve - l.n - p.2
Warnings: Swearing, angst, crash, sexism, banter, insulting(?)
Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader
Taglist: @cheriiepies @jan1on @sagestack @fall-bambi @meglouise00 @eclipsedcherry @suzzie105 @rebelatbay @fly-me-away @cabbyhabs @djoenthusiast @georgeparisole @justcharlotte @cutieln4 @amz824 @coff33andb00ks @yoruse @neferaskingdom @dramaticpiratellamas @leonie404 @awritingtree @lolzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz @easy4 @ironmaiden1313
A/N - Iâm so happy yâall like it! Remember, message in the comments if you wanna be on the tag list! Also, remember, at this stage of the fic, Lando has 0 wins!
other parts đđ
Thankfully for both you and Lando, he didnât have to see your face for the next few days, not until pre-season testing anyways. You looked great in your suit, the Williams suited you so well, you drove impeccably, your car nowhere as slow as it had been the year before, and Alex had been a healthy 15th.
Hey, couldâve been worse. As you got into your car, your helmet a sweet purple with oil splashes along the side, your number emblazoned on the top, you readied yourself for your first ever drive as part of the Formula One World Championship. Fuck.
You turned sharply right, ready to warm your tyres, checking your mirror and responding to radio messages. âSo, Landoâs done a 28.8 for sector one, thatâs a 28.8, Y/N,â your engineer said you responded with a simple âcopyâ.
Once your tyres were up and ready you began your lap, sliding through the corners with just the right amount of balance, your concentration unwavering, the places you put the car just perfect. Yes, it was just practise, but it seemed like youâd been doing it for years.
And then, as you began your next lap, heading down the main straight, you caught a flash of orange in your rear-view mirrors, the almost blindingly neon helmet of Lando Norris shimmering behind you. What the fuck was he doing?
No one ever raced during pre-season testing. It was testing. After all. But you were on a hot lap, and you werenât one to back down, which greatly surprise Lando, as he saw you continue, not letting off a single second. Two could play at that game.
He dove down the inside, his wheel tapping into the side of yours, sending your car onto the rumble strip, your body bouncing in the car. âWhatâs he playing at?!â you shrieked into the radio. âWeâre on it, Y/N,â your engineer reassured.
âSo, uh, Y/N, what do you make of the situation with Lando on track?â one of the reporters asked, as you lifted your microphone. You let out a breath of air, a mix of a scoff and sigh as you shrugged. âIâm not responsible nor do I know what he was thinking,â you said simply.
âMaybe if she can look. Sheâd have seen me,â Lando said, a harsh, hostile laugh on his lips as he rolled his eyes, âthis sport would be better off without people who canât see others on track,â. You didnât say anything, blinking for a second.
âIf you want a change of scenery, F1 Academyâs always open,â you said, moving the straw of your drink to your lips to hide the smug smirk on your lips as you pulled your Williams cap down low on your forehead, your hair smooth, albeit sweaty.
And Lando? He was taken aback. The new girl had bite, huh? Well, so did he. He was Lando fucking Norris after all, not some push over. But neither were you, it supposed. Lando didnât say anything, he wasnât one to stroke the fire when he knew how much of a field day the media would have with it.
But that didnât mean heâd let you get away with it, oh no. Heâd make you pay. And pay for it you would, tenfold for what you had done. How youâd insulted him. To Lando, youâd have been a better grid girl than a driver.
You didnât say anything as you sat in your motor home, now changing into a comfy pair of sweats and a t-shirt, the cold air of a February in Bahrain filing in through your window. You didnât understand why Lando was even being such a jerk to you.
You hadnât done anything wrong, youâd only given him what heâd given you first. But if it was gonna be like that, then fine. You could dish it out and if Lando wasnât okay to take it, so be it. Anyways, testing? It had gone reasonably well, but almost as if to add salt to the wound, mclaren were looking stronger than usual.
Lando would have a field day with that one.
It was half-refreshing to come out of your second FP1 session to see that there were, fortunately, some people who did think Lando was being mean to you. Whilst at the same time, there were people who shipped you? What the hell? That would never happen. And you only did come 13th, and in a car as slow as Williams? That was an achievement and a half.
#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris x you#lando x reader#f1#lando norris smut
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She's got your genes
summary: you and Lewis Hamilton's daughter suddenly took an interest in go-karting whilst your husband was racing and proves she's definitely both you and Lewis' kid.
warnings: nothing but cute fluff.
Named daughter: layla.
When you found out you were pregnant in 2015, you were the least to say terrifyingly worried about telling Lewis with the rise of his wins, the drama, and change of careers plan for the both of you. But nonetheless, the two of you worked through the first rough two years together and Lewis proved to be a wonderful father.
You managed to get your career to settle down in Kensington home when your daughter was five and when the both of you could afford to see Lewis at his races that had always seemed to lift his spirits (and an ongoing suspicion amongst the younger F1 fans that Lewis always performed better when the two of you were around since before your little girl started school and you being more present at his races performed at his best.)
Layla, your beautiful little girl was the perfect mix of the both of you. She had Lewisâ spirit and sass as a youngster and your beauty and compassion Anthony, Lewisâ father would say. Lewis would always try to get as many video calls and flights back to London as possible where the two of them had formed a very close bond, and were always found either cuddled up on the couch as they watched a movie whilst she talked about as much as she could about in the time Lewis was gone or playing outside in the backyard with a soccer ball and Roscoe not too far off.Â
As much as you tried from keeping Laylaâs appearance and face out of the media, whether that be always making sure sheâs wearing sunglasses or a hat, there was always either a fanâs shot or a lucky paparazzi at the paddock who managed to a glimpse when she took her sunglasses off to rub her eyes or when they felt uncomfortable. Speaking of the paddock, she was much adored by the drivers; especially Sebastian and George where a viral video went around when she was five of her and George hugging and declaring how he was his best friend.Â
It was Friday night for the two of you in Kensington, and you were finishing off a meeting call with your colleagues when, just after you logged off, a knock came from your door.Â
âHey Lay, did you manage to work out the question?â you queried.Â
âYeah, itâs all good,â your eight-year-old nodded. âHey mum?â
âYes?â you hummed getting up.
âCan I go-karting? Like a race?âÂ
You stood there a bit shocked at her sudden interest.Â
âYou want to race?âÂ
âYeah,â she smiled.
âWhy the sudden interest sweetie?â you crouch to her level, your tone curious but laced with a familiar warmth that your daughter always sought.
âI canât tell you. Itâs a secret,â she whispered.
âReally now?â you put your hands on your hips, mirroring her sass. Layla giggles in response.Â
âMum!â she exclaims.Â
âWell can I guess?â Layla thinks about it before nodding her head.Â
âIs it because you wanna be like daddy?â you pretended to think by putting a finger in your chin.
âNo, not really,â she shook her head. She didnât seem like she was lying.
âHmm, is it because you want to do it for fun?â
âSort of,â she grins. An all too familiar grin that was nothing but identical to Lewis.Â
You sigh loudly. She had go karted when she was a bit younger once or twice for birthday parties.
âMummy Please! I really need to do this,â she pulls out a very folded and creased flyer of an upcoming open to all go-karting tournament.Â
âHoney. Thatâs in like two weeks,â you read the key dates.Â
âYeah, but if I practise everyday after school! I promise Iâll still do my homework!â she pouts.Â
âWhat about the go-kart? Where are we gonna get that?â you raised a brow.Â
âWhat about my old go kart that we used for birthdays?â
âBaby, you havenât used that since you were four. Itâs going to be a bit small.â
âUhhh⌠what about the go-kart that uncle George got for me last christmas?â She reasons. You had honestly forgotten about that poor thing left in the garage untouched, better yet it was disassembled.
Damn her mini-Lewis genes.
âSir Lewis Carl Davidson Hamilton, what did you say to our daughter?â You glare through the phone.
âHave I ever told you darling you look especially beautiful today?â He sweats.
âWhat did I say to our daughter darling?â
âWell thatâs what Iâm asking you Lew. It seems our daughter has taken a sudden interest in go-karting,â you say watching his eyes widen.Â
âReally?â
âYeah, thereâs a race in like two weeks she really wants to compete in,â you hum. âWhen I asked her why she had your grin written all over her. Somethingâs up and Iâm going to figure it out.âÂ
âWhenâs the race?â
â[random date]â you sigh. âI already checked, you have a race that same day, and itâs almost a seven hour flight.â
âFuck,â Lewis dragged his hand down his face. âFuck, Iâm going to miss our daughterâs first race.â
âItâs fine Lew. Iâm not sure at the exact times but maybe I can facetime you during one of the races. It goes on all-day.â
âAlright. Maybe send the time and we schedule something from my end.â
âSent-, Layla what are you doing still up?â your head turns to the direction of her coming down the stairs in her pyjamas.Â
âI was throwing my tissue box, mummy and my bin is full-, hi daddy!â she exclaims, her eyes widening.Â
âHey! Mummy told me you're going to do a go-karting race!â
âYeah,â she nods, leaning her chin on the edge of the couch. âI told mummy that Iâm going to work really hard. Weâre going to build the car together-, and Iâm going to practise everyday after school after I finish my homework and in the mornings as well.â
âThatâs really good to hear sweetie. Iâm so proud of you. Mummy and I are going to try to organise for me to video call you guys when I can, okay. It will be just like Iâm there.â
âThatâs fine daddy, me and you can race when you come back!â she suggested enthusiastically. She knew well of Lewisâ job and what it demanded, and although sometimes it saddened her she got eventually used to it in the best way possible with Lewis making an effort to video call her.
âOf course Lay,â Lewis smiled warmly. âOh yeah, mummy was telling me that you wouldnât tell her why you didnât want to race.â
âYeah, Iâm the one taking you to these practices,â she ruffled her locks.Â
âWell⌠itâs because last week, me and my friend and another group were talking about cars. I donât know why. But like then my friend Katy-, who also does go-karting says that itâs pretty weird and lonely cause sheâs the only girl-, so then I said we can race together so sheâs not lonely and that it will be fun!â
âAww, thatâs very sweet of you honey,â you kiss her cheek. âBut are you sure as well this is something you want to do as well.â
âYeah! It seems really fun and daddy did it when he was younger and he made lots of friends as well! So Iâll make more friends too!â she yawned.Â
âAlright sweetie, I think thatâs a sign for you to go back to bed. Say goodnight to daddy.â
Layla leans over and sends him a flying kiss and Lewis pretends to catch it making her giggle.
---
When the two of you practised, three sometimes when Lewis would join on a facetime, and four when Anthony would join as well when he heard his granddaughter took an interest in the sport, it was alarming to say the least how well she absorbed techniques and small critiques that Lewis and Anthony would suggest. But beyond that, what you were more thrilled about was how her serious demeanour the moment she hopped off her go-kart would always switch to a wild smile, or when she fell or crashed she would always shake it off and laugh.
When the race day came, you purposefully signed her name up with your last name for extra caution and wanting her to focus on enjoying the day. She had been excited to meet up with her friend and noticed as well how well during each of the rounds how sociable she was with the other racers and converse with them, as she would often come running back to you and Anthony saying how she made a new friend.Â
In terms of racing. Well, it was safe to say although she had a rough start that you suspected was her nerves, she completely dominated the track as the two of you would cheer loudly no matter what.
Feeling your phone buzz loudly, you picked up and immediately answered the facetime request with a panicked Lewis. âDid I miss the last race? I swear I was trying to get out of that interview but he wouldnât shut up.â
âItâs fine. She made it to the finals, sheâs starting third look,â you turned the screen around to the track where your daughter was sitting in the kart ready.
âOmg! Go baby!â he yelled loudly through the phone.
âWelcome one and all to the finals of the eight to nine year old division.â The speaker announced.
Once the quick inspection finished, the moment the race had begun Laylaâs car struggled and began to get hit behind the cars behind as they passed her.Â
âItâs alright baby!â You yelled as she finally got the car working and sped off in last position. The three of you watched anxiously as she began to take advantage of the sharp corners and quickly catched up to the middle of the pack within a few laps.Â
In the last few laps, Anthony swore he saw Lewis racing as she began to hunt down each person in front of her at a terrifying pace.Â
âCome on Layla! Go baby!â you yelled as she managed to regain her starting position and then second-,
âAnd in first place, [your lastname]!â
âTHATâS MY BABY! OH MY GOD!â you heard Lewis yell you began jumping up and down.
Once she was able to come off the track, she immediately ran to the three of you as Anthony hugged her tightly and gave her a high-five. When she turned to the phone her eyes widened at Lewis who had the proudest smile on his face.Â
âDaddy I won! It was so much fun!âÂ
âWell done Layla!â
âDaddy, why are you crying?â her brows knitted in confusion.
âThose are happy tears honey,â you chuckled, then looked to the marshal who signalled that it was time for the trophies.Â
âGo get your trophy.â
Bonus:
Lewishamilton
liked by susfiewolff, sebastianvettel, charles_leclerc and 4000 others
So proud of my baby on her first win. I've never had so much anxiety on watching a go-karting race đ
redbullracing: dibs -> mercedesamgf1: no you don't. -> mclaren: she's ours.
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say my name â song mingi
request by anon. "This is my first request to anyone ever so forgive me if this is..idk incoherent đ. But lately I've been thinking about a short smut story where the reader (fem) being a backup dancer for ATEEZ and Mingi catching feelings for her over time and then end up fucking in the dressing room and maybe one of the members walks in idk have fun with it. đ¤"
idol!song mingi x backup dancer!reader. genre. smut. warnings. smut below the cut, explicit sexual content minors dni, fingering, some dirty talk, use of petnames (doll, baby), slight dom/sub dynamics, dom!mingi, swearing, intentional lowercase. please let me know if i missed anything. wc. 1.2k.
lilo's notes. i'm back!! this is the first request i've received, hopefully i did it justice. by the time i finished writing i forgot that anonie asked it it's possible for another member to walk in and join.... sorry about that. but anyways, i hope you all enjoyed this!!
listening to. perceive by doma cyno.
masterlist
âfuck, baby,â a hand swiped through your folds, gathering the almost embarrassing amount of arousal from your core. âyouâre so wet.â
you like to think your day started off like every other day. you woke up at 7 am, ate breakfast, got ready for the day and arrived at kq two hours later. you went through some choreographies with the other backup dancers until 4 pm, left to run some errands, and then returned to practice some more on your own.
since your first day at the company only a few months ago, youâd always take a few hours after your shift to perfect your art more than you already have. sometimes youâd spend those hours with the other dancers who showed up for the same reason, but surprisingly, a lot of the time it was mingi who found himself practising his groupâs or his own choreography alongside you.
the first few times felt awkward, to say the least.
you yourself werenât really one to strike up conversations with random people, and considering he was part of the group you had to dance for, you were afraid of slipping up and losing your job. but, eventually, he talked to you. after that, things were easierâyouâd joke around, take breaks to go eat something, help each other and sometimes even stop what you were working on to choreograph something together; just the two of you.
it was only a month or two later that you caught yourself looking at him in a less than friendly but rather heated way⌠and much to your surprise, you slowly started noticing his own lustful glancesâlips red from biting them and hooded eyes tracking your every movement. but, alas, you werenât one for first moves.
considering all of this, you werenât surprised at the position you were currently in; on the floor of the practice room, legs hooked around his as you sat between them, mingiâs lips against the side of your neck, one arm around your waist and the other with his hand inside your panties (your shorts had been discarded long ago, along with his shirt) as he faced you to lthe mirror, forcing you to watch his every movement.
he swiped his middle finger through your folds, gathering some arousal and then slowly circling your swollen clit. a breathy whimper escaped your lips as you threw your head back on his shoulder. the combined sensation of his finger around your nub and his lips kissing and sucking on the sensitive skin of your neck sent another wave of wetness gushing out of you.
âeyes on the mirror, doll,â he moved his head up to whisper right into your ear with that husky voice of his, gently biting down on your earlobe. he removed his hand from your pussy for a moment, letting your legs down to slip your panties off before hooking them over his thighs again. you were practically dripping as he exposed you. âi want you to see what iâm doing, watch how your beautiful little body reacts to me.â
reluctantly, you nodded and pulled yourself off his shoulder, eyes zeroing in on the arousal smeared between your thighs. a moan escaped your lips as he gave your clit a particularly firm tug, his ring and middle finger pressed against the skin on either side of it and pinching gently. you tried holding back your following moans, but the quiver of your thighs gave you away. though, you felt better knowing you werenât the only enjoying this so much, his erection strained against his pants and poked at your ass.Â
his movements against your heat were slow but precise, eliciting pretty little whimpers and moans from you. the hand wrapped around the front of your waist moved up, featherlight touches leaving a trail of goosebumps behind as he gently brushes his fingers over the fabric of your bra. then he nudge the straps down your shoulder and let the bra cups fall, his hand immediately going to tweak at your nipples.Â
âf-fuckâŚâ you cursed quietly, trying your best to stop your eyes from fluttering shirt from all the pleasure and keep your eyes on the mirror as he asked.
two of his large fingers circled your entrance, massaging it before slowly pushing in. jaw slack at the stinging stretch, you watched as they disappeared into your vagina, breath stuttering when he curved them just enough to brush against the right spot. your hand snaked itâs way behind his head, tugging on his hair gently.
âoh, look, doll,â you heard him groan behind you, feeling his smirk against your neck, âlook at how well you take my fingersâŚâ
and with that he slowly began pumping his fingers in and out of you, digits firmly pressing against the spongey spot inside you each time, increasing his speed more and more as his thumb continue circling your clit. he watched your face in the mirror, analysing each twitch of your muscles and each flutter of your lashes to perfectly adjust his movements. in any other context, you perhaps wouldâve appreciated how perceptive he was. but right now you wanted nothing more than to savour the feeling of his fingers, anticipating how his cock would feel in you.Â
before you knew it, the familiar knot of an orgasm began tightening in your abdomen, your body squirming.
âshit, mingiâŚâ his name tumbled out of your mouth in a drawl and his movement stopped for a moment.l before he continued at a more rigorous pace. you couldâve sworn you felt his erection twitch behind you.Â
âsay that again,â he growled, âsay my name.â
the rough scratch of his voice made you impossibly wetter as you obeyed quickly. âmingi, o-ohâŚâ
after that it didnât take much longer for you to snap, coming down hard on his fingers, muscles jerking and back arching as his hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your noises.
âkeep it down, baby, someone might walk in and see you at my mercy.��
he pulled his fingers out of you and caressed your thighs. it didnât take to long for you to calm down from your high, chest heaving with deep breaths as he whispered praises in your ear. despite the fact you just had an orgasm, you knew you still wanted more.
âi-i need⌠i need you,â you tried, face flushed as you hinted the best you could.
âhm?â he chuckled. âand what exactly do you need of me?â
with a huff, you grinded yourself back against him, against his cock, but he moved his hands to grip your hips firmly and stop you.Â
âthat wonât do,â he shook his head. âi want you to use your words, doll. can you do that for me, baby?â
a moment of silence passed between you. it was awkward or anything, a teasing grin on his face as he looked you in the eyes through the mirror, your brows furrowed before you sighed.
âgod, mingi, i need your cock in me.â
he grinned, hands tugging your shirt and bra off before sitting back on his knees and turning you around. mingi leaned over you, cupping your chin before kissing you with a bruising hardness. once he broke the kiss, a malicious spark shined in his sharp eyes.
