#YOU KNOW WHICH ONE I'M CHOOSING EVERY TIME

[woozyvee]

hidden touch, secret message

seungmin x female reader

wc: ~2000

content: established relationship au, smut

synopsis: there's a telltale sign for when your boyfriend is horny.

an: just a result of my mushy hard thoughts about this guy because i've got a crush on him. a late happy birthday to seungminie!

It's when he touches your wrist that you know.

Seungmin isn't exactly opposed to a little bit of PDA, letting you squeeze his hand or even discreetly kiss his cheek in the presence of others without much fuss. But he's never the one who initiates it.

Well. Except for under some very specific circumstances.

The light touch almost tickles at first and you have to look down to realize that it's your boyfriend who's causing the sensation. You look up at his face with a questioning arch in your brows as his fingertips softly trace the inside of your wrist. But he's not looking at you, focusing on Chan where he's talking across the table, like the rest of his members. Or, pretending to focus, maybe.

Nobody notices the physical contact, as it's hidden beneath the dining table and perhaps that is why Seungmin's caresses become a bit firmer. Seeing as he still isn't looking at you, you also turn away from him to pretend as if nothing is happening, nodding along to whatever Chan is saying even though you've lost track by now.

Laughter breaks out around the table at a comment Jisung makes, mixing with the surrounding bustle of the restaurant and you instinctively join in, doing your best to ignore the shivers that run up your spine as Seungmin's nails drag along your skin. You half-expect his touch to disappear as he's suddenly addressed but it doesn't and by the time he's finished talking, his hand as fully wrapped around your wrist to hold it.

When his thumb starts rubbing against you in gentle circles, you chance another glance his way but are left hanging yet again. You're not sure why he chooses to ignore you. Because you know that he knows that you know what this means.

So your other hand comes over to grab his hand, stopping its movements. It works, as he finally meets your searching gaze. When you raise a quizzical brow at him he simply slides his hand off your wrist, letting it settle on your thigh instead, where he squeezes the clothed flesh softly. He then throws you a quick wink before turning away again.

But he can't hold back the small smile that grows across his lips and therefore, neither can you. Something excited swirls around in your belly, mixing nicely with the feeling of a full stomach after a delicious meal.

With every sip of beer, the anticipation in your abdomen grows in size. With every shift of Seungmin's hand, that same anticipation travels lower.

The only one who you think notices how Seungmin's hand stays hidden under the table for the rest of the evening, is Felix. Because he sends you this suspiciously happy grin which makes you wonder if he also knows what these secret touches mean. You're blushing from that point onward, Seungmin's hand steadfast in stroking your thigh. Either he doesn't notice that you've been caught or he doesn't care; with Seungmin, the latter is more plausible.

Whether Felix knows what this evening has in store for you or not, he's no longer in your thoughts by the time you and Seungmin enter your dim, compact apartment.

"Hey, you shouldn't touch me like that when we're with your members," you scold as you step out of your shoes.

"Why?" he asks plainly, shrugging off his jacket.

"It's mean," you sulk, half-heartedly.

"How so? You like it, don't you?" The look he gives you is knowing.

Your pout turns into a glare. "Exactly! It makes me horny."

"Well, then you're meaner. Because you do nothing and still make me horny."

You roll your eyes, ignoring the way his blunt admission makes you feel. "That doesn't make me meaner, if I'm not consciously doing anything. I can't control that."

"You could make an effort to look uglier."

He meets your squinted eyes with a mischievous grin. "You want me too look uglier, do you?"

"Not really. I don't mind that you're mean," he takes a step toward you and you squeeze the material of your long sleeves. "I don't mind that just looking at you makes me horny."

You raise an eyebrow as he comes closer, his touch hovering over your hips.

"And you," he emphasizes, tilting his head down to look at you from under his lashes, "don't mind when I let you know that I'm horny."

A shiver washes over you as Seungmin's fingers move under your shirt, slightly cold against the skin of your waist where they splay themselves out.

"Do you?" The question sounds more like a statement.

You inhale and exhale slowly, letting him guide you to lean against the wall behind you. He presses his front snugly into yours, the grip over your skin squeezing a little bit harder. By the way his thumbs all but dig into you, you can tell that he's still needy, despite the composed expression on his face. The tip of his nose barely brushes yours.

He raises his pretty eyebrows in question, apparently waiting for an answer.

A sigh. "No, I don't mind."

Your boyfriend smiles before he leans down to kiss you, pouty lips soft over yours.

It doesn't take long for your tongues to slip into each other's mouths, Seungmin's hands sliding up and down your skin with an occasional touch over your covered nipples. You exchange air with your heavy breaths, his hips sometimes jerking forward against his will to let you know how hard he's getting within his jeans. Your hands grab at his shirt, the back of his neck, anything to ground you as you nearly drown in the taste of him.

Seungmin pulls away to look down, lips swollen and breathing labored. His hands leave your skin to unbutton and unzip your pants and you press kisses along his jaw to occupy yourself.

