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minhosimthings · 2 days ago

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A Nonsense Christmas || NSFW

Synopsis: Due to a terrible snowstorm, you were forced to skip out on your yearly family gathering. However, your Christmas gets better when a certain blonde slips through your chimney to give you, your naughty presents.

Pairings: Felix × fem!reader, includes rest of Skz, Julie of Kiof, Ni-ki of Enhypen

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, p in v sex, use of vibrator, fingering, hair pulling, brief squirting, missionary, loss of virginity, virgin!reader, unprotected sex (not for you), praise, degradation, overstimulation, swearing, dirty talk, mention of alcohol

A/N: FELIX NAVIDAD FELIX NAVIDAD YEAHHHH. Fun fact, this is my second Felix fic. And also my entry to @stayblrofficial's Holiday Writing Event! Anyway, a late Merry Christmas to everyone and I hope next year is as splendid as this one was. As always, enjoy!

Word count: 6.8k

Song Rec: Juno by Sabrina Carpenter (preferably her live stages)

Stockings on the wall, peppermint tea, a giant tree with baubles, snowmen, hot chocolate, presents and Santa Claus.

And maybe Mariah Carey too.

Those were the things that made your Christmas, a true Christmas.

Ever since you were old enough to remember, you knew your family was crazy about Christmas. Each year, without fail you’d be dragged off to buy new stockings, a ginormous tree, hot chocolate bombs, gifts for relatives and numerous Christmas events organised by some or the other watchkeeping society. You distinctly remember the smell of warm milk and your mother’s home baked cookies wafting into your room on Christmas Eve. You also remember the feeling of a slap on the hand when you and your brother tried to steal some cookies, only to be chided and locked in your rooms until the morning, lest you sneak out and ‘find’ Santa Claus.

But of course, being the amazing child you were, you learnt from an early age that the fat man who rode a sleigh pulled by reindeers and carried a sack full of presents was nothing but an old wives tale. Laughter still erupted from within you whenever you’d recall the time you told your younger brother, Riki about it, making him sob for an hour–though he immediately shut up when you bribed him with a stolen cookie.

Christmas with your family was always the happiest day of the year, no matter what complicated adult shit was going on in your life. Pending taxes and doctor’s appointments that you’d missed? Screw that, you were going home to waste an hour a day for three days playing League with your brother on your parents’ 16 inch flat screen TV.

Even the idea of boarding the plane to your hometown always made you kick your feet up in the air. All the planning, the buying of gifts (along with the hours of waiting in line at the stores), the baking—practically everything Christmas related filled your soul with joy and hope.

But this year was different.

This year brought along with it, a snowstorm—which wouldn't die out until the January of next year.

That is how the meticulously planned flights and schedules that you had arranged in your calendar all went into the trash bin, as you had to listen to your parents wail about how they’d miss their most beloved child so much at the Christmas party they were having. All as your brother watched on with betrayal in his eyes from the background.

Though you tried to soothe their nerves by saying how you’d have just as much fun this year as you did every year, deep inside, you were sobbing non-stop. Everytime you remembered the fact that you wont get to sleep in your childhood bedroom this year, you cried into your pillow, eventually drifting off to sleep from the exhaustion.

In a lousy attempt to cheer yourself up, you accompanied your colleague Julie to a Christmas tree hunt for her house. You had even taken your brown trench coat and deerstalker hat out—a Christmas gift from your parents. While Julie was off bargaining with her crocodile tears, you snooped around the tinier trees—meant for those people who either wanted to spend their Christmas alone, or just didn't want a massive and expensive tree.

And when your eyes landed on one that was sitting all alone, just waiting for the right person to take it home, you knew in your heart that you just had to be that right person.

Some more crocodile tears and a few transactions later, you were suddenly standing in front of your fireplace with a tiny tree decorated with even tinier baubles. The tree reached up to your waist, and though it wasn't as big as the one your parents had, it still warmed your heart enough to get out of your momentary depression and get onto the road to Christmas cheer. So what if you couldn't be with your family? You were big enough to enjoy festivals on your own now.

And so began your quest to celebrate Christmas exactly as you did each year—albeit without your family. You’d have to omit some of the family games and (unfortunately) the tradition of smacking Riki's head into a pie, but apart from that, you were determined to prepare a Christmas Eve feast fit for one and do everything that you'd do if you were home.

Who knows?

Maybe you’d even stay up for Santa.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The living room was warm, cozy and overall looked straight out of a Christmas movie. After some hard hours of snooping out your basement, you stumbled upon some Christmas-sy decorations, which in reality were from last year's Halloween.

But hey, decor is decor, and your house finally looked like something which was not the Grinch's house. With mistletoe hanging from every corner, along with your tiny tree and a cracking fire, you plopped down on your couch, and let out a sigh. The dinner you made was devoured within fifteen minutes, and you were surprised by how great your plum-pudding turned out. Maybe Christmas would be great this year as well.

Alas though.

All that mistletoe and no one to kiss it under.

All wrapped up in work ever since you graduated, you never really thought about relationships and all that jazz. Under the weight of your parents’ protests for grandchildren, you’d gone on a few dates here and there. But gradually, you started to lose interest and so did your parents. Their interest turned to your brother, whose misery you enjoyed in a sadistic sibling way.

And anyways, who needs boyfriends and mistresses when you’ve got something better?

Fanfiction!

Sitting on the couch, you lazily scrolled across your Tumblr home-page. A gleam tore through your eyes as the sight of all the Christmas fics. Your fingers soon started aching from all the tiny hearts that appeared at the end of every other fic that popped up, with their customised banners and flamboyant titles. Most of them were your general Christmas morning fun stories, but the ones that particularly caught your egregiously horny eyes were the ones where the ‘warnings’ paragraphs stood the tallest.

Unsurprisingly most of them were named after Sabrina Carpenter and Chappell Roan songs. But then again, who’d skip the opportunity to name a fic about filthy positions and a short part about bondage, ‘After Midnight’?

After meticulously crafting a well curated library of fics (ranging from sugary sweet to the one about the 69), you glanced up at your clock.

10:03

You had recently been enjoying going to bed as soon as the hands of the clock hit nine pm. Yes, it was a ridiculously early bedtime for someone whose teenage years were filled with promises of staying up till 2 in the morning when you grow up, but if adulthood had taught you anything, it's that 'early to bed, early to rise' was actually a pretty good proverb to live by. Were you getting old? Perhaps.

Still not old enough to stay up for Santa though, you thought, laying your phone down on the coffee table and settling comfortably onto the couch. You curled up like a cat, and faced the warm fire, crackling in front of you.

Your eyes wandered up to the Christmas list that you had created on a whim, when you got drunk with Julie earlier that day. There were only two things on the list.

A glittery blue vibrator, and for someone to fuck you into the next year.

A bit much to wish for some old man in a red suit to bring all of those things to you in a sack, but hey it never hurts to hope. And plus, you were horny and all those cunningulus fics were not helping.

With a stomach threatening to burst if you eat one more cookie, and a body that was just plain exhausted, you snapped your eyes shut and drifted off to a much deserved sleep.

It will be a happy Christmas tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"And what about that big bunch of fertilizer for that farmer from Norway?” Seungmin anxiously tapped his foot as he scanned his eyes again and again over a list attached to his clipboard. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, and his friends Jeongin, Hyunjin and Changbin were staring at him with concern in their eyes.

“Seung, you should think about taking a nap for a while.” Chan strode into the room with a huge box stuffed with toys in his arms, “Everything will be fine.” He added on seeing Seungmin’s horrified expression.

“It's okay Seungmin, I can just knock you out.” Minho sauntered into the room, wearing a red leather jacket and a huge smile—which turned into a frown when Chan glared at him.

“I just don’t understand how we’re supposed to do all of this without Santa.” Seungmin sighed, collapsing into a chair, “I knew we should have started everything months ago.”

“People wouldn't have even started to make their Christmas wishes by then.” Hyunjin said in a soothing voice, in an attempt to calm his friend’s nerves. Seungmin only sank further into the chair, with a disappointed expression on his face.

“I would.” A cheerful voice said from the corner, which turned out to be Jisung, who was dressed from head to toe in red and gold, looking like a Christmas prince in all his majesty. Jeongin rolled his eyes and looked at the empty armchair next to him. He looked up at Chan.

“Where’s Lix?” He asked, alarmed by the fact that the person who had practically been glued to him all morning was now nowhere to be seen. Chan shrugged, but then Changbin responded.

“I think I saw him checking out stuff in the pink section earlier.” Changbin’s ears turned faintly red when he said this. And it wasn't due to the freezing cold.

The ‘pink section’ was a notorious part of Santa’s workshop. In short, it contained the more ‘adult’ wishes—which were made by single, lonely people or by people who hadn't tasted genitalia in years. Santa was said to have established that section at the demand of his wife, but even Jeongin—the history buff—didn't know the exact reason why. Either way, it was a section, whose contents none of the boys liked handling. Each year they would draw their lots to decide what section each would handle. This year Chan was in charge of the toys and Seumgin was in charge of gardening material.

And the pink section? It went to none other than—

“Lix!” Jisung exclaimed, at the sight of the blonde haired man standing at the door, “Close the door will you? The heater’s on.”

“I noticed.” Felix said in his rich and captivating voice, that could charm almost anyone. Felix flung his arms up and stretched like a cat, the sound of his stiff bones cracking could be heard, as he sat on the empty armchair next to Jeongin with the widest smile on his face.

“Why so joyous, Lix?” Minho asked, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. Felix turned to him.

“It's my first time doing the pink section.” He said rather proudly. A few strands of hair settled in front of his face, framing it beautifully and surrounding him with a magnificent, peacock-like aura.

“You need any pointers?” Chan said, to which Minho laughed raucously.

“Christopher Banhg, our resident playboy.” He said in between fits of laughter. Changbin joined in the teasing, whilst Chan’s entire face slowly started to turn red.

“How many times have you chosen the pink section again?” Changbin asked, “Oh right, seven times.” He answered his own question before Chan could even open his mouth, “I bet you know everything there is to know about it.”

“Oh shut up.” Chan said, his eyes still stuck to the floor, before he turned them to Felix, ‘As I was saying, do you want tips, Felix?”

Before Jisung could say ‘that’s what she said’ Felix spoke, “Nope, I am well prepared for tonight!” His eyes formed crescent moons as he smiled brightly, “I’m particularly excited for this one request though.”

“Oooohhh.” Hyunjin grinned mischievously, “I bet it's a pretty one.” Felix nodded, to which the entire room burst out into laughter.

“Watch out, Chan, he’s coming for your playboy title.” Jisung chuckled, “What’s the wish then?”

“Well, she wants the usual—” Felix took out a post-it note from his pocket and began reading, “A glittery blue vibrator, and the interesting part—” He smirked deviously, whilst raising a brow, “for someone to fuck her into the next year.”

A collective 'oooh' rang around the room as the boys glanced at each other with teasing eyes, and then at Felix. Those kind of requests were usually rare, and at most, all of the boys (excluding the oldest playboy) had fucked about three people, in all of their career.

“I’m weirdly excited.” Felix affirmed, putting the list back in his pocket, and looking past Jeongin’s shoulder at the giant window. Outside, on the beautiful canvas of the starry night, snowflakes fell without any cease in their seemingly perpetual motion. As Minho and Hyunjin had been complaining for a week, this year’s winter was harsher than any before. And they meant it quite literally, as they lived at The North Pole.

“Best of luck Lix.” Changbin gave him a bright smile before standing up, alarming Jeongin, who had his legs resting over Changbin’s thighs.

“Not that you’ll need it though.” Minho said through a barely stifled yawn, “Oh well, I’m off to groom my reindeers. Come along, Innie.” Jeongin grudgingly got up and followed Minho and Changbin out of the room. Hyunjin and Jisung soon followed, after stealing pieces of plum cake from Chan and after Seungmin left—with Chan following carefully behind him—Felix sighed and slumped deeper into the chair.

Reaching into his inner jacket pocket—the secret one he had painstakingly stitched—he pulled out a picture that looked like it was taken on a Polaroid camera.

It was a picture of a woman, dressed in a brown trench coat and a ridiculous deerstalker hat. She was pretty damn hot, Felix had to admit, with a posture so straight that he wondered if she was a princess.

“Fucked into the next year, huh?” He chuckled to himself, putting the picture back into his pocket and running a hand through his hair.

He couldn't wait to get to your house.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As a child, you had always imagined Santa to be a bit slimmer than the pictures in which he was depicted, reasoning that he wouldn't be able to fit through chimneys if he was that big. Though your parents were quick to laugh at your opinion, they also didn't want to tell their mere child of a daughter that Santa wasn't real. So they encouraged your extremely controversial opinion.

And you held that opinion quite proudly. None of the other kids in your class had ever thought about that, and regarded you as the class’ genius. Because of this, to this day you still expected Santa (if he did exist) to be the kind of dude you saw on advertisements for gyms.

What you did not expect Santa to be was a 5’8-ish, ridiculously gorgeous blonde guy, dressed in a red suit that fit him beautifully, holding a sack tied with a red ribbon. He stared at you. You stared back.

This was not how you were expecting your Christmas to go like.

Not with a robbery.

“Who the fuck are you.” You said, cautiously picking up a pillow. You tried to run your mind back to all those childhood self-defence classes. Although—judging by this guy’s muscles—they weren't going to be of much use.

“Relax, Miss Y/N.” The man said in a voice as beautiful as his face, “I’m not gonna hurt you.” By the faint light of the crackling fire behind him, you could spot tiny freckles painted across his cheekbones, “I’m here to deliver your Christmas presents.”

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

“You do realise you sound crazy right now?” You said, gripping the pillow a bit tighter, “Listen dude, if you’re here to rob me, I have nothing in my—”

“As I said,” The man kept speaking in the same eloquent manner, “I’m here to deliver your presents.” He preemptively flung his sack to the ground, and bent down on one knee, unravelling the ribbon and opening it up. He reached inside and pulled out a box, setting it on the table in front of him and closing his sack again. Then he looked up at you.

