#best shark movie ever

[infizero]

ok guys i dont wanna be a hater but im gonna be 100% honest i didnt rlly like the nimona movie 😭 I MEAN IT WAS FUN. it was nice. but i feel like it was missing everything that made me like the original graphic novel and honestly by the last like 30 minutes i was kind of just waiting for it to be over so i could read the book again 😭 NO HATE TO ANYONE WHO RLLY LIKED IT believe me when i say i dont think it is bad or anything. but i feel like just sooooo much was changed that it didnt feel like nimona at all to me. idk how to explain it, im sure once i reread the book i’ll be able to put it into words since the original will be more fresh in my mind. i think it was good but as someone who was literally obsessed w the og graphic novel it was honestly kinda disappointing. but i dont rlly care honestly its still rlly cool it got a movie!! 

but in my mind at least it proves that some things dont need to be made into a movie. ppl act like movies are the best form a piece of media can take and if something gets made into a movie then that’d be the peak form of it. but i honestly think nimona works wayyyyyy better in its original graphic novel form. most of the early stuff is way more slice of life lowkey stuff that lets you get attached to ballister and nimona as characters and get invested in their relationship w each other, BEFORE all the angsty final act stuff happens. also there honestly was just a ton of stuff that felt to me like it worked better in the original, like jousting tournament thing instead of the knighting ceremony, nimona being captured and being forced to turn into her “true” form rather than this new version with it just sort of happening bcuz of Emotions, etc. also the movie suffered from a lot of pacing and tone issues imo but the former i think is just from that lack of the slow buildup of their friendship, and the latter is something that i think just worked better in the book. idk again I’LL BE ABLE TO SAY THIS STUFF MORE CONCRETELY WHEN I ACTUALLY REREAD THE BOOK but i dont remember there being so much jokes and goofy shit DURING serious scenes. like iirc in the original during serious scenes it was SERIOUS. but in the movie theres so many unnecessary unfunny jokes and stuff. idk IDK i probably just had too high expectations idk. anyways

[nick-is-kinda-dum]

The movie House Shark is a cinematic masterpiece actually. You all need to watch it immediately

[greymantledlady]

NIMONA!!! holy shit this movie rocked!!

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

Daily fish fact #4 062 993

General fish fact!

Fish have gills maybe. Sometimes, I think? Uhh....

#fish #fishfact #fish facts #marine biology #biology #zoology #general fish fact

( 1 note )

🧊 grønland-citizen follow

Only 100 years old... he shouldve been at the blub :(

( 40 notes )

🖤 pandawhale follow

Liveblogging my migration! ;)

🖤 pandawhale follow

Swimming

🖤 pandawhale follow

Swimming

🖤 pandawhale follow

Swimming

🖤 pandawhale follow

Found a fish! Ate it >:)

🖤 pandawhale follow

Swimming

🖤 pandawhale follow

Swimming!!!

🖤 pandawhale follow

My sister and I bullied this humpback for a lil before our ma told us to stop. What a party pooper..

🖤 pandawhale follow

Swimming and balancing a fish on my head B)

🖤 pandawhale follow

Swimming

🖤 pandawhale follow

Sorry forgot to update. Swimming!

🖤 pandawhale follow

Swimming..... still swimming....

🖤 pandawhale follow

Cod why did I think this was a good idea we're just swimming a dozen million miles and that's it

🎣 murican-shad follow

So, um... what was that about the fish?

( 153 notes )

💤 manatee-ing-just-fine follow

"Hey, did you hear about the recent-"

No, I didn't. I'm literally so unbothered by fishcourse I couldn't care less. I'm just goin with the flow. Riding the waves. Chilling. Moisturised and in my lane. Do you think the moss on my back signifies anything other than my peaceful adn pacifist nature. I'm just a Guy

( 588 notes )

🐟 migrating-gal follow

OOOHHHH MY COD YOU FRYS!!! You have no idea holy carp holy carp theres this one atlantic salmon migrating at the same time as me,,,, says we're going to the same river,,, her sides are such a gorgeous rich chestnut colour and shes so large compared to me and her belly accentuates her curves and shape in the best way! Her scales are so shiny too? Shes practically glowing!!! UGH every time we swim next to each other i wish there was a small creek so that she'd be forced to swim over me and crush me with her whole body weight

🧦 s0ckk-eye follow

Horny on main again?

🐟 migrating-gal follow

Oh, when I post about MY crushes its suddenly soo strange and unusual? Sure mr. "where can i find a salmon who will bite me right". sure. It's literally the season!

🧦 s0ckk-eye follow

You cannot prove I said that.

#/hj #hush hush #lets just pretend neither of us said anything thanks ;))

( 22 notes )

🐡 puffering follow

Felt bored. Doodled this.

( 9,432 notes )

🐠 damselfish-in-distress follow

Ngl I really hate how barren fish representation actually is :( There's two types of fish ever. Fish and shark and sometimes ray. They always show generic fishes only, like nonspecific fishes with one or two primary colours plastered on the side. Where are the pipefishes? The anemonefishes? The anglerfishes? The damselfishes? The morays? The hogfishes? The groupers? The marlins, the tunas? Even the wrasses???? There are never any specific species, just red fish, blue fish, that's it!

🌠 stargazing-in-antarctica follow

I would also like to bring up unflattering fishes. It's always reef fishes that get their spotlight to shine, but I've never even seen another stargazer portrayed in a good light on TV

🐠 damselfish-in-distress follow

!!!! This is so true! There's so many of us who never get our chance to be seen anywhere and it makes me so sad :( No diversity at all in the casts of recent underwater movies.

🦈 zzz-in-pyjamas-zzz follow

even the representation that does exist for specific fishes sucks. sharks like myself never see ourselves be shown as anything other than bloodthirsty killers :( we get generalised into a single stereotype of a big gray murderbeast

🔲 among-the-sea-weeds-deactivated follow

Anemonefishes are underrepresented?? umm okay. so we're just gonna pretend like a clownfish didn't star in the single biggest fish movie of all time? Where the sharks are portrayed as nice people mind you so why are you even whining. okay. sure. cool. Really need more clownfish movies out there!!!!

🪸 acidicanemone follow

No need to be passive aggressive @among-the-seaweeds-deactivated. You say anemonefishes are oversaturated in the media? In that case, point me to the seemingly abundant movies where two-band anemonefishes are the main character? How about the ones with only Mauritian and orange-fin anemonefish leads? Red saddlebacks, tomato anemonefish, orange anemonefish, skunk anemonefish, wide-band anemonefish, I could go on. Just because one species of anemonefish, the clown anemonefish, starred in one movie doesn't mean that the rest have it super nice and cozy.

Finding Nemo wasn't even too good for clown anemonefishes either. It's the only movie many have seen that even features a clownfish in a speaking role. My anemonefish roommate has often had people calling her Nemo or asking her to tell a joke because it's a "funny gag" from the movie. It's the first thing people tell her when they meet her a lot of the time. Trust me, the only person who has a problem with better fish species representation is you.

🐬 the-spinnerrrrrr follow

Did

Did you also miss the part where the shark goes on a massive murder rampage over two (2) tiny fishes because he smelled A Blood

🐠 damselfish-in-distress follow

This person had a ton of anti-dolphin posts on their account too, why am I not surprised 😭😭😭 We need to pull each other up, not put a whole subfamily down for cod's sake. Anemonefishes are called "Nemofish" to this day and age still

🦑 strawberry-squid follow

"We need to pull each other up, not put a whole subfamily down."

Beautifully said.