âanything for my doll.â
network. @cromernet
#cromernet#mingi x reader#ateez smut#mingi smut#ateez x reader#ateez mingi#ateez fic#ateez drabble#seonghwa smut#hongjoong smut#yunho smut#yeosang smut#san smut#wooyoung smut#jongho smut#ateez hard hours#ateez hard thoughts#park seonghwa smut#kim hongjoong smut#jeong yunho smut#choi san smut#song mingi smut
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hello!! ive been lurking on your acc for a little bit and i absolutely adore your writing like omg!! but earlier i got to thinkin about toji (as we all do) and i was thinking about how vulgar i imagine him to be in a sexual context and it makes me like soo shy and im not shy đ im just obsessed with the idea of him saying really filthy shit to us and then practicing what he preaches yk
PRACTISE WHAT YOU PREACH
a/n: i keep falling asleep on the couch writing. and thank u for the inspiration for the name LOL
wc: 2.4k
warnings: reader has the same bite to her as toji does but gets shy when said man says filthy things, dom!toji, implication of sex in parts of the drabble, (public) dirty talk, pet names, he calls you âwhoreâ and âslutâ, toji calls you âmamaâ once, oral (m receiving), deepthroating, spitting (on hand and in mouth), p -> v penetration, clit stimulation, unprotected sex, riidng, praise, degradation, daddy kink at the end, creampie / breeding kink, brief oral / cunnilingus @ the end, n*sfw under the cut
fushiguro toji is a vulgar man inside and out. Itâs obvious when he tells the teenage boys to go fuck themselves when he catches them looking at you and you have to slap his bicep, or perhaps grabbing a piece of your ass while waiting in line to pay for groceries and all you can do is send him a nasty glare and a strong nudge of your elbow.
he doesnât mind his baby fighting back, especially with how easily he can overturn the tables and have you squirming and breathing heavily whenever he gets you under him in the bedroom.
it comes to light first when youâre talking with a co-worker at a company party, talking casually with them before toji comes over with both your drinks. heâs tamer, then, sucking up to your insufferable colleagues even if they didnât know what they were saying. this dude was clearly eyeing you, too, despite knowing toji was your plus one, and at that point the poor man has had enough.
âhow âbout you invite him back to our hotel and let him watch as i fuck you? maybe then he would stop fucking starinâ.â toji passes you your drink as he whispers it, albeit the last part filled with mild bitterness, not entirely as secretive as he would like to be because the colleagueâs eyes are widening immediately. he swallows his saliva at the large stature of your boyfriendâs and you just know he did it on purpose. but when you donât reply and bark back at him with annoyance, tojiâs lips curl in a smile, a light bulb going off in his head at his discovery and heâs been incessant since.
âyeah? how âbout you clean a bathroom for once, fucker,â you roll your eyes, throwing a rag into the bathroom sink, disgruntled at how your boyfriend couldnât even clean his own sink. it was beyond him to clean the place where water flowed everyday but when he told you that all you could muster was a look of disgust.
you were in no mood for him when you saw him creep in behind you in the mirror, eyes trained on the male who just mutters apologies into your neck, kissing the skin there like a tease and resist the urge to shiver, keeping up your angered expression.
until his words hit. ââm sorry baby, shoulda known better than to say stupid shit like that. how âbout i make it up to you?â
âlike what, toji? you gonna get on your hands and knees and scrub the floors yourself? cause iâd like thââ
âiâll do it,â but not for the reason you think, âiâll do it if i get to eat my pretty girlâs pussy out. and then let me pound her while she watches how good i make her feel.â
needless to say, your panties were thrown in the washing machine immediately as he made your moans echo in that squeezy bathroom, and the sink ended up being squeaky clean for the next few weeks.
itâs the best way to get you to shut up and sometimes the way your lips move as youâre rambling about something or how your figure looks as youâre reaching for the tv remote and spouting profanities is just so hypnotising. heâs obsessed with you.
toji stares blankly at you while youâre explaining the way to work the air fryer for the third time that day, and itâs not his fault youâre currently in a camisole. itâs accentuating your tits and the home shorts youâre in isnât helping either, because he can easily swipe it to the side to fuck into you.
you snap your fingers in front of his face, âwhaâ? listen to me when iâm talking to you, babe.â
toji just rolls his eyes, something he knows you hate, and he watches your outburst with a lovestruck smile. he catches your snapping hand with ease, switching to holding it. âhey! what did i say about rolling eyes?â
he leans forward, placing his other hand dangerously close to your ass, but the forehead peck distracts you. âi heard you the first time, darling.â
âyouâ!â toji just laughs at your surprise. sure, he was old as fuck but he wasnât entirely clueless about the air fryer, but he let you explain and drone on about the settings, knowing youâd be focused on the device. that way, his eyes could travel unforgivingly and just like that, the playful moment is overcome by his vulgar disposition again, the act of his body craving yours before his words made you freeze on the spot.
âbut enough about air fryers, hm?â the sight of tojiâs hand almost covering yours was enough to send you reeling, but itâs increased when he drags your hand down the hardness of his front. you can feel the ridges of his abs, down, down, down until his bulge. he guides you to squeeze his dick, a guttural groan making its way to the front of his throat. âhow âbout you show me how much your eyes can roll back as my cock disappears into you, huh?â
your breath hitches at the proposition and tojiâs smile spreads into a grin at your reaction because itâs like this every. single. time. unconsciously your hands start to undo the knot of his sweatpants, pulling it under his hardened shaft, the other sighing when your hand finally wraps around it. it aches so much that he finds himself thrusting into your hand briefly before you start stroking.
toji gathers a blob of spit on his tongue and maintains eye contact, spitting directly onto his cock for some lubrication and you take a deep breath, slick noises sounding out throughout the house. he makes sure to do it again later. âgetting it ready for your pretty little cunt, arenât you? filthy girlâ f-fuckâŚâ
the words make you rub your thighs together, stepping closer to him while you continue stroking, up, down and up, down, determined to give him a taste of his own medicine. pushing him until youâre out of the kitchen, he lets you shove him onto the couch, a loud groan leaving his lips when you descend to your knees and your mouth closes around his cock.
âsâbig,â you whimper, swirling your tongue around his angry tip and going back to deepthroating him, desperate to feel his dick down your throat.
âohâ s-shit, baby,â toji pulls back the hair from your head, seeing your eyes barely being able to focus as it hits the back of your throat, âthatâs it⌠suck it like the dirty whore you are.â
the degradation is reason enough for you to bob your head quickly, moaning around his length as your mouth drips drool mixed with the pre-cum from his tip. toji chokes out your name, hips bucking into your warm mouth while your hands find purchase on his thick thighs, taking him down your throat until your nose meets his pelvis. soon heâs cumming down your throat with grunts, feeling the hot semen rush into your cavern.
âstay there, good fuckinâ girl,â the other groans out when your eyes shift to him, swallowing bits of his cum with a small stream of tears filling your lash line that threaten to fall. he notices your hand sneaking into your panties and he smirks, bringing you off his cock to catch your breath. you sputter and gasp, hand still lightly wrapped around him. heâs still hard after cumming, but heâs also more sensitive.
âcan i ride you now?â you ask like itâs any other question, shimmying out of your underwear before wasting no time to straddle him. his tip pokes your pussy and you grab him, dragging him up and down your folds to collect your slick. before long, youâre grinding on the bottom of his shaft, your labia spread along his dick and toji is charmed by how you move on him with needy moans and two hands on his torso.
âsure ya can, doll, butâŚâ you can tell tojiâs impatient, as with you, so with a roll of your eyes (toji mumbles under his breath that youâre a hypocrite), you sink down slowly on him, the arousal of your cunt wet enough to take him without prep. inch by inch you take him deep, head thrown back as toji enjoys the view â the curve of your body, how your nipples poke through your camisole â and he smiles as his baby calls out his name from being so full.
âo-oh my god⌠tojiââ the last bits of his name fades out when he moves his hips experimentally, the pain soon fading into pleasure and the feel of his cock in you causes you to lean forward.
âyes?â he grins, body now propped up with his elbows, meeting you halfway, âis my princess tired already?â
ân-no, i can do it,â you mewl when your hips start to bounce, the stretch of his dick feeling so good. heâs reaching places in you that you canât even fathom, âi can take youâŚâ
toji groans softly at your declaration, body twisted in such pleasure as you soon find a rhythm on him, relishing in the way toji watches you with lust in his eyes. he helps you with a hand on your hips, but the other pushes your top past your tits, mouth latching onto your nipple and taking one into his mouth and the gesture halts your movement for a bit. a chill runs through your body as he swirls his tongue around your bud, a breathless moan leaving you as toji looks up at you through hooded eyes.
itâs got you clenching, and toji hums into your chest, moving to your other nipple before releasing it with a pop! âtired?â
you make a small sound of agreement, the sensations of his thick cock in you paired with his lips on your tits and the burn of your thighs too much for you. he happily indulges you, bringing your body close to him before he plants his feet on the sofa and fucks up into you, a choked moan leaving you. that one thrust was just to tease you, limping into his embrace as he hears the slap of his balls onto your ass.
âyouâre taking me alright,â toji laughs, cut off by a moan when he continues his ministrations, entranced by how youâre so wet you manage to leak down his length. with how your pussy is drooling, he rams into you easily, obscene noises of your sopping cunt against his pelvis as your sounds of pleasure comes out in little breaths.
âso wet,â toji comments softly, cock twitching from how your boobs felt against him and how your pussy feels so damn tight. it hugs him so snugly he has to will himself not to cum, but youâre making it difficult by how you call out his name in whines. âdonât tell me she was wet earlier already?â
you can hardly focus on his questions as he bullies his cock into you, body rocking from his relentless hips and the friction of your clit against his skin, but you mutter out a yes, a high-pitched one thatâs got toji chuckling.
âmy baby loves it when i talk dirty, huh?â you whine into his neck, arms tightening around his neck, âshe loves it when i tell her how much i want to slam my cock into her pussy, yeah?â toji is ruthless, continuing to thrust while his words have very much the same effect. âor maybe she wants me to say how i want to cum deep in her cunt, filling her to the brim. shit⌠does she want me to fuck a baby into her?â
you clamp down around his cock with a loud moan and he stutters, âgotta stop clenching around me, darlinâ, f-fuck.â
ây-yeah⌠wanâ thatâŚâ you pull away from your hiding place to babble out, eyes close to closing and drool dripping down the sides of your mouth. âwanâ all your cum, daddy.â
toji sucks in a breath at the name drop and in a second, heâs switching the positions. he admires the sweat on your skin and your heaving chest, and for the first time heâs able to see just how soaking wet you are, along with the stretch of your pussy on him.
âwanâ you to make me a mommyâŚâ you mewl softly, and thatâs all it takes for the other to start moving again because if itâs anything he loves more than seeing you crumble at his words, itâs how you tell him what you want.
you can feel toji twitch in you at that, but you have close to no strength, letting him thrust into you with vigour thatâs running out too â heâs too besotted with your moans and face thatâs morphed into pleasure, along with your whiny pleas.
âcâmon, open your mouth, mama,â toji pulls on your bottom lip with his thumb, âstick out ya tongue.â
you obey, hand squeezing his bicep as he gathers saliva in his mouth again, thrusts stopping briefly. he can feel your hips move, but youâre still focused on how toji purses his lips and how the spit leaves his lips â the long line of spit that descends slowly onto your tongue and the tension that surrounds it tells him you love it.
âattagirl,â he grins, wiping the corners of your cavern as the pace starts up again, and itâs so sudden you already feel like cumming.
âgânna cum, daddy,â you mutter out, legs closing around him when you feel the familiar coil of your abdomen and toji just holds you closer, intoxicated with the moment that he wants it to last. âgonnaââ
your eyes are blown wide when toji secretly reaches down to press a thumb into your clit, drawing lazy circles. thatâs enough for your orgasm to come crashing down on you, pussy clenching hard on the other.
âdaddyâ oh my god!â toji still continues to rail into you, whimpers of his name spurring him on until youâre moaning out again as his cock spurts his cum deep in your cunt, filling you with his load until it spills out.
toji immediately drops down and starts to lap at your clit, a first class seat to his cum leaking from your pussy, laughing when you hardly care about it staining the sofa, too cockdrunk to care about reprimanding him.
âso pliant,â toji uses a finger to push his cum into you, âmaybe i should get you like this more often, heh.â
#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen toji#fushiguro toji smut#fushiguro toji x reader#toji smut#toji x reader#jjk headcanons#jjk x reader#toji x you#toji fushiguro smut#jjk toji#toji fushiguro#fushiguro toji x you#jjk scenarios#jjk smut#jjk drabbles
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âSit down, Simon,â you instructed.
Simon sat on the chair you placed in front of the mirror. You, then, sat on his lap.
âPut your arms around me and make yourself comfortable,â you continued.
Simon put his arms around you from the back, at first around your waist. He buried half his face on your neck, tickling it somehow and making you tip your head to your shoulder as a giggle came out of your lips.
âTickles,â you said.
âHow âbout you sit facing the other side?â Simon suggested.
You got off his lap and sat on it again, this time sideways.
âLike this?â you asked.
âYeah,â Simon confirmed.
With so, Simon locked his arms around you again. One went around your back with the hand resting on your far shoulder. The other went around your waist.
Simon pressed the side of his face against your free shoulder. That way you could put your cheek on his head. You repositioned a few things. Maybe your legs or your arms or Simonâs.Â
The two of you stayed like that for some time, looking at yourselves in the mirror afterwards.
âThat looks good?â you asked, looking at him next to you.
âI think so, yeah,â Simon answered.
âAlright. Weâll be here for a few hours, let me know if your legs are asleep,â you said.
With that, you started sketching your media of drawing or painting of your choice whilst Simon watched.
âCanât you just take a picture of us like this and draw from the picture?â Simon asked.
âHow are we supposed to be spending time together, then?â you asked back.
âThatâs your excuse?â Simon challenged. âWell, itâs a good one.â
âI know,â you smiled.
Simon reached his hand into his pocket and took out his phone.
âPut your hand back where it belongs,â you warned.
âJust a second,â Simon said, opening the camera on his phone.
Simon put the phone ahead to the mirror and took a few snap of photos.Â
âWhatâs that for?â you asked.
âYou donât wanna take pictures, itâs fine, but I do,â Simon said.
Simon soon put his phone away and returned his hand on you. He went back to watch you do your magic.
You occasionally looked in the mirror, getting back to your pose with Simon before going back into your art.
âYouâre pretty good at this,â Simon said. âVery talented.â
âWell, thank you, Iâve practised,â you replied.
âCanât believe my love is gorgeous as they are talented,â Simon hummed.
You stopped your creation for a second and looked at him with a smile that just showed up on your face.
âIf you keep flattering me, I might have to draw you shirtless,â you said.
âYou want me to take my shirt off now?â Simon asked.
âMaybe for the next one?â you replied.
âThe next one?â Simon repeated.
âYou donât think this is just a one time thing, do you?â you questioned.
âWell, youâre lucky I got plenty of time,â Simon said.
âGood,â you chuckled before continuing your art.
Shoutout to the fanartist and people who know how to draw because they're fucking amazing.
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Paradise
word count; 550 â f!reader
You just finished feeding your baby in the nursery before heading down the hallway to check in where your husband was responsible for getting your daughter ready for her first day in school. As you hear him talk, you stop behind the wall, silently leaning against it to take in the slow moment of the morning and listen to two of the three most precious people in your life.
âWhat do you want for your hair, princess? I was thinking this, maybe?â Tendo said, and you could just imagine him holding up the accessories he thought she looked the cutest with. Your husband might have seemed excited to help her get ready, but you knew him well enough to hear the nervousness behind it. Itâs her first day at school and Tendo never had the most luck making friends when he was her age. How unlucky his daughter was to inherit so much of him, he thought sometimes. Curse his insecure thoughts, but he worried for her. âThis bow suits your hair colour.â Her fiery red hair.
âCan you do the ballerina bun with the bow, s'il vous plait?â she asked, ever so politely practising her French.
âI can try, but it might not be as good as when your mom does it.â he said with a soft chuckle, already getting the hair gel and proper brush from the cupboard. Your daughter hummed her little songs, reminding you so much of your husband who somehow could follow along with her made-up lyrics.
Satori carefully distributed the tiniest amount of gel he would need throughout her hair and brushed it back, muttering small sorries when it looked like he pulled on some hair he didnât mean to. After finally getting it in a hair tie, he had to stop and actually breathe. Thatâs when he noticed a small bump or two on one side, but he knew you could fix that later so he got started on the bun. The final product was nothing short of pretty good.
Your daughter carefully turned around on the step she stood on in front of the sink. âUp, up!â Satori lifted her and spun her around once when she made grabby hands for him to pick her up. Her giggles were such a joy that always filled your house with love. Satori was already thinking that they needed to take lots of pictures before you all left, but then his daughter's arms blocked his vision of the mirror. She was less carefully placing a matching bow in his hair, which the hair clip could barely hold on to at this length. It had grown out a bit since he shaved it last, so the clip held on for now. Pulling her hands back, she smiled at him and clapped. âIt suits our hair colour, daddy!â
And when he looked at his beautiful daughter, he didnât just see what he used to dislike about himself. He also saw so much of you. Your nose, your smile, your love. His daughter is really the most perfect thing he ever laid his eyes on, except maybe you.
Maybe he should trust that the universe has a plan for her, just like it gifted him with this family. His paradise.
âLetâs go make some new friends, miracle girl.â
masterlist
#tendou x you#haikyuu#haikyu#tendou satori#tendou x reader#tendo satori#tendo x reader#haikyuu tendou#haikyuu fluff#haikyu x reader#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#hq#fanfiction
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i wanna hold the hand inside you | r.itoshi
You think of Itoshi Rin, your first love, often; the one who never was and the one who got away. Unexpectedly, you find yourself reuniting with the boy you once knew right in front of your apartment.
cw: f!reader, reader has a habit of skin-picking, soft angst w/ happy ending, suggestive, slight hand obsession?
â âŚ
You always feel uglier after you pick at your skin. Which defeats the purpose because you do it to rid yourself of an imperfection you've stumbled upon. And yet, after all is said and done and the skin has grown irritated, all you can think about is how you've only gotten uglier.
You used to pick at your face, scratching at any bumps or texture you spot in the mirror, but you've gotten better about it now. You've stopped doing it on your face altogether. It was one too many people who thought they were close enough with you to inadvertently call you ugly. You're pretty sure the first to do it had been Itoshi Sae, your neighbour two houses down. Back then, when you were only eight, you hadn't cared that he thought your habit was unbecoming. It didn't matter what Sae thought â you had Rin.
One day, you realised you didn't really have Rin either.
Since then, you've moved onto your hands.
Your face is the important part, no one ever really looks at hands. You might think about it if you were to give a handshake, but when you think of that person from memory later that day, you'll think of their face. As long as your face is left alone, it doesn't matter what happens to the skin around your nails.
But you like looking at hands. They reveal so much about someone. Whether or not they clean their nails, if they paint them, if their hands are soft or calloused â all of these things are like clues that fit together to form the bigger picture of their life. Your own hands must give away the parts of you that you would prefer to stay hidden â like the fact that you pick at your skin. Itoshi Rin has beautiful hands. His hands were pretty enough that you were glad he played a sport that relied on his legs and feet instead. You never told him that you thought so; he probably would have called you strange should he have found out.