“I’m sorry, but could you please turn the lights on?” He said, “I can’t see that well in the dark.”

This younger Aussie version of Santa can't see well in the dark? You thought as you turned a lamp on. As much as this was the most unbelievable scenario ever, something in the back of your brain told you everything that was happening was real and you were certainly not high right now.

“Um…excuse me?” You began lamely, the blonde looked up at you, “What’s your name?”

“Oh pardon me. I forgot to introduce myself.” He laughed and got up, extending a hand, “I’m Felix. And I'm here to deliver your presents from the North Pole!” He motioned towards the meticulously wrapped present lying next to your tiny tree. Your eyes wandered from the ground up to the note stuck on top of the fireplace.

A glittery blue vibrator, and for someone to fuck you into the next year.

“Uh…” You said, unsure of what else to say. You took another look at the man—Felix. He certainly was handsome, you thought—perhaps not exactly your type but definitely good-looking enough. His long hair fell over his wide shoulders, and you could see the way his suit was tightly fit over his biceps. Your stomach flipped over.

This guy was extremely hot.

And you were extremely horny.

“When you say presents—” You began, slowly sitting down on the couch, “—do you mean that there’s an actual vibrator in there?”

Felix nodded and sat down next to you, running a sharp tongue over his lips. His soft, pink lips. Was it just you or was the fire way too warm right now?

Your life was nothing short of interesting. As a child, you had gotten into multiple ...activities that always seemed to have a surprise at every turn. But this?

This was on top of the list of weird things that have ever happened to you.

“Would you like to open the presents?” Felix snapped you out of your thoughts and you raised your head abruptly to look at him. Your eyes locked onto his and you audibly gasped.

He had eyes as black as coal, stunningly beautiful, with the comfort of a warm fire glowing behind them. They made you want to dive into them and swim around for a while.

“You’re so pretty.” You whispered, not comprehending what you said until a second later, “I mean–” You internally slapped yourself, “—I’m sorry that’s not I meant I just—”

“It’s alright doll.” Felix cut you off, “I think you’re pretty too.” His voice again; it felt like a glass of whiskey after a long day. Doll, he called you.

“Oh..” You trailed off, feeling warmth creep up to your cheeks, “Thank you.” You mumbled, looking down at the presents once more, “Should I open them now? Or wait till tomorrow? I don't wanna be ‘a naughty girl’ or anything.”

“Don't worry about that.” Felix leaned forward to rest his hands on his thighs, “You’re already on the naughty list, sweetheart.”

You gulped down the saliva accumulating in your mouth, and rushed to pick the box up. Your hands shook as you pulled the satin ribbon. The walls of the box collapsed to reveal a long, blue machine, covered from head to toe in glitter. You looked up at Felix.

“You really are the weirdly younger version of Santa huh?” You said in a shaky voice. Felix smiled—he seemed to shine when he did so.

“I’m an assistant.” He said, shifting closer to you, his eyes wavered down to your lips, “There are eight of us in total, and we go around the world each year to give out presents to children and adults alike.” He looked at the vibrator and smirked, “No matter how naughty they’ve been.”

The queasy feeling rose in your stomach once more. As hard as you tried to avert it, your gaze went to his lips again and again.

“But, I’ve caught you haven't I?” You said in a soft voice, “W-Won't you be punished or something?” Felix smiled again and shifted dangerously close this time.

“That was the plan, sweetheart.” His voice was as deep as the rumbling of the earth, “You see, I only delivered one of your precious presents.” He smirked again and his hand came up to caress your cheek, you didn't pry it off, “You still have another wish don't you?” He leaned forward and whispered, “To be fucked into next year?”

His warm breath against your neck made you shiver, you could feel his knee pushing to open your legs. Normally, this would be an abnormal situation. But it was Felix and you wanted him to do to you what the characters in your fics did to each other.

"Felix…" You sighed, tensing up as he nudged his nose into the crook of your neck. His lips soon followed, attaching to your skin and leaving warm, wet kisses. They really were as soft as they looked.

"Shush now." He mumbled, absorbed into pressing kisses down your neck, "How about I take care of you tonight, hm?"

You stayed silent. How could you tell him that you've never actually��done it?

“Felix I-” You took in a shaky breath, “I’ve never…done this before.” Felix looked up at you with widened eyes and blinked. Then he smiled gently.

“That’s alright, doll.” Doll, again, “I’ll be gentle, if you want me to.” He slipped his hand off your thigh and extended it to you, glancing at the stairs to your bedroom, “Shall we?”

Taking his hand was the best decision you had made all year.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Felix’s lips are almost unfairly soft against your own as his hands rush to undress you, pushing your t-shirt up your waist and pulling down your shorts to the middle of your thighs. Pressing his forehead against yours, Felix pulls away ever so slightly, “Tell me if you want me to stop, alright?”

Nodding, you can’t help but be curious about his plan. You find yourself questioning every fic you’ve read in the past. Or maybe they’ve never had Felix’s tongue shoved into their throats.

Felix lazily drags your panties down your legs, flinging them across the room before slipping a hand below your legs and picking you up, placing you gently onto the bed. Romantic, you thought.

He placed a kiss to your forehead before he started to strip himself, your gaze raked over his body as you waited on the bed, biting your lip in anticipation. Once he was matching you in nakedness, he crawled up to your position on the mattress, starting to lavish attention to your body once again.

“Hey there, pretty.” Your cunt clenches around nothing at his words, earning a chuckle from Felix. Admittedly, you’d never felt so dizzy at the prospect of having a man go down on you—he just looks so pretty, with his freckles and his hair and his everything.

Dropping his head between your knees, he groaned at the sight, and bit his lip to contain himself. You wanted to cover yourself but when your legs moved even a tiny bit to hide, he spread them wider and the cool breezes from around the room slapped across your feverish cunt.

The feeling was already so pleasurable, and you didn’t know if it was the afternoon glass of rum making you feel this way or just Felix, either way you knew you were incredibly turned on.

“Have you ever touched yourself down here?” The way he said it, as if you were all innocent, he narrowed his eyes when you nodded yes, “Hold on.” Felix reached across and grabbed the box you had set on the bedside table. Your present.

"Used a vibrator before, sweetheart?" He asked gently, smiling when you shook your head, "That's alright, I can show you how." His voice deepened as he said the last words and you widened your eyes.

Adorable, Felix thought, as he handed you the vibrator. Albeit being momentarily confused, you nudged it onto your labia—like how the fics described.

There you were, bathed in soft moonlight, laying on your mattress naked, legs spread, and steadying the vibrator on your clit. Felix smirked to himself as he studied the way your thighs quivered when he placed his hand on top of yours

"May I, pretty?" Felix cooed, reaching for your pink vibrator. You handed it to him, laying back obediently and waiting for his ethereal touch. His freckles seemed to glow like stars in the moonlight��his face a magnificent galaxy.

And when he rested the vibrator onto your clit, you let out a relieved sigh in response, breathing out softly, lifting your hips up and grinding up against the vibrator in his grip.

"Good girl. Just lay back and relax for me," he softly directed you, his bare words were enough to send you to the edge of Heaven.

"Oh, Felix," You glanced down at his smirk and how his eyes were fixed on the way you were clenching around nothing. He loved the way your slick folds glistened in the soft lighting, and the way your breasts started to subtly bounce as you started to violently shake.

"How about we turn up the speed hm?" He mumbled, eyes lighting up when you nodded yes, unable to speak due to your current predicament. He was making you feel good—better than your fingers ever could. And better—you assumed—than any other man could.

The vibrations of the toy increased, making your legs shake as you tried to ground yourself from the intense pleasure that you wondered if you could take any more of.

That was when Felix held you by your waist and started to target a specific spot, somewhere you could never reach with your own fingers. The feeling of him hitting your g-spot with such precision and the vibrator doing its job on your throbbing clit, made you squirm, trying to get away from the intensity of it all, but his firm hand on your shaking thigh kept you in place.

With a loud muffled moan you squirted, unable to warn him—you were too unfamiliar with the feeling of such intense pleasure that it got you overwhelmed, too overwhelmed to even speak. The blonde let out a breathy chuckle when he saw the mess you were making, but didn’t stop nevertheless.

Your lips were fixed in an o shape, your cheeks were pink, and your brows were pinched together. You shut your eyes and threw your head back as Felix's name slipped through your slew of whimpers.

“Felix! Oh fuckk—” Your moan came straight from within your chest—a noise you didn’t even know you could make, “Felix I-” But you couldn’t finish your sentence, thanks to the almost painful feeling growing at the base of your belly.

“Shh sweetheart, it’s alright.” Felix’s voice was soothing and warm, “It’s alright, I’m here darling.” You gulped softly when Felix gripped your hip with one hand and led the buzzing vibrator deeper into your sensitive pussy. The tip of the glittery blue machine slid up and down your slit, making you whine and push back against his hand.

“Oh goddd—fuck fuck fuck!” You very nearly yell, still trying to wriggle away up until the very last second like the tide going out before the tsunami comes. When you do cum, your demeanor instantly changes—you get heavy and clingy and whiny as you rock back and forth through your orgasm.

You never really understood the full feeling of an orgasm, settling on it being the feeling you got when your fingers got tired of rubbing your folds. But the feeling of Felix’s face being inches from you, his eyes beautifully darkened and his hand working against your sex, you realised this was what all the fics described. A feeling like an earthquake erupting from within you.

You were right on the verge of greatness again, slowly nearing a climactic ending, when your eyes fluttered open, and you saw Felix sitting up on his knees, holding the vibrator far from your throbbing pussy. He was staring down hungrily at your thighs, a look lingered behind his eyes—a dangerous one.

Without warning, he took his middle finger and started teasing your folds with it, the vibrator now disposed on the side. Your eyes widened as he sunk his finger into your drooling cunt. For a moment, you thought about the probability of this being a glorious dream. But when his long, veiny finger pushed all the way in, a long, satisfied sigh escaped from your parted lips and you did not want this dream to end.

Your folds glistened in the dim moonlight, the obvious need evident in your tone when Felix plunged another finger inside your tight heat. "Fu—ck," you moaned softly, your breathing a lot more ragged now that he was moving his digit in and out of you, slipping his fingers in knuckle-deep and smirking at how you seemed to suck in his fingers. God how pretty you looked, with your shaking body covered in sweat—you glistened like diamonds in the light.

"Someone’s eager," Felix chuckled. The pads of his fingers started to circle your sensitive bundle of nerves, eliciting slightly louder moans from you.

“You want me to stop, baby?” Felix’s brows furrowed worriedly at the sight of your ragged breathing. You shook your head at him and placed your hand at the back of his head, gripping his hair. Felix moaned loudly.

"Fuck sweetheart," he grinned at you as he added his ring finger, and you could feel the cold metal of his ring on the warm flesh of your thighs as he pumped them back and forth into your heat, “Fuck—keep-keep doing that…that’s right..” His voice was a bit deeper, betraying his arousal. Who knew Santa’s assistant had such a filthy kink?

Felix’s hair was feather-soft against your shaking hand, as you brought your right hand up as well to feel it. Your grip on his hair only motivated him more, as the sounds of your pussy squelching as it sucked up his fingers, filled the room. His middle finger worked immaculately against your cunt, a place you could have never reached with your fingers alone.

Felix looked magnificent as he admired your body—the crook of your neck, the soft skin of your thighs, the way your eyes rolled back—he was relishing every single thing about you. Wild, primal thoughts flanked each neuron of his mind. Felix could feel your cold breath hit his lips gently, like a cool wind moving a river.

“Shit—can I kiss you, sweetheart?” He asked cautiously, his fingers tensing inside of you when you nodded. You felt his lips press against yours, the sweet feeling of pressing candy to your mouth came to you. You could taste slight notes of rum and cranberry on his tongue—an intoxicating flavour.

He pulled away briefly, his face was still close, and he pressed his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. Your hand pulled his hair once more and he groaned deeply, his cock twitching between his legs.

Fuck, you were so gorgeous. A faux memory played out in Felix’s mind, he wanted you all to himself—in sickness and in health, till death do you part. The way your lips parted and the melodic way you said his name, he never knew his name was such an elysian thing, till he heard it from your lips.

His hot lips moved away from yours and down to your neck, kissing and gently biting the delicate skin. You let out a gasp and arched your neck, it felt so divine that you didn’t even notice that his fingers were out of your pussy and placed on your hip.

Your breasts moved into Felix’s face as you arched your back at his teeth digging into your skin like a savage animal and Felix audibly whined. His hand came up to play with your boobs, his fingers fiddling with delicate skin. His painfully hard cock grew even harder, as he wanted nothing more but to fuck the sanity out of you.

“Baby,” he breathed, and he meant to say a lot more than that, but it’s the best he could manage when he was this overstimulated, “Sweetheart, don’t you want my cock?,” he whispered again, wrapping his arms around you in an effort to ground you.

“Lix…” You whine, you could see his rock-hard length between his legs, “Lix—need your cock–please please pleeasee…” Felix was undone by you—the way you writhed underneath him, the way your voice shook, the way you’re so totally and completely overwhelmed—he could feel it and he loved it.

“Alright… alright, doll.” He chuckled, gripping your hips in order to align himself with you. He was big–huge even–it made you a bit nervous. You knew from your non-virgin friends that–at most, it was only 4 or 5 inches, without all that ego. You didn’t have a ruler but you knew that Felix was much more than 5 inches.

What a way to lose your virginity.

“Ah-ahhh fuck!” You nearly screamed as he entered you, Felix didn’t like teasing–and by God were you thankful for that.

“You like that baby?” Felix grunted, his voice was oh so deep–as was his length, “Yeah, you like being stretched out huh?” His right hand was underneath you now, squeezing your buttcheek like his own personal stress toy, “Naughty, naughty girl—ah godddd” Felix was a moaning, whimpering mess, the sound of you making him feel lightheaded as he pounded into you, “Should have known you were a dirty girl when I saw that list–oh fuck, keep squeezing me like that—that’s a good girl…” Your slick walls were clenching around him like a vice, and he knew he was done for.

You could only moan in response, reeling in the way his cock stretched out your walls, the sting being nothing compared to the bliss you felt as he relentlessly fucked you.