#deep sea talks #long post #fishcourse

( 644,214 notes )

🐚 gob-y-lin-cave follow

Just moved into my new place! It's this wonderful sandy crevice with a beautiful view of the kelp and a good nice rocky back wall for support. Hope the neighbours are nice and don't throw their sand into my hole like at my last neighbourhood

😎 the-goby-living-next-to-your-cave follow

hey

🐚 gob-y-lin-cave follow

what the fuck

( 1,201 notes )

🌟 bioluminescent-girlboss follow

can someone please come hang out with me in the deep sea? :( it's so boring here...

🦐 shrimpy-wimpy follow

I can! :)

🌟 bioluminescent-girlboss follow

wonderful! Come Closer please. to the Light.

🌑 tunicate-tunes-527 follow

RIP @shrimpy-wimpy it's been more than 3 hours 💀💀💀💀

🦐 shrimpy-wimpy follow

hopital

🌑 tunicate-tunes-527 follow

SHE LIVED!!!????????

#WHAT THE FUUUUUUUU

( 362 notes )

🐉 autistic-rhinomuraena follow

Pictures of my transition journey :}

🪶 pelicans-we follow

Oh look at you !!!!! You look so much happier and more comfortable in your latest picture! So happy for you!!

🌔 look-to-the-moon-wrasse follow

I can't wait to go through my transition myself :]c

#only i'll vbe transitioning in the opposite direction haha #*be

( 4,009 notes )

🐢 xxleatherbackxx follow

New drawing of a terramaid!! 👩👩🐟🐟

🐙 magnapining follow

Okay but imagine if terramaids we're actually real. To live on land there scales would probably be all dry and rough-textured! Brushing against them would immediately ruin your slimecooat, probably

☀️ molamolamolamolamola follow

Ah, thanks. I hate it.

🐳 left-whale follow

Since they're half human and humans have hair, what if they had

THESE!???

☀️ molamolamolamolamola follow

NOOOOO DON'T RUIN TERRAMAIDS LIKE THIS FOR ME ⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️⚰️

🐋 big-blue-offishial follow

There's more. With a human lower half, they most likely give birth to live young as well. And with mammalian reproduction habits comes the, well....

☀️ molamolamolamolamola follow

STOP THIS SHADNESS THIS INSTANT

🌊 pull-the-triggerfish follow

Since they have a human lower half with a human digestive system that means they have a human diet too, right?

☀️ molamolamolamolamola follow

why

🐋 big-blue-offishial follow

Too much time in our flippers, dear.

Oh, and a need to make everything cursed. Of course.

🐢 xxleatherbackxx follow

Please stop reblogging this 😭😭😭 I just wanted to show off my art

#not my art #im so tired i keep getting notifs for this post #let me rest

( 428,497 notes )

🐌 hadal-snailfish follow

*moves one inch*

[starryhutcherson]

━━ A NEW FAMILIAR

author's note: crawled out of my hole for this one guys. sorry for being so ghost mode im working on putting out more stuff, apologies if this isn't of the highest quality as i'm running on sugar free redbull and three hours of sleep ! love my life hahahahaAHHHH

'୧ ‧₊ pairing: best friend!mike schmidt x reader warnings: 18+ sexual content! oral sex (f!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, dirty talk, swearing word count: 4600+ ⋆ ✩‧₊

Mike’s expression always glooms when you bring up the next date you’ve arranged. He knows how this story plays out; he knows the truth behind the men you’ve matched with on whatever sketchy website you’ve wasted your time on. They’ve molded themselves into the embodiment of perfection, through falsified photos and fabrications buried in their bios. His patience crumbles like fireplace ash as you skip around his living room and drone on about whatever dickhead you’ve set your poor, precious heart on.

He knows, always, the the outcome is running makeup and salty cheeks, sobbing on the floor of his living room in a creasing satin dress and his welcoming arms, a bitter exclamation of “you were right Mike” leaving your lips in the knowing silence and him gritting his jaw and pretending that it doesn’t bother him the the only habits you ever find yourself falling back into are the bad ones. 

It’s no different today. 

Mark or Matt or Mitch – you really were killing him, because it should be Mike. It should be him. Him that you’re getting ready for, him that you’re daydreaming about. And it’s an odd feeling, like a movie where your favorite character dies and then movie finishes and you have to accept that they aren’t coming back, no matter how long you sit glued to the reclinable chair, popcorn crunched beneath your sneakers and the credit-scene reflected in your shrinking pupils. 

Mike’s not the type to be happier with the hope – he’d let the truth swallow him up, sink into his creaking bones, he’d live with the loss. But he still has hope for you. He has hope that your eyes will open and you’ll seep into his brain and his breath and his bed. He hopes you’ll start seeing him instead of just looking. Maybe it's wishful thinking. Ignorant optimism.

It feels like it. 

It feels like it, right now, when he’s leaning against the doorframe of his bathroom and watching you get ready, your animated chatter reverberating around the small space between coats of mascara. He offered to give you a ride before you’d even asked, and he’ll tolerate the sting of watching you get out of the car looking all pretty for someone who isn’t him, just to make sure you get there safely. It’s the type of sacrifice he’ll make for you. 

“I can’t even feel my face, I’ve been smiling so hard all day!” You squeal, powdering your cheeks with more purposeless product – he thinks it’s all pointless. You’re radiant, even in the harsh lighting of his bathroom. 

He offers a low grunt. What is he supposed to say? He’s not happy. And he’s not gonna pretend he is. 

You either don’t notice or choose to ignore, continuing to doll yourself up to whatever standards you have for yourself. “I mean, he says he’s been skiing since he was 6. He’s practically an olympian.” 

Mike scoffs. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” he grumbles, shaking his head. “Can you hurry up?”

“Alright, grumpy. Calm down. I gotta do my lips and then I’m ready. Plus, nobody told you that you gotta stand here.” 

A fleeting flush of fuchsia permeates his cheeks, but he looks down at his worn shoes to hide it. It’s true. He didn’t have to stand here. But if an angel was populating your bathroom you’d want to take a peek, would you not? That’s how he thinks you look. Angelic. Glowing from your soul, a content smile knitted on your lips. You might as well have a halo and wings – that heaven-sent aura is reinforced when you douse yourself in lingering washes of that sweet perfume that’s branded itself to you. He’d recognise that floral aroma anywhere, the way a shark detects a drop of blood amongst saline scattered seas. 

“Okay, I’m ready. How do I look?”

Cruelest question of them all. “You look… fine. Good.”

A knot forms in your brow. “All this effort for that terrible answer?” Playful, but with a truthful undertone. Why do you value his opinion so much? He doesn’t want to assume anything. 

“Well I’m not the person you’re dressing up for.” I wish I was. He doesn’t say the other words, but he thinks them so hard he’s half convinced if you were listening in the right spot, or looking into his eyes for long enough that you’d hear it anyway. 

“Okay, okay, whatever. Let’s just get going, don’t wanna keep Mack waiting.” 

Two letters. That’s all it would take. That’s all he’d have to swap to make it him.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

✩‧₊˚

Even if you aren’t aware, even if he did offer, he drives begrudgingly. He focuses as much as he can, on the road ahead and not your glistening figure beside him in the passenger seat, the very definition of temptation. 

The mall parking lot is barren, a few gleaming cars scattered amongst the otherwise desolate area. He pulls into a space, sets the car in park, rakes in a greedy sigh of air. 

“If anything happens, call me.” 

You sneer teasingly. “Don’t be so pessimistic. It’s gonna be great, he could be my future husband, y’know.”

Yep. Mack, the 35 year old you've met online, who’s only notable talent seems to be skiing and his greatest life achievement to date is shooting a deer, whose head is mounted to the wall in his bedroom, typically visible in the background of his many instagram posts which involved his shirtless figure straining to flex his overly pronounced bulk. A match made in heaven. He wants to scream. 