You try not to flinch too hard when one of his hands slips into your panties and slides over your wet folds, whimper caught somewhere in the back of your throat. Seungmin sighs and presses himself harder against you, sandwiching you between himself and the wall.

"Were you already this wet back at the restaurant?"

You swallow. "Coulda put your hand down my pants and found out."

He chuckles but it's breathy, hot against your neck. "So you're just playing hard to get, huh? You scold me but really, you're a bigger perv than I am."

"Is that news to you?" Your voice is strained as he coats his fingers in your slick.

"Hm," he hums, burying his face in your neck to place kisses there. "Guess not."

The plush pads of Seungmin's fore- and middle finger draw delicate circles against your clit and your legs shake for a moment, choked sounds slipping past your lips as you muffle your voice with your tongue. He nips at the crook of your neck with his teeth before softly kissing it better. Both your hands are harshly grasping at strands of his hair, only faltering slightly as his middle finger moves down to dip inside you. You try not to moan but fail, whining into Seungmin's shoulder a bit high-pitched and shaky.

"Fuck," Seungmin sighs, his bite a little harder over your pulse and causing your brows to deeply furrow. He slowly pulls his finger in and out of you, drawing more and more warmth to pool between your legs.

He lifts his hand that's resting on your hip to grasp one of your elbows, dragging his palm along your forearm until it reaches your hand where he grasps it in his, pressing it against the wall next to your head. You no longer try to swallow your moans, letting them fall freely from your parted, glistening lips, into Seungmin's neck. He pulls out of you to focus on your clit again, knowing exactly how to caress it to make you buck your hips.

Your boyfriend turns his head, pecks your cheek. "Does it feel good, pretty?"

"Yes," you sigh, louder than you mean to.

Seungmin kisses your jaw, fingers reaching down to collect more of your arousal before coming back up. You're really sensitive now, squirming with his movements against you.

Before you know it, you feel your release building itself up, something warm and tight twisting in your abdomen. Your mewls become deeper, heavier as you curl into Seungmin's body, rocking your hips in time with his fingers.

He lifts his head to watch you, breath ticklish against your nose.

"Getting close?"

You can only nod, voice too busy whimpering to answer. Your fingers curl and flex under Seungmin's hold where he's pressing your hand into the wall, the feeling of being restrained shooting electricity straight down to your crotch.

"Hm. Should I stop?"

Your eyes shoot open, your view of Seungmin's face blurry from the close proximity. "What- no!" You furiously shake your head.

"Oh? But I thought you like it when I'm mean to you," he reminds you and grips your trapped hand a little harder.

Despite what he's saying, his fingers don't let up and you moan louder, head falling back against the wall with a thud. "Fuck, yeah, I do-"

Seungmin snickers but you cannot find it in yourself to care, cheeks burning as you draw closer to the edge and your free hand grasps his hair roughly. He rolls his hips into yours, a tight groan barely sounding from his throat.

"Since you like it so much" —Seungmin stutters over a grunt— "I can be meaner. I can leave you hanging right now and go jerk myself off in the bathroom."

"No no-"

"No?"

"No please-" Your voice breaks as your hips grind into his touch.

"Oh," Seungmin sighs into your ear. "So you like it when I'm a little nice too."

"Yeah-"

"Okay then." Seungmin kisses your earlobe. "I'll play nice tonight. Mostly because I like when you're already fucked out once I put my cock in you."

Your squirming gets stiffer, involuntarily fighting against Seungmin's hold on you as he works you toward your release. He bites your ear and you almost choke on your own spit, abs curling tightly in your stomach.

"Oh fuck fuck please-"

"Mhm," Seungmin hums, hot breath fanning the inside of your ear. "Let go, pretty. I'll help you through it."

You do and he does.

Strong, tingling waves of raw pleasure contract through your body, rolling your eyes to the back of your head as you writhe helplessly between your boyfriend and the wall he's pressing you into. He holds you as you squirm through your high, fingers gentle over your clit and kisses soft against your cheekbone.

"There you go," Seungmin exhales, digging his hard length into your hipbone through your clothes.

Only when you whine and flinch away from his touch does he let up, pulling out of your underwear to hold your waist with both his hands. He takes half a step away from you, only so he can get a good look at your slightly dazed and flushed face.

He's grinning, ear to ear, absolutely beaming from where he's staring down at you.

You huff, relying on the wall and Seungmin's hold to keep you from swaying. "What?"

"Nothing."

You scoff but can't help the curl at the corners of your lips. "Right."

He leans down and kisses you through his smile, tender and heartfelt. Until his movements turn just a bit rough. He pulls away, voice strained.

"Don't get me wrong, I'd love to stand here and keep making out but I really need to fuck you right now and I'm not doing it against this wall."

You giggle airily as he seizes the same wrist he was touching under the restaurant's table and drags you toward your bedroom.

This is why every time Seungmin initiates PDA, you know you are in for a good time.

copyright © 2024 woozyvee. all rights reserved.