"so fucking pretty, taking me like this, so so pretty" Felix continued, rambling.

"mphm, Felix, you're so big!" You moaned, thinking nothing of it as you spoke, his size being the only thing in your mind at that moment. His thumb strokes against yours, trying to distract you from the pressure, pressing your forehead with kisses, singing you soft praises.

"You're so tight," he whispered, relishing in the way you clenched around him while it started to adjust itself. The pain was killing you, but at the same time–you wanted more.

No, wanted wasn't the right word.

You needed more.

“You’re almost all the way in ,darling” Felix whispers, almost as if he heard your thoughts. His breathing is growing heavier by the second, and he’s forcing himself to hold back from just thrusting the remainder of his cock in. He knew it was your first time—those adorable eyes, that filthy mouth of yours begging him for more—but he resisted, lest he hurt you.

“Oh Felix fuckkkk..” Your eyes opened to look at him. He was beautiful, an angel in his own right, moon-like eyes and a face full of constellations. No wonder, you couldn't stop yourself from falling into him.

Your mind is gradually turning more hazy with Felix’s cock taking up the majority of your thoughts, on top of his scent that’s been creeping into your olfactory senses. The more Felix inched his cock into you, the more he pressed onto your g-spot, and the more it started to make you see stars whenever you blinked. You grew so sensitive that you felt every throb Felix’s cock is giving you.

“It’s too much,” you slur, dizzy as you try to adjust to the feeling. “Please Lix...” You don’t know what you’re asking for. Maybe relief from the sensation that he can’t offer you. Maybe more.

"Good girl. You're taking me so well." he praised you softly while he delivered a few harder thrusts, "Can't believe this is your first dick," Soon, there was no pain at all, only pleasure.

Your eyes rolled back briefly as Felix hit that spot deep within you, the one that made sparks dance behind your eyes, the one that made you moan from your chest.

You felt your pussy expanding around him as he started rocking his hips back and forth, hitting that same spot again. You held your breath for a moment, still adjusting to the size difference, and when you exhaled, a few stifled sounds came through. It hurt so good.

He grabbed you by your waist, steadying himself while he started to speed up, getting caught up in how good your virgin hole felt wrapped around him. Felix watched as he pumped back and forth, fixating on the way you coated his length in your arousal.

You couldn't help but groan at the change in tempo, head craning back into the pillow, your mouth slung wide open.

“Felix oh god!!” You whined, your walls were so sensitive, “Fuck, you’re so hot..” You had no idea what words were coming out from your mouth, “Ahh—ahhh fucking hell—I love you!” You wouldn't even remember saying those words until the next day. Felix’s eyes visibly softened at you.

"Say it again for me, darling?" He slowed his pace, but increased his temperament, his hips slapping against yours with a sting as he thrust in and out of you, slow and hard.

“I–ah shit!” You gasped, his scent was your oxygen, “I love you..”

“I love you too, baby.” Felix leaned forward to kiss you. Your lips danced passionately, even as your bodies stayed connected to each other. His lips felt like first snow and soft ice cream, you wanted to devour and be devoured by him.

“Look at you, you sweet little thing...” He teased as he grinded his cockhead into your sweet spot, slowly sliding in and out just to feel your wetness coat his dick. It’s pure nirvana for him, warm and wet and perfect, a place he could bury himself inside.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of anticipation and frustration building within you. You clenched your fists, digging your nails into the mattress, as Felix continued to move at a pace that was maddeningly fast.

“Going dumb on my dick aren't you baby?” he groans as his hips slap into yours, bruising your walls and using you, his cock is throbbing inside you, balls twitching and voice falling more breathy and desperate—so close to filling your pretty little pussy up.

"Cum with me, baby, cum all over my cock like a good girl." Felix said through gritted teeth, his tone somehow still soft and caring despite his pace.

“Oh god…Felix!” You moaned, “fuck fuck fuck need your c-cum please—oh my god.” Every muscle felt like fire. You’re caught up in how everything feels, too distracted to care about the noises spilling out of your mouth. All you know is this feels good – it feels passionate.

As if on command, his last, hard thrust sent you over the edge, and with a cry of his name, you released sticky juices all over his length, the squelching sound of him fucking you through your toe curling orgasm making him reel.

With another cry of release, you shattered again and again it seemed, your body arching as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Felix held you tightly, his fingers digging into your side as you trembled in his arms.

He was seconds behind, filling you up with his cum, fucking it into you as he stuttered above you, pressing his weight further down as he gripped and tugged at any skin of yours he could reach.

“That’s it, that’s it baby.” He worked you through your toe-curling orgasm, "That's it my love, you’re doing so good for me.”

Your breathless moans filled the room as he stilled inside you, letting his cum soak into your walls and his length, unable to bring himself to pull out. His hand came to your hair as he rested his head against yours, trying to catch his breath with fluttery eyes. You leaned into his touch, humming at his soft caress.

“Good girl,” Felix murmurs, being careful in the way he pulls out slowly from your well-used hole. You shudder, and Felix feels the way your entire body tenses, and he fights his way out of the brain fog to rub your back with the skimming tips of his fingers. “Shh. You’re okay. Relax, darling.”

Your chests heaved with exertion. In spite of his softening cock, Felix couldn’t help the feral, almost animalistic, feeling when he saw the sight of your mixed release trickling out of your pussy.

“Ahh shit.” He mumbles, rolling over to collapse next to you. Felix feels something touching the sole of his foot, and when he looks down, he chuckles, making you look at him.

“What happened?” You ask drowsily, your eyes on the verge of falling asleep.

“It’s nothing, sweetheart.” Felix assures you, pushing the cum-soaked vibrator at the bottom of the bed onto the floor, “Are you alright, baby?”

“That–” You breathe in deeply and smile with your eyes still closed, “—was the best Christmas present I’ve ever received.”

“I’m glad, sweetheart.” Felix smiles, pulling you safely into his arms, as you drifted off to sleep.

Felix sighed and melted into your warmth. He had to leave in a few hours to deliver all the other gifts, but a few more minutes wouldn't hurt and so he stayed.

After all, he’d be coming back on New Years as well.

With a much better present.

Thank you for reading, dear reader! Hope you have a great day ❤❤

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svtiddiess · 2 days ago

Text

Moonlight

Synopsis: Under the moonlight, you feel at peace, knowing that no matter where you go, Jeonghan will always find you.

Pairing: Jeonghan x gn!reader

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending, fluff, established relationship

Rating: sfw

Word count: 820

Warnings: none!

Note: And with that, the 2024 season comes to an end! Thank you all so much for your love and support this year! I look forward to continuing to write fics in the coming year. See you in 2025!

Thank you always to my second favourite menace @tusswrites for beta reading and helping me with the synopsis!

@tomodachiii @soo0hee I expanded on that Hannie drabble I sent you hehe.

Click here to join my taglist!

Read on ao3

Reblogs are appreciated ♡

.ᐟMinors/blank/no age indicator blogs will be blocked.ᐟ

Red.

That's all that you're seeing at the moment. Red. Hot. Anger. It washes over you, blinds you. You're screaming, you think, but you can't really tell. It feels like your head is underwater—everything's muffled.

In front of you is your boyfriend, Jeonghan, who also seems to be very upset. At what? You don't know. The both of you don't, but here you are, screaming your head off at him whilst he retaliates with soft but stern words.

"I'm leaving," you announce, your chest heaving. Where? You're not sure; you just need to get away from him and everything. That's exactly what you do: you turn around and leave—your legs aimlessly bringing you to your unknown destination.

You're not great at handling problems. Whenever one arises, you tend to avoid it rather than confront it, retreating to your corner and hoping it will resolve itself. But life rarely works out that way, doesn't it? You’ve learned the hard way that running from your problems doesn’t make them disappear—it only makes them worse. They linger, growing in the background until they eventually explode in your face. You’ve tried to break this habit, and with Jeonghan’s help, you are starting to make progress. But as they say, old habits die hard.

And that’s how you ended up here, riding the train back to your hometown, Busan. You’re not even sure how or when you got on—it’s all been a blur, and it still is. You feel…hollow. Your mind is empty; blank. No emotions, no thoughts, just nothing. The scenery outside the window blurs together into a shapeless mesh of colours. The world feels dull and lifeless; everything that once seemed vibrant now looks dead and bland.

"This stop is Busan. This stop is Busan," the announcement jolts you out of your daze. With a sigh, you stand up and step off the train.

You take a deep breath, letting your body relax as the familiar air of your hometown fills your lungs. With no destination in mind, you start walking aimlessly through the bustling city, taking in both familiar and unfamiliar sights. It always amazes you how something about the city changes every time you return. A shop you used to visit might be gone, replaced by something new. The park might be renovated, with fresh equipment giving children even more to play with. Yet, there are constants that remain unchanged—the towering buildings reaching for the sky, the salty sea breeze, and the rhythmic crash of ocean waves. These are the things that take you back to your younger self.

You curl your toes, feeling the sand clump together beneath your bare feet. Somehow, your legs have carried you back to a familiar place—the beach you loved as a child. The cool waves crash against your feet as the salty sea breeze caresses your face. Your gaze drifts to the endless horizon, where the sun kisses the ocean, painting the sky in a breathtaking blend of orange and yellow. It looks like a masterpiece on a canvas.

You’ve always preferred sunsets over sunrises. There’s something captivating about the vivid shades of orange, yellow, and even pink that fill the sky—it never fails to mesmerise you. Sunsets mark the end of the day, a moment of closure after the struggle and effort of the hours before. While not everyone gets to see the sunrise, the sunset is a gift shared by all. And with the sunset comes the promise of the moon. The night sky, illuminated by the moon and scattered with stars, is something you could stare at for hours.

With a sigh, you take a few steps back and sit down, pulling your knees to your chest as you wrap your arms around them. You’re not sure how much time has passed when you hear the soft sound of footsteps approaching. A figure settles down beside you, mirroring your posture. You don’t need to look—you already know who it is. It’s the person you lashed out at before coming here, Jeonghan.

Resting your head on his shoulder, you take a deep breath, letting the salty ocean air fill your lungs. The two of you sit in silence, staring out at the sea, the rhythmic sound of the waves filling the space between you.

"You know I'll always be here for you, right?" He whispers, breaking the silence.

"Hm."

"No matter how far you go, even to the ends of the earth, I will always find you."

"Hm."

Silence.

"I'm sorry," you mumble.

"I'm sorry too," he whispers.

A small smile creeps onto both of your faces. There’s no need for words—you already know what the other wants to say. That’s why you’ve always found solace in Jeonghan. He’s your sunset at the end of a long day. Your constant.

The moon looks a little brighter today with Jeonghan by your side.

Taglist: @tinyelfperson @gyuguys @stay-tiny-things @unlikelysublimekryptonite @miyx-amour @iamawkwardandshy @codeinebelle @brownbunnyb @do-you-remember-summer-127 @sclovreina @theidontknowmehn @toplinehyunjin @gyuhao365 @mysticfairies @cherrylovescheol @cookiearmy

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literaryvein-reblogs · 20 hours ago

Note

Hey, there. Can you help me with this? I am stuck on creating with this motivation for my WIP.

Those who seek death shall live, and those who seek lives shall die How do you create a character with this type of character motivation? either is an important side character, villain, mentor, or even main character?

Hi! Some writers like to use character tropes as inspiration when they get stuck with a certain idea. Here are some examples I found for you that you can use as a guide. And alter as needed for your story:

"Death Seeker" Trope

At some point in the past, some characters have had a traumatic experience, found themselves dishonored, committed a crime they could not repay, lost everything worth living for, caught an incurable disease or just became bored with continued existence.

For whatever reason, rather than turning to suicide, they went off seeking battles to fight, hoping to find an enemy who would kill them, and achieve an honorable, heroic, awesome, or otherwise acceptable death, sometimes going as far as outright surrendering and offering their life to their enemies.

Martyrdom Cultures may regard such a character as a role model, even if upon closer examination they might seem like a Martyr Without a Cause.

In cases of cruel Irony, the characters who snap out of it and find something to live for often end up dying or getting killed shortly afterwards anyway.

A real life example:

Jeffrey Dahmer frequently expressed his wish to die for his crimes while in prison. When he was attacked by another prisoner who attempted to slit his throat, he refused to press charges and requested to be returned to the general prison population. Only a few months later, he was beaten to death by another prisoner. His last words were, reportedly: "I don't care if I live or die — go ahead and kill me."

"I Cannot Self-Terminate" Trope

Perhaps they've just been wounded in a vital area and know they are going to die slowly and in agony, and just want to die with dignity/end the pain quickly. Perhaps they are prisoners and being tortured, and the hero cannot break them free but could shoot them.

In any case, while they're ready or even eager to die, they cannot do it on their own. This can also count as a Heroic Sacrifice, sometimes.

If the character is robotic, this may occur due to influence from Asimov's Laws. Specifically, the Third Law states that a robot may not harm itself, or through inaction allow itself to be harmed, unless doing so is required to uphold the First or Second Law. Even when not following the hierarchical laws of robotics, it could still occur if a robot is simply programmed for self-preservation.

The victim may plead for death even when it is possible for them to be saved, owing to the pain. The hero is likely to override that, often saying No One Gets Left Behind.

Accidental Murder: Occurs when a situation that wasn't intended to be lethal ends with the death of someone anyway.

Anyone Can Die: This is easily defined as definite Truth in Television, because all living organisms are mortal and are bound to, by statistics at least, eventually die for any number of reasons, with no fiction writers to determine how it happens. When used poorly or too frequently, this trope can cause Too Bleak, Stopped Caring, possibly with audiences uttering the Eight Deadly Words, as the audience won't see any point in getting attached to characters that they expect to die sooner or later. A good way to check if this trope applies is to see if who survives is an important plot point, rather than only how they survive.

Cheated Death, Died Anyway: When a character narrowly escapes death on occasion (and perhaps more than one occasion), only to die shortly thereafter anyway��in a completely different way. Exactly how close the two incidents have to be varies, so the important factor in this trope is the presence of irony. This can apply in a matter of minutes, months, or even (in rare cases) years; the deciding factor is the Bait-and-Switch element of the death.