And how can you even tell him to not be pessimistic? How can you look him in the eyes and act like this moment hasn’t happened time after time, the point of no return before an evening spent crying in his arms as he reassures you that your failed dates are never your fault, even though by now it seems like you must be seeking out the same genre of shitty man if you’re this good at getting your heart broken. He’s sick of picking up the fragile little pieces of his bathroom floor, cutting himself on the shards of a heart that’ll never be his. You deserve more than these half-baked, single night romances. He could show you that. 

“Yeah, sure,” he grits. “Future husband. Just call me, seriously.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll call you.” 

And with that, you’re off, disappearing into the gaping mouth of the mall’s entrance, and he watches with an alkaline feeling growing in his stomach. Your hair is caught up in the wind like clothing on a washline and he thinks his hope is all drained out. 

✩‧₊˚

Mike spends a good two hours back at his house. His movements feel vacuous, staring ahead at the screen, barely processing the raging garbage that masquerades as reality TV. The rain has picked up outside, licking at the window panes with a growing intensity. 

He’s not happy about the jean skirt and tiny little tank top you’d clad yourself in prior to leaving, you’re probably frigid by now in the cold. You did however reassure him that Mack was gonna drive you home, or even worse, take you back to his place, so his stupid fucking elk head trophie could watch with it’s empty eyes while the pair of you fuck on the bed that his mom still has to make for him because he never can quite manage those fitted sheets, can he? Fucking manchild. 

Shit. Mike’s feeling so so bitter. Maybe it’s because he’s finally realized that this is the dreaded pattern he’s going to have to endure with you until death. Or until he braves up and actually tells you that he’s been in love with you since the fifth day of second grade, when you mouthily confronted Jerry Murdoch and told him to give Mike his crayons back.  

With a weak sigh, he turns the TV off with a click of the remote still encaptured in the loose hold of his fist, and decides to see if he can melt into any form of sleep – but the knock on his door prevents him from doing so. 

He arises lethargically, not having much on his mind but the denial of his slumber as he shuffles over and turns the handle, but then, it’s you. 

Fluttery lashes melted to black smudges beneath your eyes, a mixture of rainwater and tears, completely drenched and dripping all over his doormat, your body is trembling and you’re wracked with tiny little cries and he’s feeling so many emotions he believes he might implode. 

He pulls you inside and into his arms, stroking your back in gentle, soothing motions, and it kills him that this has become routine. He’s angry. He’s sick of this. 

“What happened this time?” He grunts softly. 

“He didn’t even show up. He couldn’t even send a message as to why, Mike,” you sniffle into his warm chest, drunk off the even echo of his heartbeat. 

A moment’s silence rots like aged fruit. He draws a breath in, then out, then in again. 

“Why didn’t you call me?”

You crane your face upwards to meet him, instantly bathed in a nervous shiver when you see how serious he looks. 

“My phone was dead.” Is all you can manage to mumble. 

“What?” He’s pissed. “Why didn’t you charge it? You could have charged it there, they have outlets at the mall. Or you could’ve used someone else’s, so you didn’t have to walk home in the rain, because you’re drenched.” 

“I don’t–”

“Y’know how dangerous it is to walk around alone in this shitty neighborhood? Half the street lights don’t even work, and I don’t even know any of my neighbors, or what kinda people walk around here at night.” He grumbles. “I shouldn’t have to tell you all this, I’m sick of explaining all this to you.”

You roll your eyes irritably, releasing yourself from his arms and crossing your own across your dripping wet torso. “How was I supposed to know he was gonna stand me up? You’re telling me I should just expect it?”

He blinks like a deer in headlights, silence settles into his flesh.

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

You scoff. “It’s what you implied.” 

“It’s not what I—” He grumbles weakly under his breath, cutting himself off, deciding reasoning with you is somewhat of a useless attempt. “Why can’t you just listen to me?”

“What, charge my phone next time? Bring a raincoat? Yeah, great help, seriously, don’t know where I’d be without you,” your sarcasm hits like gunshot wounds to the teeth. 

“Or maybe you should try to meet actual people, instead of fake ones from some stupid website.” 

After a cold shiver bites up your spine, your expression deepens with defense. What is his fucking problem? “At least I try to get out of the house! At least I don’t spend every hour of every day moping around and feeling sorry for myself!” 

The pair of you fight, sure, every good relationship, friend or romance or family or whatever should, but nothing like this. This is stone-set, it’s been coming for a while, the wild gesticulations and the pacing and the raised voices. It shakes the bones of the weakened house. 

“Don’t,” Mike says with a furious edge, fists tightening and untightening like he’s about to take a swing at the wall, like this is going to end with bleeding knuckles nipped with shards of worn plaster. “Don’t throw that in my face, I do everything I can, for you and Abby. It’s not like I have a choice.”

“So what, you’re so fucking miserable in your own life that you have to try and control mine?”

“Control? You’re like my child! You don’t even know how to take care of yourself half the time, so yes, I try to help you not to make such shitty decisions!” 

You scowl. “You’re not obligated to do anything for me, y’know Mike. Why do you keep me around if I’m that much of a chore for you!”

He snaps, the tension in his fists bleeding up into his throat, his mouth, the words clot behind his gums and suddenly they tumble out in a fury-fueled shout. “Because you’ve got no one else!” 

You deflate, wilting like a flame without oxygen, and Mike deems the silence to be more cruel than anything else you’ve said to him tonight. He’s feeling everything and nothing all at once, the quiet crumbles around him like a burning building and he fears he’ll become rubble beneath the debris. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just… god, just–” His eyes flick to you, and then retreat back down to the faded living room carpet. He can’t swallow his guilt this time. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”

“It’s fine,” you say coldly, knuckling away an angry tear. The salt water is the trick of nostalgia, you’ve cried like this so many times. Your breakage of those promises to yourself. It’ll be different. And it never is. 

“No. It’s not – I’m a dick, I just… I hate watching other people ruin your life. You deserve better.”

Better. What is better? Some twisted fantasy that some people are indulged with and others are left longing for. That you’re left longing for. You know he’s tired of the same bullshit that you force yourself through, convincing yourself of change, painting yourself up to be fit for presentation, and hoping that whoever you’ve leeched onto likes what they see, so you don’t have to feel so alone anymore. You’re oblivious, painfully so. Because Mike could plaster together the cracks in your splintering psyche, if you’d just let him in. 

“Whatever, Mike. It’s true anyway.”

There’s a hole in his heart in the shape of your name. He begs you. Fill it. A part of him shatters at the defeat in your words — he’s crumbled you to the bone, to the marrow. He’ll build you back up. You deserve it. 

“No it isn't. No it isn’t. You have me. You’ll always have me.” 

A silence pervades; the look in his eyes is one of pleading, that you’ll stop and see what he’s offering you, that you’ll stop chasing your own tail, that you’ll stop the cycle. 

“Mike…”

“And Abby.”

You indulge him. 

“You have me. And you have Abby. And I know that’s… not much, but she loves you. So much. And I’m sorry, ‘cause I know I don’t say it enough, I don’t…. I don’t say how much you mean to me, but I just—”

“Mike.” 

He wallows in the waters of your rain kissed eyes, the way your pupils pulse and the words are falling before he can swallow them back down. 

“I love you.”

He gives you that stare. That stare that’s the color of black coffee, the look that you can feel, unearthing the graveyard of wilting feelings you’ve tried to bury, the heart that beats for him him him, lodged between the ivory bars of your ribcage. He maps you out with his eyes, he looks at you the way the sun hungers for daybreak. 