He never seemed to value you in the same way you valued him.
You pull at your skin again, pushing it down with the edge of your nail just until you feel the sharp sting of it having gone too far. It's boring at your job, nothing much to do or see. You sit on an ergonomic moving chair behind a large wooden desk, adjusting calendars and making appointments. There isn't much mystique to your job, nothing to write home about, but it gets you through life just fine. Glancing over at the time, you decide to click through and answer a few more emails in time for lunch to roll around.
In junior high, you had wanted to be an artist. You joined the art club and begged your family to let you participate in painting and sketching classes. You kept sketchbook after sketchbook filled with doodles and things â mostly of hands. It's been a long running obsession of yours. You used to draw faces but ever since you stopped messing with your face, your drawings of them phased out too.
In senior high, a teacher told you that artists don't make money from drawing hands all day. It irked you enough that you let go of that dream. You wanted to become a nail technician, you decided. The day you changed your dream, you went to tell the only person you considered close enough to tell; you went to tell Rin. It was that day that you had to come to the startling realisation that your best friend didn't seem to consider you much of a friend anymore. You spent all of your lunch break looking for him, only to find him practising at the field behind your school. When you called out to him, he ignored you. He stopped answering your texts too. You discarded the sliver of hope you had kept safe within your chest â the very thing that made you believe you would get Rin back soon. Something had changed in him and you didn't know what because he never told you.
(Because he never seemed to value you in the same way you valued him.)
You found other friends. Rin always seemed to be alone. He pulled out of school for a football program a week later, and you decided to give up on becoming a nail technician.
There's a soft beep that rings out from your phone â just one singular chime at the lowest volume you set on your first day on the job â when it's time for your lunch break. You always take it at the same tonkatsu shop seven minutes away from your place of work.
Today, it takes you ten minutes to get there because the heels you've chosen to wear are new ones; you haven't broken them in yet. You bought them for a date that you never ended up going to. Guilt over standing them up had consumed you but you just couldn't muster up the courage to go. You were all too aware of the fact that some pathetic part of you was still clinging onto a boy you haven't seen for a long time.
You remember the brush of the wind through his fringe, the sharp determined glint in his emerald eyes. You still hold onto the way his name once had a home at the tip of your tongue. Even as the years pass, Itoshi Rin digs his teeth into your skin and remains with you; parasitic and tormenting.
You ease yourself into the table in the corner and make your order, scrolling through your phone while you wait. Your feed is full of recent news, some things you understand and others you're not quite sure you get. Rin is there too, mixed in between all the posts about celebrities and new dramas. You were always bad at watching football. You were bad with most sports, they could never keep your interest for long, but you tried for Rin's sake. When the both of you were younger, you'd sit on the grass at the park and watch Rin run through the drills he'd seen his brother do earlier.
As you stare at the pictures of him standing on the pitch, stadium lights spilling down on him, you can't help but feel proud. Sweat glistens along his hairline, his hair still cut in the same way he used to have it when you knew him. The captain's armband is stretched tight around his bicep as his arm curls to hold up a trophy.
The swell in your chest comes with an ache you've never learned to get rid of. This ache that's ever-present, always there like a guest you can't seem to send home. It had only been a small sting when your friendship with Rin fully fell apart, but it grew tenfold when you realised you were in love with him. You pick at your skin again, the same place from earlier. Pain blooms at your fingertip but you choose to ignore it as you scroll past the pictures; your heart squeezes and shudders against your will, even after all these years.
The day inches past, sweat gathers along the nape of your neck. You leave the building at five precisely, stagger into the subway station at half past five, and sink into a navy blue seat at a quarter to six. The backs of your brand new heels dig into your ankles and you're certain there will be blisters when you yank them off at home.
Even still, your day has been a good one. Despite the fact that your mother had called and urged you to visit home; despite today marking the anniversary you first met Itoshi Rin; despite the way your heart always sinks at the realisation that you still remember the significance of what should be another meaningless day. Despite it all, it had been good and you stare at the passerby walking along the platform, head pressed against the cool window.
(You wonder about Rin once more, like you always do. You wonder if he's walking amongst a crowd this evening, perhaps something fried in his hand, keeping his palm warm. Maybe he's holding a drink instead â lukewarm green tea. In another world, it might have been your hand.)
The train shakes to a start, rocking you from side to side and it becomes impossible to keep yourself awake. You drift off to the memory of a boy you once knew.
-
You're sure you're bleeding. The skin around your index nail is irritated, throbbing with a dull pain. Similarly, there's a sting â a quick flash of something white hot up your left calf â whenever you take a step. Your blister must have turned into a cut.
Your soles scrape against the road, shoulders loose and hunched forward as you meander your way home. The sun has set, disappearing into the skyline in the distance as the sky grows darker and the wind picks up. Streetlights have flickered to life and you pass by a salon still packed with customers, women resting against soft cushions as they converse. You roll your neck from side to side, attempting to release some of the tension that has gathered along your muscles from staying seated almost all day, fingers loosely wrapped around the straps of your bag.
Eyes trained on the fading white marks beneath your feet, you turn the corner into the alleyway you apartment building sits in. There's a crunch of someone taking a step towards you, and then â the call of your name, familiar, wrapped up in the gravelly tone of a voice too rough to belong to the boy you once knew. But you know it's him, anyway.
"Rin?" you tilt your head to the side, scanning over his features as he stands against the sunlight, soft shadows marking his pale skin. He remains silent, almost stunned as he stands across from you, so you speak again, "It's been a while."Â
He doesnât smile, but the corners of his mouth twitch in a way that suggests one. Rin is wearing a dark windbreaker, hands stuffed into its pockets. There's a loose thread hanging off the cuff around his wrist, a tiny rip of the outer fabric revealing the slight grey beneath. He clears his throat, "Yes, it has been." There's a pause then, neither of you willing to bridge the gap in conversation as the exhaust fans whir quietly.Â
"How have you been?" Rin asks, taking a step towards you. You can smell him now, flowery and sweet; its lavender, which is what you had remembered him as. In a way, it comforts you â some things will stay the same and stand the test of time, no matter how many years have inched by.
âIâve been good,â you hum. Truthfully, you havenât quite been good in a long time. Youâve been alright, youâve made it from day to day, you pay your bills on time and you see your friends every other weekend; but itâs not good â it's just alright. You donât think Rin needs to hear that, not after how long it has been since you last heard his voice following after your own.Â
It's strange to think about how his mother knows your name and your face, knows that you like lemonade with some raspberry in it; how Rin was there to witness the way you got every fading scar on your arms and legs. Standing before him now, you don't even know what his apartment might look like. Your lives, which were once so intricately intertwined, have unravelled and diverged to the point of obscurity. Â
You've given him the room to say something, continue the conversation or choose to end it, but Rin is quiet as he takes you in. His brows are furrowed, just a shaky line above his dark eyes as watches you fidget and begin to grow uncomfortable under the weight of stare.Â
This silence is far too heavy of a burden for you to shoulder, so you cut through with a question that seems a bit out of place now. "What are you doing here?"Â
Your voice seems to snap him out of whatever trance he was previously in, "I was out on a walk â wandering around, I guess." Rin shuffles even closer and the wind billows, rustling the fabric of his windbreaker. You watch his hair flutter and fall against his forehead.
"I would have thought that you'd be busy all the time, seeing as you're a celebrity now," you say with a soft laugh, twisting the ends of your coat between your fingers while your bag swings gently from side to side in your other hand.Â
He doesn't seem to like that, gaze sharpening just a bit as his mouth curves into a frown. You chew on your bottom lip, feeling a bottomless pit open up inside of your stomach at the realisation that it's become so much harder to talk to the boy who used to be your best friend. (To talk to the boy who you used to love â who you are willing to love once again.)Â
It's getting colder as the remaining tendrils of sun slowly disappear, hiding away to make room for the moon to shine. You nod at your apartment, "Would you...like to come inside?" You expect him to say no, after all, the two of you are no longer the people you remember each other to be.Â
Surprisingly, Rin perks up at your question, firmly nodding once. He follows after you as you walk over to your front door, fishing around the front pocket of your bag for your keys. Rin stands a hair's width away from you, his warm breath fanning over the back of your neck and goosebumps ripple down your arms.Â
You watch him study your home, scrutinising your choice of decor â the small pictures framed on the walls, magazines and books strewn about â as he takes off his shoes. He seems to be drawn to the picture resting on one of your shelves: it's of you and him, years ago, standing next to each other with smiles full of missing teeth that look more like grimaces. You were hoping he wouldn't notice that one, one of the only pictures you've kept of and from your childhood, but you can't blame him for it either. Had it been you, that picture would have been the first one you noticed too.
"You kept this?" he's nearly whispering as he gently takes the ageing framed photo in his hands.Â
You rest your bag on the floor, "Yeah. Mom gave it to me right before I moved out." He turns back to look at you and his next words are unspoken, but still so loud.Â
You hadn't just kept it â you framed it, placed it in your living room for everyone to see. His expression crumbles momentarily, a quiet admission of guilt that settles in the short distance between you. Rin must not have kept much of you with him. He never says it outright, but you know better. Maybe that should leave you feeling bitter but it's somehow exactly what you expected of him.Â
Has Itoshi Rin changed at all from the last time you saw him? Do you just know him too well?Â
Dusting off your clothes, you take a deep breath, "It's getting late. Want dinner?"
Rin agrees. Like you were expecting him to.
-
You've never liked beer.
But you find yourself peering into a glass full of it as Rin settles in across from you. You're still in your work attire, the waistband of your skirt digging into your stomach after your full meal. Rin's left his windbreaker in a crumpled heap of fabric beside his chair, the tip of his finger drawing lines in the condensation forming on his glass. His nails are well-groomed, cut short and clean. They might be better than yours, but thatâs because Rin doesnât pick at his skin like you do. You stare until you think you shouldnât anymore.Â
He hasn't gotten up to leave. You haven't kicked him out.Â
Resting your cheek against your fist, you push yourself forward, closer to him. Your slight movement draws his attention away from the glass, Rin looks up at you as his frown eases up.Â
"It's strange seeing you," you admit, more open to honesty thanks to your slight state of inebriation. "Strange seeing you after so many years."Â
"You have that picture," he scoffs, jerking his head in the vague direction of the picture of the two of you as kids.Â
Scrunching up your nose, you lean back against the chair, "Yeah, but you don't look like that anymore. You're taller and you have too many teeth." You take a sip of your beer, feeling it fizz against your top lip, "And you're probably meaner now."Â
He startles, looks offended when he throws back whatever's left in his glass. "I'm not mean."Â
You raise a brow, "You were already pretty mean when you left me." You shock yourself at how easily the words slipped past your lips, how little hesitation there was. How you still sounded so hurt over it all despite having spent years convincing yourself that you didn't miss him. The treacherous muscle beating within your ribcage twists and shakes. It only takes a moment for understanding to soften the glare Rin is giving you. Reaching over, you grab the can of beer to refill his glass, cursing under your breath when you realise it's empty. "I'll get some more â just wait."
You dig around in your refrigerator and you can feel Rin watching. "You're bleeding," he says.Â
"It's nothing," you wave him off, returning with another cold can.Â
He shakes his head, "Do you have bandages?"
And so you find yourself with your chest pressed against the cushions of your couch, ankles hanging off the edge. You spare Rin a glance over your shoulder, awkwardness leaving you silent and rigid. He's kneeling beside you, holding two bandages he insisted he get for you from the years old first aid kit stashed away in your medicine cabinet.Â
"You don't have to do this you know," you mumble, pinching at the inside of your cheek with your teeth. "I could have done it myself."Â
Rin gently grabs your ankle, his fingers are cold enough to make you jolt. "It's fine," he brushes off your words with nothing more than a grumble. "This could get infected," he adds on as he places the band-aid over the cut.Â
His hands are on you, fingers wrapped around your ankle almost completely. He skims them over your skin and you suppress a shiver. You think you should tell him that his hands are pretty â that they have always been pretty â but you bite your tongue.Â
Your cuts don't hurt as much as they had earlier, and the blood surrounding them has dried down. You're sure nothing would have come of it being left uncovered, but Rin seems adamant on doing this simple task for you. You wonder if part of it has anything to do with being labelled as "mean."Â
He shuffles over to your other ankle, jeans brushing against your rug, as does the same thing. It's been too long since you've been taken care of like this â the feeling has become wholly foreign and you struggle to sit still while Rin smooths out the band-aid over your skin. When he stands up, you twist around and slouch your back against the couch, facing him.Â
Rin looms over you. He brushes some hair out of his eyes and sits down next to you. "I'm on a break â I'll be around a lot more."
You glance at him from the corner of your eye, "Around to see me?"Â
And perhaps, you're imagining it, the way he moves closer so that his thigh is pushed up against it. Perhaps, you're imagining how he's leaned into you. Rin's temple makes contact with your shoulder and you exhale.Â
"Yes," he whispers, looking up at you through his lashes." To see you." You can recognise the guilt swimming in his gaze, leftover from earlier in the evening.
You wish he would just say it â say sorry â but your heart yearns for him regardless of what he's said and what he should have said. It's ridiculous; it was years ago and you should have moved on. (And you know that the only reason it hurt as badly as it did was the fact that you had loved him twice as much when things soured.) You're motivated by the ache you've grown accustomed to when you bring your hand to his hair, digging your fingers in, scratching at his scalp. Much like a cat, Rin goes limp against you and you trace the side of his face with the pad of your thumb.Â
You try to hide your other hand, feeling somewhat self-conscious about the way youâve torn it up. Rin reaches for it without a second thought, lacing his fingers together with your own, oblivious to all the rough parts youâve left behind with your habit.Â
"What if I don't want to see you?" you question. You don't really mean it â you hope he knows.Â
You can feel his breath, feel the rise and fall of his chest as he speaks, "I would wait until you said you wanted to."Â
"Even if that took years?" You pause your movements, hand still in his hair. Rin draws a gasp out from you when he presses a fluttering kiss against your wrist â a nervous kiss, one that tests the waters.Â
"Even then," he says.Â
You don't know who leans in first, you want to say it's Rin but you, with your years of yearning, are not to be trusted either. His cold palms cup your face, lips parting against your own, his tongue meeting yours. He kisses you hungrily, eagerly, desperate to make up for years of lost time and memories that were meant to be shared by two but left to be held by just one instead. It almost hurts â when his teeth sink into your lip and you whimper, Rin snaps his eyes open. He licks over where he bit, fingers digging into your cheeks.Â
You like the feeling of his hands on you. You want them everywhere, you decide. Rin tugs at your collar, unbuttons your shirt quickly, his hands splayed out over your sides and just grazing your bra. It's only then that you pull away, chest heaving as you stare up at him.
"Will you discard me again?" Your voice sounds almost meek in a way; you're afraid of what he might say and of what you might see. Too scared to see him hesitate, too scared to meet his eyes and not see yourself reflected in them.
But Rin's answer is instantaneous. His gaze has darkened some, lust-blown and riddled with the yearning that's been growing in your chest for years. His palm encircles your wrist, the other wraps around your waist chasing purchase. "Never," he says with a kind of conviction that leaves butterflies erupting at your fingertips.Â
While his hand travels up your back, he kisses you again and this time it feels different. He moves up your wrist, intertwining your fingers once more. You know you have him in all the ways that he has you.Â
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Lights in the Floors, and Sweat on the Walls
(4.5k) You see a mystery brunette at a work party nursing a whiskey, one drink turns to another, and nothing could've prepared you for the night. tw: mild dom/sub dynamics a/n: this is honestly concerningly vanilla to me but i really liked the idea of a kinda workplace romance (mighttttt be a series) so here y'all go
⌠. ăâş ă . ⌠. ăâş ă . ⌠. ăâş ă . ⌠. ăâş ă . ⌠. ăâş ă . ⌠. ăâş ă . âŚ
The music was thumping loud enough to aggravate you further. You couldn't help but think that just because someone was signed to the label, didnât mean they had to play their music at parties.
You felt your phone buzz and reached into your purse when a woman walked towards you, dressed completely inappropriately for a work party.
You sighed inwardly and plastered on a fake smile. It was probably the wife of one of yet another operations executive who thought schmoozing up to anyone who worked in management would get their husbands a promotion.
If thatâs how people got higher up in this industry, wouldnât everyone do it? Her nasal voice broke your train of thought.
âHello, you must be Mrs. (Y/L/N). Iâm Jan Harmon, you must know my husband, Gavin. He works in Budgeting. Itâs a pleasure to meet you. Gavin has nothing but praise for you.â She spoke with the ease of someone who had practised this in her bedroom mirror a lot of times.
âItâs Ms. (Y/L/N),â You corrected coolly, âAnd no, Iâm sorry, I donât think I know him. I donât work directly with a lot of people.â You smiled, faking regret, as she went away, simpering. You were thinking about just how Gavin Harmon could get that raise he was pandering for when your gaze caught on a man in a russet suit.
He was nursing a glass of what looked like whiskey in his hands as he stared around the room. You couldn't help but think that was weird. Sure, it was a casual event for everyone working for the label, and their plus-ones, but it wasnât casual enough to be a whiskey kind of event.
What was even more weird to you, though, was the fact that he was standing alone at a party like this. You worked with people for a living, and the way he held himself made it clear that something was off.
You watched as he looked down, noticed his glass was empty, and went back to looking around the room. He was so intriguing.
You made your way to the bar and ordered two whiskeys, waiting on them when you noticed the man walking towards the bar. Just then, the barman slid the two tumblers towards you. The man had taken a stool just off to your right, and you slid the glass across the wooden countertop, praying it didnât bump and splatter all over him
It didnât. It stopped against his forearm, sloshing inside the glass a little but thankfully none came out. He had his head in his hands, thumbs massaging his temples. At the sudden touch, he looked up, confused. His eyes were a startlingly clear blue, you noticed vaguely. You nodded at him with a small smirk. He blinked a few times, clearly dazed, before giving you a weak smile as he took the glass into his hands.
You got up, your glass clutched in your hand as you quickly walked over to your assistant, Blakely, nodding, as you stood in front of her.
âWhat have you been up to?â She whispered to you, her eyes focused somewhere behind over your shoulder.
âNothing, Iâve been dealing with people begging me for promotions all night.â You looked at her from the corner of your eye. âWhy, Blake? Something wrong?â She narrowed her eyes at you. âYouâre telling me you havenât noticed that guy ogling you?â She whispered disbelievingly.Â
âHuh? Who?â You asked, feigning confusion. She held you by your shoulders, pulling you so that you were standing beside her. âHim!â She whispered, tilting her chin slightly to the man from before.Â
You watched wordlessly as he brought the glass to his lips and threw his head back, downing all of the liquor in one go. That mustâve burnt, you found yourself thinking. There was an air of melancholy that hung about him and you couldn't help but want to know more. Know what mustâve happened that had him drinking whiskey at a work party. Know him.
Blakely elbowed you, âHello? Earth calling?â You pulled my eyes away from him, turning to face her. âWhat? Who is he?â You whispered back sharply, to which she raised an eyebrow. âYou donât know who one of the biggest popstars right now is?â she asked.
âI donât have time to keep up with them, I couldnât care less!â You burst out. âJesus, woman!â She gasped exasperatedly, shaking her head.
You were about to reply to her when you saw another woman in a slinky dress coming your way and quickly threw back the whiskey. You were gonna need it, by the look of her.