[omo-my-gosh]

someone wetting the bed and their sleeping partner has to wake them up to let them know/get them cleaned up: yeah okay, this is good someone wetting the bed and they wake up first and have to wake up their sleeping partner while embarrassed out of their mind so they can change the sheets and god please don't make it a big deal, please don't tell anyone..: we have a winner

[icewindandboringhorror]

What would you choose? :0c

(note: original image is from HERE (link) - but I edited it to add a wider variety of options.. also added $3 extra to the total, even though I know that makes it more uneven lol, I thought if you're adding 10 whole extra items, the money to spend should at least be increased slightly, if that makes sense..)

[emblazons]

Do you remember the first day that we met? It was the first day of kindergarten. I knew nobody. I had no friends. And I just felt so alone and so scared, but. I saw you on the swings, and you were alone too. You were just swinging by yourself. And I just...walked up to you. And I asked. I asked if you wanted to be my friend.

And you said yes. You said yes.

Favorite Byler Scene: Mike's Monologue to Will in S02E08: The Mind Flayer for @geolikesstrangerthings

[running-in-the-dark]

.

[unloneliest]

the problem of the matter is i did internalize so much of what ex friend believed about me. even though i knew he was wrong and knew what was happening and tried to stop it and if i took more action to stop it would have been abusing power i held in a way i couldn't live with myself for.

[cerealbishh]

"You get to see her understanding of how things really are. And so that becomes much more present on the surface. (...) In this season, we get to see her fall deeper in love with him but also navigate those challenges. And also becoming an anchor for Rhett but also struggling with his decision, 'Is this what I want for my future as well, as much as I love this man?'." - Isa in an interview with The Knockturnal(x)

[atherix]

Hi guys have a little ficlet? I decided it didn’t fit into the main story so it’s going onto tumblr exclusive status hehe Also I’m lowkey sick right now and I can’t think to write today thanks

CW? I guess? Because some of this comes across as pretty Religious Talk so

--

“Grandfather?”

The King doesn’t look down at the child standing next to him, instead gazing out across the realm, all the way to the sea and what lies beyond. Scar looks up up up at him- distant and so far away, untouchable and cold.

“Yes, my Grandson?” the King speaks, voice soft and flat. 

Scar fidgets with his hands, turning back to look through the balcony railings. “What am I?” he asks after a moment of hesitation, the question echoing oddly around.

There is a moment of silence from the King, and Scar’s heart races.

“You are a Prince,” the King says simply.

“One of the healers you bring here says I should not be,” Scar says carefully, hesitantly. “They say I am not even Fae.”

The King finally looks at him, though Scar doesn’t dare look up. “Yet I, the Fae King, am saying you are a Prince, and you are Fae. Would you take the word of a healer over the word of your Grandfather and King?”

“No!” Scar says quickly, looking up at him. “No, but- is being Human really so bad? That- that some Fae won’t even see me as Fae?”

Despite the suns resting across from one another in the sky, lighting up the world around them, Scar can’t make out the expression on his grandfather’s face. It’s like a shadow is being cast, obscuring him from sight even as he pulls away from the rail, kneeling down in front of Scar. Even nearly on his knees, he’s taller than Scar can ever imagine being.

He reaches out and brushes the loose, wispy strands of Scar’s hair away from his face, almost gentle as he traces the braids. They’re tight, and the ribbons and vines woven through them, tied to a veil in the back, hide just how short his hair is right now. Scar can’t help but lean into his grandfather’s touch despite how cool his skin is.

“You,” the King says, “are you. You are Fae and you are Human. You are both of these at the same time. You are the proof that our world is changing.” The King moves his hand away, setting it on Scar’s shoulder now. Scar watches him quietly. “The Pantheons have a plan for you.”

“How can they have a plan for me?” Scar asks, tilting his head. “How can they have a plan for me when I probably won’t even grow up?”

“Everyone has a role to play,” the King says. “The gods give us these roles. Nothing happens when nothing is done- we cannot stand idly by and wait for it to change. We must act to make the change and fulfill the plan.” He pauses, studying Scar from behind the shadows in his face, and Scar can’t bring himself to ask about his own role. “There are no mistakes in this world. Everything that happens has always been planned. Your birth, your existence is neither accident nor mistake. You have a role to play in this world. It is the role of your family to see you grow, safe and strong, to take on your role. One day, everything will be made clear.”

The King turns away, towards the horizon again. Scar glances over, seeing the suns lowering towards the sea. They cast the world in orange and gold, glimmering and burning.

“Regardless what any person might say to you,” the King says softly, “you are Fae. You are a Prince. You are Human. You are all of these things, and one day you shall be even more.” He looks back at Scar, and for one brief moment Scar sees fire. “All you have to do is wait.”

“Wait?” Scar frowns. “But didn’t you just say...”

The King tilts his head. His smile is cool and distant, but it settles something in Scar’s chest- like comfort, like love, like everything will be just fine.

“One day your waiting will come to an end,” he says. “One day will come the time to stop waiting. Just watch for the signs. You’ll find your place when the time is right. Until then...”