He’s waiting. He’d wait forever. 

“And… and seeing you with these… shitty people who don’t even care about you, it just…” He sighs exasperatedly, dragging a sweaty palm down his face. 

His sentences can’t seem to finish themselves. This is harder than it looks in the movies. Harder than when he’s practiced in the mirror, when Abby’s walked in and giggled at him and told him to just fess up. 

“You love me? Like…”

He looks up at you like a kicked puppy. “Yeah. I do.”

You’re beyond bewildered. He loves you. He loves you. 

“What– but… you—”

“You don’t have to… say anything. I just, I can’t… I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t do it.”

You reach for his hand. It’s a little clammy, a little trembly, but it’s a perfect fit. Just like you. 

“I love you too, Mike.”

What?

“You… do?”

He’s skeptical, but he’s also swooning. A stone man is slowly cracking. 

“I just didn’t… didn’t think I could have you. I mean, you’re so… you’re everything, y’know? You’re a good brother, and you work so hard, and you’re… I’m just… I don’t think I deserve you,” you whisper, confessing. With a newfound stroke of confidence, he approaches, one hand snaking around to the small of your back, another on your cheek. He’s gentle. In his eyes, you’re porcelain. Precious. Fragile. At least, at this moment. But you love him too and that’s all he needs. It’s all he’s ever needed. 

“You deserve everything.” He says it so quietly it’s barely audible. And then, nothing is audible because he’s carefully pulling your lips to his, linking you in every way, his hands tangle into your damp hair and he’s kissing you. 

His lips chase yours in messy, uncalculated movements. He’s starting small. It’s been a while. And he’s gonna take his time with you. He’s gonna show you what you deserve. Soft sounds squeak past his lips as they flutter against yours, and you’re closer and closer and closer still, impossibly so. 

Within moments he’s whisking you off to his bedroom, his hand tangled with yours, an interlace tight enough to cause ropeburn. His skin chafes with yours, and then he’s kissing you again atop his navy comforter. 

He’s gentle, respectful, but you understand what he’s trying to tell you, what he’s been trying to tell you. He speaks through silken drags of his tongue, through the hand that holds your cheek steady— he feels as though he’s gripping the very cusp of a constellation. You taste like stardust. You glow like the waning moon. 

He breathes heavily in the expanse of his throat, his pants have become tight and wet and filthy; he’s been subconsciously grinding down into your lap. You’re a little shaky and your pupils have darkened with lust and he is going to show you what you mean to him. What you’ve been missing. 

His hand falls lower, into the slope of torso that dips into your hips. His eyes travel back and forth, searching, hunting for the desire that he feels mirrored back at him. Do you want this, the way he does? Do you? His hardened stare doesn’t speak loud enough. He elaborates.

“Can I… uh… do you wanna…?”

Do you want to? You need to. 

“Shit, okay,” he croaks out, jaw tense and tight as he traces you beneath calloused fingers. You didn’t realize you said that out loud. 

He’s endearingly awkward – you know from languid late-night conversations that he hasn’t done this a lot. Maybe even at all. But he’s sweet, so sweet, like lapping up sugar and feeling it dissolve on your tongue, feeling him dissolve on your tongue, giving you comfort and cavities. 

“Can I take this off?” He asks nervously, fiddling with the hem of your camisole. A short nod, and he’s sliding it over your sweat-pricked figure, admiring your contours in the whisper of evening moonlight that bleeds through holes in his moth-eaten curtains. You’re perfect, and he knew you would be. 

He caresses your skin gently, drunk on the mellow feeling of your bare stomach beneath his fingertips. Your bra is black, a little lace peering along the straps, your breasts spilling into the fabric. He reaches around your back, fumbling at the clasp. When the garment drops, his hands are replacing it before you can even blink. 

“Beautiful,” he manages to get out, thumbing over your nipples. 

“Mngh, Mike—”

“Sh. Just let me… just let me. Let me make you feel good. Please?” He grunts out under his breathless voice, and how could you deny such a request?

The moment you agree, he’s grabbing you by the thighs and tugging you towards him slightly, so your back is nearly flat against his mattress and he’s settling himself in the gap that you create for him. 

Your skirt comes off first. Your panties are undeniably soused, his fingers trace the big wet spot that’s dripping all for him, teasing you through torturously thin cotton. 

“Mike,” you mewl gently, fingers settling in his nest of chocolate curls that are damp with sweat. A firm tweak and he’s groaning, his voice melting away into nothing like hot tar. 

“You’re so wet,” he mumbles to himself, like he’s never seen anything like it. Probably not in a while. His finger hooks beneath the waistband, pulls it out gently, and lets it go. It slaps against your hip bone and another fresh sound seeps from your lips.  

“Mike, shit, please just do something—”

“Okay,” he whispers, more to himself than you, carefully sliding your panties from your waist, down past your ankles, and he’s tossing them to join the pile of clothes that has begun to collect on his bedroom floor. 

You’re here, before him. The girl he waited for. Your soft flesh is glistening, clenching painfully around nothing, and he’s salivating at the sight of you. He pries your legs out further with his warm hands, leaving them to linger on your bare flesh for a few drawn out moments, before he claims what’s rightfully his. 

He presses a trialing kiss to your clit, and your back curves delicately, fingers tightening their grasp in his hair. He moans into you at this action, and you, in turn, moan as well. Confidence creates itself in him with each little whimper that he gets you to release, and he’s answering back, hearing your cries, your calls of his name with his own unabashed exclamations of pleasure. This is just as good for him, as it is for you. 

“Mike,” you whine gently, and he’s mumbling weak praise right into your cunt. 

“Fuck, you’re so pretty. Wanted this for so long.”

It’s barely audible between his languid sucks; he’s lapping at your drooling entrance, fingers subtly creeping closer, up and along your thighs and settling right above your throbbing clit. He presses his thumb against it, tracing sinful circles against your bud— once, twice, and then you’re far too close to the edge. 

“Oh, Mike I’m gonna come,” you choke out between gasps. 

“Do it. Please.”

He’s begging you. 

And you oblige. With a trembling sob, your thighs tense around his head, keeping him locked in place, capturing him and making sure he finishes the job, and oh does he plan to. When you soar, he’s still holding you in place, soothing the electric sparks pulsating throughout your body. 

He savors your sounds, and when they stop coming, he presses a lingering peck on your inner thigh, stubble scraping at the sensitive dermis. He then raises his face to your level, the light coruscating off the filthy souvenir etched all over his face, your glittering arousal that he wears so proudly. 

He steals a proper kiss from you, rubbing your side as a gentle comfort. He’s completely hard now, tenting his sweats, leaking against the fabric. You gingerly reach out, tracing what you assume to be the head of his cock, and he sags, boneless, against your touch. 

“Fuck, baby I—”

“Baby?” You chuckle softly, still hazed from the candy-coated afterglow of your orgasm. The first of many, he hopes. 

“Mngh— g… got a problem?” He grumbles softly, almost quivering as you begin to palm him with purpose.

“It’s out of character,” you tell him gently. 

“Shit, can I be inside you?” He asks you, voice ripped raw. 

And once again, Mike Schmidt leaves you breathless. 

“Yeah. I need it. I need you.”

He groans, slipping off his pants and boxers without so much as another word from your swollen lips. He’s hard, angrily so, his cock pulses violently and a little whimper escapes through the crack in his bitten lips when it slaps against his stomach. 

He’s stroking himself slowly, base to tip and then back again, collecting the pearls of precum that dribble from his slit. He’s never been so ready for something. For you. It’s all for you. 