Death Is the Only Option: The only way to achieve victory is to die.

Forgiveness Requires Death: In order to be forgiven of their crimes, the character must die.

Heroic Sacrifice: Sacrificing your own life for the greater good.

Jumping on a Grenade: Sacrificing oneself by using one's own body as a shield against a deadly threat in hopes of sparing others.

Metaphorical Suicide: A despondent character willingly resigns themself to a fate similar to death without actually dying.

The Problem with Fighting Death: …is that even if you win, you'll still eventually lose. Killing or imprisoning Death might not offer protection either, as his sister Entropy goes around making everyone grow old and wish to die while Death Takes a Holiday or cause a plague of ghosts as the souls of the dead get stuck on Earth. This is the problem with fighting Death, Hades, The Devil, Psychopomps, Anthropomorphic Personifications or even God; you just can't win. However, a draw may be possible with creativity. If all that matters is that there be a Death, then replacing him with someone friendlier or someone with whom deals can be struck and honored can be a way to go. This can be done by appealing to someone higher on the divinity ladder, getting someone else to kill and replace Death (or doing so yourself, if you're willing to accept the job for the rest of eternity), and flying out of Hell are all possibilities. In this way, one can say Living Forever Is Awesome.

Who Wants to Live Forever?: If an immortal being grows so sick of eternal life that they just want it to end already.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Hope this helps inspire your writing! You can look through the sources for more information on each trope.

#anonymous #tropes #character development #writing inspiration #writeblr #literature #writers on tumblr #writing reference #dark academia #spilled ink #writing prompt #creative writing #fiction #writing ideas #light academia #writing tips #writing resources

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enigmatist17 · 3 days ago

Text

Part 1 of 2 of Raoul/Tracks in the Mecha Pilot Jazz AU by @keferon that I think about all the tiiiiiiiime <3

My list/own mini-universe of the AU :)

I wish I could draw the idea for Raoul's mecha, but alas, I can only wield the written word, so I hope I did alright in describing it <:)

---

When you ask Raoul Ortiz what he did before the invasions began, he'll tell you he was a thief. A run-of-the-mill carjacker who hated being that at his (frankly too young) age, but did what he had to in order to support his family and himself.

It stopped mattering when New York was almost entirely destroyed, leaving him an angry young teenager with nothing and no one to lose. He spent his last few teenage years using his skills to help those he could, fighting back against the invaders when they had attempted to attack his city again, only to watch a massive robot absolutely filet the aliens without breaking a sweat. As Raoul watched the mecha slowly leave the city once the fight was over, he knew then and there that that was his future, to go down in a blaze of glory fighting these bastards on their turf.

So sure, he hears that becoming a pilot shortens your life expectancy, it doesn't really matter. Sure, the testing is arduous, and more than once, Raoul wants to walk away from it all, but something in his heart urges him to keep going, to keep pushing despite many of his fellow recruits quitting or dying out.

The first time he's in his mecha, punching an invader clear across the city with a deafening crack makes all the pain and suffering worth it.

His mecha is powered by all the rage and loss from the first invasion, every punch and slice of a sword he'd stolen from an invader, making Raoul a fierce soldier on the battlefield, despite his mecha being of a smaller build. There began to be some improvement when he was back on base, smiling and cracking jokes while working on personalizing his mecha, figuring if he was going to die in it, he might as well die in style done by his own hands. The number 1982 on his chest was painted a blood red on top of a navy blue coating of the entire mecha, graffiti of his own, and some done by the few friends that had survived the initial attack on New York littering almost every square inch of metal. Digitigrade legs were great at giving him a great jump boost whenever he was in combat, so Raoul spent some extra time with NYU Tandon students to make sure the extra plating he was required to have was as stylish as it was functional. His narrowed hip plating was emblazoned with NEW YORK STRONG, the city skyline interlaced around the wording that usually got some cheers whenever Raoul was sent out for morale boosting, and even mimicked headphones over his audio scanners that were dialed up beyond most mecha for the times he was sent to lie in wait for an ambush. The massive visor that allowed Raoul 180° vision built with a scanner that helped with rescue as much as battle was carefully covered with several dozen clear decals, and despite some clear disapproval from the upper command, no one was going to tell a man short on time no.

So when Raoul is eventually flanked by three invaders before he can react, he knows he's going to die. They had appeared outside of Detroit, and Raoul had drawn the enemy forces away from the city, knowing at the very least he was going to save as many lives as he could at the cost of his own. Five aliens become three as he dodges and slashes in retaliation, taking down a second one by jumping on them and stabbing his alien sword into their arm, failing to notice a portal forming behind him. The last two aliens rush Raoul, and a forested area being uprooted by their fighting turns into a metal metropolis with a purple sky, the three colliding onto an alien surface with a loud thud. The mecha pilot doesn't have the time to react, letting out a yell as he jerks to his side to punch the alien to his left, getting up onto his feet just enough to jump up and away from the two, magnetizing his hands to latch onto a half-crumbled building.

"LET'S GO FUCKERS!" Ejecting his backup sword set inside one of his arms, Raoul pushes himself off the building directly toward the stunned alien, the creature letting out a high pitched scream as he slices it in half with a single jerk of his blade. The other alien had been fumbling with its gun as Raoul turned as quick as he could, only to stop when he saw a white dot on the aliens head, its body going limp and falling to the ground with a thud when the unmistakable sound of a sniper shot rang out through the unfamiliar landscape.

Raoul turns to his right to see the portal he'd been pushed into, his heart stopping when it closed with a loud buzz.

F u c k

The sight is pushed to the back of his mind as Raoul dives for cover behind some large chunks of metallic rubble, heart racing a mile a minute as he holds his blade tight. Maybe the sniper was aiming for the alien, maybe they were gunning for him next, all that mattered was surviving long enough to make it home....whenever or wherever that was. For a few minutes it was silent, but just when the pilot started to move, he could hear a few sets of...mechas approaching? Daring a peek above the rubble, Raoul's eyes widened at the grouping of five mechas heading his way, a grin crossing his face as he scrambled his mecha up and onto his feet, sheathing his sword when the group stilled at his movement.

"Holy shit, I thought I was the only one here!" Raoul laughs as he fully steps into view, though the noise peters out when he takes in their...really weird appearances. "Whoa, you guys look sick as hell!"

The electronic noise that greets his ears when the tallest mecha opens its mouth makes Raoul cover his ears with a yelp, the noise making his entire skeleton vibrate as his mind screamed danger danger danger. He steps back when another mecha (which at this point he severely doubted they were) moved forward with its hands raised, its expression unfazed when Raoul jumped up, clinging to the side of the building beside him to create a little bit of distance.

"I don't know what you are, but stay back!"

Yea, definitely not any mecha he was ever familiar with.

The mecha that had stepped forward tilted its head for a moment, clearly looking at his chassis as opposed to the visored helm he had, which it shouldn't be as it opened its mouth.

Did it know?

"'M sorry for mah friend there." It...did not make the noise from before, Raoul remaining in place as a...what the hell, a Southern sounding voice escaped the red mecha. "Forgot you human's don't understand us."

"....the hell?" (Oh my god first contact with another alien species and that's what I go with???) "You, why do you sound like you come from the South? Better question, how the hell you know English??"

"Was taught by a friend, he comes from Earth too. Wanna come on down an' talk? We've got about five klicks before we've got ta evac, an' I promise I'll explain everythin' if you come with us."

"You can get me back?" Despite still not understand who these new aliens were, Raoul figured it wouldn't be all bad to trust the aliens that knew freaking English, hopping down and landing with a quiet thud.

"Sorta, but this is enemy territory, so no dice here." The other mechas that had been with the red one were quickly hurrying past Raoul with various alien guns raised, clearly wary. "Let's go."

"Alright man, I'm followin' you guys."

---

Raoul had been on a spaceship.

A spaceship.

Fuckin'

S p a c e s h i p

If it wasn't for the fact he was stranded on an alien planet who knows how far from Earth, Raoul probably would have gone full nerd mode for at least an hour. As it stood, he just followed the red mecha named Ironhide (which is so cool??? Holy shit??) as they land inside a full on city packed with more mechas than he'd ever seen in his entire life, glowing eyes honing in on him when he exits the spaceship. It wasn't hard to see why, even though he was smaller than most mecha back home, he was a good head or two above most of these non-mecha aliens.

"Another one?" A white and red mecha had been talking to someone when they arrived, the insignia on his shoulders registering to the human as some sort of medical marking when it (He? She? Oh god this was going to get confusing soon) hurries over to one of the injured mechas that he'd traveled with.

"To be fair, this one was kidnapped too." Ironhide rolled his eyes, clapping a hand on Raoul's shoulder. "Or, tackled I guess."

"I'd say it counts as kidnappin' man." Raoul wants to facepalm when everyone stares at him, settling for grimacing as he watches Ironhide let out some sort of electronic laugh. "I don't normally get blindsided by three putos gilipollas."

"Don't know what that means, but you humans are pretty resilient when it comes ta fightin' Quintessons, gotta give you that."

"Fighting what?" Raoul is led off the landing pad and down among the passing mechas, glad no one could see his face as the stares never seemed to end. "What's a Quintesauce?"

"Quintesson, an' it's the guys trying to take over yer planet."

"Oh..." Quintesson, the name felt wrong in his mouth as he travels through a massive military base, so distracted by the sights he doesn't see the mecha he runs into, jumping back at the offended spine rattling noise that escaped the other. "Shit!"

"Sorry fella, I forgot to send word ahead." Ironhide steadied Raoul with a shake of his head, the other alien looking lost as he motioned to Raoul. "Got us another human, this one can't seem to stand our native tongue."

"How unfortunate." The new mecha scoffed after a moment, arms crossing over its (rather shiny) chest. "Perhaps it should watch where it's going then, hm?"

"Excuse me for bein' distracted by a whole new planet, don't need to be a dick about it." Raoul challenged once he could move again, eyeing the red-faced mecha.

"I do not know what a "dick" is, but I can tell when someone is being offensive." The shorter huffed, two wings (jet wings? What??) twitching as they give the humans frame a once-over with a sneer. "Why is your frame a clash of so many designs? It is displeasing to the optics."

"It's called art, shame you can't pull your head out of your ass to see it."

"Art is meant to be beautiful and inspiring, that seems better suited to blinding the enemy."

"Just makes it even more functional then, blinding them with human creativity before I kill them."

"That is not what-"

"Femmes femmes you're both pretty, can we pack it up?" Both Raoul and the other turned to look at Ironhide, who looked both amused and annoyed. "C'mon human, I'd like ta get off-duty eventually, you two can go bother each other some other time."

"After you, big guy." Raoul shrugged, giving the stunned bot a two-finger salute as he hurries after Ironhide.

Neither mech nor human think to ask about each other's name until they're both far from sight.

Ironhide leads Raoul to some sort of command center, the various mechas inside turning and reacting in surprise at the sight of Raoul, save for the only true mecha in the room.

"Oh my god...SOMEONE FROM EARTH?!" The black and white mecha vaulted across the massive holographic table between them before anyone else could react, practically vibrating in place as he grabbed Raoul's shoulders. "You have no idea how happy I am to see someone from terra firma right now."

"I can guess." Raoul chuckled, looking the taller mecha over. "You're the guy who went missing in orbit, right? Jazz?"

"That I am, name's Jazz, and let me assure ya you're among good mechs, er, people." Jazz let go to motion to the curious group behind him, clearly at ease. "Got a name?"

"Raoul, it's nice to meet you man." Raoul gave a small wave, not sure what else to really say. "Where are we? One minute I'm fighting outside of Detroit, the next I'm...well, wherever here is."

"Cybertron, our home planet." The only mech (mech? He'd need to ask what they were called, mecha was not right) that had some height on both him and Jazz stepped forward, his deep voice washing off some lingering anxiety from his earlier battle the New Yorker hadn't even noticed. "I welcome you Raoul, and I apologize for your...unexpected trip from your home planet."

"Not your guys' fault, just a hazard of the job...apparently?" Raoul shrugged, looking around the room. "What happens now, Mr...?"

"My name is Optimus Prime. As for what happens next, I'd like Ratchet to look over your frame for any potential damage before I have Jazz give you a tour. Do you require any rest or food?"

"I probably have a few hours in me before the adrenaline crash hits, I'll survive."

"Very well."

---

Raoul crashed a few hours after his arrival, in fact falling asleep in his piloting chair while Ratchet ran more than a few tests. The medic shook his helm in amusement when he noticed before rapping on the plating above where Raoul should be located, stepping back when his mecha jerked up, ready to fight if needed.

"No sleeping in my medbay unless you're injured." Despite the lack of a face plate, Ratchet could see the confusion turn to understanding once Raoul was up and on his feet through his body language. "I also went ahead and dialed down your audial sensitivity, don't want your processor melting out of your audials."

"Oh...is there a way I can reset it, if I need it?" Raoul raised a hand to touch the side of his mecha, not really feeling anything out of place, but the lack of spin-rattling ambient noise was a relief.

"Of course, I introduced some programming to allow you full control, should be in your processor under audial control. Now out, Jazz should be waiting for you." The medic made a shooing motion toward the doors.

"Right on, Doc." Raoul made a two-fingered salute before hurrying out, having annoyed his own medics enough to want to avoid doing the same to a guy fifty times his height. Jazz was indeed waiting outside, chatting up a mecha (no, Cybertronian) in the strange language he'd heard before, something he was going to have questions about later as he made his way over.

"You survived the ol' Hatchet, congrats!" Jazz straightened as the other studied Raoul with an intense expression, the pilot not hearing his fellow human as he studied the expressive face in pure curiosity. He had no idea metal could be so expressive, and it's not until a hand waves in front of his face that Raoul forgets he isn't alone, glad no one could see his embarrassment. "Earth to Raoul."

"Oh, shit, sorry, what were you saying?"

"I know Prowler is pretty, but he's spoken for." Jazz chuckled, putting himself between the alien and Raoul while slinging an arm around the shorter mecha's shoulders. "C'mon, I've got show and tell duty, and this place is pretty big. Prowler, catch ya later?"