He moves his hand from Scar’s shoulder and stands, gaze back on the horizon and the everything beyond. “Be patient and learn. The answers will present themselves, but you must look for them. Watch and wait until you know your next step, and then...”

“... Act.”

[corpocyborg]

Just started a full renegade play through and god some of these choices remind me why I normally play renegon. It’s not the immoral choices that bother me, it’s the inconsistency. Sometimes you come off as a no-nonsense hardass willing to do whatever it takes to get a job done and other times you just come off like a raging psychopath. Full paragon is generally way more consistent with their characterization but full renegade can’t decide if they’re willing to make harsh decisions for a greater principle or if they’re sadistic, if they’re reckless or if they have a stick up their butt, if they’re strong and silent or whiny and accusatory, etc. And this could potentially work if the hypocrisy was acknowledged and incorporated into the story as a character flaw, but half the scenes feel like you’re just terrorizing people and they’re just laying down and taking it. To be fair, they get a lot better about this in later games, but I wish the characterization was more consistent and I wish there were more realistic reactions to renegade behavior. Maybe it’s because game designers know most people don’t do those kinds of routes and they’re worried that if they had genuine consequences for bad behavior, even less people would do it, but in my opinion, that type of narrative works a lot better when it feels like there’s actual stakes and also rationale for the behavior. There’s several distinct times where renegade choices could have easily been presented as “sacrifice for the greater good” or something along those lines, but for whatever reason they put in dialogue where you’re just being an asshole instead. Killing the rachni queen, for example. The base idea is good. You’re unsure if you can truly trust her. Are you mercifully saving a benevolent creature or is it fooling you and you’re unleashing a terror onto the world? That’s a great idea, but the dialogue doesn’t present it right. And then there’s too many times where the renegade decision just seems completely illogical. Like on Feros, what reason do you have to kill the colonists instead of incapacitate them? It’s just as easy to incapacitate them, there is no loss to it, so if you still chose to kill them, you just come off as irrational and totally careless.  The narrative as a whole pushes the whole “renegade shep is ruthless but gets the job done” depiction, but they just don’t actually present it consistently. Which, again, could work if it was played off as Shepard making excuses for their behavior or believing they’re doing the right thing but just going too far due to losing sight of the bigger picture or something like that, but the inconsistency doesn’t come off as an intentional character flaw of hypocrisy, it just comes off as inconsistent writing. I know they’re less motivated to write that story well because it is so much less popular for the average player, but maybe it would be more popular if they wrote it better. Don’t get me wrong, I love renegade Shepard, just... the one that I’ve created in my head and pieced together from the well-written parts of renegade dialogue. Or more like the one that the narrative promises but doesn’t consistently deliver.

[t1erradelfuego]

as always pls do not interact with this post or read the tags

[assmundr]

Hey you're back on critiquing webcomics! Does that mean you're also going to start posting Crystal Clear again soon???

Oh no, my kryptonite fhfhxdbcjxj

I honestly really don't think so. It's even less likely than me restarting and finishing the Asmundr/Home review video essay.

Two main reasons for that:

1) The story is So. Incredibly. Outdated that continuing it as it is would not be up to my current standard whatsoever and I just wouldn't enjoy telling a story I see as incredibly flawed. I firstly conceived this story when I was like eleven (or twelve) then started to cough it out when I was sixteen. I am now twenty five, twenty six in a few days, and whatever I created when I was a teenager is just not up to my standard today. All the experience, maturity and objectivity that I have today is not what I had back then, so it's lacking severely in a lot of departments. The story would need to be rewritten completely to fit what I'd consider adequate today, which leads me to my second reason.

2) It takes so damn long to do. I am an incredibly slow artist already, burdened with neurodivergence, meaning that I get distracted and burned out so much more easier than other people. A single page could take anywhere from 6-12 hours to make, spread across several days because my ability to focus is akin to an eight year old ipad kid addicted to Cocomelon. I work six days a week and just don't have time to dedicate most of my life to something nobody really cared about anyway. When I was a teenage student? Yeah. When I was unemployed and seeking a job? Yeah. When quarantine was a thing? Yeah. But not right now.

I'm sorry if you were hoping for a positive answer but. Sometimes things just aren't meant to be and CC seems to be one of those things.

I'm still an artist, I draw nearly every day! But the content I focus on is marginally different from what CC is and also only posted in a private circle of friends. Now with the terror of AI scraping hanging above every real artist's head like the Sword of Damocles, I have no real interest in sharing my art publicly.

[leebrontide]

I think one thing we need to address in the US if we want to de-stigmatize multi-generational households that include ADULTS from multiple generations, is that parents need to learn how to have adult relationships with their offspring.

Should my daughter deign to live with me when she's an adult she will not be my some vassal that has to obey my household rules. She graduates into being a peer in setting and managing the boundaries, cleanliness and appearance of our home.

Too many parents want to have relationships with grown ass adults in which the parents maintain control and authority, and in which they leverage money and history to get their way from an adult who, very reasonably, wants to be able to make choices and have influence. And then those parents wonder why their kids keep their distance!