He’s holding you, thumbing your hip bones and gently nudging himself into your hole, cooing at every cry that crawls from the crevices of your throat. When he bottoms out, finally, it’s safe to say that he gets a little dumb. “Oh, shit, I’m not— not gonna last long, you’re so tight, shit…” He’s rambling a little. It’s cute. 

A few wandering kisses land on you the way dandelion spores decorate a skyline – your cheek and your chin and your jaw, as he waits for you to let him move. You’re squeezing him for all he’s got and he’s three seconds away from spilling before he’s even so much as thrusted. You do this to him. 

All those days, staring into your eyes and wondering if you’d ever see him the way you do, all those nights, stroking your hair and softening your saddened sobs after failed date after failed date. They’re all worth it. 

You’re clamping down on him, warm and wet and wavering, and you’re exhaling softly through your nose and telling him to move, begging him to move, to make you feel good, and it’s what he does. 

He pumps into you with passion, magnetized to your every movement. He’s satisfying a decade worth of insatiable craving, he’s chasing your hips with his. You end where he begins. 

The headboard creaks and slams against thin plastered walls, one hand grips onto it with alabaster knuckles and the other one holds your hips for better leverage. He doesn’t need to say it, but each knocked kiss of his pelvis to yours is a silent I love you I love you I love you. 

“Oh my god Mike,” you sob, and he slides himself deeper, hitting everywhere he wants to reach. Everywhere to make you quiver beneath him.

“You d—don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he moans lowly. “How many times I’ve imagined you like— like this.”

He’s blabbering, every stray thought that passes through his head is already blossoming on his tongue and out into the air before he can even think twice. Admittedly, you’re too blissed out in your own mind to really respond, but it’s arousing all the same. 

“You’re so… so beautiful,” he’s flushed and he’s faltering, and you know he’s close before he even announces it. 

“Shit, baby, I can’t— can’t last much longer,” he stammers, his bruising pace beginning to shake. 

“Do it in me, Mike, please, please,” shit, are you trying to kill him? Your word is the only law he knows, and he’s wrapping his arms around your torso and diving his head in the elegant slope of your collarbone, biting down into the skin and spasming somewhere deep in your welcoming walls. 

He tries to keep himself quiet, but it’s really a futile effort. His hips jut sporadically as he empties himself inside you, and the sudden flood of subtle heat is all it takes for you to topple over as well. 

Bliss teeters back into reality after a seemingly ceaseless moment. He peels his head from its previous position to admire you, to stroke a stray lock of hair from your forehead and nervously greet it with a kiss.

He doesn’t let go of you. Not now, not ever, he thinks to himself. His arms snake around you tighter, and somehow it’s even more intimate after the fact. His bare chest collides with your back, his nose rests comfortably against the crown of your head. The pair of you follow each other into a dreamless sleep, safe in the sanctuary of a warm bed and an even warmer embrace. 

He’s found his new familiar. 

masterlist

✩‧₊

[talaok]

Hello!

I was thinking about this a little too much today. I often read fics / drabbles about Pedro being all sweet and flirty or him being very confident and flirty … I just want to read a fic about him being the worst flirt ever 😅 I know he’s a flirt in his interviews , but what if he’s really bad at it when it’s time to really seduce someone. Like he messes up what he wants to say , he makes stupid jokes that don’t land.

Do you think you could write that?

summary: Pedro is a bad flirt

A/n: I'm genuinely sorry this took so long, but I had to study like a bastard just for my professor to be an asshole

"please introduce me to her"

"why don't you go there and do it yourself?"

"because I can't"

"why?"

"please"

"fine"

__ __ __

It was a relatively small party, just a few friends and some friend’s friends, nothing huge.

Vanessa, your best friend, had insisted on throwing it, encouraging you to “live a little now that that asshole isn’t in the picture anymore”.

“That asshole”, was indeed your, as of two weeks, ex-boyfriend.

Neither of them had ever been fans of each other, and thinking back at it now, that should have probably been if not red, at least some kind of colored flag.

Anyway, as always, when it was V talking you into something, you had accepted, with a few conditions of course.

Hence, the small party and your playlist playing in the background.

“Y/n, did you know that?”

right, you should have probably been listening to the conversation.

“Uh, no, it’s news to me” you topped with an awkward laugh you hoped would go unnoticed.

“that’s crazy, you learn something new every day” Ryan commented, making you wonder for a sec if perhaps you had actually missed something interesting.

Just as you turned to Claire beside you to investigate, everyone’s attention moved to Vanessa as she strolled toward you.

Not unusual, you thought, she wasn’t a woman that got unnoticed.

What you found when you turned too, however, did pique your interest.

A man walked beside her, Pedro Pascal.

He fell into the friend-of-friends category.

He was one of Vanessa’s oldest friends from back when she studied in New York. She talked about him sometimes, but you had never actually met him, which, thinking about it, why was that?

"hi there, how's it going?" V asked

"very well, Pyke here was telling us that sharks do not have bones"

There it was, mystery solved.

V raised her brows clearly unimpressed "Wow, well that's great" she patted his shoulder, as everyone made space for the pair.

Pedro still hadn't spoken, and a match of awkwardness lighted as you all came to the same realization.

"Alright then, I think I'm gonna get another drink" The shark expert spoke, and all of a sudden Claire and Ryan both got really thirsty too as they followed him to the kitchen.

A strange smile pulled at V's lips 

"Anyway, Y/n, this is Pedro" she gestured "Pedro, this is Y/n"

You felt like one of those women in period dramas when their mothers introduce them to a man they think they should marry.

"Hi, it's nice to meet you" You shook his hand "V has told me about you"

"H-hi" he cleared his throat "it's very nice to meet you too" 

" Pedro's here to film a movie"

"are you?" you asked, interested

"yes, I- Uhm- I am" 

He looked nervous, and you had no idea why.

"Can I know which, or is it like one of those secret Marvel things?" you joked.

"Oh, no, of course" he laughed, "It's Weapons, it's like a horror movie"

"oh" you winced "Well that's lovely, but you'll have to forgive me if I'm not going to watch it. I hate horror movies"

"Oh, why?" he asked looking genuinely perplexed

"I get scared very easily, and... I'll sound like a 5-year-old, but every time I watch one I have troubles sleeping"

"oh that's fine" he laughed " I get it" he nodded "You don't look like a five-year-old at all" he blurted out, his eyes instantly widening as his brain realized what he had just said "Sound! I meant sound like a 5-year-old" he breathed "you look- you look extremely beautiful, not like-" he stopped himself before he could talk again, and just let out a small "oh god"

You shot Vanessa a glance.

"it's fine" you laughed "I got it," you reassured him, placing a hand on his bicep.

"so, since I'm not going to watch it, why don't you tell me what's about?"

His eyes found yours again, something sparking inside of them at the question.

"Oh you know, it's about guns and swords and rifles," he said with a smile.

You couldn't hide your confusion

"I'm sorry?" you asked, half-laughing

"y'know, because it's called weapons" he explained, his voice getting smaller as he realized the joke had bombed.

"Oh" you laughed, actually laughed "Of course! I'm sorry!"

"No, no don't be sorry it was a stupid joke"

"it was funny, I'm just..." You mimicked something with your hands.

"Y/n!" a shout from across the room caught your attention.

Mary was waving desperately at you, which could only mean that she had either broken another piece of furniture or wanted to do shots.

Neither of those options seemed particularly interesting, for some reason you wanted to know more about the man in front of you.

However, you also couldn't ignore one of your best friends.

"I'll be back in a second, I just need to make sure she hasn't broken another vase" you joked with a grin.

"o-ok" he nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed harshly.

"get ready to tell me about all those weapons!" you called out, already walking to the kitchen.

Once you disappeared, Vanessa raised an eyebrow at him, her expression an open book.