âUgh, another one. Gotta go, Blake. Talk soon.â You whispered to her as you plastered on a smile.Â
⌠. ăâş ă . ⌠. ăâş ă . ⌠. ăâş ă . ⌠. ăâş ă . ⌠. ăâş ă . ⌠. ăâş ă . âŚ
You were right about the whiskey. The rest of the night passed by in a daze, people coming randomly, wanting to chat. You kept catching sight of the man from before, here and there; sometimes absorbed in a conversation, mostly just nursing a glass by himself.
The party was coming to an end and you thought it would be appropriate to get drunk now, all the polished teeth and botoxed cheeks had made your head throb.
You had just sat down on the stool, looking to check if Blakely was around, when a glass slid across the countertop and bumped into my forearm. You looked up, surprised, and saw the man from before looking at you intently.
You raised an eyebrow questioningly at him, lips quirking up slightly and he stood up and walked over, taking the stool beside yours. His fingers were still wrapped around a crystal glass.
He cleared his throat before looking at you. âThanks for the drink earlier, it hasnât been the best day, if you were wonderinâ. Let me return the favour. Pay you back, if you will.â
He slurred his sâ ever so slightly as he spoke, and you couldnât quite place his accent. His voice sounded smooth despite the drinks, so you figured he wasnât an executive; he must be an artist signed to the label.
âItâs a party, hon?â You replied sarcastically. This was all a bit ridiculous.
He shot you a dazzling smile, âNot the way I intended to return the favour, darlinââ he said suggestively with a small wink.
His accent made everything that came out of his mouth salacious, you thought in a fugue. You would be lying if you said the way he spoke didnât make you clench your thighs together, his tone making obvious what words didn't.
Your eyebrows went up in surprise as you considered his offer. You didnât have much to do tomorrow, just one meeting, and it was quite late. And he looked like he would be a good time.
You shifted on your stool, turning towards him slightly so that your knee brushed his thigh. He inhaled sharply, his teeth sinking into his lower lip for a split second. His fingers tightened around the glass. They were long, the pads looked rough, you noticed, your mind jumping to scenarios that were definitely not appropriate for a work party either. He caught your eye, staring intensely and you gave him a small smirk, dropping your eyes to his lips.Â
He pushed his glass away as he stood up, eyes still fixed on you.
You took a few seconds to throw back the whiskey heâd gotten. Wouldnât wanna let it go to waste, you thought. And as you stood up, you saw a look of worry fleet over his face.
You realised he mustâve thought you were going to reject his offer for a split second and had to suppress a laugh at that.
He waited until you were a step ahead of him and put his hand on the small of you back. âThis okay?â he whispered, hot breath fanning across the back of your neck. You nodded, âBetter than okay,â
He smirked slightly, and a small dimple popped out on his left cheek
âYouâre too forward for someone whose name I donât even know,â You said, as the two of you headed toward the door.
âYou donât know who I am, darlin'?â he asked, disbelief apparent in his voice.
âNope,â You shrugged with a little laugh, popping the p. âBut I want to,â You said as you turned a little to catch his eyes. You put your palm on his chest to motion for him to stop, and he obliged, a slight frown of confusion creasing his brow.
You leaned in on my tiptoes; he had a few inches on you despite your heels. âI want to know what Iâll be screaming tonight,â You said with a smirk, noticing his eyes darken, the clear blue turning stormy.
â âM Nameâs Niall, princess.â he murmured
You turned as you took his hand, placing it on your waist, and resumed walking. âWell, Niall - My hotel or yours?â You whispered, turning to him slightly.
âMine,â He replied, a small rasp in his voice already at your forwardness. âItâs just two blocks down. I messaged my driver, heâll be here soon.â
You nodded at him, not trusting yourself to say anything. There was something about his voice that made you doubt my ability to think straight.
We stepped out, crisp autumn air feeling cool against your skin.
You hadn't even realised how your skin had been prickling until now.
You watched Niall out of the corner of your eye, as you stood there silently, air thick with tension. âI never caught your name,â he asked shortly.
â(Y/N),â You replied with a small smile. He shot me a quick smile back, but his was loaded with all his intentions for the night. He repeated your name slowly, syllables rolling off his tongue, slightly broadened by his accent. "It's pretty. But I think I like 'princess' better" He smirked and I felt like my collar was suddenly too tight.
His eyes werenât on you anymore, as he pointedly looked around for his car. It was almost like he didnât trust himself to look at you and not do anything heâd regret later. You couldnât help but smirk at the thought.
He suddenly said, âHeâs here,â before taking your waist again to lead your to his car. You reached out to open the door, but he stopped you, reaching out himself âLeast I can do, and I donât mean it chauvinistically.â He said with a small smile.
You couldnât help but smile back as you slid in, waiting as Niall followed suit. He nodded to the driver and the screen came up, separating him from us, granting us some privacy.
He sat close, his thigh not quite touching mine, but close enough so that you could feel the warmth radiating off him. He smelt like spices and sandalwood, you noticed, taking a deep breath before shifting slightly to the left, so that your thigh was flush against his.
Niall turned to look at you, âToo bad youâre wearinâ pants,â he whispered mischievously âOr I couldâve had you screaminâ my name right here.â
âSomeoneâs cocky,â You smirked at him, trying to ignore how you felt a rush of warmth between your thighs.
âOh, I have plenty of reasons to be, love,â he said, even cockier this time.
It wouldâve gotten on your nerves had his hand not suddenly landed on your thigh. His thumb traced patterns mindlessly over the fabric, going slightly higher each time, eyes watching your face for your reaction.
You didnât want to give in too easily but you couldnât help but squirm a little, trying to get him where youâd rather have him. He tutted lightly, âThat wonât do, pet. Patience.â He smugly drew his hand away, smirking.
It was just two blocks, why was it taking so much time? The lights were dimmed through the tinted windows, but we were stuck in a spot of traffic.
You decided not to worry about it, hand reaching out to the now-obvious bulge in his pants. You laid my palm over it, one finger tracing the outline of the head of his cock.
Niall mumbled a little, âFeisty, arenât ya?â from between his teeth. You chuckled, squeezed lightly, watching his breathing speed up. The way he threw his head back and closed his eyes made your breath hitch in your throat.
He bucked up into your hand a little, craving more friction, letting out some of the most delicious sounds you'd ever heard. You quickly drew your hand back, tutting, âThat wonât do, pet. Patience.â You smirked at him.
âGod,â he moaned, teeth gritted together. âThe things Iâm gonna do to you,â
You felt blood rush down my body, wetness pooling between your legs. You flushed as he caught your eye, the blue now almost completely black.
You bit my lip and his eyes flicked down and back up again. âCan I kiss you?â he asked, voice rough.
Without even having to think, you turned to him, thankful you werenât wearing a dress. You hooked your right leg over his thigh, climbing onto him until you was fully straddling him. He whispered a sharp âFuck,â as you pressed down into him. He was fully hard under you and you didnât even realize how badly you had been craving the friction until you felt him.Â
You leaned in slowly, enjoying how he seemed entranced under you. You pressed my lips to Niallâs, gently at first. But he wasnât having any of that. His stubble felt rough against your face as he put his hands on your hips, fingers digging in as he increased the pace of the kiss. He ran his hands up and down your sides, then one of his hands slid backward to grasp at your ass. Niall squeezed tightly, blunt fingernails pressing in.
You moaned into the kiss and he took the opportunity to deepen it. He tasted like the whisky heâd been having and something sweeter you couldnât put my finger on. You pressed down harder, clit throbbing for some friction.
You threaded your fingers into his hair and tugged, grinding harder, fully clothed. Niall moaned, louder this time, pulling away from the kiss. You were both panting and hadnât even noticed that the car had stopped. You licked your lips, eyes still on his face.
âRoom. Now.â He said shortly.
You clambered off him as he opened the door and stepped outside. He quickly reached down to rearrange himself and your eyes followed the action. His pants which seemed tailored and well-fit earlier looked uncomfortably tight now.
You blushed, running my fingers through my hair to try and get it to look like you hadnât been making out in the back of his car. Your legs felt a bit shaky and you gave Niall a small smile as his hand retook its position on your back.
He gently guided you up the stairs, nodding at the man sitting behind the reception desk. The elevator was on the ground floor and he ushered you in hurriedly, but a middle-aged man with a briefcase followed you in.
Niall reached out to press the button for his floor and you found yourself staring at his fingers again. This time he noticed and smirked at you, his dimple popping out again. You flushed but didnât look away. He raised an eyebrow, smirk widening and you squirmed a little under his gaze, but still didnât look away.
The lift stopped and Niall nodded towards the door. You quickly walked out, feeling a little light-headed. The hallway was empty and Niall stopped a few doors down from the lift, hand inside his suit jacket.
You waited, biting your lip as you watched on, feeling a bit impatient. His fingers dipping in and out of his pockets had no right looking that sinuous and you blushed again, deeper this time. He finally found the card and quickly tapped it against the door. He took a step in and held the door open.
The second you stepped inside, Niall took you by the waist and pushed you up against the wall, pinning you with his knee between your thighs. A small moan escaped your lips and he smirked as he pushed the door close.
You linked your hands behind his neck, pulling him closer as you kissed him, sloppier this time. You could feel his erection against your hip and you moved around a little, both looking for some friction against his knee and to tease him. He gasped into the kiss, one hand reaching down to rest on your ass.Â
His other hand took up position beside the first and he gave your ass a firm squeeze as he pulled away from the kiss. âJump, baby.â He murmured against my neck as he lifted me, pinning me against the wall.
The new position made sure your core was pressed against his cock and you took the opportunity to grind into him. Niall began kissing sloppily down your jawline, sucking at intervals, teeth scraping the sensitive skin.
You dug my nails into his jacket-clad back, your head thrown back against the wall. He kept kissing you, messier each time. He pressed his tongue against the column of your throat and licked a broad stripe, relishing the feeling of you shivering against him.
âNiall,â You moaned out, clawing at his clothes. âOff.â
He pulled back and let you down, smiling. âI give the instructions around here, babe.â
Nonetheless, he pulled off the russet jacket, discarding it to the floor. âStrip for me, darlinââ he instructed with a nod as he unbuttoned his shirt.
âAre you sure youâre not too drunk to do this?â You asked hesitantly, heâd had a few throughout the night.
âNot too drunk to want you,â he said smoothly, eyes roaming hungrily over your body.
You felt yourself clench around nothing as you pulled off your jacket and threw it to the floor. Your fingers were just reaching for the buttons on your shirt as he stepped closer, shirtless now, and put his hands over yours, hungrily opening all the buttons, dropping them on the floor in a smooth motion.Â
Niall closed the distance, hands reaching behind your back as his lips hungrily lapped at your collarbones. He unhooked your bra and threw it down with a practised ease.
He walked backwards, hands running over your back, brushing over the hem of your pants. He gave them an impatient tug. âOff,â he murmured against your skin, then sat back on the bed, watching you.
You pulled back and unbuttoned them hurriedly, flushing at the undisguised lust in his eyes.
As you made to pull down your underwear, he put his hand over yours and shook his head slightly. He motioned towards the bed. âAll the way up, back against the headboard, princess.â
You climbed up, not sure why you were obeying his every command but forgot all about that when he came closer, sitting in front of you. He tapped your knee lightly and you opened your thighs wide instinctively.
He smirked at the spot on your panties. âMm, knew you were a good girl,â he said, before quickly closing the distance and attaching his lips to yours, one hand working on one of your breasts.
Niall worked his way down again, licking and sucking marks against your chest, flattening his tongue against one nipple, swirling around it as he squeezed the other. He bit down gently and you tangled my fingers in his hair, head thrown back against the cushioned headboard.
âNiall, please⌠more,â You panted out.
âPatience, darlinâ,â he said, lifting his head to meet your eyes.Â
He began kissing down, past your stomach as one hand continued to palm your breast, twisting your nipple until it pebbled under his touch.
His other hand gripped your hip, nails digging crescents into your skin. âHelp me out, princess,â He murmured against your skin before drawing back as he pulled off your underwear. You flinched a little at the sensation of the cold air against your skin.
He was still wearing his pants and you were naked in front of him. Not fair, you thought. âNiall⌠off, pleaseâŚâ You almost begged.
Niall smirked, âYou just had to ask, babe.â
He climbed down and pulled his pants off. His cock was tenting his boxers so much, to the point it looked uncomfortable. He pulled them off in one motion, length springing up to hit his stomach. He was thick and slightly curved and you bit your lip, staring intently at him, imagining how he would feel⌠tasteâŚ
âBit rude to stare, love,â Niall said cockily, but being naked and spread open for him, you couldnât even be mad at him. All you needed was him, on you, touching you, right now.
You had no time to say anything before his mouth was hovering over your core, not quite touching me yet, but I could feel his hot breath on me.
"You've got such a pretty cunt, princess. " He murmured roughly looking up at you, making eye contact before he stuck out his tongue and licked a broad stripe upwards.
You shuddered at the sudden contact, sensitive after all the teasing. He hummed against you, vibrations feeling blissful as he latched on to your clit, sucking hard, alternating with light nibbles. "Taste just as pretty as you look" He mumbled, lips brushing against your skin, stubble rubbing against your thighs deliciously.
You tugged at his hair, pushing his head down, barely aware of what you were doing. His eyes were still on yours as he continued eating you out with fervour, making sure to pointedly miss your entrance with each stroke and you felt like you could combust from all the attention as you whined.
"Such an impatient little princess" He tutted as he let go and started circling his tongue around your entrance. Niallâs nose was pressed against you as he stuck his tongue in, lapping at your inner walls like a parched man. You arched your back, a groan pouring out of you.
"You're so responsive for me, pet. Such a good girl." He murmured as he pulled away, before using a finger to collect your juices. Eyes still riveted on your face, he slowly pushed a finger in, up to his knuckle.
âNiall, moreâŚâ You whimpered. He bit his lip before smiling at you deviously. "Such a greedy little cunt." He murmured as he pushed in another finger, pumping slowly. He curled his fingers, reaching for the perfect spot, eyes searching your face for a reaction. "So fuckin' tight, aren't ya, princess?"
You screamed his name when he found it, toes tingling, eyes rolling back and he quickly latched onto your clit, continuing to pump his fingers and curling them expertly.
âIâm- Fuck- Iâm close,â You panted out. Niall hummed against you as he pushed in a third finger. He curled them, pressing hard as he sucked at your clit.
âIâm- Niall Iâm gonna-â You barely got the words out before cumming against his mouth, shivers running from your toes to your fingers, head lax against the headboard. You felt light-headed as he slowly pumped his fingers, drawing out your orgasm. watching your face with an easy, satisfied smile.Â
Niall climbed up beside you, pressing his lips to yours. You could taste the familiar tang of your arousal on him and you moaned into the kiss. Still a little light-headed, you reached out, grasping the base of his cock.
He gasped and pulled away from the kiss, his head falling back onto his shoulders as you squeezed lightly. You let go to gather the precum gathered around his slit and spread it over the swollen head. You were about to lean forward as you drew my fist down, but he stopped you.
âPrincess,â Niall panted out, âI won't last, some other time-â He broke off, inhaling sharply as you let go.
Cocky of him to assume that there would be another time, you couldn't help but think, but he gave a look that made your knees weak and you were grateful you werenât standing. He leaned forward, lips pressed to the base of your neck, sucking a mark there.
âDown, pet.â he hummed against your skin. You laid back down as you watched him, teeth pressing into your lower lip. He rustled around in his bedside table, pulling out a foil package.
Niall ripped the package open with his teeth, rolling it on with his eyes still fixed on you. He gave himself a few quick pumps as he climbed onto the bed. âSpread for me, princess,â he said as he positioned himself over you.
You obeyed, whimpering a little as you felt his blunt head at your entrance. âOh fuck, Niall- â You moaned out as he pushed in, inch by delicious inch.Â
He stretched you out deliciously, pressing chaste kisses to your jawline until he bottomed out completely. âSo fucking tight,â he grunted, catching his breath, before crashing his mouth into yours hungrily as he started thrusting, slow and deep.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, arching your back so that he could hit the perfect spot, feeling yourself clasp harder around him already.Â
Niall angled up, thrusting sharply and you couldnât help but dig your nails into his back, hoping you didnât break skin. He pulled away from the kiss with a gasp, filthy sounds escaping him. You felt the knot in your belly tighten just looking at the expression of bliss on his face in the dim lights. âNiall,â You breathed out, âIâm- fuck- close,â
His lips formed a cocky smirk, before leaning down to press his lips to your throat. âWonât last, either,â he mumbled against your skin, âCome for me, princess,â
The rumble of his voice sent you over the edge, moaning incoherently as you came undone, nails scratching down his back, him shouting out a second later, teeth sinking into your skin as you felt him pulse inside of you.
Niall leaned onto his elbows, catching his breath, locking you in under him with his hands on either side of your chest. A few moments later he rolled off, pulling out with a hiss as he quickly tied up the condom and threw it into the bin beside the bed.
He turned back towards you, pulling the blankets up, throwing his arm over your waist and while you hadn't been planning on affection the feeling of him nuzzling into your hair, whispering a silent goodnight was enough to make your heart skip a beat.
You were too tired to protest, and it wasnât exactly a bad feeling. All your thoughts of leaving went out the window as you mumbled back a muffled reply, drowsily nestling back into him, his warmth lulling you to sleep.
⌠. ăâş ă . ⌠. ăâş ă . ⌠. ăâş ă . ⌠. ăâş ă . ⌠. ăâş ă . ⌠. ăâş ă . âŚ
#niall horan oneshot#niall imagine#niall horan smut#niall james horan#niall 1d#niall smut#niall the show#niall#niall horan#niall horan blurbs#niall horan fic#niall fic#niall fanfic#niall horan fanfic#niall x reader#niall oneshot
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lee riwoo x reader [smut, gender neutral!reader, reader is a dancer/can dance]
a/n - IM A FUCKING IDIOT AND POSTED THIS INSTEAD OF SAVING AS DRAFT SO I HAD TO DELETEđđđ anyway i think this inbox was just a hard thought but i took it and ran
warnings - mentions of breeding kink, blowjob, loose dom/sub dynamics overall, reader is described as having long hair, slight cum play
15:13 - âi was thinking of new songs to make choreo to by the way,â you said, as your practise of sticky by tyler the creator came to an end.
your boyfriend was sat on the bench around the edge of the practise room, taking a swig from his water bottle. he hummed in response.
âwhat do you think about juno?â you asked, scrolling through your phone to find the song, âby sabrina carpenter.â
riwoo started choking on his water, making you look up as you laughed, âis that a yes?â
he nodded, laughing slightly. âno, yeah, yeah, that sounds like a good idea. thereâs a lot of... good stuff in that song.â
you nodded, eager to show him what you'd already thought of. riwoo stood up, coming back over to the middle of the room. he was wearing simple sweatpants and a hoodie, but he had his signature gold and silver rings on his long fingers and his hair was covered by a bandana and a hat.
as the song started playing, you showed him the moves you'd already thought of, and some improvisation in places where you hadn't. he watched intently through the mirror, monitoring your actions closely.
âand then of course,â you spoke, as the lyrics âhave you ever tried this one?â rang out through the practise room.
âwh-what âof courseâ?â he asked with a chuckle, the rest of the dance forgotten even as the song continued playing.