But then people act like I've lost it because I let my 5 year old pick the color of paint in her room- a room I seldom spend time in except to take care of her, and a room in which I want her to be comfortable and happy.

I'm not gonna let her choose a paint color for the kitchen right now, because she's capricious and bad at negotiating so we can pick a color we all like. But when she's an adult, if she's still living here? Why shouldn't she get to influence her environment?

People like to have agency. We limit the agency of children because they make choices without the full ability to understand the results (sorry baby, you are gonna get vaccinated for pollio even if you don't like it. You don't understand pollio).

But limiting an adults choices in their own home, just because you don't think that home should be a real home for them because it's just for you, is kind of an asshole move, to me.

No need to argue with me if you disagree. You can have your own opinion.

But I couldn't treat my kid that way, and I have seen enough to know that not every parent treats their adult children like permanently incompetent interlopers.

I didn't just buy this house for ME. I bought it for MY FAMILY. My baby is my family, and she will be no matter how old she gets.

[bladeofthestars]

.

[louisa-gc]

how to start reading again

from someone who was a voracious reader until high school and is now getting back into it in her twenties.

start with an old favourite. even though it felt a little silly, i re-read the harry potter series one christmas and it wiped away my worry that i wasn't capable of reading anymore. they are long books, but i was still able to get completely immersed and to read just as fast as i had years and years ago.

don't be afraid of "easier" books. before high school i was reading the french existentialists, but when getting back into reading, i picked up lucinda riley and sally rooney. not my favourite authors by far, but easier to read while not being totally terrible. i needed to remind myself that only choosing classics would not make me a better or smarter person. if a book requires a slower pace of reading to be understood, it's easier to just drop it, which is exactly what i wanted to avoid at first.

go for essays and short stories. no need to explain this one: the shorter the whole, the less daunting it is. i definitely avoided all books over 350 pages at first and stuck to essay collections until i suddenly devoured donna tartt's goldfinch.

remember it's okay not to finish. i was one of those people who finished every book they started, but not anymore! if i pick up a book at the library and after a few chapters realise i'd rather not read it, i just return it. (another good reason to use your local library! no money spent on books you might end up disliking.)

analyse — or don't. some people enjoy reading more when they take notes or really stop to think about the contents. for me, at first, it was more important to build the habit of reading, and the thought of analysing what i read felt daunting. once i let go of that expectation, i realised i naturally analyse and process what i read anyway.

read when you would usually use your phone. just as i did when i was a child, i try to read when eating, in the bathroom, on public transport, right before sleeping. i even read when i walk, because that's normally a time i stare at my screen anyway. those few pages you read when you brush your teeth and wait for a friend very quickly stack up.

finish the chapter. if you have time, try to finish the part you're reading before closing the book. usually i find i actually don't want to stop reading once i get to the end of a chapter — and if i do, it feels like a good place to pick up again later.

try different languages. i was quickly approaching a reading slump towards the end of my exchange year, until i realised i had only had access to books in english and that, despite my fluency, i was tired of the language. so as soon as i got back home i started picking up books in my native tongue, which made reading feel much easier and more fun again! after some nine months, i'm starting to read in english again without it feeling like a huge task.

forget what's popular. i thought social media would be a fun way to find interesting books to read, but i quickly grew frustrated after hating every single book i picked up on some influencer's recommendation. it's certainly more time-consuming to find new books on your own, but this way i don't despise every novel i pick up.

remember it isn't about quantity. the online book community's endless posts about reading 150 books each year or 6 books in a single day easily make us feel like we're slow, bad readers, but here's the thing: it does not matter at all how many books you read or what your reading pace is. we all lead different lives, just be proud of yourself for reading at all!

stop stressing about it. we all know why reading is important, and since the pandemic reading has become an even more popular hobby than it was before (which is wonderful!). however, there's no need to force yourself to be "a reader". pick up a book every now and then and keep reading if you enjoy it, but not reading regularly doesn't make you any less of a good person. i find the pressure to become "a person who reads" or to rediscover my inner bookworm only distances me from the very act of reading.

[joycrispy]

I wanna talk about The Angel Who Would Be Crowley.

Because I had a certain set of expectations, which got thoroughly trashed in the first five minutes of S2, and my genuine response is, "Oh, fuck, yup. You're right. That's WAY better."

Looking around at GO fandom, I'm not alone in this. So let's talk about it.

Basically, a lot of people (myself included) believed that he was a high-ranking angel, and therefore as chilly and remote as every other powerful angel we'd seen at that point. We pictured Crowley-To-Be as long-haired, regal and imposing --and the fanart at the time reflected this. I'd link some if Tumblr didn't hate links.

Something like this:

We were collectively drawing on a few things --mostly, Crawly's appearance and general bearing in the Biblical scenes of S1--

--But also scattered hints of his importance, backed up by conspicuous absences in Heaven and a few profound displays of power. That's all better covered elsewhere, so I won't reiterate the arguments here. All I'm saying is: I think our headcanons were justified.

But it turns out he was this:

!!!