"Don't say anything"

"I'm not"

"good"

there was a brief moment of silence before Vanessa couldn't hold it anymore.

She busted out laughing

"Guns and swords!?" she laughed, recalling his joke

"Shut up"

"And the five-year-old thing!?" she kept going "Dude you've been drooling over her for two years and that's what you go for the moment you finally get to talk to her?"

He couldn't do anything but sigh "I need a drink," he said "And I thought it was funny"

"Yeah, you were the only one, my friend"

[blindmagdalena]

Currently wondering how Homie would react to an s/o who has a passion for the ocean and all the animals in it. Has plenty of pet fish at home, gives them the best care and thinks they're the cutest little things ever; has several books about sea life (mostly sharks), her favorite childhood movie is Finding Nemo, etc. Obviously gets along swimmingly with the Deep, pun intended 😂 The guy could start a 3-hour long story starting with "So I was talking to some clownfish..." and she'd be genuinely interested to hear about the fish while the rest of the room is falling asleep bored

(I just described myself in this hehe)

he’d tell the Deep privately that if he ever talks to you again, he’ll pull out his liver with his bare hands and feed it to him.

but then when you offhandedly mention how the Deep is suddenly snubbing you, and how much it’s bothering you, Homelander offers a sympathetic expression and says, “What? C’mon, let’s go see what’s up.”

and then he stands behind you glaring daggers at the Deep, who’s looking between the two of you like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world as he desperately tries to navigate HL telling him not to talk to you while also asking why he won’t talk to you

[huggybearluvr]

ohhh can i request a Trevor zegras x Drysdale!reader like jamie is super overprotective over his little sister but then realizes how much her and Trevor love each other🥹

Too Cute | tz11

Masterlist

Summary: During a visit to Anaheim to see your over protective brother and boyfriend. Your brother, Jamie finally lays off a bit claiming "you guys are too cute to hate."

Warnings: None

y/ndrysdale

liked by jackhughes, trevorzegras, and more

Summers in Anaheim <3 .@trevorzegras

view all commments...

trevorzegras I love youuuuu

y/ndrysdale I love you too <3

jamiedrysdale gross im literally spewing rn

jackhughes right seeing trevor happy is nasty

y/ndrysdale can you guys please keep your commemnts to yourself

quinnhughes I hate trevor but I will admit you guys make a great pair trevorzegras quinner we all know you secretly adore me and want me to yourself

quinnhughes I retract my previous statement oh and die.

----

You and Trevor were sat in the living room of his and Jamie's apartment cuddled up on the couch watching a new shark movie you had been dying to watch.

Jamie walked into the house seeing the movie that was playing. Trevor had refused to watch it earlier in the week knowing that you were wanting to watch it. He smiled to himself.

Maybe you both were a good pair after all.

"Jamie come sit with us it just started!" You spoke from the couch looking over to your older brother.

He smiled sitting on the couch along with you guys.

He watched closely as Trevor ran his hand through your hair. The most delicate touch he had ever seen Trevor do. Trevor was known for his chaos and destruction. So seeing him be so delicate and vulnerable gave him hope that you wouldn't end up heartbroken.

"Okay maybe I don't hate you guys together," He sighed speaking to the pair of you," Your too cute together to hate."

You laughed looking up at Trevor who was beaming that his best friend was finally in support of your guys relationship.

---------------------

a/n: I am currently working on some older ask rn! so if you have been waiting send in another asl with the request so i get to it sooner! Just let me know that it is a duplicate!!!

[astars-things]

Jack on a roadie but Y/N falls off the jungle gym at preschool and breaks her arm. He feels terrible when he gets the voicemail 2 hours later after press all the way in California. Thankfully Mama El was already with Y/N and she had a cast and she even got to pick the color. But jack didn’t know that and immidately facetimes his mom. Even tho she assures him that she’s fine and he talks to his daughter. He beats himself up for months for not being able to be there. But when he comes home the next day (that’s when the roadie was planned to end anyway) he insists on keeping her home from school and cuddling all day.

I was sitting in the locker room, the hum of post-game chatter filling the space around me, when my phone buzzed. The voicemail notification blinked insistently, but it wasn’t until I was back at the hotel that I had a chance to listen. The game against the Sharks in California had been intense, and I was exhausted.

“Hey Jack, Um, just wanted to let you know that Y/N had a little accident at preschool today. She fell off the jungle gym and broke her arm. She’s okay now, we’re at the hospital, and she’s got a cast. She even got to pick the color—purple, of course. Call me when you get this.”

My heart sank. Two hours had passed since Mom left that message. Two hours of Y/N being in pain, scared, and I wasn’t there. My hands shook as I fumbled to FaceTime my mom, Ellen. She answered quickly, her familiar face filling the screen with a gentle, reassuring smile.

“Jack, she’s okay. Really, she’s doing great.”

“Can I see her?” My voice cracked, a mix of relief and guilt washing over me.

Ellen turned the phone, and there she was. My little girl, Y/N, lying on the couch with her tiny arm encased in a bright purple cast. Her big eyes lit up when she saw me on the screen.

“Daddy!” she squealed, wiggling her fingers at me. “Look at my cast! It’s purple!”

I forced a smile, my chest tightening. “Wow, that’s awesome, sweetheart. You’re so brave.”

She beamed, showing off her cast, completely unfazed by the ordeal she’d been through. Ellen took the phone back, her eyes softening with understanding.

“Jack, she’s really okay. The doctors said she’ll heal up just fine. Kids are resilient.”

“I know, Mom,” I replied, but the words felt hollow. “I just wish I’d been there.”

Ellen’s smile faded, replaced by a look of sympathy. “You can’t be everywhere at once. She’s safe, she’s happy, and she knows you love her. That’s what matters.”

We talked for a few more minutes, but I couldn’t shake the gnawing guilt. I hung up, staring at the darkened screen. How could I have missed something so important? The roadie had been planned to end the next day, but it felt like a lifetime away.

That night, I barely slept. The next morning, I was on the first flight back home. As soon as I walked through the door, Y/N came running to me, her purple cast held high like a trophy.

“Daddy, look!”

I scooped her up, holding her close. “I see it, sweetheart. It’s the best cast I’ve ever seen.”

For the next few hours, I didn’t let her out of my sight. I called the preschool to let them know she wouldn’t be coming in, and we spent the day cuddled up on the couch, watching her favorite movies.

Every time she laughed or told me about how brave she was at the hospital, the weight of guilt lifted just a little. But it didn’t go away entirely. I kept replaying Ellen’s voicemail in my head, imagining Y/N’s fear and pain, and hating that I hadn’t been there to comfort her.

[iluvapplesxh]

⧽⧽Visiting Hours⧼⧼

❀ pair: billie eilish x fem!reader

✰ summary: Without you, nothing felt like it should have. Your absence a pain Billie would never be able to bear completely ever. But she knows you'll wait for her where you are, and you'll meet again.

✯ warnings: mentions of death, angst, obviously no happy-end, !ENGLSH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE!

✒ a/n: uh, so definitely don't like how this turned out, but I'm just happy I had enough mentality and energy to write this and I'm sorry if it's not how you all imagined it but at the moment this is the best I can do. I love you all! <3 also listening to the song makes it better!

Billie’s sight blurred, the tears clouding it. They burned awfully, stinging her eyes as she tried her best to keep them from falling while she felt her throat close up, her breath stuck in her chest. Her hand was trembling in front of her, between her fingers was a piece of paper, imprinted with a photo of you. You had been smiling widely at the camera, holding up baby Shark in your hands excitedly as Billie had taken the picture.