"It is still Prowl, but of course." The alien (bot? mech? Mech is easy enough) raised an eyebrow, the doors (??) on his back giving a small flick when Jazz tilted his head slightly. "Try not to take our new arrival anywhere..."fun"."

"Aw, but those are the best places!" Jazz whined as Prowl shook his head, moving past the two to continue down the hall. "Yer no fun!"

"Goodbye Jazz." The bot waved a hand as he continued walking, the pilot chuckling as Raoul watched in quiet amusement.

"Sooooo....how does the sex work?"

"Oh no, you don't get that until we're drinking the last of my whiskey."

"Well, good thing I happen to always have a store of tequila in my mecha, then."

"Raoul, my man, we are goin' to get along great!"

Four hours and a tour of the biggest military base Raoul had ever seen in his life later, found Jazz and the New Yorker halfway to drunkenness. They had set up in some sort of rec room/cafeteria (Raoul still wasn't sure, but he'd learn), and Raoul watched with how...at ease Jazz was disengaging from his mecha in a less than secure setting. He hadn't personally known Jazz before his disappearance over two years prior, but the man didn't look too different from the remembrance posters Raoul had seen around, save for longer hair and some nasty scarring along his side when he pulled down his outer flight suit to cool off. Jazz was just fascinated with Raoul's mecha suit, what started out as a plain blue flight suit now covered in patches and custom leatherwork fans had sent in through his career, even his helmet painted to the last inch.

"Man, I am so jealous, you look so cool." Jazz sighed, grabbing Raoul's helmet to examine while the other grabbed the mentioned alcohol from his mecha. "How come you got to personalize?"

"I punched a general when he started bitching about my first set of graffiti, said if I was bein' sent out to die, might as well go out in style y'know? The mayor of New York even wrote in about it, and I guess PR loved it or somethin', 'cause no one bothered me about it again after that." Raoul fishes out the first bottle he can grab, waving it in the air in victory as he carefully steps back onto his mecha's arm. "I get kids to help me change it up after every battle, keeps it fresh and excitin'."

"And here I got yelled at for adding literal black and white coloring, that is incredibly lame." The smell of tequila nearly made Jazz's mouth water, the two taking a seat as the bottle began to be shared back and forth. "Please tell me you've got a decent food synthesizer, I don't think I can last much longer on my basic diet."

"I got one of the newer ones recently, I've had a lot of downtime in stealth mode." Raoul shrugged, letting Jazz have the majority of the drink. "The Quinetseans started gettin' decent at ambushing smaller towns with some stealth bullshit, so we got better at finding them first."

"Quintessons, and damn, that sucks." Jazz frowned, head spinning as he took another swig. "I miss Earth, you have no idea how happy I am to see another human being."

"I can only imagine, we all thought you were dead." Raoul shook his head with a low whistle. "Seems like you've been with a good group, though, and Prowl? How did you manage that?"

"A whole lotta patience." Jazz hummed, sipping the tequila once more as he lay on his side, grinning at his new friend. "To be honest, I fell for him before I even knew these guys weren't mecha, so it didn't really change any of those feelin's much."

"Good for you, take every day you can, y'know? Not like we have many of those."

"How's the turnover rate?"

"Worse, we're losin' 'em faster than we can keep replacements. Part of that is because there's a haunted mecha, but that's a whole story."

"Tell it, now. Mecha ghosts are a thing???" Jazz's eyes widened as Raoul launched into a tale of a (suspected) pilot turning spirit haunting his mecha, and how some random medic or something had been the only one to survive so far. For some reason, Jazz finds that little fact hilarious, and the two are in hysterics before long, their laughter garnering the attention of off-duty bots who entered to get energon. One of them was the bot Raoul had accidentally run into earlier, eyeing the two giggling humans as he grabbed his ration before grabbing a table, leaning over to the bot closest to him.

"Blaster, who is the new human?" The communications specialist shot him a weird look at how softly Tracks spoke, but he had seen more bizarre things over the years.

"Raoul Ortiz, Jazz scanned his mecha files, or whatever the humans do for that sort of thing, and sent me what he found. He is a pilot as well, and is classified as something called a calvary scout, has been for just shy of seven jours." Blaster scanned the data pad he fished from his subspace with a shrug, looking up at the other mech. "Seems nice enough, haven't seen Jazz smile so much."

"I suppose that's not too surprising, he's not seen a human in a long time." Tracks watched Jazz sit up, pointing at something that made Raoul howl with laughter, falling back onto the tabletop with a face plate that was taking on a red hue as he grinned.

"Want a human of your own too?"

"No!" Blaster gives him an amused look, but says nothing else as he's drawn into another conversation, leaving Tracks alone to watch Jazz and the new human (Raoul, what an odd designation) get overcharged with their single bottle until Prowl finally swooped in and carefully tugged the small high grade (no, alcohol?) bottle from Jazz's hands. He didn't realize the room had mostly emptied until the superior officer looked right at him, doorwings twitching in exasperation as he motioned to the unfamiliar frame.

"I require your assistance in helping Raoul to his quarters, he and Jazz have become quite overcharged." Tracks fought back the urge to cycle his optics as he stood, setting his empty ration cube to be cleaned before sauntering over, observing the new human start the climb to his cockpit from the table.

"Does it need anything?"

"Time, and a steady arm." Prowl flicked over the location of Raoul's newly assigned quarters before returning his attention to Jazz, who had gotten back in control of his frame to drape it across the Praxian with a coo.

"Aw I love ya Prowler, even if ya stop my fun." Tracks couldn't help the vent that escaped him as Prowl shook his helm in exasperation, guiding his wayward partner across the room as Tracks waited for Raoul to do...whatever it was they needed to do in the frame. He'd never seen Jazz entering his mecha, eyeing the small piloting chair within what would be their spark chamber light up when Raoul sat down, the human tugging down a thick cable and plugging it into the back of his helm covering, his frame's arms and legs twitching as organic and machine became one.

"Like what ya see?" Raoul was not as overcharged to the extent Jazz was, but clearly had had a sip or two himself, standing with a stretch and low hum as his chassis covering slipped closed.

"I was merely curious." Tracks began to head toward the location Prowl had given him, the human following without a word.

"You can ask questions, I don't really care about answerin' them, I'm gonna have a bunch myself after I hit the sack."

"What does hitting something have to do with questions?" Tracks asked, the human laughing when they turned down a corridor. "What?"

"I'm not actually hitting anything, it's just an expression, just means me goin' to sleep." Raoul paused when he caught sight of a training room, his faceless helm moving as he took in the sight. "Whoa, this is so cool."

"Why?" Tracks paused as he watched the other. "Do you not have training rooms?"

"Not really, well, not mecha sized anyways. Lot of our trainin' is done in training pods that simulate the field, I only get to properly mess around when I'm in the field." The human entered the room, poking at some sort of training dummy with a finger. "So yea, this is cool to see training gear this size."

"That is...strange, but when you are all so small, I suppose having the space is not a luxury you can afford."

"Nope! When we get back though, I should show you the place a few of us pilots like to sneak off to, we throw parts of mountains at each other and it's so fun." Raoul laughed, stumbling slightly as he left the room with a shake of his helm. "Man...that's even if we get back."

"I am sure Wheeljack and the others will find a way, I know they have been for Jazz for some time." Tracks led Raoul down another corridor; the lighting dimmed down this one due to it being personal quarters. "It is not so bad, however, he's found good company."

"Like you?" Raoul glanced over, noting how the other bot tensed in a way that was far too familiar.

"No, I have only dealt with him in passing."

"Uh huh..." They finally came to a stop outside of a door, Tracks pressing a panel on the right side to open the door, revealing a room that held a bed, desk with a chair, a lamp and some floating crystals on one wall unit. A small bed that was his actual size had been placed on the desk beside what looked like a water cooler and some alien fruits in a small bowl, and Raoul sent out a silent thanks to whoever did that. "This is a pretty nice place."

"If you need anything, Prowl informed me that your mecha's internal comm system has been linked into our own, and that Jazz's line has been made your primary." Tracks watched Raoul sit his mecha down, the frame powering down as he unhooked himself (still weird to watch if he was honest) after opening his chassis, grinning up at Tracks before using an arm he positioned as a bridge.

"You've been a lot of help, thanks!" The human waved up at him, and Tracks gave a short bow, turning to leave. "Before you go, can I get yer name?"

"I am known as Tracks." The human looked to the side as he mouthed his designation, and his spark fluttered when a smile was sent his way.

"Nice ta meet ya Tracks, I think I'm just gonna have to make myself some good company for ya." The mech looked taken aback by the declaration, his eyes blinking(????) before a small smile crossed his face, glowing eyes focusing on Raoul as his engine rumbled quietly.

"Perhaps you will, we shall have to see."

#personal #transformers #mecha pilot jazz au #tf mecha universe #tracksraoul #tracks x raoul #raoultracks #jazzprowl #raoul #tracks #jazz #prowl #ironhide #I've been chipping away at this #and I really hope you guys like it #Raoul x Tracks is one of my fav tf pairings of all time #these goobers are perfect together

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levemetal · 1 day ago

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My work for the Qijiu Secret Santa!

Giftee had multiple prompts but I ended up on"SJ didn't end up on CQ. Their reunion is different than in canon."

Anyway I am now 47384 layers deep into hell another Qijiu AU so more under the cut if you wish to dive in.

So essentially the AU starts simple enough: Everything is the same as in canon, except SJ never makes it out alive out of the Qiu Manor fire. Too embittered and angry to die, he becomes a ghost and sets out to do what he does best, which is survive and claw his way to a spot where he can be safe and not fear others as much. So he becomes a calamity ghost.

On his adventures to find Yue Qi (or what remains of him), he comes across Ning Yingying, Ming Fan and Luo Binghe at different times. Against all odds they stick with him and he doesn't hate it. It's nice to have company even if he reasons the dead are probably not the best company for kids. But he can't just leave them to the slavers. So they are now adopted and his lil ducklings. He finds they are equally unhinged as he is very quickly. The reason they look similar to him here with the veil and all is cause they wanna look like A-die :3 Bingus’s seal gets accidentally destroyed when SJ senses something odd about the boy when meeting him and whoops. Well there goes the seal. Guess they have to take him along now (not that NYY and MF were gonna let him leave without taking Bingo along). I figure this probably has good consequences on Bongo’s self confidence issues as he would learn early on that being half demon does not mean he’s evil. Afterall his A-die is literally a ghost.

YQY still becomes sect leader, albeit a very, very depressed one. He killed Wu Yanzi at the IAC but SJ wasn't there this time. He wants to die but is stopped at every corner by either his Shizun or fellow sect siblings. A few years later, at one of the disciple selections, he sees a boy with a strong resemblance to SJ and picks him up immediately, hoping him to be either a relative or reincarnation. Either way, that's his son and sole reason for living now. Said son is the transmigrated Shen Yuan who is very much confused about the current state of the plot (wdym SQQ is not there?? Who is that QJPL? Where's Binghe??)

Anyway the ducklings weren't necessary but happened anyway so. Figured I'd mention them. One day Yqy goes on a nighthunt with Shen Yuan which then leads them into Ghost City by accident. And lo and behold who he runs into.

They reunite, probably take a while to sort their shit out and now Yqy's sect siblings just gotta deal with Zhangmen-Shixiong having an emotional support calamity ghost and husband and 3 new kids. (Mqf counts this as a net positive since at least he doesn't have to guard Yqy's sword anymore lest his shixiong pulls it out. Liu Qingge is Conflicted and takes a bit to get the memo. He DOES enjoy sparring with the calamity tho eventually.)

Apologies for recycling my one calamity SJ design but I am perpetually tired and couldn't think of anything different. And I am sorry for once again making a calamity SJ AU. I notice a pattern. Unfortunately I possess no illusions of having any control over my life.

Maybe one day I get around to fic writing I'll write this and the 37288483 AUs I have... but first, bonus sketches:

#svsss #shen jiu #yue qingyuan #qijiu #original shen qingqiu #qijiu server secret santa

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buckets-and-trees · 2 days ago

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Just thinking about tattoo artists Curtis and Ari with @stargazingfangirl18 and...

you eventually move into Curtis's house with them

while you're moving they come across a pasta maker you got from a friend when they were going to give it away because they never used it

you've had it for years and haven't used it yet either

but you keep it because you have aspirations to use it

making pasta from scratch is one of those things on your list of things to do before you die

after a few weeks when everything's finally unpacked and you're settled in, Ari pulls out the pasta maker

you pull up a youtube video on how to make pasta from scratch

you watch it twice, once on your own and once with Curtis over your shoulder

Ari collects the necessary eggs, flour, and salt

the thing is, this is not really a two person job, and certainly not a three person job

they're always big men, but you feel it even more as they crowd in next to and behind you at the island in the kitchen, practically smushing you between them because they're trying to be patient and not interfere, but with nothing to do now but watch, they can't help getting handsy

once the eggs and flour are fully incorporated with each other, they offer to knead the dough for you, but you want to do it yourself

so they start kneading at you

hands groping and squeezing your hips, your waist, your round ass

"I'm trying to knead this dough," you scold them

"and?"

"no one's stopping you"

and all three of you know you're not going to stop them either

the sexual cravings they have are only echoed by your own

you huff, but then whimper when Curtis presses a hot kiss to the base of your neck and then slowly licks slowly upward

Ari's hand slides down the small of your back, over your ass, and then down between your cheeks, moving invasively and purposefully until he's cupping your pussy over your jeans, and he starts to rub and pet your mound the way he knows you like

Curtis kneads your breasts, he loves the way they fill his hand

you protest that you really do need to knead the dough for the full ten minutes

somehow by the end of the night you've managed to have some incredible pasta, some incredible sex (in the kitchen and in the shower before, and then on the dining room table after dinner), and the men were more than helpful - as always - in cleaning up the flour from the MANY places it shouldn't have got to (in the kitchen and on your body)

#ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #ari levinson imagine #curtis everett imagine #obsidian stain and sin

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ifureadthisitsurfault · 2 days ago

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this is what i've been saying to my family after watching squid game 2 😭

***spoilers ahead, read at ur own risk***

● they uped the homoeroticism and gun play between gi hun and literally any other man (but let's be honest, specifically the salesman and in ho) like the behavior during the russian roulette scene was so unnecessary but the man became so unhinged and evil he turned the situation homoerotic. like i KNOW the scene was to show "look at how nonchalant i am ab putting a gun in my mouth" but the eye contact, blood on the face, sweat on the forehead, trying to smile with a gun in his mouth gave the scene a whole other kind of vibe i will not lie.