With his curly little--!!

And his neat white--!!

IT TURNS OUT, he was an angel who squeaked and squealed when he was happy; who flailed his arms around and made explosion noises with his mouth to explain nebulas; who preened when told his stars were pretty. Furfur, who knew him before the Fall, says:

"You used to jump on me back, little monkey in a waistcoat..."

(The use of a diminutive there, 'little'...oh, that fascinates me.)

In a pretty huge subversion of expectations, we're given these glimpses of an angel who was sweet, and joyful, and heart-meltingly silly.

In sum...an innocent.

(Perhaps innocent to a troubling degree.

We see how he troubles Aziraphale, during their first conversation. He starts looking around and behind them, checking to make sure that no one can HEAR the blithe and reckless things coming out of this angel's mouth. This angel who talks like he's never been reprimanded in his life; like it's never occurred to him that anyone would want to hurt him.

Before the Beginning, Aziraphale understood Heaven better than he did. The danger is plainly occurring to Aziraphale.)

So now, we the viewers are in on a cruel joke that Aziraphale has known all along, which is that this --THIS-- is the angel who--

*checks notes*

--did a million lightyear freestyle dive into a boiling pool of sulphur. For asking questions.

...Imagine you are Aziraphale, and everything inside you wants to believe Heaven are the Good Guys, and God is Good and Everything She does is capital-R Right...and now try to reconcile that. Keep trying. I don't think he ever totally managed it in 6000 years.

All this gets further complicated when we learn that, despite all of the above, we were still right. That sweet excitable babby up there?

He WAS a powerful and high-ranking angel.

That much is explicitly confirmed, with significant evidence that he could have been among the mightiest of archangels...

...Who apparently accosted his fellow angels for piggyback rides. And was remembered millennia later by those (now fallen) angels as something 'little.'

What does that tell us about who he was? Is?

Hell, Aziraphale has known to be wary of the archangels (and the judgements of Heaven in general) since before the Fall even happened. He chooses to believe they are Good; he can't fool himself into thinking they are Safe.

Yet he's absolutely certain that Crowley won't hurt Job's children. Enough to stand in a burning building and say to them, "I can't save you, but don't be afraid. I won't need to."

And what reason does he give?

("I know you."

"You do not know me."

"I know the angel you were.")

What does that tell us about who he was? Is?

("The angel you knew is not me."

But how is Aziraphale supposed to believe that, when he can see him all the time?)

tl;dr --yes, this is better. I love the tragedy of it.

'Innocence died screaming' and all that.

[teamred]

focus on me

✩‌ qimir x acolyte!reader | smut | fluff | 2.5k

SUMMARY | in which the tension finally breaks between you and your master when you train together one afternoon.

WARNINGS | smut, s*xual force choking, knee foreplay, finger sucking, f*ngering, dirty talk, piv s*x, unprotected s*x, violence (fighting and choking)

RATING | explicit

NOTES | i'm simply a girl who's fallen to the dark side for qimir!!! qimir's lowkey a softie in this, which might not be canon, but idc!!!

You stumble back with your palm soiled wet. 

Thankfully, you grounded the rest of your weight with your makeshift wooden staff. Panting, you drag yourself upward, readying yourself for what’s to come next. 

Sweat drips down your forehead as the sun begins to dip into the horizon beyond the abundance of trees and overgrowth, the heat felt by your exposed arms and through your thin sleeveless wrap top.

It's been more than two hours of training, but your master knows your limit. Pushes you until you break–and he knows you’re far from your breaking point. 

Perspiration also stains his forehead. Master Qimir wipes it away with the back of his hand, moving his hair aside too. 

Moments like these, you pride yourself in knowing his identity after years of him preserving his anonymity behind that intimidating, powerful mask. He’s gained followers over time since you've known him, but you’re his one and only acolyte. 

Your mind wanders further. Why does he choose to wear his mask in public when he can make nations fall to their knees just with a flash of his smirk? 

Said smirk is plastered on his face as he twirls his two batons between his fingers with ease. Beyond his smirk, there was also the ordeal of seeing his glistening, gorgeous arms every day and– 

Your master calls out your name playfully, “I hope you’re focusing on me.”

“You know I am, Master.” You’re not exactly lying. You inch closer, holding your staff firmly with both hands and pointing one end of it in his direction. 

He tsks and lets out of a deep chuckle. It always bothers you how his chuckles make your heart skip a beat, among the other things it does to the rest of your body.  

“You're focusing on things about me, Acolyte. Not on me directly, nor on my presence,”—he paces in a circle around you, with you tracking his every step—“If this was a real fight, you’d be dead.”

“Well, I can’t help it that my master can be so distracting!” you grit out, taking the opportunity to lunge towards him. 

Weapons clash. Loud echoes continually reverberate throughout the forest, along with your occasional grunts. 

Master Qimir’s style is aggressive and swift, always on the offense, so you’ve become accustomed to defend his moves well. He comes in with one baton towards your side, and the other towards your head. You deflect both smoothly, and without much thought, you decide to attack him. 