Oh, how she wished she could just go back in time, to tell you she loves you. Even if she can’t change what happened she just wants to hear your voice saying ‘I love you, too’ again. Just one last time.

Billie’s chest felt strangely tight and a sob escaped her throat, causing her to drop the piece of paper onto the cushion of her sofa. The sofa which you had cuddled her on for hours, whether it had been the two of you watching a movie, a TV show, or just simply talking mindlessly for hours on without a care in the word. 

At the thought, tears slipped from her eyes and Billie took a big shaky breath in.

She didn’t pay any mind to her phone, ringing next to her as she looked down, shakily picking up the picture again, her other hand wiping furiously at her eyes. She sat up straighter and dropped the paper onto her lap, leaning her head back as her hands covered her face.

All she wanted was you, your arms around her comforting her, rubbing her back soothingly as she cried, telling her that it’s okay, everything’ll be okay and you’re here.

But you’re not.

She’s alone.

Alone in the now empty house the two of you shared so many memories in, date nights spent in the living room, laughing about anything and everything. Sweet, calm evenings and mornings spent in the kitchen, wrapped in each other’s arms as you messed around while making food, freely fooling around like lovers do in those movies.

Well, only those lovers have a happy ending. They say their vows at the end of the movie and promise forever trust and happiness. Not you and Billie. No, she could never love anyone else like she loves you. 

Everything was a mess in her life. Her friends and family worried sick about her. She hasn’t left the house in days and she couldn’t bear Shark whining and looking at her with a tilted head, sometimes searching the house for you and all Billie could do was watch with her chest and throat tight. 

Everything was falling apart and she didn’t know what to do. How to do anything. How to continue her life. It’s like the moment you were gone, her world stopped spinning. And she needed it to start again but she didn’t know how.

You would.

You always knew how to solve all her problems with simple words and actions.

Her fans were not much different. Worried and sad. And she hadn’t dared look at the media, headlines after headlines haunting her dreams and days. 

She didn’t want this. She just wants you. To talk. To tell you her every problem that has been piling on top of one another ever since you’ve been gone. And you’d listen, hold her hand and stroke her knuckles gently, murmuring reassuring words when she finished talking. Telling her you’d go through it all together. Because you always lived by the fact that love solves even the things that feel like the end of the world. God, she’s always loved the way your mind worked.

But where was that love now? When she needed it so desperately, where the hell was it?

Nothing feels right anymore, the house was too quiet and her head was so loud.

Her hands fell from her face, her red, teary eyes opening. Her breathing was ragged, shaky and unstable, unsteady. Her mind raced with thoughts but when she looked at that picture again, her mind went silent, but more tears slid down her rosy cheeks.

It felt pointless. Crying wasn’t gonna bring you back. Looking through millions of your pictures won’t either. Nothing will.

She pushed the paper down from her lap swiftly, sniffling as her other hand pressed the button on the side of her phone and the screen lit up, the notifications full of missed calls and unread texts. But she couldn’t care less about them. None of them were from you, so what was the point?

She swallowed harshly around the thick lump in her throat, head lifting at the sound of a quick bark. Her red and puffy eyes fell onto the gray Pitbull, and her breath hitched once more as her gaze dropped to the floor in front of him. A piece of clothing would have been the simple explanation to everyone else, but not her. Not when she’d seen that one so many times before. Your shirt.

“Shark” Billie wiped her cheeks and held out a hand. “Where did you find that, bud?” Her voice was hoarse and strained, another sob threatening to crawl up her throat once more.

The dog swiftly took the clothing into his mouth again, carrying it over to his owner with big eyes, only letting go when Billie’s hand made contact with the fabric and her fingers gripped it tightly, pulling it to her chest. Shark whined softly, jumping up onto the couch in a swift movement, nudging Billie’s arm with his nose in worry at her state.

A wet chuckle left Billie and her free hand, shakily resting on his gray furry head. It seemed as though he wasn’t able to move on either. Like he couldn’t believe you were gone.

“I know, bud. I miss her too” She whispered softly, hearing Shark whine quietly again, leaning forward and resting his upper body onto Billie’s thighs. She took a deep breath and looked down at the shirt in her hand. She slowly brought it up to her face, inhaling swiftly and a sob escaped her again as the faint scent of you filled her senses completely as if for the first time ever.

It took her a while, laid on the sofa motionlessly for hours with her thoughts racing as she just wished to see you one more time. Just one, a proper goodbye. But she didn’t want it to be a goodbye, no, not a goodbye. Just a ‘Till we meet again’. 

But she knew if she even had one chance she wouldn’t think about leaving again. She needed you to survive, to live, to breathe but she had to accept the fact that that’s not possible and that’s maybe for the best.

And she’ll have to try to live her life without you, and just when she’s alone, she’ll think about you, maybe let a tear or two fall because there was no way she could ever think about you again and nod cry. But she knew you’d want her to live her life to the fullest. To continue making music and keep her friends and family close. And for you, she’ll do just that, but never will she ever again in her life love anyone the way she loves you. Not one person could compare to you, the love you gave her. And which you took away from her along with her heart.  So far away, but maybe one day she’ll reach you and you’ll be waiting for her. She’ll hug you tightly and tell you everything that’s happened since, how much she’s missed you and how much she loves you.

And God knows everyone she’ll meet until then will know about you, about who you were and what you meant to her. To the world. And she’ll never get bored of telling every story the two of you shared. 

So what if she’ll never move on completely?

No one would ever want to leave the best thing in their life behind, even if it’s already gone. It’ll never be so completely. She’ll never be alone completely, you’ll be there, watching over her until you meet again.

✒ a/n: this is really short and little rushed, so sorry. I hate it but I kind of still don't know how to write based on songs so :/

REQUESTS OPEN!! ♡

[innuendostudios]

by a wide margin the weirdest video essay I've ever release: List of Songs that Represent "Smart Music" Ranked from Most to Least Appropriate to Put in a Video Essay

this video is sponsored by Nebula, where you can watch ad-free and (sometimes, slightly) better edited versions of my videos for 40% off an annual subscription. just follow this link.

as a quick note: YouTube has already demonetized this video, as two different corporations are claiming copyright on recordings they do not own the copyright to - both are Creative Commons recordings of public domain music, that, in one case, YouTube has misidentified as a different recording, and, in the other, YouTube has the music in its database as under copyright despite it being having been released under CC BY-SA 3.0. I am disputing these false claims and will (hopefully) get whatever money I am owed, but, for now, YouTube is not paying me a dime for this.

so it would be a bigger help than usual if you would either watch the video on Nebula or back me on Patreon.

thanks. transcript below the cut!

List of Songs That Represent “Smart Music” Ranked From Most To Least Appropriate To Put In A Video Essay (And Presented In Drill Bit Order).

1. Clair de Lune, Debussy

This has been top dog ever since the teaser for Godzilla: King of the Monsters, and cemented its position against challengers with a showcase in Everything Everywhere All at Once. Said film could have been the shark-jumping moment where the song was irretrievably lost to irony, given directors Kwan and Scheinert (Daniels)’s style mercilessly marries the aesthetics of prestige and shitpost. Yes, despite its silliness, EEAAO is achingly sincere, but could the general public be trusted to recognize that? But then it won Best Picture, so apparently yes! Beautiful, delicate, to score a film or video with Clair de Lune signals a desire to be seen not only as an intellectual, but as an aesthete. The song could lose potency if the Clair de Lune sequence were parodied enough, but how does one parody EEAAO???