âyou know!â you laughed, âjuno positions. like sabrina does.â
he shrugged, shaking his head. he came over to your side as you started searching on your phone, pulling up a compilation of juno positions. riwooâs jaw opened slightly as he watched, swallowing nervously the more he watched.
âoh.â
you laughed, âi can't believe you haven't seen this!â you scrolled onto the next video; sabrina on her back with her arms and legs wrapped round the air, the comments filled with sentiments of how dangerous the position was.
âwhat does that mean?â he laughed, looking at you slightly nervously.
âleaves you pregnant, i think,â you whispered teasingly, smiling at your boyfriend's shyness. he bit his lip, adjusting his sweatpants.
âso which one are you gonna do?â he asked, continuing to look at you through the mirror instead.
you smiled, shrugging as you walked up to riwoo, wrapping your arms around his waist, âi have quite a few options, hmm?â
he smiled, trailing a finger up your arm lightly as he repeated your sentiment, âhmm?â
you put your phone in your pocket, thinking for a second before playing the song again. you went through the moves that youâd agreed on previously, riwoo nodding along, monitoring through the mirror as always.
have you ever tried this one?
you got on your knees in front of riwoo, pulling your hair into a ponytail with one hand as he looked down at you, eyebrows raised and an amused smile on his face. he used two fingers to lift your jaw so you were looking up at him.
his jaw was slack as he looked down at you, using the hand not on your face to pull his sweatpants down haphazardly, neither of you breaking eye contact. you used your free hand to trail up his thigh, helping him pull down his sweatpants before rubbing up and down his clothed bulge lightly.
riwooâs eyes rolled back, his head dropping backwards at the feeling. he used his hands to take your hair from you, both your hands now pulling down his boxers to join his sweatpants round his ankles. your mouth dropped open, using your tongue to gently lick a stripe up his hard cock.
riwoo hissed, tugging on your hair as his head fell back, âplease, sweet.â
you smiled up at him through your lashes before taking the tip in your mouth, moving further down and taking as much as you could, running your tongue over the skin as you went. your hands flew to the base, touching what you couldnât reach with your mouth as riwooâs eyes fluttered between watching you take him so beautiful and succumbing to pleasure.
he was straining, trying not to buck his hips in your mouth as he moaned, the lewd slurping sounds of your mouth filling the room as the song ended.
âs-so good for me,â he muttered, the ponytail forgotten as he just tugged on your locks, âso good for me. j-just like thatâ fuck!â
you smirked, moaning against his cock as his head fell back, staying there as he moaned out. his moans were low and constant, making you smile at the sound.
âgonâ gonna cum, sweet,â he muttered, looking down at you again, hands gathering up your hair from the base, âwheââ
you cut off his question as you placed your hands on his ass, pulling him closer and keeping him firmly in your mouth. he moaned, the sound becoming a high-pitched whimper as he came spurts into your mouth, hitting your throat.
riwooâs legs trembled as his orgasm subsided. you pulled his soft dick out your mouth, as he sorted himself out. you stood up, smiling at his slightly fucked out expression.
you opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out to show him the cum coating your mouth. his face crumpled, moaning at the view before you swallowed, smiling again and placing your hand on the back of his head, pulling him in for a kiss. he started grabbing at your waist desperately.
âfuck,â he murmured into your mouth, âyouâre gonna be the death of me.â
#boynextdoor#bnd#đ whoâs there?#bnd x reader#boynextdoor blurb#boynextdoor x reader#bnd blurb#bnd fanfic#bnd imagine#boynextdoor fanfic#boynextdoor fluff#boynextdoor imagine#bnd smut#bnd fluff#lee riwoo blurb#lee riwoo fanfic#lee riwoo imagine#lee riwoo fluff#lee riwoo smut#lee riwoo#lee sanghyeok#riwoođŚŚđĄ#gender neutral reader#requested fic!
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Lingerie đ
word count: 1.5k
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All day you had been thinking about the Victoria's Secret bag hidden away in the back of your closet, stashed behind one of your thick fur winter coats where you were sure Frank would not go looking.
Inside the striped bag, was a sexy lace thong and bra set in Frank's favourite colour, black. Baby pink bows adorned the two garments, adding your own personal touch to them.
Frank had been away on a work thing for the past few days, and the loneliness was killing you. Every time he went away on a job, he got a new burner phone, which you were only allowed to contact in case of an emergency, no exceptions.
But tonight was the night he was due home. All you wanted to do right now was order in your favourite takeaway, watch a movie with your boyfriend and then have hot dirty sex all night long.
The more you thought about Frank the more your mind drifted off to that pink striped bag stashed away in your closet. The angel on your shoulder was telling you the outfit you were wearing right now, grey sweatpants and a black crop top, was better and comfier than the sexy underwear set. However, the devil was telling you to go put that set on, add the white heels you knew Frank loved so much and surprise him as he walked in that front door.
You bite your lip just thinking about surprising Frank, having long steamy sex and then lounging around with takeaway food and movies for the rest of the night. The devil on your shoulder had just stomped on the angel's speech as you jumped up from the sofa excitedly and sped off to your bedroom.
You threw off your clothes into a pile in the corner of your bedroom, shoving the rows of shoes away to reveal the bag of goods. Grabbing it and pulling away the tissue paper at the top, you pull out the thong and bra and throw them onto your bed.
Pulling off your own panties, you watch yourself in your mirror, practising your seductive moves in preparation for your boyfriend. After putting on the lacy set, you felt nothing but the definition of sexy.
The white heels you had planned on wearing were suddenly outshone by the platform black heels sitting beside them.
"Hm, eenie meenie mynie... mo!" you point your finger at the black heels and stalk over to them, stepping into them and turning around to see yourself in the wall length mirror.
As your admiring yourself in the mirror, the sound of the old front door creaking open echoes throughout the apartment. You quickly grab the black silk robe hanging in the closet just as you hear Frank call out, "Y/n?"
You use your foot to open the bedroom door, leaning against the frame. You hadn't tied the robe fully, so your sexy underwear set was still on full show for Frank.
He had his back to you when you first saw him, but the squeak from the bedroom door caught his attention. As his eyes met yours, you could practically see the lust spilling out of them.
"Holy..." he mumbles as he pulls his black hoodie off his body. His t-shirt lifted up with the hoodie and you could see his defined abs in the dim living room lighting.
You stalked towards him, dragging your finger up your thigh and pulling up the bottom of your robe slightly. Your hair still lightly curled from the previous day.
"Like what you see?" you smile and stop a few feet in front of him as his eyes roam every inch of your body as if it were his first time seeing you.
"Fuck me.. I... You're so.." he fumbles over his words as he walks towards you, eyes not leaving your body. His brown eyes finally look into yours as he combs his fingers through your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear.
"I love you so much," he mumbles as his hands caress their way down your body until they meet your hips, pulling you closer to him. You can feel his boner through his jeans, desperate to be let free.
You grab his hand and lead him towards the bedroom. He follows behind, no doubt staring at your ass or legs, oh how he loves your legs. You push him down onto the edge of the bed, standing in between his muscly thighs.
"And I love you too, Castle." You kiss his lips, softly at first until his hands tug at the shoulders of your robe, dragging it down your body and off your arms. He kisses your neck and chest, his hand groping your boobs. You let out a few soft moans as he kisses further down your chest and stomach. You could now clearly see the outline of his hard cock through his jeans, and decided to help him out.
You drop down to you knees so your face is in-front of his crotch, peering up at him with innocent eyes. You unbutton his jeans and teasingly slow begin to pull his zipper down, holding eye contact the entire time. He lifts his hips for you to pull the jeans down his legs further, and his cock was now tenting his boxers.
You kiss his boner through the thin black material, as your fingers tease at pulling down the band. He lets out quiet grunts as you kiss him, his eyes watching you the entire time. Finally, satisfied with your reading you pull his boxers down his legs and grab his cock. Your hands must've been cold as he jumped slightly when you grabbed him. Your tongue licks up the length of his dick, circling around the tip before taking his whole length in your mouth. When you come back up Frank's head is bent backwards in ecstasy. You repeat this several times until your eyes are full of tears and are sure your mascara is running down your cheeks from the length of him.
You stand back up to your full height and straddle Frank, wrapping your arms around his neck to stable yourself. He places his big hands on your waist and snaps one of the strings of your thong against your skin, a smirk playing on his face.
You move your thong to the side and lower yourself onto his cock, rubbing the head against your clit a few times before Frank guides himself inside of you. You lean your forehead against his as he fills you up, sending butterflies to your stomach. He waits a minute and kisses your lips sensually as you get use to his length, before beginning to bounce up and down on his cock. You moan loudly, not caring if the old woman who loves to make noise complaints about you and Frank, or if anyone walking by the apartment could hear. You were happy right now, and nobody could ruin that for you.
You can feel your thighs beginning to ache and Frank notices too, using his hands to guide you up and down his cock before he grabs hold of you and throws you onto the bed. He kicks off his jeans and boxers that had been around his ankles for the past few minutes.
He stands at the end of the bed and grabs hold of your waist, pulling you down so his cock is rubbing against your clothed pussy. With one swift movement, he grabs hold of the side of your thong and pulls it clean off, earning a gasp from you.
"Frank!" you say in shock but with a smile on your face.
"That's better," he mumbles before placing his hands under your back and unhooking your bra, pulling it away from your body. You sit up on your elbows as he takes in your body. Your beautiful, sexy body.
He grabs your hips and dips his head between your legs, grabbing one of your legs and throwing it over his shoulder. He licks a long stripe up your pussy, sending shock waves through your body when he his hot tongue came in contact with your clit.
"Fuck, Frank," you moan and place your hand on the back of his head. He looks up at you as he latches onto your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue across it. It doesn't take long before you can feel your orgasm forming in your stomach. Your grip on Frank's short hair tightens as your knees instinctively try to close the closer you come to your orgasm.
Frank uses his hand to hold down your leg and uses the other hand to finger fuck you. His thick fingers were something you could never get tired of.
"Frank I'm gonna... I'm," you try to mumble out the sentence but he speeds up his fingers and your orgasm untangles through your body, sending waves of pleasure through every inch of you.
Frank climbs further up the bed, using his knee to keep your legs open and lays his arms over your head, trapping you beneath him. His hot breath tickles your ear, sending butterflies straight to your stomach, "Ready for round two?"
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The Media Overanalysis (O)Mega Essay: Why Rogue Is The Bad Guy. Duh.
Code Mauve. Sorry, youâre a mutual and directly responded, so now you get The Post. It was bound to be someone eventually, and it was you. Itâs nothing personal. You were just the first to dare my parapet.
@icantleave replied: rogue definitely isn't the master because the master is simply incapable of cosplaying someone this genuine and unlike himself, his disguises are always essentially very him with a few traits hidden or amplified.
Either there is a psy-op and Disney aired a different version of this or a solid quarter of you got brain broken by American Mr Darcy- no donât try and run, get back here. The only running youâre doing is this essay equivalent of a 10k.
You are intelligent. All of you. And yet what the hell does this mean? ârogue definitely isn't the master because the master is simply incapable of cosplaying someone this genuine and unlike himselfâ
Weâre going through this episode. All of it. This is not actually an âit is the Masterâ post, it is a âbut at the very least he sure acts like the Master wouldâ post, which is the above premise. But also just in general that Rogue is The Bad Guy.
Take it as the Master cosplaying Jack; a Pantheon member whose theme is Roleplay who like the others has watched the show and is deliberately filling the void daddy created and getting in by cosplaying the Master cosplaying Jack (has to be doing both to be skilled at Roleplay ala Maestro and the Toymakerâs skills in their areas, else heâd just be shittily cosplaying Jack); or literally he is just baddie Chuldur #6 fanboy who wants to bang the Doctor he saw on TV cus heâs sexy and they get Doctor Who out there as well as Bridgerton. All the concepts are adjacent:
Baddie fanboy roleplaying as Jack to fuck-slash-fuck-with the Doctor.
Places people. Letâs take it from the top:
-We start with a scene showing someone (Chuldur #2) who wants to roleplay as the bad guy because that would be fun.
-(Bonus: the writers talking about themselves - âWonderful party, your Grace.â âSome are saying best of the season. A triumph. A new standard set. And I, of course, could not comment. But I think the real estimation of an evening is in the matches made.â I quite agree.)
-(We are also in Tredegar House, which you may recognise from The End Of Time, Spyfall, and other times in New Who. We like this place.
-There is electronic interference in Rubyâs earpiece. The Doctor scans this and finds itâs coming from Rogue. The Master is a frequent user of manipulative electronics both towards other people and to disguise himself. Put a pin in this, itâll come up at the end. â
-The Doctor meets Rogue to the backing of hit pop song, Billie Eilishâs âIâm The Bad Guyâ. The Master is a famous lover of fun pop, and being obvious to an oblivious Doctor. â
â
I wrestled with iMovie at midnight to put the lyric subtitles to this video and you are going to watch and appreciate it:
[If at any point you want out of this essay, all you have to do is come back to here and watch this video again while singing in your head along with the lyrics to receive a passing grade.]
-They deliberately work the lines around the music, not just thematically but so you can clearly hear what the backing song is. And made sure they kept the scene going long enough all the way into the next section just so they could keep the line: âI like it when you take control, even if you know that you don't, own me, I'll let you play the role, I'll be your animal.â Fuckâs sake. Most Thoschei song. Interchangeable freaks.
-Rogue is critiqued by the Doctor for not acting appropriately broody enough. The Master well known for being a fairly shit actor. â
-That is an American accent. This is a red flag for either being a Pantheon member, or the Master Dressing For The Occasion (which Rogue certainly has).
-âDo you practise in a mirror?â - him roleplaying would mean literally yes.
-âI didnât know the Duchess employs a court jester.â - Alexa please search every time the Master has called the Doctor some derivation of clown. â
-âOâŚKayâŚRude. Lord-?â âNot a Lord.â Our last outing with the Master was all about his psyche-destroying discovery of being made from the Not-A-Time Lord Doctor; and if he is Pantheon The Rogue roleplaying as the Master, then just chefâs kiss line. But I will be magnanimous this early in proceedings, and let you go âtechnically a valid meta read is saying that conforms heâs not a Time Lordâ. But the paragraph stands.
-He calls himself Rogue:
1. noun: a dishonest or unprincipled person. "You are a rogue and an embezzler" Similar: scoundrel, villain, reprobate. 2. noun: an elephant or other large wild animal living apart from the herd and having savage or destructive tendencies. "a rogue elephant"
If itâs the Master then straight up naming himself âThe Bad Guyâ is on brand. The Master is a Rogue Time Lord. That is what fandom has long called them - âRogues and Renegadesâ. The Master is shite at names, if you havenât had the pleasure of the Third Doctorâs company yet. Shitty anagrams, tenuous links to goals and character aspects, and crappy puns are the standard â
. If Pantheon, then his choice in lifestyle thatâs more about personally having fun (ultimately still Doctor compatible), with a group, in a non-competitive game which has no win condition other than enjoying the game, though rip to the NPCâs being played with as character, would definitely put him somewhat apart from the wreaking havoc on the universe others. If a Pantheon member, he literally did choose his own name from D&D.
-Just generalised throughout: Rogue is not actually suave. Some people find his secret awkwardness under the posh gear charming. The Master is not suave and is awkward, but desperately tries to style it out like he is anyway, thatâs just his character. â
-We kinda feel like weâre going into some Karny Shobogony kind of cave area, weâre not, but just for the hitting home that this is another Upper Class Gallifrey mirror for the season. You donât need to think the Masterâs involved for this, donât worry, wasnât in Dot And Bubble was he, but that was a clear enough mirror. A person appearing as a servant forces their way up the social ladder. If you like some mirror play and are really deep in your TC âwhat kind of person would name themselves Masterâ, youâre having fun. Also I canât see that type of death lightning without thinking of Simm!Master. Costly effect, but we went with it, and it does add some panache.
-Chuldur #5 is roleplaying Emily (this is used both in her disguise and out - potentially playing the same âcharacterâ. Weâll come back to this too, explore more later), who will be something of our Master this evening in the Gallifrey mirror if youâre going in for it. Also coincidentally is half the mirror pair with Ruby to the Doctor and Rogue. âEmily, please-â âBut you consume me sir. I think of you every waking hour and I hate myself for it!â yeah we know babe⌠Anyone else hearing Dhawan!Masterâs âI cannot bear thatâ?
-âI love these old skiesâ - all the stars makes it arguably sound more like a Flux reference rather than just light pollution. And we all know what event by who triggered that off.
-Finally we get more lines from Rogue, this has all been very one-sided. âDo you never stop chattering?â - a frequent refrain of the Master, who, fun fact has told the Doctor to shut up in every incarnation in New Who (and probably Old but this is the trivia I have) â
-If Rogue is supposedly wanting to stop the bad birdies, real weird he doesnât give an appropriately flying fuck about the mysterious lone shoe. And simply says âI suggest look for the other shoeâ like it doesnât matter with a shrug. Because the Master is stupid and shite at keeping in-character. â
Makes sense if heâs on the bad guyâs team though. Also Cinderella. Noticing themes in todayâs mirror subtext.
-They find it plus corpse. âAnd you knew. You didnât even flinch.â Actually wrong, the Doctor canât see behind him but we can. Rogue doesnât flinch at the shoe, or coming up to the body, but when the Doctor says itâs the Duchess, Rogue does a slight âohâ lean back, and then a sigh with a bit of a slump. To me this reads as a âoh you fucking idiotsâ for doing it this blatantly, but I wonât mark it, cus you could argue that ultimately maybe a bounty hunter might care more about the death of the duchess in particular and sigh about it etc. (Or he is Pantheon roleplayer getting annoyed his gang canât stick to a character and risking the outline going off-track and more bodycounty). âAnd you knewâ - Rogue doesnât keep eye contact but closes his eyes, opens them immediately up and a little to the side, thinking of what to say next style. ((This specific circumstance he couldnât have known about prior, cus the murder happens while heâs inside))
-âThis is a murder far beyond the technologies of planet Earth. It could only be done by someone brilliant.â âAnd monstrous.â [-horny flirting tone looking him up and down] âAnd ruthless.â âAnd contemptible.â Both: âYou.â He is the Master and in with the bird gang. No bounty hunter with a heart of gold is calling the murderer brilliant because also, may have been easy to miss, but the Doctor hasnât done anything brilliant yet unless you include owning a scanner and briefly infodumping about constellations. That is a Master talking about himself kinda line. â
-The Doctor thought Rogue was a murderer who was calling himself brilliant, and it only made him more horny, and proceeded to dance along with that little two-step. If Iâm Master-brained, whatâs he? Cus heâs usually only into one murderer. If that guy had snogged him instead of pulling the gun theyâd have fucked right then and there, that scene has so much sexual tension that should not be there.
-Edit - courtesy of @katoska: â#though dimensionally transcendental pockets would explain where he'd hidden that big gun in that form fitting outfit.â - And why wouldnât you have given him one of Jackâs guns, theyâre all smaller? But they made Rogue a huge one.
-âSo who do you think I am?â âI know youâre a Chuldur.â âThe shapeshifters? Ha, Iâve heard of them. Iâve never met one,â *tilting head back towards Rogue and smiling* âUnless I have.â Please, if nothing else, come out of this thinking at minimum he is bad birdie Chuldur #6. Maybe weâre rewriting Frobisher. Heavily, heavily rewriting.