● and then the growing friendship between gi hun and in ho when they were in the games. i know in ho was trying to sabotage gi hun and his group and convince gi hun to see things through his perspective of the games but there was def a few times where he lost the plot a bit or had to remind himself to stay focused. i knew he was gonna betray them eventually like it was coming but oh man gi hun's face when he thought he listened to his new friend in the games die over the radio and it technically being his fault they got in this situation was heartbreaking. this man cannot catch a break!

● AND let's not forget my girl hyun ju finding allies in the games and geum ja learning more ab her and her transition journey and at first being kinda ignorant but opening her mind to accepting her. her defending hyun ju to be allowed in the women's bathroom to the guards (even tho they didn't argue or try to stop her anyway) made me cry so hard. and hyun ju's friendship with young mi omggggg. whether they're platonic or romantic or queer platonic, their dynamic was beautiful and i rooted so hard for them to make it out and have dinner with geum ja and yong sik and roast lots of pork.

one thing squid game does so well is not just the commentary and critique of the world and society but also getting u attatched to people knowing they will be dying. u want them to beat the system and make it out but its a fucked up reality that they can't because of how the system is set up. even with someone who made it out before on their side, the people are too divided to work together and will sacrifice each other for a chance at the prize money even tho they'd get millions split amongst them now (and those millions not even being enough to cover a fraction of their debts plays into that as well, again, the fucked up system). even when working together, the games attempt to also eliminate players by the rules of the game and u either win, lose, or get disqualified.

i don't know how to conclude this but i can't believe i wrote an essay/rant under a blog post about squid game 2 being gay (which it is <3 the overall vibes were immaculate this season)

there is something so gay about squid game 2.

#squid game #squid game 2 #seong gihun #hwang in ho #hyun ju #young mi #geum ja #the salesman

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ilikekidsshows · 2 days ago

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I think for me at least the difference between Adrien’s problematic behavior (harassing Ladybug even after she’s rejected him several times and even something like telling Marinette to take the high road regarding Lila which I know got him a lot of flack with the fandom) and Marinette’s behavior is that we actually see Adrien growing past said behavior. He does eventually move on from Ladybug and come to be happy being just a good friend and partner to her. (Sure it’s partly because he ‘falls’ for Marinette but we’ll not get into that here). He also realizes he was wrong about the Lila thing and actually threatens her to get her to fix what she did to Marinette in that one episode and tries to tell Alya and Nino the truth about her.

Meanwhile Marinette not only gets worse over time but the show bends over backwards to try and justify said bad behavior nor does she ever receive any real consequences for it.

For me that’s a large part of why I’m okay with Adrien’s bad behavior and not Marinette’s and I don’t think the two can really be fairly compared due to such circumstances and the way the show handled both of them.

---

Yeah, like, the writers also eventually made Cat Noir take responsibility for all of Paris thinking he and Ladybug are a couple and they made Adrien take responsibility for everything done against Lila, be it not confronting her directly or confronting her directly, since he actually makes comments on both approaches that can be taken as apologies. Adrien doesn't just apologize and “clean up his act”, he takes full responsibility over others’ similar actions as well. Even before this, though, Adrien's faults weren't treated the same as Marinette's. Whenever Ladybug told him his flirting was too much, she was presented as the one whose feelings on the matter mattered the most and Cat Noir respected her no and backed down every time. He also valued her friendship even before he stopped loving her. Meanwhile, Marinette stopping her stalking of Adrien wasn't even fully stopping and she was shown as frustrated about it while making excuses over how she was totally justified. Her feelings over the stalking were given focus, but we never learn how Adrien feels about it. She also never valued Adrien’s friendship, calling it the “worst thing ever”. The Lila thing Adrien was right about, actually, I will die on that hill. The writers can’t even remember what Adrien said about Lila, since he makes contradictory statements about her.

As you said, Marinette's behavior keeps getting worse but she keeps getting validated. Even the abuse apologia has already been validated by both Tikki and Bunnix in the London special. They treat it as a morally equal option to not doing what she did and they also shrink what Marinette did (abuse apologia) into just “not telling the truth” (they don't even call it “lying”) to make it seem even more like she hasn't done anything too bad. Alix also frames the whole thing in a way where she's only focused on consequences, saying being truthful would have also have painful consequences. They're downplaying the heck out of what Marinette's done wrong, so, when that's combined with how her other flaws are viewed as 100% okay or nonexistent, I just can't see this as an arc where Marinette learns anything, instead of it ending with Marinette crying about what a terrible person she is again while being instantly forgiven, if she gets confronted with this being a mistake at all.

So, let's compare and contrast:

Adrien makes a mistake: takes full responsibility, doesn't make excuses, focuses on the feelings of the wronged party

Marinette makes a mistake: makes excuses, screams and cries about how bad she's feeling until she gets coddled, talks over the wronged party

The writers are so consistent about ignoring anything Marinette does wrong or having her get instantly validated for her mistakes that I have no faith in her villain arc actually being anything close to one instead of of it just being a way to make Marinette the one who suffers the most from Gabriel's death and her “not telling the truth”.

#ml critical #ml salt #dats chats

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bleedingichorhearts · 6 hours ago

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“𝐈’𝐦 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬…” {1/2}

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: How I would think the Primarchs would react to you saying “I’m getting too old for this.” Yandere Primarchs would be a different story…

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: The “Primarchs” reacting to you saying “I’m too old for this.” Simple as that.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.

+@c-u-c-koo-4-40k.

TW // Slight Angst.

|°ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ°| |°ɪᴄʜᴏʀ’ꜱ ᴀᴏ3°| |°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°| • {Part 2}

The Emperor; “Revelation:”

He hears your words through your soul. He doesn’t need to be in front of you to hear you say you’re “too old” comment to yourself, and he feels… indifferent about it, in a way. Sure, you’re his counterpart, but he has always expected you to eventually fall to the hands of death before him. It was inevitable. He was a proclaimed god, and you? A simple human. A human that reminds him of too much true humanity itself despite his title…

Lion El’Johnson; “The First:”

Is also indifferent about it and expects it. He knows the consequences and prepares himself for it, or at least tries to. His face is voided of emotion, but his eyes stare and that means a lot than what many lead on. He won’t show it, act or even acknowledge it, and perhaps… he doesn’t want to.

Fulgrim; “The Phoenician:”

Gasps at you from like a 5-mile radius (maybe more) before coming to where you are leaning down to sweep you up in his arms. Kissing you on the cheek and forehead, and it’s very much to your confusion. Your hubby is being very affectionate with you randomly. Well, until he praises you on your age and how remarkable you look do you piece together what happened to get such lovin’.

Perturabo; “Lord of Iron:”

Pretends not to care, but he does give a very low hum of acknowledgement. Is somehow better than his first brother as he at least acknowledged your words. (From a far radius as well.) He’s a bit… hurt? At your words, but he knows it’s inevitable as well. Though, that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t change something within his workplace to make you more comfortable and less eligible to say those words again.

Jaghatai Khan; “The Warhawk:”

Would pick you up, kiss you on the neck before giving you to the other wives of his sons. Requesting them to pamper you for the day, and if they can’t? He will, and he’s surprisingly good at it. It’s nothing much compared to the thought of your aging death, but he can at least make it more comfortable, right?

Leman Russ; “The Wolf King:”

Plays excited and happy, but is… gloomy on the inside. He doesn’t like your words, you should prosper, hunting with him and his sons forever. Yet he is not oblivious to the acts of death: slow and fast. Though, maybe hunting with his sons in the… afterlife would be more enjoyable? Lasting? He doesn’t like to think too much on it, but he’ll try and spend his time with you more often. (Not like he already does.)

Rogal Dorn; “Praetorian of Terra:”

Gives you a voided stare like his first brother too. Though, he also doesn’t really acknowledge it either, with words anyway. He may act though, doing the same thing his 4th brother does. Trying to provide you with a much more comfortable environment. Stop complaining about his quarters being enough. He must ensure structure.

Konrad Cruze; “Dark King:”

Stares at you too, but is like… worse than Lord Dorns stare. You think he’ll do anything for your uttered words? Thats right, he won’t. If he let himself die to the hands of an assassin? He’ll let you suffer your age. He feels indifferent about not killing you himself however… He may or may not offer extra human bones to you.

Sanguinius; “The Angel:”

Looks at you for a second: up and down before giving a low hum, and gracefully walking to your side. Inside, he doesn’t like your words and he knows his sons around him don’t like it either. It’s one of the many things they think they can’t live without: you. He’ll cover you with his wings as everything seems to get painfully quiet, but he’ll praise you as if nothing happened.

Ferrus Manus; “The Gorgon:”

His legion would simply not care, but him? He’s affected by it. Yes, he likes your humanity, but please. Don’t say those words. He doesn’t wish to think upon them. He doesn’t wish for you to… possibly be like his sons. He’ll keep you more close to him than usual after that, keeping a good eye on you. He won’t say anything, but he’s… there.

#personalized headcanons #warhammer 40k #warhammer 30k #primarch #the primarchs #the emperor of mankind #the emperor x reader #primarch x reader #lion el'jonson #fulgrim #perturabo #jaghatai khan #leman russ #rogal dorn #konrad curze #sanguinus #ferrus manus #tw: angst

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jtophat · 17 hours ago

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LOL at your bisexual Ponyboy post about his great taste in women but awful taste in men. 😂😅 I can totally see that! I don't get how he hangs out with Curly and befriends Mark.. and I'm thinking how does this introvert hang out with these guys...? What do they talk about? Like.. do they talk about movies and stuff? And don't get me talking about how he draws Dally a lot in his sketchbook. Why draw and hang out if you don't like him? Hmmm.. 🤔

So I mainly see this happening in a world where Johnny and Dally die. It’s possible he’d still get with Curly if they live though, but not Mark

Curly:

I feel like they’ve known each other their whole lives and were basically family frenemies

They started to get close after Curly got out of reform school

Both him and Ponyboy were in a really bad place mentally. Ponyboy still hadn’t gotten over Dally and Johnny’s death and Curly was stilly messed up after reform school so honestly when they got together it was a bit toxic. That’s also why Soda and Darry didn’t really like their relationship much initially

At that point it was really just an intense situationship

Over time with a lot of maturing and late night talks and telling each other things they had never told anybody else they eventually properly got together and were pretty healthy

Honestly a lot of their conversations are pretty typical teenage boy topic. Usually when it’s more emotional stuff it’s during late night walks home from the movies and it’s almost always started by Ponyboy

Curly actually loves to hear Ponyboy’s perspective on things. He doesn’t know anyone else who thinks the way Ponyboy does

While Ponyboy is a pretty quiet person he will yap about things he’s interested in to certain people, including Curly. Once he start yapping it’s hard to get him to stop

Curly is a massive yapper and since Ponyboy is someone he feels like he can tell anything and everything he will tell Ponyboy about even the smallest things going on in his life

This post is honestly long enough so I’m going to make some more posts about Mark and the Dally thing you mention

#the outsiders #ponyboy curtis #the outsiders musical #ponyboy michael curtis #darry curtis #sodapop curtis #purly

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snailsgoingdowntown · 24 hours ago

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Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead’s Sister-in-Law!

1 2 3 4 5 6

Chapter 7

‘Slight’ Yandere! Dion Agriche x Fem! Reader

Arranged marriage AU

Warnings: themes of obsession and maybe possessiveness, implied thought of suicide once (1), toxic relationship/marriage, slight themes of misogynistic society (??? Probably???), implied guilt and regret, ooc Dion. Please tell me if I missed anything.

NSFW warnings: sexual fantasies (Dion: implied unprotected sex, unprotected frottage, oral (fem receiving), clit stimulation, mention of fingering), one (1) dry hump, teasing, mention/implied masturbation, offers of oral (male receiving) and handjob, slightly sexually frustrated Dion (he might die if u don’t kiss him eventually), mention/implications of non-con twice (2) (no he does not non-con you), DUB-CON. Please tell me if I missed anything.

NOTE: I gave the Reader’s brother a name because I dislike writing (family member’s name) unless it’s like the parents. Probably. Also going to tag this as smut just in case.

Main story is slightly different from the drabbles for reasons.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE HARMFUL AND/OR DANGEROUS/TOXIC ACTIONS AND/OR BEHAVIORS THAT MAY TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS/BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED AS THEY ARE BOTH EXTREMELY TOXIC AND DANGEROUS.

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/BLOGS THAT DO NOT INTERACT WITH/REBLOG WITH FANDOM STUFF DNI AND PLEASE DO NOT SPAM LIKE MY POSTS.

= = =

Something throbs against your bottom.

Breath catching in your throat, your heartbeat speeds up. Your husband doesn’t make any attempt to move, still hovering above you. He’s so close that you could feel his chest against your back with each and every exhale. Despite his… bodily reaction, he doesn’t grind against you. Doesn’t nibble on your ear or slide his hands until they’re groping at your chest, lifting you enough to do so.

No, he just stays and his breath makes your ear tingle. You need to get out of this.

“H-hey… mind getting off? I need to change…” You wiggle a bit, aiming to escape his one-sided ‘embrace,’ if you could even call it that. Only to immediately stop once he hisses through his teeth, one hand flying to hold your hips still. You cease all actions and breathing becomes difficult.

All is silent.

The air becomes heavy and awkward. You dare not move. The risk of rubbing against him is high and you’d rather avoid giving him the wrong idea. Ah, but how should you go about this situation? You can’t exactly move and begging would elicit a less than desirable response from him - he likes seeing you cry, so begging might give him the same thrill.