However, your confidence blinds you.

Too close. 

He elbows your arm and slams into your side, causing your staff to drop.  

Then, Qimir shoves you far with the Force, distancing you from your weapon, and gets close again to hook his foot around yours. Your back stings as you fall down. 

In the blink of an eye, he pins you down with both batons tightly pressed against your throat, cutting off your air supply. You struggle under him, trying your best to smack him away with your diminishing strength. 

“Breathe, think, and focus,” he calmly orders, despite the agonizing scene in front of him. 

You take a second to compose yourself, inhaling as much as you can for a second.

Suddenly, you feel his knee move up between your legs, spreading them.

And you feel him moving upwards again, but this time brushing against your core. 

Your sparring composure absolutely shatters–a gasp and small moan release, and you’re back to struggling once more. 

You assume it was a mistake, but you’re relishing in the pleasure nevertheless, even in your current state of distress. 

“Focus, my acolyte,” Master Qimir barks, and he presses the batons harder into you. “Focus!” 

Your vision begins to blur alongside the increasing pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. Gathering all your might and wanting to avoid disappointing Qimir, you breathe as much as you can and drown out everything to focus on how to get out of the situation. 

With a sliver of consciousness left, you will yourself to use the Force and seize your staff. Your fingers clutch around it and you thwack Qimir hard on the head, disorienting him for a moment. Without hesitation, throughout your excessive gasping, you skillfully maneuver yourself to switch positions. 

Now, your staff is pressed against his throat. 

“Is this better, Master?” you pant and cough with a grin, basking in your success. “Am I focused now?” 

He grants a brief nod, but you notice an unusual look in his eyes. 

It reads as a rare time he’s overly impressed, but there’s something else. 

Qimir raises his hand and gently curls it around yours, wordlessly asking you to lower your weapon. You ruffle your eyebrows, unsure why he’s letting down his guard against you during training.

“Master Qimir,” you whisper, still holding your staff to the side with a relaxed but guarded grip, “is this another test of yours?”  

He shakes his head, his touch now carefully grazing your forehead and cheeks. Your staff rolls away as your eyes flutter, savoring this foreign feeling from him–tenderness, affection, warmth. A hand softly cups your face. 

“Training’s over for today.” 

The warmth fades into familiar roughness with a sharp pull by the back of your neck downwards. 

His mouth drives into yours, each kiss igniting fire within you, sparking every inch of your body. Desire is bursting at the seams. He kneads your neck and body intently, mirroring you as you clutch onto his face and sturdy frame. 

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you had never fantasized kissing Qimir before, but this is everything you dreamed of and better.  

“Master–” you gasp sharply at the sensation of him pressing his knee up against you again. Reflexively, you writhe as your body screams for more. 

“You like this a lot…” His tone drips of arrogance. Further pressure is added and he happily inhales your moans between his teasing chuckles.   

You manage to muster the following amidst the rising pleasure, “So it was intentional before.”

“Of course.” His words are muffled as he leaves open-mouthed kisses upon the side of your neck. Your fingers dig further into his shoulder and scalp as he cups your breast. “You need to learn to push aside your desires when training.” 

“Should we stop then?” The neck kissing sears you, especially when he tugs skin between his teeth to bite and suck. “To teach me a lesson?” 

He shakes his head and removes himself from your neck, coming back up to drag your lower lip between his teeth. 

“It doesn’t mean I want to push aside my desires.” 

You catch a fleeting glimpse of his signature smirk before his lips are on yours again. Kisses become more electric as he dips his tongue into your mouth.

Hands fly erratically and grasp everywhere. His arms. Your ass. Fingers running beneath his top, feeling up his abs. His harsh grips of your thighs. 

Unexpectedly, he holds you close and flips you over; you’re back on top of him again and you can surely feel his prominent desire against yours. 

In a rush, you bunch up his thin shirt and attempt to pull it off him. He sits up with you in his lap and, with a fluid flick of his wrist, he rids you of your clothes and they are tossed to one side; his follow suit. Qimir promptly draws his nearby robes closer to be placed underneath you both, covering yourselves from the soiled forest. 

The look in his eyes is unmistakably lust-filled, completely insatiable. He wastes no time in taking your tit into his mouth, tongue flicking and lips puckering, while one hand holds you by your back and the other dips two fingers into your desire, wet and ready for him. 

You arch into him, leaning your head back and letting yourself go. Wanting to reciprocate, you reach out to stroke his cock. Relishing in the pleasure, he draws back his head, eyes closed, and leans his forehead against your chest.

The forest may be filled with the rustling of the wind against the trees and the odd bird cawing, but all you can focus on is Qimir’s throaty groans and every obscene squelch when he slides his fingers in and out of you. 

He glances up and attempts to open his eyes as much as he can to give you his full attention, despite the heavenly strokes you’re giving him. 

Eyes shine back at you with the utmost vulnerability–a sight you never see. A sight that you want to etch into your memory forever, knowing you, his Acolyte, could make your Master weak and let his guard down with just your touch. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve held myself back…”

The vulnerability dissipates as he darts his tongue against your untouched nipple. 