-â[his ship] cloaked behind that shed.â Calling the TARDIS a shed. It was Three that technically said it but the Master has repeatedly expressed his disdain for our beautiful police box before so thatâs a Master-fitting line, be it intentional disdain or not yet. â
-Wonât call it a point, but he tells us he is a bounty hunter sent here to find them for the money. (Note: not kill - at the very least a bounty hunter would be bringing back the body to get, you know, the bounty). Aside from being a cheap and easy backstory itâs evidently morally bad, for all the Doctor literally goes âthat is soâŚcoolâ - which is absolutely not his usual position on bounty hunters.
-The thing he uncloaks the ship with? Same thing that controls the traps. How multitool. How sonic screwdriver. Or Laser screwdriver TCE as you prefer.
-His ship is a bird. It has wings, two eyes, and a beak. He is with the birds. He is The Bad Guy â
. He is using and familiar with the bird ship; or at the insane alternative a TARDIS that completely disguised itself both outside and inside as neighbouring bird ship. There is no good guy answer for why he is in a bird ship. We never ask how the birds got here. But it was probably the bird ship. Bird ship.
-Meta so I canât give it a point cus itâs beyond our scope but: âOh youâre the Duchess! Of course, I should have scented you.â Not immediately recognising one of your own species when you should have sensed them thank god thatâs not a mirror.
-His ship has an angular console in the middle of it with mirroring angular shape above it, the same taste in decor as the Master does with a TARDIS, like itâs almost designed to put you in mind of one, cute. â
-âThis place is a mess.â Dhawan!Masterâs TARDIS house and console room proper were a massive mess, these guys share housekeeping habits too. â
-âI live alone.â The Doctor notes this sort of ship would be piloted by two. Aw sad. Except heâs lying, heâs obviously lying, because he has dice on the table and heâs not playing D&D in his bird-shaped ship alone or with only two fucking people, is he? You need a group. Maybe of Bird roleplaying enthusiasts. Liar. Bad conduct. And failed to remove the evidence that contradicted the lie - dumbass Master behaviour. â
-Rogue declares âYouâre a killer.â And the Doctor goes âOh well,â before trying to sonic himself out of the situation, without actually defending himself against the charges. Maybe doesnât feel the need to. For some reason.
-âWhat do those things do?â âItâs a trap. Triform on.â Now that could easily be a Master when heâs being sexier line, complete with his classic dumbass behaviour of declaring to the Doctor that somethingâs a trap before actually springing it. â
-He says he is going to send the Doctor to the incinerator. Why? âUh heâs a bounty hunterâ Yeah. So why would he burn the evidence that would get him the money? Canât just rock up and say âI dealt with it I pinkie-promiseâ.
-The Doctor attempts to sonic his way out of the trap before it finishes charging. Rogue says immediately that itâs deadlocked. The one thing that stops a sonic screwdriver. You canât deny, that is the level of forethought the Master would manage to scrounge together. â
-Rogue scans the Doctorâs gadget, allowed in cus it doesnât recognise it as dangerous device (oh the old âtemporal grace fieldâ in the TARDIS, thatâs a nice little mirror), and apparently the scans say itâs a screwdriver. I canât prove this is a lie, but even we donât think itâs a screwdriver, the last one with 14 literally was so much not a screwdriver it couldnât unscrew screws, so unless it connects to the system with the name 15_screwdriver_1 again, feels too convenient. But a toxic Doctor fanboy would be able to identify what it was.
-I donât know why we have a Sonic Monocular scene that cost us money and effort to produce when we could have just glanced across the table, but since all things that cost money in production have a reason, maybe the laser screwdriver style object we pan over? Point of interest but not a countable one, and either way the main argument is aligning character traits not convincing you he literally is the Master.
-âRoll for insightâ, he cracked a smile, so surprising it uncloaked the Doctorâs full Scottish accent. This is the first positive character trait we have seen. We are just shy of halfway through the story.
-Telling the Doctor to âRoll for insightâ after he sees the dice, is a dungeon Masterâs instruction.
-of course he likes D&D, he plays it with the birds on the bird ship, heâs sent the birds he plays it with off out to continue the game in Bridgerton, heâs being their dungeon Master in real life too
-Seriously if you think Rogue is genuinely just a good guy bounty hunter and we should believe that uncritically, why would they tell us he likes roleplaying in D&D so much he picked his name from it? He roleplays. Thatâs one of the very few things we know about him. Why not chess? Or Minecraft? He could have liked Tetris? Why would he like roleplaying in the episode about roleplaying if him roleplaying isnât relevant?
-The Master too adores roleplaying while also not being that great at it. Just putting that out there.
-âAnd it says that youâre wired for sound!â *sonics* âI Just Canât Get You Out Of My Headâ by Kylie Minogue plays. *Rogue looks up in full wide-eyed uh-oh then turns to the Doctor* âNow this is a surprise.â - I mean, yeah, it is actually. I mean why would there be such anachronistic music playing in a ship owned by a guy fromâŚwell funny I guess he never said and the Doctor never asked. Well from a species likeâŚwell alright uh guess we didnât do that either. Said âplanet Earthâ thatâs a pretty alien way of phrasing it. âHey but in the Whoniverse Britney Spearsâ Toxic is a traditional Earth balladâ, and maybe usually Iâd let it go, but this is the second anachronistic bit of music weâve heard, and the third we hear later is even more pointed to draw your attention to it. No. Itâs weird. You know who it wouldnât be weird to though? Our pop loving Master! And thatâs the most Thoschei Thesis Statement song in Kylieâs repertoire! â
(Or Pantheon sharing daddyâs Spice Girls thing for 90âs pop). The Master would also absolutely have forgotten to delete his playback history before all this and pull an âoh shitâ face not from embarrassment but cus he knows this looks fucky because he doesnât have a poker face heâs an idiot that panics the second anything in his plans ever goes wrong. â
-The Doctor mouthing: âBoy your loving is all I think about.â A sentiment thatâs cropped up multiple times now this episode. Also in a Master mirror. Mhm. Itâs a sickness babes.
-But hey weâre up to two positive character traits for Rogue so far - likes D&D and Kylie (both anachronisticly).The Doctor was willing to follow him out and blow him in the shrubbery for less, and honestly, respectable. âI just have a crush on prettyboy American Mr Darcyâ is a defence, not a good one, but still.
-The Doctor and Master with one turning the music on and the other trying to turn it off would be a scene, you can imagine it, donât lie, youâre imagining Missy and Twelve right now. (I think for annoyer-and-annoyed Three and Delgado could go either way depending on the episode. How appropriate for them.) â
-Also Rogue attempting to snatch the sonic screwdriver from the taller Doctorâs hand as he plays keep-away. Bitchy, gay, very character-breaking with the rest of the episode, deeply funny. The Master would. â
Then gathering himself, putting on the Iâm In Charge voice and holding out his hand for the Doctor to hand it over and he does. (Huh, have you guys as a whole watched Delgado? Is this what creates the âthe Master would neverâ? Cus actually if youâve not seen these two just be a bit silly with each other and think thatâs just fan characterisation that would actually explain a lot. Eh, but Missy and Twelve(/Clara) have some silly too, if not Three and Delgado level. Hm, to ponder).
-Psychic paper would also not work on the Master and he would say âit says âyouâre hotââ to fluster the Doctor. Also we know heâs lying about it saying that, because heâs the one saying heâs seen it written, yet immediately follows up as the Doctor babbles with, Rogue: âIs it âyouâre hotâ, or Iâm hotâ?â Rogue would know which word was written the funny ambiguity is only from the non-seerâs side on hearing the other person say âyouâreâ. â
-âSuits you, flustered, itâs a good look for you.â Finally we get some fun confidence - which only appears the second he actually gets an upper hand with the Doctor on the back foot. Like someone else we know. Also yet again we have the phrase âa good lookâ for you in this episode all about shapeshifting. The phrase is applied to Rogue by the Doctor, to the Doctor from Rogue, and among the birds to each other. It establishes an equivalence between them, which is odd if Rogue is supposedly the only one not shapeshifting and roleplaying.
-The boss thing, callback to the Meep. Again this isnât a âconvince you it really is the Masterâ thing, itâs character analysis that their traits overlap and he is a bad guy. But since weâre here, the Master is often technically working for someone else he intends to double-cross while thinking heâs ahead of them (nearly every time incorrectly), and we know he is/will be involved with the Pantheon â given this guy is a dice rolling gameplayer, the Master gambling and losing to the Toymaker, just vibes like itâd be out of order and future toothening imo â while thereâs nothing to say our hidden âThe Bossâ is Pantheon, Iâm gonna Occamâs Razor and assume both those plot threads tie together, and for now thatâs a reasonable way to explain how the Master got involved with the Toymaker at all.
-âIâm just so trigger happy.â Literally a Master line, and one we just had: âOh, shoot. I should've said, somebody needs to cut you down to size, then zapped you. I was just trigger-happy. I'll use it next time.â â
-Floating Doctor heads literally the Masterâs nightmare. Literally literally but I canât remember where from and âmaster nightmare floating head doctor whoâ gets you about as useless information as youâd imagine.
-Look. Rogue goes from confidently being about to kill the Doctor. The Doctor forces the scanner to show some other of his faces with the psychic paper, does his whole speech saying heâs ânot a Chuldur. Iâm something much older and far more powerful. A Lord of Time from the lost and fallen planet of Gallifreyâ (this is a special surprise that will help us later) âNow, let me go, bounty hunter. We have work to do.â It is cringe, it is up himself and lording over others which is nearly always punished, the Doctor uses his special Deep And Majestic voice, and our stoic confident Rogue is suddenly wide-and-starry-eyed and breathily says, âWow.â In the fakest response I have ever seen. Sadly I am not allowed more than one video. But oh my God, if you need a refresher itâs 18:14. And if you think it isnât fake, yes you need the refresher.
You canât be buying that OwO âWowâ. You think that was the turning point? I know Iâm supposed to provide better analysis, but the writing is cringe, the acting is completely counter to what it was a moment ago for both parties, is over the top, and you think a bounty hunter would do a 180 from that?? Why?? âOh youâre showing me the faces youâve been before, yeah, I know, youâre a shapeshifterâ. Nothing in the scanner says heâs a Time Lord, just the words from his mouth, why would he not be lying to save his own skin? And again, what would a Time Lord mean in the universe now? Who gives a shit, if you know what they are you know theyâre all dead and reasonable shot youâre happy about that. Failing even that, Rogue is working for the same Boss as the Meep - if the word Time Lord rang a bell itâd be cus Fourteen caused problems last time âbring him to meâ, surely. âWowâ uwu so cool! Really??? Nothing, not a thing Rogue has done so far, indicates he would be âWowâ to that. Not a damn thing.
Fakest response Iâve ever seen - Groff is actually a good actor so itâs supposed to be fake, at least one of the writers is award winning and may well be both, and Ncuti went out of his way to make it look like unnatural arrogance that doesnât fit with the previous acting choices either in this scene or the whole show so far. So either all these people were crap at their jobs, or, itâs supposed to smell like bullshit. Would the Master look exactly as fake going âwowâ because his character needs to have the heel-turn now? Yes â
. And that you pulled this speech in front of him would complete its vast circle of cringe and roleplaying.
And what happens next? We cut straight to Ruby and Cosplaying Chuldur #5: [Giggling] âWe canât keep hiding like this!â You guys are smart, donât pretend youâre not smart, if you follow me you know how good writing works, and are choosing to ignore the meta and mirrors and themes of the episode in a way you wouldnât with a normal Rusty-written one that youâd sit and deeply analyse. Different writers yes, but smart and capable and award winning ones. These arenât two disparate stories smushed together, theyâre the same story in different keys, thatâs the Rule One here.
Continuing, Ruby tries to convince High Society Lord- Lady that she doesnât have to marry another Lord but could be a normal person, and then the Lady says âIâll marry someone lesser, and smallerâŚit may not be love but perhaps a kindly smile at dinnerâŚand then a shared graveâ cus she doesnât want a normal person, thatâs what Ruby wants her to want, she wants to marry her kinda shitty Lord. Because thatâs what this fantasy roleplay is all about.
Okay essay portion over we got out of hand, bullet points, re-engage.
-A motherfucking owl hoots, with the subtitle âowl hootsâ, while Rogue recloaks the giant bird ship, giving us a second look at it again, making sure we get the full distance shot and shimmery cloaking effect to highlight the wings if they get lost in the shadows. Rogue. Is with. The birds. Itâs a bird ship. There is no good guy explanation for the bird ship and its D&D equipment that can only be used by multiple people in our episode about obsessive-roleplaying birds.
-Rogue has now packed. âWhat?â Rogue has now packed. He is now carrying a small bag, cross-body strap over his shoulder. We will not use anything from this bag or see him access it or acknowledge it at all. Heâs just brought it with him. Perhaps like he knows heâs not going to be going back to the ship again. Curious.
Dice Bag propoganda post
-âYou ready for this?â [low tone] âItâs not my first shed.â - woah woah woah, whereâs all the sparkle of a minute ago babes, I thought you were âOwO wowâ, if you know what a Time Lord is you know what a TARDIS is, but youâre not excited no mo? Or heâs doing it to deliberately make the TARDIS inside reveal cooler in contrast because he knows how much the Doctor likes this moment.
-âO my Godâ - haha namedrop. This happens to be Mastery behaviour cus this is just the Dhawan!Master pretending to be O entering the TARDIS scene. You were catfished by this before, come on babes. â
-âCome with me, and weâll be, in a world of pure imaginationâŚâ - what are you imagining babes? Are ya roleplaying son? Cosplaying? Engaging in a bit of the old fantasy right now. No? Heâs just feeling in a chocolatey kind of mood? Uhuh.
-âIâm in love!â - Now isnât this a 180 on the character? From so reticent and âmost serious man on earthâ to loudly declaring his love for the ship. Which just so happens to be the Doctorâs number one kink. And what does the TARDIS do in response? She growls. Rule one basic storytelling - the new boyfriend is evil, we knew cus the beloved dog growls at him. Rogue said he was in love and she growled. Gave Jack a bar, an ensuite, and let him tinker with her insides. But to Rogue she growls. Baddie. â
-The TARDIS lights are in a red-and-white checkerboard pattern. Our dimensionally transcendental TARDIS is literally a 5d chessboard. I wonât count it, but come on.
-Speaking of dimensionally transcendental, thatâs exactly what Rogue called her. Yet didnât anticipate a TARDIS thirty seconds ago. It takes work to argue he knows about dimensionally transcendental spacetime ships but not know of TARDISes that Time Lords travel in, but does know enough about Time Lords to be dazzled by them when he clearly isnât of earthly Lords. Much easier to go âehâ keeping the story straight when youâve got extra knowledge youâre pretending you donât have, but also need to come across as intelligent, is hard. Weâve all played D&D or at least Letâs Pretend. Itâs hard. Lying is hard.
-After a quick âand so cleanâ back-and-forth, Rogue runs up the stairs, hand on the bannister and leans on the railing. The TARDIS growls again, louder, like a whale. Like she did in the episode with the Not-Things, and with The Maestro. (Arguably her âPantheonâ noise?) Both of them notice. Rogueâs expression immediately turns from an awed open-mouthed smile to blankness, with a head tilt and turn, slowly coming back. âWhat was that?â The Doctor claims indigestion and she doesnât like bounty hunters. Not true of the ones with hearts of gold. Weâve seen her with Jack, and River, and she adores them. âItâs the moral void - no offence.â So youâre admitting it. Stating it directly. Heâs not got a heart of gold, the omnipotent spacetime ship can see that heâs a moral void. That is what you have said. â
-âAnd this, from the ancient and fallen world of GallifreyâŚWhere the hell is that?â *buzzer* Wrong. You tried to be clever and arenât - that wasnât the line. The line was âlost and fallenâ not âancient and fallenâ. Oh but Gallifrey is ancient though- *buzzer* He says in the same sentence he doesnât know of Gallifrey. And yet, he got all wide and starry-eyed over a Time Lord, when he is saying he knows nothing about them. Why? Because he canât keep his character straight pun intended, which is a character trait of another undercover ex-agent we know. â
-âWell I might take you one day.â - bananas response by the Doctor for multiple reasons. âIâll take you to my lost and fallen homeworldâ ok what? Second, Fifteen has for once been very open about his loss in this regard, said repeatedly that itâs gone, and how much it hurts him. Said it to Ruby, to Carla, to complete strangers. But here heâs out of character. Why? Maybe heâs roleplaying one that doesnât hurt. Maybe because he thinks itâs the Master and is fucking with him. But Iâm going with the roleplaying and saying what this character feels. Fucky from the Doctor rather than Rogue.
-âIn a few minutes it will no longer be a deathtrap, you are welcome.â [Rogue casually] âWhy, what does it do now?â This is all important but also pause to reflect for a moment on whether the character we saw up to this point would have handed his essential survival and work gear to a shapeshifter who claimed to be a Time Lord with zero proof and let him just modify it however. âHeâs just a very trusting bounty hunter, is all.â I mean he wasnât at the start of all this though, was he.
-Doctor boundaries: I canât let you kill it, âSo instead we will transport it to a random barren dimension, no-one to hurt, no way back.â Passing over the obvious, the Doctor is the one programming this. We agree weâre probably not literally installing a randomiser onto the device, weâre just randomly picking one and assigning those coordinates. How do you know itâs barren? Oh the TARDIS is dimensionally transcendental we just reminded people, so she can probably see, sheâs picking it. Ok. âŚSo thereâs no reason she wouldnât have a record of what she set it to. Thatâs information we should have. Ok. Which are the letters Rogue says. Ok. What about your bounty job? Not even a response to the no-killing? Or that this seems worse if anything? No. Just ok. Weâre saying that a lot in this episode. Ok. Just going along with things. Ok. I know what that word means. Ok.
-âWho did you lose?â âHow do you know?â âCus I know.â Cus we covered this earlier actually when he mentioned the usually two-personâs for captaining an asteroid hopper. Forgot? No worries Rogue, been a long ten minutes. No attempt to make a proper backstory just stares at the Doctor like a cow looking at an oncoming train and goes, âThere was- âŚYeah. We travelled together, we had fun, you know. And then a day came along, and at the end of that day��I lost them.â Now if this was the Master youâd be saying no shit he canât provide details and only parrot what the Doctor always says in these situations, he is a moral void, bro has one friend and only knows what itâs like to love that one friend obsessively, he canât even empathise enough to improvise a backstory that feels realistic. Maybe only lies have details but you can argue my guy didnât even commit to a gender. Itâs also a valid read to assume heâs just short on words at losing his fellow they/them bounty-hunter crook friend. Maybe the OwO Time Lord thing is enough to make him open up a little even if the Doctorâs done nothing to earn that trust yet. But both work just fine, if it was the Master itâd be how heâd do it. â
-âWhat about you?â The Doctorâs expression hardens here. Maybe cus it just hurts. Maybe for other reasons. [coldly, we linger on him] âI lost everyone.â Rogue still with too-wide-cow-train eyes . âBut at the party I saw you with that woman...â That tone. And how we immediately wave his âBest Friendâ aside. Look, again itâs a watch the scene. These two are good actors, theyâre excellent. And down to the âhuhâ head tilt before Groffâs line with every microexpression he is radiating a guy playing a role while still trying to poke his roleplaymate in his open wound with a stick. There has never been just one layer in anything in the show so far why would it start now in the episode about cosplaying people to death do you part, why? Why?? The one mirror everyone can accept is Captain Jack and he was literally a con man. This is a con man you are being conned. If you look at his face and think heâs being earnest you are extra weak to con men do not give strangers your credit card details. Didnât you have jerk friends? We all had jerk friends. That is the expression the jerk friend made when they were just asking questions *blink* *blink* donât get upset. Or Groff is a garbage actor. But he isnât. Just the character heâs playing is crap at acting. Go back and watch O, the cow-eyes are textbook liar, any liar, but especially the Master â
. Theyâre doing a scene, it is diegetic. The acting is diegetic.