Seconds feel like minutes and minutes like hours. Dion doesn’t move against you nor away from you. However, his fingers dig into your hip, and you hold back the whimper from the sharp pain caused by his grasp. You’re stuck and don’t know how to escape.

…but he is your husband. You don’t want to do that again, to be used as a fleshlight as he enjoys himself while you shake in his arms from the pain. It was humiliating. Awful.

But your mother would tell you to go along with it. Lant would expect it. Your sister would comfort you, saying that it’s only natural, normal for married couples to engage in sexual intercourse. As for your father… he was always too awkward to discuss the subject.

Besides, you already told him that you refuse to go through it again. That he could jack off and you would shove his sperm into your cunt so it could reach your fertile womb.

You also don’t want to give birth to his child. However, you had no say so in that area - a child should be the result of any marriage. You scowl. While things were different in your old, modern world, things were vastly different here. A child was expected, needed in most cases.

And this was one of them.

His cock throbs again.

… you could offer to jerk him off again. Maybe use your mouth if you’re feeling daring, suck on and twirl your tongue around the tip as your hands work the shaft. You’ll even swallow if it means he’ll stay far, far away from your cunt. It doesn’t matter if his cum is bitter and sour.

When he throbs against you for the third time, you bring up your offer, your voice faltering with each word. When he takes a sharp breath, you know that you signed your death certificate. If accepted, you won’t be able to turn back.

Wasn’t Dion Agriche supposed to be immune to sexual desires? From what you saw from spoilers, he was dense when it came to romance, so why was he acting this way? …then again, nothing about this was romantic.

“I don’t need it.” was his response. In spite of that, he doesn’t move, voice husky and dripping with lust. You despise yourself for the shiver running down your body while your ear tingles as his breath hits it. It seems that you’re also weak to physical pleasure regardless of your wariness and fear.

If only your body was more receptive last night.

“Then why are you still on me? Holding my hip no less.” If your head wasn’t so fuzzy with sleep, if today had gone in a less confusing direction, would you still act the same? Or would you stay quiet as a mouse, waiting for Dion to take you while your stomach churns and you swallow bile down?

“To stop you from squirming,” he deadpans like his fingers weren’t digging into your poor hip.

“And your hand around my throat?”

“To see your reaction.”

This isn’t going anywhere. You’re just running in circles as the man denies himself and keeps you in purgatory. Can’t somebody knock on the door, forcing him to get up and leave?

You think you should be more scared. You are, but it melts into something worse than annoyance. Why can’t he let you sleep? Leave you alone and pretend you don’t exist.

“You didn’t tell me why you’re still on top of me,” pointing out as you lift your shoulder the slightest bit, silently telling him to get out of your personal space. After a pause he lets go of your neck, hoisting himself up a bit. It’s not much, but at least he isn’t as close.

He throbs against you a fourth time.

Please, please for the love of everything that is holy, let him calm down. No sane man would get horny after saying such awful things.

You forgot he wasn’t sane.

“Your reactions are interesting.”

“... Well, you saw them - that should be enough, no?” You’re debating if you should headbut him. Tomorrow, you’re going to question your own sanity, wondering what gave you the bravery of becoming so bold. Chucking yourself into the nearest river won’t be enough.

Time stops when your husband’s thumb starts rubbing circles into your hip. It’s gentle but suggestive all the same. No, no, no - you don’t want to fuck him again. You don’t want to bare yourself to him, to allow his fingers to rub at your clit as he thrusts in and out of your most sensitive area. You don’t want him to lick your twitching clit or tug his hair as he eats you out again.

It was too much, too painful.

You already told him as such.

“D-D-Dion.” You hate how your voice shakes, choking on his name. You hate how loud your gulp is. You hate how you’re going to offer your mouth and hands to him again. You hate the fact that you’re going to sit back and act how your mother and sister told you to.

He hums, hand moving from your hip to your back, tracing your spine again. You fail in holding back the small gasp that slips through. How is it possible for him to get harder just from that!?

Your toes curl as he gives a small hump, only to harshly stiffen. Did he not mean to do that?

“A-as long as we don’t… do it, then I’ll be happy to help you.” His hips struggle to stay still at your words, your husband clearly getting excited. He shouldn’t be like this. He should have left you alone and obsess over Roxana.

But your gut is telling you that you switched places with her. That can’t be true though - he’s just playing with you for now. Raising your hopes up that he’ll be a ‘decent’ husband only to shatter the illusion once he gets tired of you. Honestly, after giving it some thought, you’re not sure which one is worse.

“You have a lot of trouble with saying the word ‘sex’. It’s cute.” Dion muses, deciding to break his promise of not touching you further by ghosting his lips along the back of your neck, stopping between your shoulder blades.

“M-mmh… You promised not to touch,” you shakily breath out, ignoring how he called you ‘cute.’ Your toes curl again, chest heaving a bit as you force your breathing to stay steady. Fingers digging into the sheets, your head starts to feel dizzy - he’s being much more intimate, choosing to be teasing and lover-like.

How long has it been since you tingle down there? You hate it, hate how his touches are starting to set the mood. It’s despicable.

“You also said you didn’t come here for this.”

“People are allowed to change their minds.” Your husband doesn’t go further than this. You wonder what his expression is. What he’s thinking while scared of the reality of everything. Should you be direct with your refusal? Would he even care? Bother to listen?

Breathing in, you decide to test your luck.

“But I haven’t.” Again, he stays practically glued to you. “So, please.” Unable to finish, you only shut your eyes tight, praying to whatever God that would listen. After what seems like hours he completely removes himself from you. Relief fills you as you’re freed, air easier to take in.

It slightly irks you when he doesn’t apologize. The moment you wake up tomorrow, dawn breaking and memories fresh, you might consider killing yourself. To avoid any possible harsh and inhuman punishment Dion may give you for rejecting him. But tonight, right now as your head is fuzzy and your body falling victim to sleep, you couldn’t care less.

You’re just happy and grateful he listened.

Now only your body would do the same.

“You should change and sleep.” No emotion in his voice. Remorse, guilt, annoyance, hatred - nonexistent. You are a bit worried about it but you can only close your eyes. Thinking is becoming hard.

How can you talk to him so freely? Minutes ago you were scared that the man would rape you. Yet now you’re back to being fine? Madness really is contagious.

“I don’t think I can… that’s not an invitation.” Making your thoughts and expectations clear, you think you can faintly hear the scolding of your mother. You’ll fret over tonight later.

The world ceases to exist around you, falling into the abyss before you could hear him sigh.

- - -

He was hoping you would change your mind. The most painful part was over with - as long as he took his time with you, it shouldn’t hurt as much.

He would have played with your clit until you were whining for his fingers. To flick the nub back and forth with his tongue until you complain, saying he was being unfair. To rub the tip of his cock against both your entrance and clit until your hips were bucking against him, trying to slip him in.

But dreams don't always come true.

Dion accepted as such, realizing that it was far too early to have sex again anytime soon. He could live without it. For a while. Hopefully the same goes for you, otherwise…

Well, his left arm would suffer a lot.

… this isn’t like him. It’s strange and confuses him. You confuse him. But the questions could be saved for later, when his own eyes aren’t becoming heavy with sleep deprivation, the eye bags getting worse.

He looks at your sleeping figure, halfway undone dress and corset still on. He considers stripping and changing you into the silk nightgown that he threw onto your back earlier. But seeing how the interaction from earlier went, he decides against it.

He should call for Hana.

Scarlet eyes stare hard at you. You look so comfortable, so peaceful - he wants to ruin it. Yet, at the same time, he wants to leave you be, to have a moment of peace in this hell. Your husband settles for the latter. Consideration sometimes overwrites sadistic pleasures.

… something really is wrong with him. He wasn’t raised with consideration in mind yet here he is.

Walking to the closet, opening the doors and picking nightclothes at random, Dion wonders how bad you’ll freak out tomorrow. If you’ll cry and beg for forgiveness once you’re able to talk and think. Or if you’ll play pretend and give him a nervous smile once the shock wears off.

Maybe when he closes his eyes and slips into the dreamworld, he’ll be blessed with a dream of where you’ll accept him as is, faults and all. But as Dion slips his shirt on, he knows it’s next to impossible.

For tomorrow, when you wake up to his sleeping face, you’ll find an isolated corner to hide in. Tonight will only be looked back on with regret filling your mind.

That’s how it always starts.

- - -

“Is it too early to write to sister?” a boyish voice asks. Your father looks up from his paperwork, heavy bags under his eyes. Standing in front of his desk in his office stands your brother - (e/c) eyes filled with impatience and worry. His hands are behind his back, nails digging into skin.

The twelve-year-old boy has to physically stop himself from grabbing your father by the shoulders and shake him, demanding answers. Out of every man to marry you to, every family to give you to… why did he choose the worst of the worst?

Weren’t there any better options?

Your father goes back to his paperwork, pen gliding across the sheets. “It’s not, but be mindful of your words. No need to give your sister more stress. God knows she’s already tipping on the verge of insanity.”

He doesn’t see the point in lying. Everyone with a brain knows he basically sent you to your early grave - it was only a matter of time until the Agriche family drives you crazy. And that’s putting it lightly.

His reputation as a man and father has been ruined beyond belief. In spite of that, many still pitied him, rumors going around that he was forced to give you away. Others say that he wanted a bit of the power your new in-laws would lend him after the marriage. However, no-one would dare to ask him directly.

“... am I supposed to wish her luck on her new happy marriage? Or should I tell her how lucky she is to get sold into such a wealthy and warm family?”

Slam!

“Zachary (Last name)! Enough. This is a political matter; you won’t understand until you get older.” Your father slammed his palms against the surface of the desk, papers flying and pen dropping to the floor. It rolls under the desk.

“Understand…? What is there to understand? Anyone with a brain cell knows that she won’t last long. Maybe a month if she’s lucky.” Zachary argues back, stomping towards the desk. A staring contest breaks out between the two males - your father is the first to look away.

Running a hand through his greying hair, he heavily breathes out. “Everything will… work out.”

“Work out? What do you mean by that? This isn’t some experiment -”

“Listen,” your father leaves his position to walk towards your brother, grabbing his shoulders. “Your sister is strong. There is no need to worry.”

“She’s as strong as a single match.”

“That’s just rude. But yes, she won’t go crazy… immediately.”

“You just said she’s tipping on the verge of insanity.”

“It’s a figure of speech.”

The argument goes nowhere, both males refusing to back down. Your brother was always hard headed - this wasn’t the first argument that has broken out between father and son, nor will it be the last. However, the context of this one is grave. It involves you.

“Zac,” your father affectionately refers to him by his nickname, “it’s good that you’re worried about your sister. I’m worried too; but now is not the time to think the worst. Right now, you should offer her support… cheer her up.”

What a lousy way of pushing aside the pressing issue.

Zac doesn’t say anything. In the end, he sighs before nodding his head. “Alright. I understand, father.”

Your father accepts his answer. “Good. Now, like I said, do be mindful of what you write. Right now is a sensitive time.”

‘Which means that the Agriche family is going to read through the letter first before giving it to her,’ Zac thinks. Alright, fine. That’s fine.

Not like he practiced writing sugary words with hidden meanings the moment he heard of your engagement. With a teacher he hates but still followed regardless. The results of his teaching better yield positive results. For everyone’s safety - especially your brother’s.

“I’ll tell her how you cried for two hours straight.”

“...Zachary.”

#yandere twtptfob #twtptflob #twtptflob x reader #the way to protect the female lead's older brother #yandere dion agrece x reader #dion agrece #dion agriche x reader #yandere dion x reader #yandere dion agriche x reader #twtptflob smut #dion agrece smut #dion agriche smut #yandere #yandere x reader

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arscorpii · 1 day ago

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christianity is a subtle yet recurring theme in rgu, particularly relating to utena and the loss of both her parents at a very young age. the plain white cross across the church/cathedral from episode 23 was interesting. during that scene, baby utena was talking about how pointless it is to keep living because everyone will die eventually. i wonder what the cross meant to represent here because this scene came as utena started thinking about mikage's question about friends with problems. perhaps it represented utena's deeply seated grief and hopelessness that remained unresolved.

this painting is called the incredulity of saint thomas by caravaggio in 1602.

to provide some information regarding the painting: this painting gave rise to the term "doubting thomas" which, formally known as the incredulity of thomas, had been frequently represented in christian art, and used to make various theological points. based on the gospel of john, apostle thomas missed one of jesus's appearances to the apostles after his resurrection and said "unless i see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, i will not believe it." a week later, jesus appeared and told thomas to touch him and stop doubting. then jesus said, "because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed." the painting depicted how the doubting apostle puts his finger into christ's side wound, the latter guiding his hand. the unbeliever is depicted like a peasant, dressed in a robe torn at the shoulder and with dirt under his fingernails.

in catholicism, the five holy wounds, also known as the five sacred wounds or the five precious wounds, are the five piercing wounds that jesus suffered during his crucifixion. two of the wounds were through either his hands or his wrists, where nails were inserted to fix jesus to the cross-beam of the cross on which he was crucified. another two were through the feet. the last wound was in the side of jesus' chest, where, based on the new testament, his body was pierced by the lance of longinus in order to be sure that he was dead. even though the gospels do not specify on which side he was wounded, it was conventionally shown in art as being on jesus's proper right side.

this information, specifically on the christ side wound, very loosely reminded me of utena being stabbed by anthy through the right side, rendering her incapacitated later. as commonly known, jesus was resurrected on the third day after being crucified; similarly, utena soon rose from her injuries to help anthy.

the swords of humanity's hatred are commonly seen as phallic imageries, but to me, they also closely resemble crosses.

there is something to be said about apostle thomas not believing jesus' resurrection until he saw it himself and jesus' response to him: "because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed" with this scene of akio and anthy before she left ohtori. anthy believed that utena wasn't gone despite not having tangible proof to justify it.

anthy's belief could be a contributing factor to the strength and courage that she needed to leave her brother for good, which is a blessing for herself.