“...wanting to see you like this for me.” 

You two become one for a while as he plays with you like a toy he just received as a gift. He tries you out, sees what you like and what you can handle. How sensitive you are with your breasts. How many fingers you can take. How much noise you make when he thumbs your clit. 

At one point, he eventually removes his fingers from you, evidently drenched from your bliss. He holds out his fingers in front of you, and you realize what he’s suggesting.   

Obediently, like you always are with him, you open your mouth and let his fingers lay on your tongue. You wrap your mouth around them, and finally let yourself suck on them a bit, tasting yourself and treating his fingers as if it were his cock. 

When you finish, to your surprise, he sticks his fingers into his own mouth, sucking off the remnants of you. He then kisses you deeply. Tasting yourself in his mouth excites you, riles you up again and back to wanting the next step with Qimir. 

As if reading your mind, he adjusts himself to lay back down vertically, and takes you by your wrist to lead you to sit onto him. 

You hold his possession against you between your legs, teasing his tip by not quite sitting onto him fully, indulging in your control over him. However, at this point, Qimir lacks patience, so he grasps you by your waist and forces you to ease onto his length.  

The guttural moan you release could easily be heard at all ends of the forest. 

He fills you deliciously, stretches you in the sweetest way possible. Using the strength of your thighs and your hands to keep you steady, you bounce at a comfortable pace, not wanting this to end just yet.

When you find a good position to balance your weight, you allow yourself to stroke his perfect body. His chiseled abs. The solid planes of his chest. His strong forearms. The sharp jawline that you dream of kissing almost every night.

“You take my cock so well.” 

A more familiar look flashes through his eyes, one that you normally see him flash prior to slaying Jedi or when he's in a bad mood. It’s drenched with darkness and dominance, almost bordering on fury.   

You freeze, and then you feel it.

The constriction around your throat, created by the Force. He can easily kill you within seconds. He's done this only once to you, and that was when he was testing your loyalty to him years ago.

But this is different. Different than that time, and most definitely different than before with his batons. This is more controlled; the hold is mostly against the sides of your windpipe and it isn't overtly harsh. 

On top of that, your entire body is on fire, becoming wound up by this act.  

“Do you enjoy this?” he asks, tone teetering between curiosity and being threatening.

“Yes,” you mentally scream.

“I want to hear you say it.” 

“Yes,” you manage to croak. 

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, Master.” 

“Nu-uh,” he says. “Say my name, my beautiful acolyte.”

You're too distracted to be caught up in the fact that he called you beautiful. Instinctively, you want to ride this new sensation to lead you to another high. But you know that if you don’t reply, he might not let you get there. 

“Yes, Qimir.”

His signature smirk takes up his whole face and your pussy clenches tighter at the sight of it. He may have the upper hand with his strength around your neck, but so do you when you notice the flickering of his eyes.

“And how does my cock feel?” He tightens a little more around your throat, and you're affected further. Qimir's collectedness can only take much longer too.

“Feels good, feels so fucking good…” 

Intoxication rises from your abdomen and to all ends of your body. Your eyes begin to roll, and you're so close— 

And it's gone. The tightness on your throat stops, and so is your near-high.

You're about to complain, but Qimir quickly hauls you in close to his body. Face to face, forehead to forehead, your breaths fan one another.

“Before I let either of us finish, I want to hear you say my name as you come on my cock.”

That smirk will be the absolute death of you, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

“Can you do that for me?” 

You nod breathlessly.

Your master holds you by your waist and immediately thrusts over and over, deep and fast into you. Desperate to reach his climax, and to ensure you get to yours too.

“QimirQimirQimir–” 

And so you unravel, voice rising with every iteration. Saying his name like you’re praying for forgiveness from all ends of the universe. 

Qimir then brings his mouth to yours once more, swallowing all your pretty whimpers and allowing himself to chase his own release moments later. 

Laying on his bare chest, you glance up at him and wonder how the relationship between you will be from now on.

You couldn’t just go back to what you were before; you would now be a master and acolyte intertwined sexually at least, romantically at most. Would it not be complicated? 

But of course, Master Qimir can hear what’s going on in your mind, and he doesn’t even need the Force to do so. Being his enigmatic self, he merely answers your thoughts by speaking the Sith Code: 

“‘Peace is a lie. There is only passion…’” 

He meets your eyes, strokes your face with a small smile. Affection blooms in your chest.

“‘Through passion, I gain strength.’” 

Holds your hand against his beating chest. 

“‘Through strength, I gain power.’” 

His grip tightens. 

“‘Through power, I gain victory. And through victory, my chains are broken.’” 

Qimir leans in and kisses you deeply as the darkness of the night sky engulfs you, the sun saying its goodbye for the night.

And with that, you realize that no matter what will happen from here on out, he’ll always care for you. 

That despite all the blood, sweat, and tears shed through training, stealing, and all the killing, he’s just as loyal and devoted to you as you are to him.