-âYou donât have to stay a bounty hunter, [beat pause] Rogue.â You can say itâs just cus he knows Rogue isnât his real name but the Doctorâs usually fine with that sort of thing. âYou could travel with me[âŚ]the worlds I could show youâŚâ âAnd what if I like what I do? Would you travel with me?â âThat is quite an argument. ((No it isnât he doesnât like bounty hunters)) Iâll tell you what, when we both get out of this, letâs argue across the stars.â This is the Doctor and Master scene, we do these scenes every incarnation all the way since half-share in the universe, you donât have to think heâs the Master but we know these lines damn well are. â
-They nearly kiss but the TARDIS cockblocks them with a beep of being finished with the rewiring, because again, she doesnât like the moral void, and does not want the Doctor to stick his dick in it. And what does the Doctor say as he steps back from their almost kiss? âThe trap is ready.â
-[Rogue is sans new bag for the indoor scenes here, I believe this is just a costuming error that happened from them probably reshooting the dancing a bajillion times, it will come back when theyâre back outside again and in every subsequent scene onwards]
-They meet back up with Rubes and Roleplaying Chuldur #5. Ruby asks a very good question. âOk, but what does anyone get out of killing these people? I mean I know theyâre posh nobs and all that, but we found the housekeeper dead. I mean why would anybody do that?â And the Doctor, instead of saying âitâs how they steal their bodies theyâre shapeshiftersâ says the meta-important answer first. âThe dance. The drama. The emotion.â THIS IS ABOUT GALLIFREY. High society here is a mirror for the aforementioned fallen Gallifrey. The Master didnât just genocide the Time Lords, he killed every Shobogon/lay-Gallifreyan without Child-stolen regenerations, he killed every TARDIS, every living thing on the planet. Why? The drama.
-âItâs cosplay. All of this is cosplay.â
-The Doctor turns to a non-plussed looking Rogue and says: âYou said that a Chuldur comes to a planet and tries on people like outfits just for the fun of it.â âŚWh- when? When did he say that?? (Iâm being facetious - he doesnât). Also does that seem rich coming from the âmultiple costume changes per episodeâ Doctor? Mirrors.
-(If the background music here is Vitamin String Quartet I donât recognise it unfortunately. Fun Fact, I used them exclusively as background music for my own wedding, cus I thought itâd be fun for people to try and guess the songs if things got boring and itâd be a conversation starter. Ate my wedding cake to Poker Face. We like resonating with the universe here.)
-âThose TV signals beam out across the stars.â âWhat are these T-V signals?â I canât add more than one video, so if youâre not willing to take the description on faith itâs 24:45. But watch Rogue here. He slightly turns to her with a little glare and that exact same frustrated little sigh he did with the Duchess corpse earlier. Dungeon Masterâs stupidest soldier? Cus youâd think if he was annoyed she was being anachronismatised (real word), heâd have given the Doctor the shut up glare but doesnât give him bother for it at all. Maybe heâs just a conflict averse bounty hunter. But thatâs what the Master would have done, he has low lackey/idiot friend tolerance. Both reads valid. â
-The Doctor dances, we know what thatâs a metaphor for and what episode itâs from. Good thing Rogue knows all the moves ahead of time.
-Just putting the reminder here cus thereâs no clear place - I go with Master because Dungeon Master, Iâm A Bad Guy, the mirrors *gestures at everything above* etc. but mostly because this is a deliberate attempt to cosplay Jack. Thus it requires someone who has watched the show. The Pantheon, the Master seems like a good bet, however, could admittedly be Chulder #6 (and theyâre just supposed to be a very strong but purely mirror for the Master) and because of their different dimension-ness has watched the show on TV and has figured out how their self-insert is gonna bang the Doctor. But one way or the other, our baddie here has seen Doctor Who The TV Show in the same way the birds watched Bridgerton and this is an intrinsic part of this that shouldnât be separated. That we have a fanboy who is deliberately cosplaying Jack and invoking him and references to that episode is important.
-Rogue: âSo what is this ancient Earth tradition of cosplay?â No-one said it was ancient (twice now), no-one said it was Earth, no-one said it was tradition, even Ruby had to clarify âso you mean itâs literally dressing up and playing at Bridgerton?â Rogue almost certainly already knows what it means. And we know the birds do. This is our baddie having fun. Because as the Doctor says next: âOh, Rogue. Itâs when fans dress up as characters that they like.â (Point to Pantheon, because roleplaying the Master would be dressing up as a character from Doctor Who that they like).
-General note again: both prior to but especially 13âs era really spent some subtext time building up the whole âThe Doctorâ and âThe Masterâ are roles they play. If you know you know. Weâve been continuing on Chibsâs themes. Just reminding.
-The Doctor takes the male i.e. leading position judging by the other couples visible. As per traditional Thoschei.
-Lights dim in our usual diegetic/non-diegetic playing that weâve been doing. Soft point to Pantheon - remember if The Rogueâs theme is Roleplaying it must be a double bluff for him to actually be being skilled at it, and he is cosplaying the Master cosplaying the Doctor, with the conceit that the Doctor gets this but not that itâs someone cosplaying the Master, thus heâs winning. If he is Pantheon this is the only potential evidence of fuckery besides having brought non-native-dimensional creatures into ours, which we do have other explanations for.
-âWe need to have a big fight so one of us can storm out and the Duchess follow us.â âThe Chuldur cosplay, not me.â Mhmm. You had D&D dice. But regardless if you buy that, we have now spontaneously swapped from engaging starry-eyed Personality B, back to Personality A: strong and silent.
-âHow dare you my Lord! You would ask me to give up my title? My fortune? But what future can you promise me? *Rogue shaking his head, not good at deviations from the script, nor is the Master fwiw* â
âYou cad! Tell me what your heart wants, or I shall turn my back forever!â âIâŚâ Fifteen whispers, âSay anything.â If you are not internally writing the pre-show Doctor/Master fanfiction I cannot help you. Jo describing the Master like a jilted lover or whatever the hell it was. But at least here, with admittedly a little open-mouthed smirky smile, Rogue gets down on one knee and offers his ring. (From non-marriage hand, 4th finger, donât completely see him pull it off but he was wearing it in the dance scene). If we are re-writing history with this cosplay, which given the Doctorâs reaction he certainly seems to consider it meaningful, thatâs definitely what the Master would do here. âThis is what I wanted you to do back then.â â
-Obviously the Master has used that sort of flat-topped large round ring before, weâve had the callback to it with the red-nailed woman and the tooth just recently. The insignia is not entirely decipherable. Most default Iâve seen is an angel (Master coding, especially if weâre wearing it upside-down hoo), Iâve also seen a ârod of asclepius with 3d coiling tailsâ (A Doctor fanboy who has come prepared for this moment), and just plain bird of some kind given the little wings.
-The Doctor says a very genuine âSorry I canât- âŚI ca-â and runs off. (Which definitely happened the first time). This almost certainly isnât River trauma, Twelve wore the implied wedding ring until it fell off when he regenerated. And weâre just supposed to be making a scene and this is an obvious way to do it - heâs already nearly kissed him and invited him, the Doctor put relationship on the cards, and could easily still be haha fun joke but you are still coming right? If it was just Yaz Making Everything Feel Like Touching A Hot Mind Stove then the near kiss feels like that would have been included in the trauma reaction. So presumably engagement based triggering specifically. Probably not from Cameca either. That had cocoa involved.
-Rogue seems a little surprised at this reaction. Fair all round, the Master might not have expected it either, but also the sort of thing a fanboy might not have been able to pre-empt - it wasnât in the show after all.
-They actually join back together almost immediately and they run outside, so it wasnât that overwhelming.
-âOh, we must play them!â - no âahaâsâ from the peanut gallery, we already saw the birds can potentially not recognise each other in costume, and in the baddie camp (bird ship, heâs in a bird ship) we can be pretty sure that Rogue didnât arrive here looking like Mr Darcy since none of the others were pre-costumed and just nicked people when they got here. (number 2 shows they didnât pre-organise characters - ânice costumeâ). If Chulder #6 - nicked a guy. If Pantheon - conjured himself a bespoke Darcy form. If the Master potentially still body-stealing or simply weâre cloaked - remember the electronic interference from the start that pointed the Doctor to him specifically rather than the Chuldur? Dhawan!Master previously cloaked himself, plenty of scope there. (Why would the Master need to cloak? If the Doctorâs already familiar with his form. Either from other plans or the fact that, well, thereâs a world where this could literally still be Dhawan!Master.)
-The Master nicks bodies by the way, for New Who-onlys. We havenât actually done it for a while, and for earring interference reasons I donât believe weâre doing it now, but itâs actually a Classic Who staple.
-âNow keep the Duchess talking, a Chuldur is strong, and if she starts to change you it wonât stop.â First, now thatâs a meta, second, do we want to add a sketchy point for the gendering of the Chuldur? Cus weâve seen one of them explicitly say theyâre fine with different bodies (âoh I wanted to be the Duchessâ)? Hm. Itâs an assumption on thin ice but Iâll allow it. We donât ask Rogue why he knows so much about the Chuldurs considering theyâre different dimension beings. There are non-problematic options there to be sure. But will say that Dhawan!Master was previously messing around with different dimension beings hoping to find out if they were what the Doctor was, got trapped in their dimension at the end, and these ones are literal shapeshifters. If it is the Master, he has plenty of reason to be here with them and know a lot about them. â
If he is a Chuldur, well, obvious reason.
-[Rogue now has his bag back on. This is why I believe itâs a costuming error it wasnât on indoors just then - the TARDIS and real outdoor areas were obviously filmed in very different times and places, the fact the bag travelled to both is suggestive that it was clearly supposed to be a part of his outfit at this point. BTS: the indoor and outdoor scenes were obviously filmed at different times, (3 weeks of night shoots oof) theyâre not actually walking in and out of the building. But itâs also a deliberate costuming addition after the ship because he wasnât wearing it in the night scenes where heâs holding the Doctor at gunpoint or anything. Tl;dr - no bag before the âWowâ heelturn in the ship, carries bag after.]
-Thereâs not one but multiple of the Chuldur shapeshifters. A âfamilyâ according to Rogue. (Who are playing two characters that are getting married. Oh Doctor-Master mirrors, never change). Something youâd think would be on the bounty hunter note - are you just getting paid for the first one? Can you claim extra if you make multiple runs? These are important questions. Or not.
-âI want to be the Doctor.â âŚHow does she know itâs the Doctor? âUh, the Duchess was introduced to him earlier.â Yeah. The Duchess. Who died. Childur 1 was still the housekeeper when that happened. She knows who the Doctor is.
-Doctor-Master inverting with the âRun.â âIâm the one who usually says that.â Our beloved theme returns to us. Of course maybe itâs just the cosplaying self-inserting whatever could be any baddie by which i mean really only Pantheon or Chulder #6. Bird ship. The Master was literally cosplaying as the Doctor the last time we saw him, like physically in the Doctors clothes. And probably underwear. Does anyone in this essay smoke weed?
-âBreaking spines! Removing tonsils! Live vivisection!â Gallifrey Time Lords mirror previously engaged, re-engage plus Timeless Child. But we uh havenât had them do any of that stuff yet and they already suck people dry (donât. I think itâs meant to be a kind of bolus, if you know your birds of prey) so I donât know why this line is here. Actually maybe I do - now theyâre roleplaying playing scary beasts hunting prey, doesnât mean theyâre actually going to do any of those things. Removing tonsils stands out. âŚWe have a rogue (canât say that now. Odd?) line from Ruby at the beginning about falling over in front of a fit dentist, the Masterâs in the Toymakerâs gold tooth, tonsils feel adjacent, itâs almost certainly just funny, and it is, but if that bangs any bricks together in someoneâs head go to town.
-I think the âbreaking spines! removing tonsils! live vivisectionâ line is there to showcase that they are roleplaying Baddies. Because while murdering, they have done literally nothing like that, and itâs the sort of silly thing a child would say when playing a monster trying to think of the nastiest things a monster could do). âWe still have the big finale wedding to come. And then⌠London. We can play our games on a magnificent scale. Parliament first, then royalty. I can be King. And we can start wars with the French and the Spanish and the Portuguese, and everyone who doesnât look British.â This is their spitballing Season Two. As another point to all being one character and that them being Secret Monsters may be accounted for in the game - Emily is always called Emily whether humanning or in bird form.
-The Doctor and Rogue hide in the carriages. (Matilda style). If youâre building that pre-show Thoschei story, hiding from Time Lords in a TARDIS was probably already there, but if it wasnât, now it is. Or hurr durr hiding in a carriage is funny I donât know.
-âBack to the house. We must advance with the wedding! That should get them out of hiding.â âŚBestie? What does that mean? Why would that get what we were led to believe that you believe are âtwo random interesting people one introduced to you earlier as the Doctorâ out of hiding? They have skedaddled so as not to be eaten by birds, right? Theyâre gone, lassie, why would they come back? âŚUnless she already knew who a character called the Doctor was before they were introduced? And that the Doctorâs M.O. will bring him back? Cus theyâve been watching more than one show.
-We modify the transporter: âI can make this transport gate carry four.â âWhat if thereâs more?â âRightâŚSix. Six maximum.â How convenient. Personally donât feel that worry is realistic for the character to have (while acceptable to write), and that if Rogue was as he was originally portrayed, he would be saying âWorst comes to worst, I could alwaysâŚâ *lifts jacket* *Doctor has brief moment of distracted horniness* âNobody is going to be shooting anybody.â But heâs so perfect pacifist for the Doctor so quickly, I guess he just never would. Of course if heâs on their side, especially if also a Chuldur, heâs not wanting to kill any of them.
-Also feels like a Dungeon Master-whisper in the ear the Doctor just goes with: What if thereâs more birds? *sets it to 4* What if there were more. *immediately sets it to 6 skipping 5 entirely*. (We talked about Missyâs comment of there always being a way out being potentially meaningful re: the Masterâs traps for the Doctor; and counterbalancing the Doctor giving them a way out âcome with me donât be evilâ. This would be a fun thing to do with that. Trying to create and order a good story and satisfying conclusion based on the Doctor and other playersâ choices - pure DMing work at its finest.).
-âAnd I thought I was interesting. A bookish little wallflower risking it all for a secret love⌠But you. You are wild, and brave, and rude, living a life of adventureâ again you donât have to be team Master to enjoy the Gallifrey mirror. The potential in these mirrors for the Master is mmm gorgeous and Iâm so here for it. Going back in time to when One ran away with Susan and slapping him for not proposing because he would have come with you, we could fix the universe, we-
-Question, cus Iâm bored and this has become sort of a general analysis essay: When the birds transformed there were at least some people inside who screamed, you hear them. âŚWhy is the party still here and going on and everyoneâs chilling. Eh maybe Dot And Bubble explained that. Or maybe it was delayed screaming at seeing the gays. Thatâd be a Time Lord mirror. A marriage proposal probably gets you arrested for public indecency.
-The birds speak English, French, and German. Or at least a few words thereof. Multidimensional telly and Iâm surprised itâs got foreign channels? How anglocentric of me. *shakes head*.
-âThis is the endgame, Chuldurâs leave no witnesses ((yes they do they just abandoned bodies everywhere)), theyâll slaughter everyone.â If heâs not a bad guy then why, why the fuck, did he spend about fifteen minutes fucking around and not shouting âIf we donât stop the Chuldur theyâre going to massacre everybody the second they stop having fun! Yeah, Iâm bringing the gun!â like you mention this now??? Of course he mentions it now, heâs building dramatic tension because he is like our favourite dramatic bitch. â
-R:âIâm sorry.â 15:âThey got her.â Ruby cosplaying as a Chuldur cosplaying as Ruby (see you thought my Pantheon cosplaying as the Master cosplaying as Jack was too much - we did double-layering in the episode itself) enters the room. Rogue gives his line but immediately turns away and watches only the Doctor and his reaction (who stares for a moment then gets up and walks away). Autism collective that we all are, this:
is not an expression of someone whose heart is breaking for his new friend. Just so weâre clear. Which is an odd choice for a new love interest - no sympathetic pain, eyes closing, not even a pat on the arm. Heâs just observing what the Doctor does, and then gets up and follows the Doctor out. â
If heâs a good guy (heâs not, bird ship) youâre not selling him well. And if heâs a bad guy turning noble, he doesnât have that part down yet. (Also Rogue said heâd tried looking for Ruby but theyâd locked the doors. They manage to get through the section theyâre in just fine. YMMV. Not enough on its own imo).
-âMadam. Your Grace âŚYour Birdiness. I cannot sanction wedlockeâŚbetween creatures from Hell.â They let the vicar be the one with the banger line, damn. Only one with a spine. Dead obviously but getting a high-five from some angel out there. (Me turning that into a vicarâs reaction to being asked to wed the Doctor and Master, whatever the fuck they are.)
-Speaking of which, here we explicitly see a Chuldur kill a man and copy his outfit but not his face. The Chuldur. Have no difference. Between body. And clothing. *flashback the Not-Things, and Fourteen regenerating* If you werenât sure they were mirrors, you should be now.
-âHow long do they live for?â âChuldur?â âMhm.â *Rogue comes up from behind to stand alongside him where he can see him.* âThey have a lifespan of about six-hundred years.â âGood, good. Thatâs a long time to suffer.â A slight negative in âthis can be validly read as the Masterâ behaviour, because this yields only a tiny expression change of a slight raise of eyebrows, not a wild-eyed smile, and I donât think the Masterâs been able to restrain himself that well since he was Delgado. God what that man could convey with an eyebrow. Also weâve all agreed that the funniest thing is that the plan doesnât even change, he just knows how long their torment will last now and is happy about it, and if you ever need to explain the horror underpinning the Doctor itâs that.
-Now this is a hell of a thing to reveal about yourself to your brand new love interest and companion. That youâre down for some serious torture. Thirteen went well out of her way to be a monster only when they couldnât see her. (Works nicely as a soft threat though. âIf youâre involved with killing mine, I will torture you til you die or the sun doesâ. Good to have boundaries in a relationship.)
-âTaste his inhuman scent.â - A) Nice double-meaning line considering *gestures above*, B) Confirmation she knew earlier the Doctor wasnât human, and so combining that with the belief he would come back if they started the weddingâŚ
-âAnd I am one of a kind.â âHe is quite uniqueâŚâ Hold this in your mind weâll be back to it in just a minute. *
-The birds immediately recognise the transport trap, by name, and that thereâs only one third of it. Which would make a lot of sense if Rogue and the birdsâ ship are the same bird ship so theyâve seen it before. Canât be that theyâve encountered Just A Bounty Hunter Rogue before - he âdidnât knowâ there was more than one, thereâs no visual recognition, and previously it led to an incinerator not something escapable from.