#i hope this isn't stupid #happy birthday utena tenjou the yuri jesus #revolutionary girl utena #shojo kakumei utena #shoujo kakumei utena #rgu #sku #utena tenjou #anthy himemiya #akio ohtori #analysis #parallels #i apologise for mistakes #do add on ideas if you'd like #✮

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rainbowsmagicandshit · 2 days ago

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Hold on… Is bbc merlin just Romeo & Juliet but with adults and two dudes?

It’s been a while since I watched either, and obviously there are differences, but… both have doomed narratives, are about two enemy “families” (magic people vs non. Montegues vs Capulets), that animosity eventually leading to the death of the main couple (Merlin doesn’t die, but he certainly lost his other half and probably felt dead. plus he’s immortal so we can’t hold him to mortal standards of life and death). Arthur killed kara which led to Mordred killing him, and in r&j there was some back and forth killing to that set it all off, right? And then after the deaths (r&j, Arthur) things seemed to be resolved and people make peace (the Montagues and capulets stopping their feud, Whatever Gwen did on the throne. Seemed hopeful and she knew it was Merlin, right? So she prbly did smth about the ban).

My brain’s not braining very well right now so maybe I’m reading too much into this?? But??? They do have some similarities, right?

#bbc merlin #merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin emrys #merthur #romeo and juliet

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glitch-but-ya · 9 hours ago

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The echo of who I once was.

"Let your memory of me fade with time" II

TAGS: Mentions of violence and death, dysphoria, mental health struggles.

WORD COUNT: 2,543 words Tag list: @withering-dream , @moonlight-inthe-sea A/N: For better understanding, I’d recommend reading Sylus’s anecdotes.

PART 1

!THIS STORY IS HEAVILY DEPENDENT ON "BEYOND CLOUDFALL" AND MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS!

Memories are both a curse and a blessing, don’t you think? That which gives us strength to push through the darkest parts of our lives can also be the one to drive us to the very edge of the cliff. The weight of them feels like a chain coiled around your throat, binding you to your past. Neither of us can escape destiny. But still, I wonder what would happen if neither of our memories were restored. Would you love me then? Or was I destined to never be yours?

Sylus didn’t know the answer. He kept reading.

When you told me that you loved me, I felt happy. I know how mundane that sounds. But when you said that I was yours, I felt as if my life suddenly had purpose. All my years of hardship had led me to you, and I was content. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was worth something—worth someone’s attention, worth living for. That’s why I couldn’t let you go—I couldn’t let go of the chance to live. I’m sorry.

He knows.

My selfishness, combined with this newfound sense of euphoria, led me to cling to you desperately and overwhelm you with my presence. I completely overlooked the obvious hints you threw at me occasionally, all because I wanted to believe that you loved me. I was scared. I thought that if I were to take notice, you’d abandon me, and I’d lose you. This is not an excuse, but simply an explanation. Whether you forgive me or not, well… I wouldn’t know anyway.

Sylus took a sip from his glass.

I don’t expect us to meet again.

He doesn’t either.

And that’s why, I want to tell you everything, so I can leave without regrets. Forgive me. This is the last selfish act I’ll perform.

Sylus set the envelope down, sealing it back with admirable precision. He threw his head back against the headboard and sighed. He couldn’t believe he let the aether core slip away. And he couldn't believe he couldn't find it in himself to reshape you into another form. In every possibility, you'd come around eventually. So why did he feel as helpless as a sculptor standing before his own crumbling statue? A part of him knew that you couldn't be changed. You loathed your former self, he could tell.

And to add to his frustration, he simply did not have time for this. He was due to a ‘business’ trip within the N109 zone—his presence was required at a seemingly ordinary auction trafficking illegal protocores. The leader of Onychinus was a busy man, after all. How could he let emotions overwhelm him when so much in his life depended on his nonchalance? He was a fool for thinking he could reform you. He had mistaken you for gold. Unfortunately, as softhearted as you were, you couldn’t be molten and hammered into what he wanted you to be. But he couldn’t deny that it was also partially his fault because he knew.

‘Please kill me.’

From the moment he used his aether core to listen in on your desires, he knew that you’d already lost what made you his sorceress. The heart that once yearned for bloodshed and vengeance was now reduced to a blubbering mess, waiting for the day it’d stop beating. The voices that once wished to claim his authority were replaced by a feeble, pitiful voice. You were weak and untainted, like the humans he hunted down for a couple of gold to add to his collection. And yet, a part of him held on. He didn’t know what it was. Denial, he assumed. The inability to accept that his beloved was no more. Or perhaps it was the guilt of injustice being done upon you. He had barely scratched the surface of your desires, after all. Perhaps there was more that lay beyond your wish to die. But whatever it was, it wasn’t her. Listening to your voice for longer wouldn’t bring her back. Even so, letting you go wasn’t the wisest choice either.

After all, his relationship with you served two purposes: love (formerly) and the aether core. Now, he’d lost the chance to claim both. All because he let his emotions take hold. Sylus felt pathetic. And for the first time, he doubted his own abilities. He was torn between the choice of taking the leap and bringing you back, and staying on the other end of the crumbling bridge to wait and see how things would unfold from here. The chance of another aether core existing on this planet was slim.

But not entirely impossible.

Sylus’s form loomed over the city below, his crimson eyes gazing into its depths. Lights dotted the cityscape in irregular patterns. A full moon hung proudly in the sky, almost as if welcoming his arrival. There was a crow perched on his shoulder. The crow had ruby eyes, quite similar to his own. Behind him stood two smaller, masked men, ready to obey his orders. A familiar wind howled past them—a dry breeze lacking warmth and life, carrying nothing but dust, reminiscent of the way you had hollowed out something within him. He stood, eyeing the crowds below. Not long after, he raised his head, gazing at the sky awash in hues of red. This auction was an incubator for human desires—greed, gluttony, and lust.

“Is everything ready?”

“Yes, boss!”, they chanted in unison. A slight smirk tugged at Sylus’s lips. Of course, he wouldn’t have attended such a low-class auction if something hadn’t caught his watchful eye. This time, what appeared was exactly what he sought. A valuable gem, a treasure eclipsing the finest of its kind—a certain aether core had been passed around insignificant auctions under the guise of an ordinary protocore. It had caught the attention of several other corporations, excluding his own. This time, the stakes were high, and failure could have severe consequences. He could lose everything. But did it really matter anymore? The only reason for his stay in this world was you. If he simply wished, he could start over on a planet far from yours, where he could live his life as a relentless conqueror, unbothered and undisturbed by your curse.

Sylus's hand unconsciously traveled to his eye—the very eye 'you' wished to claim so dearly. He grazed it with his fingers.

Sylus... I curse your soul...

He clenched his eyes shut.

Only I can grant you a true death.

He knew that the aether core in your heart wasn't the only one of its kind aside from his own. Surely, there existed another one somewhere across the cosmos. But that was the problem. Throughout the endless tapestry of planets, universes, and possibilities, where would he search? And amidst the legion of life forms across worlds, how could he be sure that his sovereignty surpassed all others? Earth was, by far, the easiest land to graze. So he couldn’t let go of this opportunity. Not yet.

If it were him a few months ago, the mere idea of leaving Earth would have torn him apart. But now, if the aether core slipped from his grasp, he would wander aimlessly until he caught wind of a new sighting. Perhaps, it was all a grand scheme of his own to escape you. Sylus had never fled from anything before.

His hands gripped the railing. It wasn’t the time to daydream. There was an opening laid out for him in plain sight. One rightfully timed strike and the aether core was his. His gaze scrutinized the large building before him, where the auction would take place.

May your memory of me fade with time.

Your words both held him back and urged him forward. A lovesick side of him cried out, begging him to open his eyes and try to understand the changes that had occurred. But his wrath would not let him. How dare you? After all these years of searching, after all the sacrifices he'd made, after all the pain he had endured in your place—how dare you betray him like this? Eventually, one arose triumphant. Very well, then. If you were going to leave, then so be it. He would let you have your way.

Taking a sharp breath, Sylus descended.

A sigh escaped your lips. You eyed yourself in the bathroom mirror, your hair falling like a veil over your face. Tracing the dips and curves of your body, you felt alien to yourself—flawed, unfamiliar. The incessant drip of water trickling down played monotonously in the background of your thoughts. You felt flawed. You couldn’t recognize yourself in the mirror.

Your hand shot out. Your fingers caressed your own figure, who stared back at you. "Who was I before this?" you whispered, your head tilting slightly. "You were me, weren't you? Then why…" Your hand stilled. The finger pressed down on the reflection of your face with increasing pressure. "I hate you. So why do I wish to be you?"

That night, you couldn’t squeeze in even a second of sleep. Something within you ached. You didn’t know if it was the wrathful throb in your head or the melancholic sting in your heart. Every time you shut your eyes, a figure emerged from the darkness. A white-haired woman with scarlet eyes and sharp features. She looked nothing like you. The mere sight of her formed a lump in your chest. Her face radiated mock cruelty and greed, like a simmering pot of rotting wine; disgusting and bubbling. Her form was hauntingly elegant, almost ethereal—if not for the maggots writhing beneath her skin. An ever-present source of desire seethed from within her soul. It stank like the decaying flesh of a dead rabbit. Her soul reeked of the miserable fixations of humanity, the same delusions that transformed humans into harbingers of destruction. She was the type to bring death upon those she deemed unworthy, to burn whoever she pleased, and to warm the few who stood by her side. She was like a blazing, crackling fire that emerged from a hearth set alight by its own gluttony and greed. She was utterly human. There was no other word to describe it. She was exactly who you loathed: an usurper wrapped in a cloak of fragile beauty.

She didn’t just occupy your sleep. Even at work, you found yourself subconsciously drawn to the thought: How could she ever be you? You couldn’t fathom it. Even in a past life, the thought of yourself turning out like her seemed inconceivably alien. You figured that if there were a past incarnation of you, she would resonate with you as if she were an extension of yourself. But every time you lingered on her memory, you felt increasingly isolated. The harder you tried to reach out, the further she drifted—like a small boat being pushed farther from a warship. The larger ship's mighty waves pushed the boat farther and farther, no matter how desperately the boat rowed toward it. Although, the main concern was staying afloat. Your main concern should’ve been the aether core. Wasn’t that why you stayed? Was it truly because of love, and not the opportunity to extract information about the aether core from Sylus? You couldn’t believe yourself. For a moment, you wondered, how could you let the aether core slip away?

Your grip on your desk tightened, your knuckles turning white. The voices around you blurred into one until the only thing you could hear were the whispers of your own destructive mind spitting venom into your ears. Captain Jenna’s voice diminished in importance, and you found yourself focusing more on the thought of her.

After experiencing the dream of your past, her sight plagued your mind. Sometimes, she was clad in jewels (all while she reeked of greed). Other times, she was driving the greatsword into the dragon's chest. You couldn’t deny that if she hadn’t fought back, she probably wouldn’t have lived long enough to become the dragon's beloved. Whereas you would’ve been killed taking a different approach. You are grateful for her unwavering will to live, and you are grateful that she brought Sylus into your life.

But what you could never forgive was the image of herself she carved into his heart. The powerful ‘sorceress’ feared by all, the young dragon fledgling whose horns had just begun to sprout—how he could worship that, you wondered. She was just a weaker version of himself. Perhaps she possessed something you couldn’t see. Either way, what was the point of lingering on this matter? There’s no use in assigning blame. No matter how ferociously you loathe her, she will always occupy his heart. Revenge has no purpose. It only initiates endless suffering and a cycle of inflicting pain. All you could do was move on with your life. You weren’t going to meet him again, anyway. Or so you thought.

"And you will be going to the N109 zone," Captain Jenna began, breaking your trance with a simple sentence and jolting you awake. "Any queries?" she concluded. You weren’t sure how you looked. Looking back, you probably should’ve asked Tara to hold a mirror to your face. You must’ve looked aggravatingly stupid. Like an imbecile who had just hopped into the wrong room. Perhaps Sylus's talk about "destiny" and "fate" wasn’t just to sound wise and philosophical. You were seriously wondering how fate could’ve stabbed you in the back like this. Your vow to Sylus would be broken due to a silly mission. How comical.

But you couldn’t just accept this, of course. So, after the meeting had ended, you walked into Jenna’s office.

"There is nobody more capable of pulling off this mission than you." Fate must really be playing games with you, huh? "But, Captain…" you opened your mouth to protest, but were quickly silenced by Jenna’s sharp gaze. "You’ve been to the N109 zone, haven’t you? And you came back alive. This isn’t just any mission—it’s critical. We need someone who can handle the pressure. Someone familiar with the dangers." Her gaze scanned your form. "This mission is not only dangerous but extremely vital. That is why I will be pairing you with Xavier. Only the two of you can execute this mission flawlessly." You tilted your head curiously. You zoned out during the meeting, so you could only assume it was something related to the aether core. What else could be so vital as to require the best hunter on board? But if Xavier is with you, perhaps you can find an excuse to steer clear of Sylus. Not that you expect him to show himself to you openly, but letting him know that you’re here with a hunter only accentuates that you are here strictly for business. Although you don’t want Xavier to be caught up in this, this mission may lead you to crucial knowledge about your very own aether core. You looked down and placed a hand where your heart would be. You couldn’t let this chance slip away.

"So, I believe the two of you won’t disappoint," the Captain said, turning to you, her chin raised high. You immediately straightened your posture and cleared your throat. "Yes, ma’am."

Hello!! I wanted to say: thank you so much for your votes regarding the previous fic! Although I’d intended to keep it as an ‘angst-with-no-comfort’ oneshot, I decided against it due to some people commenting on how a part two would be great (I couldn’t resist writing the story anyway. I had a plan for it in my head beforehand which I’d intended to keep to myself. The comments only fuelled that desire further). I do hope this doesn’t end up becoming a major flop. I apologize for the time it took to write this much. I’ve been very busy lately; unfortunately, I do not see myself having free time in the future either. But I’ll try my best to keep up with this! Oh, and, for the people who want to keep viewing the initial ending as it was, you can! I understand that some people may not be happy with this series. So, you are free to interpret it as you wish! I had multiple endings planned for this anyway. And, YES! The title of the series has officially been changed.

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