-That we donât see presumably Rogue placing the other traps, not even a glimpse of someone shuffling in the background, is to me extremely interesting. Not only like with the Carla flashback scene, playing with the unseen, but perhaps critically that this certain someone might know where the cameras areâŚ
-Were you going âwhy donât they just take their shoes offâ when they got stuck in the triform? Well makes sense that they didnât now, right?! Cus we know now thereâs no difference to them between their clothing and their skin! âŚAdmittedly RubyâŚhopefully is fine and as humanâŚwell maybe not humanâŚhopefully sheâs whatever she was at the start of the episode. I, uh, maybe would mark that down as a concern though.
-Rubyâs chemistry with Lady roleplaying #5 was rewarded by attempted murder as Emily sought to turn into her. That happens a lot here. Letâs not worry about them as the partner mirror for Doctor-Rogue. Or what just happened with Dhawan!Master and 13. If you consider âPoker Faceâ to be obviously meta-relevant here but âIâm The Bad Guyâ not earlier, question yourself.
-* I told you weâd be back. âShe smells like a Chuldur.â âIdiot! Itâs a false scent from that cheap psychic jewellery!â - The Doctor smells unique but this doesnât mean they arenât palling around with the Master. Weâre specifically given a reason for this to not be an issue and well, I guess that would explain why she gets earring interference when Rogueâs around huh? If theyâre using the same technology. (Same goes for a Chuldur faking being a human etc.)
-Do I believe the Master could perform a firemanâs lift to yeet #5, yes surprisingly, he is actually physically strong, a fencer, rower, and itâs been noted before. (Ainleyâs six pack haunts me still). Dhawan!Master in particular has lugged corpses. Itâs only running he doesnât do/have stamina for. However, do I think he would risk it in-situ just for cool points? Donât know. However, for this free bit of mental torture to work, the final bird has got to be in the enclosure. If itâs not all or nothing, then of course the Doctor would release Ruby. To get the Doctor to have to choose either to kill his companion or the world? He would carry the earth like Atlas. â
And thatâs what he immediately proceeds to do with no hesitation. â
âDoctor, press send. Weâve only got one chance.â âI canât.â âPress. The button.â *The Doctor openly, loudly panicking* âIt will send Ruby!â âNo, Doctor, itâs fine.â âNO! No! No! No!â âIf you donât press send, the Chuldur will escape and Ruby dies anyway.â
The Rogue that you think is real is not doing this. Is not convincing the Doctor to kill his companion. He is taking out his gun, and shooting the struggling birds while they are still stuck to the glue trap. Itâs not a nice thing. But it is the Heart Of Gold thing. But heâs not that. Heâs just The Bad Guy. â
âTheyâll kill us. Then this house. Then London. Then the world. You know that. You absolutely know it.â
He doesnât. The Doctor doesnât know a thing about the Chuldur other than that they are shapeshifters and what heâs seen. How does he even know what London is?? And he wasnât there for the scene where the Chuldur said it themselves.
He canât have logicked that out. There were a few deaths sure, but one housekeeper and a duchess not only isnât âthese are extremely dangerous and fast killing machinesâ-worthy, that leap doesnât make sense.
Itâs not even true in their possibly-just-roleplay Baddie Plan. âAnd weâll start wars with x y and z and everyone who isnât British! Bloodshed, cannons, gunpowder!â, like that is a lonnnnnnng plan. Like I said before this situation is no âwe donât have time to run away and regroupâ thing, theyâre slow killers, and especially with Ruby with battle mode engaged she at least would be fine. But itâs that taking over London bit. Very specifically. He claims he hasnât met them, doesnât know how many there are, heâs not admitting to any prior knowledge of these guys. So the only way he comes up with that line is if he already knew what they wanted out of their campaign in the first place.
They have not yet proven any more dangerous than any human gunman, in fact less, they clearly canât spray bullets, they kill one at a time and so far only people theyâve wanted the appearance of in some way. They have been in rooms crammed with people who survived the encounter. Are you going to have to leg it to the TARDIS to regroup? Yes. Would people die? Sure. But probably not her, sheâs fast and has a battle bot controlling her movements. Multiple posh nobs have died already and we only got a little sad over the housekeeper. Our hearts will survive. The one putting the pressure on the situation is not the Chuldur. Itâs Rogue. There is no time limit. No rush. Itâs waiting for you to press the button on the Laser TCE- I mean control stick. But Rogue is not giving him a second to think. â
*Rogue approaches, step by step.*
âSo can you do it?â
GUYS, your supposed hero is TORTURING the Doctor, who is fucking ugly crying his two broken little hearts out. â
âCan you lose your friend to save the world.â
âI am very sane and staring at you in a normal way the normal amount. Choose to kill your friend yourself, or choose to allow the genocide of every person on this planet including her. I want to see you choose, choose, choose.â
âOk, but what does anyone get out of killing these people? I mean I know theyâre posh nobs and all that, but we found the housekeeper dead. I mean why would anybody do that?â
âRemember how we used to run through those streets as children? The alleys where we'd hide from Borusa as we skipped classes? All gone now. Come on, ask me why I did this.â
*Sobbing Doctor shakes his head, making his decision* [quietly] âNo.â
*Rogue with hitherto unseen tenderness, wiping one of his tear away* âI know.â
No, he doesnât! If he is a random fucking bounty hunter he does not in fact know that. He knows because he already knows the Doctor. From real life or from being a bad guy who just kind of likes to watch TV - which actually I guess does describe the Masterâ
â
*Rogue kisses him. Because a tortured ugly crying Doctor is hot to him.* â
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(If I need to explain why the Master snogging the Doctor here, or the fact that he genuinely loves him in his own twisted way, you canât be helped, or maybe were just a Ten viewer when you were 8 so missed stuff, and have watched nothing else in the show and just stumbled back in here - go watch Twelve thereâs Simm!Master in it for you, and Thirteenâs second series onwards).
Live âAbout To Be Ripped Apart By Murderous Birds In Another Dimension If She Even Physically Survives The Tripâ Slug Reaction. Ruby straight up like âwell at least he wonât be aloneâ, babes weâre gonna get you some sertraline, a psychologist, itâs gonna be ok, youâre worthy of life, weâre gonna get you help, we have a therapy circle.
The grin and hoppidy-skip jump Rogue does here when they break for air and heâs holding the Laser TCE/controller is a level of happiness we have yet to see from Rogue. A still cannot do it justice. (40:17 - though if youâre going, may as well watch the whole torturing scene from 39:00). Itâs a bit more than a wee smile.
Then Rogue leaps over and knocks Ruby out of the triangle! Something he could apparently have done at literally any time before or during torturing the Doctor to his breaking point!
Why can he do this when she is molecularly bonded to the floor? We donât know! Itâs not explained! But he clearly knows his fucking device doesnât he?! Why didnât he tell the Doctor at any point that it would be possible to get Ruby out with a thing called a matter exchange? Who knows?! Maybe it slipped his mind til the last moment? The Doctor being the one to take her place would sure have been an answer, but oh well!
âMaybe he didnât want to risk his life for Rubyâs unless he really had to.â - Then thatâs shit hero and love interest behaviour isnât it! But since it says âMatter Exchangeâ Iâm pretty sure he could also have knocked Ruby out of the triangle using that vicar corpse on the floor a few feet away, then neither would have to die! So he must be real sure heâs gonna be ok! â
Heâs so happy and chill. The music is happy too. Rogue jauntily throws the bouquet - ahh look whoâs next to be married *wink*. This is the happiest and funnest and most genuine heâs looked the entire episode. Almost like he got exactly what he wanted! â
âFind me.â *click*
Ruby youâre such a dick, why couldnât you be as happy as him? If youâd trusted the Doctor to find you instead of you die by bird and/or dimensional anomaly before he got there this could have been such a peppy scene the whole time. Itâs almost like Rogue is absolutely certain heâs not going to die doing this. You know I know a character whoâs been transported to a different dimension at the end of his episode before and got out of that just fine! â
Almost like this was the end of a live D&D session he was hosting. Thatâs a wrap everyone, great job. Just imagine what Iâve got in store for us next week. Good thing the car transports all six of us together! Well done for not panicking, screaming, or interrupting what I had going on with the Doctor at the end, and trusting this wasnât going to teleport you into an incinerator. Thanks for playing along, excellent improv as always, Iâll be marking your RP points highly.
And then the Doctor screamed âIâll find you! I promise Iâll find you!â it was very romantic, and then he got out the sonic and started scanning everything for traces, anything, he was still upset and panicky of course, I mean his new love interest had just snogged him and given his own life to save Rubyâs. But Rogue had believed in him to do this impossible impossible task so he would. So he and Ruby ran back to the TARDIS as fast as they could, maybe sheâd picked something up or *gasp* she was the one who configured the trap in the first place so maybe there would be a record of what random dimension she chose! Except she wouldnât let them access it for some reason and she kept growling and the Doctor was crying with anger and-
No wait, none of that happened, sorry, not sure why I thought it did.
Actually the Doctor went to comfort Ruby and her comfort him, sombrely put the bouquet down where Rogue was. (And left the trap technology behind. So got engaged and invented a glue/tarmac trap.) The Doctor remotely sent the Bird Ship to orbit around the moon, âso it can waitâŚas long as it takesâ. In the 19th century. âŚBabe, you know they can see the moon, right? They have telescopes. This is a mavity waiting to happen.
(Genuinely choosing not to think about how we last left Dhawan!Master messing about with the two moons in the 1900âs, Iâmma be real, I donât know what was going on and when there, hope it doesnât fit in actually because Iâm not gonna get it. If heâs the Master he turns up, thatâs all I ever need to know.)
-âCanât we use the TARDIS and go find him?â Ruby asks. Good question. If the TARDIS can determine whether a dimension is uninhabited or not thatâs definitely gonna narrow it down. Maybe she could outright search for him? If she, you know, didnât hate his moral void.
-âThere are as many dimensions as there are atoms in the universe.â *Ruby arm cuddles* âAnyway! It is what it is, so onwards, fine, next.â So is it âas long as it takesâ or are you not even going to try and find him? That and the bouquet really feels like youâre giving him up for dead and just hoping he finds his way back himself some day. Itâs not what you were told to do. You can wear that ring and salute the sky with a smile all you like. He said âFind him.â Bad fiancĂŠ behaviour.
Cus the thing is, here is the âuwu small bean Rogueâ paradox. If this is just a normal guy, heâs not making it back on his own. Heâs dying to the birds. The Doctor isnât looking for him, and Rogue clearly didnât think he could return on his own - he says âFind meâ not âIâll be backâ. So if you believe weâre going to see Rogue againâŚheâs going to not be a normal guy, but be the type who can survive and make his own way back from a wrong dimension surrounded by free murderous birds. *piano rendition of The Cat Came Back starts playing* â
But luckily heâs not normal. Heâs a man/bird with so much forethought he knew he wasnât going to be coming back to his bird ship and took whatever it was that can save him from a teleport trap from the spaceship with him in that bag. Always have a getaway plan. Thatâs Masterful thinking. Unless you just think he wanted his wallet and keys on him â
(Point against Pantheon though - pretty sure being able to move reality around doesnât require props. But then D&D. Maybe he just likes props.)
-âDoctor, you donât have to be like this.â âI have to be like this because this is what Iâm like.â And in our story about roleplaying, shouting out our longtime theme of the most important roleplaying of all, that we follow a character whoâd rather be called Lulubelle playing The Doctorâ˘. Doctor Who is a show.
-The fires whole and reflected and internal everywhere, like our Gallifrey mirror is on fire.
-Final additional literal-meta that may be of interest: the costume designer said Ncutiâs outfit is designed as a nod to Three - the original Thoschei pairing origin. We canonise Shalka!Doctor - famously and frankly exclusively known as âthat animated one who made a robot boyfriend Master to be his Companionâ, with lines in the episode Cornell said was indeed intended to suggest a relationship there and would have continued had that pilot been picked up. Relevant or not weâll see.
And to all those who read that and yet still think that I am just very cynical and mean, and he really does have a single heart of gold, heâs just got flat affect and is socially awkward and autistic maybe and-
His ship IS A FUCKING BIRD. OWL HOOTS.
đ You did it! You read the full analysis! Great job! You passed Media Overanalysis, Rogue Edition. I told you it was a 10K. Look at how much you just read that had already been effectively covered in the first minute with just one thing.
âIâm The Bad Guy. Duh.â
(âI am now convinced, but do you have a blessedly far shorter essay about why a Chuldur/Pantheon The Rogue perfectly cosplaying the Master cosplaying Jack would be the way to go?â Why yes I do, strawman.)
Assorted later Additions:
Pantheon!Rogue: Why the bird ship?
Maybe thatâs why the shipâs so fucky actually, DMâs love their props, this is about playing D&D In The Real World, so maybe he got one originally, short hop standard Asteroid Hopper. but now theyâve just kept (perhaps Pantheon-magically) editing it over time as the campaign and rule of cool needed. Appearance, better space travel, time travel etc. âIt should look like a bird!â ââŚYeah! It should look like a bird! Great idea Emily, weâll work that in!â Of course if heâs a Chuldur this is justâŚtheir ship. Maybe classicly upgraded.
What might Rogueâs original plan for the Chuldurâs live D&D Session supposed to have been:
We know they were going to have a big wedding, but maybe that theyâre also Baddies going to take over the world muhahaha! Cus they went into that monster-playing real quick and also they said that the panicking and screaming is their favourite bit - so there must have been a plan to include that after the wedding part of the game! They thought the wedding would lure The Doctor out so there must have been nefariousness in it or else why would The Doctor be drawn out? They were playing Baddies! So, thinking like what our lead bird would want for a moment, if you were to DM that, maybe heâs both playing the bounty hunter sent to catch them âŚBut maybe also was going to do an âI Object!â scene too. Their faces in that scene, theyâre so excited. Letâs say Rogue doesnât know the Doctor was coming in advance. Heâs already got âIâm The Bad Guyâ playing if this wasnât a live magical edit on seeing him. Oh, maybe thatâs why he chose to look like Mr Darcy. Maybe he was going to woo one of them - a good reason to already have the ring. Cus a big wedding canât go right, thatâs not drama, thatâs boring. We know heâs probably cloaked - not only do they not recognise him but we have Rubyâs earring interference pointed directly at him (same tech frequency problems?) and even mention the psychic jewelleryâs ability to mask a scent with a false one. So he was an NPC just meant to turn up and add some of their beloved drama. So heâd woo a Chuldur, heâll object and then he would reveal himself as a bounty hunter with his Big Glowy Gun and trap! It was a dastardly trick! You knew he was a Rogue and a cad all along, you just let yourself fall for his deceit! *teleports to ship rather than incinerator* BRO. Even the birdâs D&D plot would naturally be the âI was tricking you and am actually your enemyâ twist!
Post-Empire, The case for the Chuldur Phoenix: Rogue being (unbeknownst to himself) the Master cosplaying a Chuldur cosplaying the Master.
#meta#mine#rogue#pantheon rogue#cosplaying til death do we part#longpost#i mean it#you wonât open it twice#this is a full episode breakdown barring what i missed or forgot#your rebuttal papers on why heâs not a bad guy will only be accepted with:#-a paragraph on âIâm A Bad Guyâ and your position on its relevance#-full explanation for his bird ship and d&d equipment in need of a group#and why it does not relate to the roleplaying bird group#or rogue himself roleplaying#-an alternative and whole-episode spanning reasoning#of what the ârealâ link between both halves of the plot are#if it is not âboth these groups are cosplayingâ#âin pursuit of a weddingâ#-and a short creative writing piece where you detail#rogueâs thoughts during the entire torture scene from firemanâs lift to *click*#-and most importantly the esquivalienced misspelled codeword#in the âiâm the bad guyâ lyric video
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I have a cute idea! Insomniac Peter and Miles with a Reader who's 15 (so like the age most spiders start their crime fighting) and because their so new to fighting they're a ball of sunshine, but unfortunately bad at smack talk? Like they'll be fighting someone and the criminal will give a hurtful insult and they'll just be all 'yeah? Well you're dumb! đĄ'
Peter parker and Miles Morales x reader
Definitely didn't look up youtube video compilations of all their quips for fun of it after you made this request >D lol, also apologies for the delay. Word count:660
Being the Spider-Hero was the most rewarding and challenging experience you had ever faced in your 15 years of being on this planet. But your mentors Peter and Miles helped you learn and master your powers in no time at all. But the one thing that they didn't help you with... was smack talk.
It was one of the things that made Peter and Miles who they were and roll with the punches. Like today when they have gotten a tip-off of a potential hunter base. The three of you then swung into action.
"Morning fella's, who's ready for there fresh cup of bodily harm ??" Peter called out to them.
"Don't let the spiders escape !!" One hunter shouted and the fight began.
"Is really the best time to do smack talk ??" You told peter as you fought your group of hunters.
"It's pretty much a part of the job !!" You could tell he was smiling under his mask.
Miles was blaring out his own smack talk as well.
"If you guys tried this at a real job, you wouldn't need to be hunters"
You were so baffled but amazed at the same time how they could be able to do this and maintain focus into the fights.
When one hunter was facing you, you prepared for yours...
"You really think, That an incompetent child playing dress up can stop me ??!!" He readied his swords.
"Oh yeah... well... Your just dumb !!" You blurted out as the hunter then lunged at you.
Peter and Miles heard your quip and couldn't help but slightly cringe at that, You really needed some help with your quips and smack talk. So once you were done with dealing with the hunters, Peter and Miles then guided you to a nearby building and then took off their masks.
"What's wrong ??, did I not do good ??" You asked slightly concerned as you took off your mask.
"No no not at all, You did amazing y/n, Your training has paid off. It's just... Your smack talk maaaaay need some work." Peter told you.
"Oh... that..." You looked down embarrassingly.
"Hey It's ok" He smiled softly as he wrapped his arm around you. "Like anything Miles and I will help you."
"Yeah, Look sometimes I still have trouble with my smack talk even if I've done this for nearly a year" Miles pitched in.
"Ok... thank you guys" You smiled.
So over the next week, they began to help you with your smack talk, Slow and steadily they helped you go over different situations and picked perfect moments to bring it out
"Hey... I'm gonna put some dirt in your eye..., Is that good ??" You asked.
"Close... but you really gotta feel the passion and motivation when it comes with it." Miles helped you.
So even when you went home, you practised in the mirror your smack talk and got better and better over time, even coming up with some original lines of your own.
Until one day you were ready to show the two your amazing new quips and puns. You found another hunter base and one of the hunters recognised you and growled.
"After all this time, your still just an ignorant child" He snarled at you.
You smirked under your mask as he said that.
"True, but that's just apart of my charm isn't it ??"
Peter and Miles were surprised and happy when they heard that. Your practice really paid off. And as you continued to fight the hunters, you showed off your new vocabularies.
"You and the other spiders will be crushed by Kraven's hands !!!"
"Awww you can't fool me Mr gruff exterior I know ya love me, and I love ya too !!"
Peter and Miles were so proud of you, once they finished the fight, they congratulated you on graduating into a full Spider-Hero now !!, You couldn't be more proud of yourself.
Taglist: @callofdudes @fun-k-board
#platonic#reader insert#insomniac spider man#insomniac games peter parker#insomniac games#Insomniac games miles morales#insomniac miles morales#insomniac peter parker#peter parker x reader#miles morales x reader#Miles Morales#peter parker#Spider-man x reader
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