9. Gymnopedie No. 1, Satie

I fear we must, as a society, and as a community of video essayists, move on from Gymnopedie No. 1. It held the title longer than, I think, any champion previous, and for that it deserves merit. But its time is over. It is, like the phrase “mad dated,” mad dated. It is saying “lmao” out loud. Did you know the original screenplay for 2005 film The Island specifically stated that, in the weird culty enclave in which the film opens, Gymnopedie No. 1 must be playing over the loudspeaker? I don’t think Michael Bay followed that directive (I’m not rewatching the movie to find out), but that is how long this was the “Smart Music” song - since 5 months after YouTube launched. If you must - absolutely must - put Satie in a video essay, use Gnossienne No. 1, though it too is on its way to passe. At this point I’m prepared to say Vexations or GTFO.

2. Ave Maria, Schubert/Liszt

Nothing was certain after Satie vacated the throne, and for a while it seemed we might have a Starks vs. Baratheons situation between Schubert and Debussy. Following several appearances in pretentious YouTube videos, the Ave Maria made its strongest showing yet by scoring the opening scene of the grimdarkest Batman film so far, an entire twenty days before getting fully Lannister’d by Everything Everywhere All at Once. Unbowed, unbent, and unbroken, still she nips at the heels of the king, and may yet take his place. No one else poses a comparable threat. Hers is a curious strategy, being a religious, Christmas, and even classic Disney standard now repurposed as “Smart Music;” she gets a big boost every December, but can she take the top spot before this cyclical exposure nudges her back into a prior niche?

8. Moonlight Sonata, Beethoven

If you were in a film program in the mid-2000s, you are sick to death of Moonlight Sonata. Also if you were in a music class where you were asked to determine a song’s time signature by ear - how am I supposed to tell the difference between waltz time and 4/4 with all triplets without the sheet music in front of me? To say scoring a video with Moonlight Sonata is a hack move - you’d have to be a hack to not already know! This was the soundtrack to the blind cave salamander level of Earthworm Jim 2, there’s no coming back from that! I mean, the association with Tallarico Studios alone… It’s done. Roll over, Beethoven.

3. Cello Suite No. 1 (Prelude), Bach

This one is firmly-rooted. It is not going anywhere, both in the sense that nothing could soon push it off the list but it’s hard to imagine rising any higher. It is just slightly too beautiful, too expressive, too legato to fall into the stiffness of Habanera or the pomposity of a De Beers ad, but just close enough to them in tone to always read as a hipper alternative. So you’ll never be overexposed, but never go that long without hearing the Yo-Yo Ma version. And so here it stays, third on the podium, solid bronze, the waterbender, the Plup; with you as always is Prelude to Cello Suite No. 1. (Frankly surprised it took us this long to get to Johann, but don’t worry - he’ll be Bach.)

7. Air on the G String, Bach/Wilhelmj

Told ya. It’s not that she isn’t a beautiful piece of music, and it’s not that she already had her time. In truth, she never got her flowers. Inasmuch as she had a run, it was squished between the omnipresences of Beethoven and Satie. You’ll still hear from her now and then; she crops up, like a lucky penny. And you’ll smile, every time, but you know the stars in your eyes are not present joy, but nostalgia. A fondness for what was and what could’ve been - what should have been. Why - why couldn’t this have had the legs of Gymnopedie? I mean, even the Fucking Champs version - could that have made a run? Could TikTok pick up on it? But comes the day you have to accept - if it was gonna happen, it would’ve happened by now. Air on the G String grows weary; let her rest.

4. Duo des Fleurs, Delibes

Bit of a dark horse, this one. Didn’t exactly come out of nowhere - it’s been here the whole time - but you didn’t see it coming! It’s like that time I went snorkeling, and I wondered, “Where are the fish?” I was told there would be tropical fish, but all I saw was blue. Then I caught one flitting by my head and, as soon my eyes registered the shape, I realized they were everywhere! I just hadn’t taken them in. This is the one that makes you ask, where did I hear that before? Was this the one at the end of Margaret? No! How did it go? How do I hum dyads? But then it shows up and, oh yeah, that’s the one! The really pretty one. I knew it’d come around again. Has staying power, could make a run for the top if it sees an opening, but seemingly content, for now, to dance around the periphery, appreciated when heard if only half-remembered the next day.

6. Prelude in E Minor Op. 28 No. 4, Chopin

The bottom end of acceptability. Anything lower, you must avoid. But you can use Prelude in E. It is a risk, and it takes skill. But you can use Prelude in E. It is not for the faint of heart. This is the ending of Fez we’re talking about here. This is that one TED Talk about how everyone loves classical music they just don’t know it yet. This was all over Anatomy of a Fall. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer something lighter? Nocturne in E-flat [Op. 9 No. 2] is very nice. Prelude has just enough penetration that some people are going to recognize it, and enough clout that those who do are going to expect things of the person who puts it in a video essay. You can’t just throw this under a rant about The Snyder Cut. But you can - with care, with effort, and with grace - use Prelude in E.

5. Spiegel im Spiegel, Part

We are not ready for Spiegel im Spiegel. The rare “Smart Music” that is, rather than classical, contemporary minimalist. This is - I have been led to believe - all over the film festival circuit. It is the go-to for aspiring arthouse directors. So I assume it is only a matter of time until it reaches general cultural awareness. But we - the YouTube video essay community - are not, at this point in time, pretentious enough to pull off Spiegel im Spiegel. This is not a statement on the song: it is a lovely, sparse, and unpretentious piece of music, which is why pretentious people are drawn to it. And we are not there yet. But I believe in us.

POSTSCRIPTUM

The List of Songs that Represent “Smart Music” is not ranked by quality; they are all, as a baseline, masterpieces. They are ordered, instead, by their possession of antipodal qualities. Beethoven’s Fifth may be a beautiful piece but it’s too well-known - to the casual listener, it reads only as “classical music.” Vltava is a beautiful piece, but it’s not recognizable enough - to most, it will read only as “music.” Pachelbel’s Canon works in too many contexts. Mozart’s Lacrimosa no longer works in any context but “Shit’s About To Go Off.” The Song that Represents “Smart Music” must balance these humors: suggestive, but not too specific; recognizable, but not overfamiliar. The kind of thing one imagines cultured people listen to, and fancies oneself cultured for having noticed it. Just popular enough to signify obscurity to a large number of people.

This impossibility of being both popular and obscure is what keeps the list in motion. Many songs drift back into obscurity before reaching the top, but, once in the primary position, a song begins its slow procession to overexposure. And when, at last, it is too popular to be niche, it does not slip to number 2; it plummets to the bottom, as did Icarus.

Due to this slow but constant movement, new songs will, at intervals, join the ranks, taking the place of those that became gauche. And if, dear listener, you were aiming to trendset, to score your next whatever-it-is-you-do with the newest Song to Represent “Smart Music,” and were I a gambling man… Bach’s Prelude in C. And I’ll tell you why: it appears in the Netflix series Bodies alongside Chopin (#6), mirroring Satie’s dual appearance in The Queen’s Gambit (#9); its arpeggiated structure makes it usable in scenarios similar to the Cello Suite (#3) (Johann did love him some broken chords); and it forms the basis of the Gounod version of Ave Maria, if you would like a Cool Person’s Alternative to Schubert (#2). You may feel I’m playing too safe, but I tell you truly: this song is due. But if I can impart one piece of wisdom let it be this: whatever you do, whoever you are, you cannot use Fur Elise. You cannot. You can’t do it. It can’t be allowed. Don’t fu-

[offside-the-lines]

🥶 A (Kinda Weird) Hockey-ish Ask Game 🥶

Happy new year folks! To kick off 2024, I came up with an ask game mildly inspired by ‘every’ NHL team. Not every question is hockey related. It’s a little different. It’s a little weird. It’s quite fun. Start the year by getting to know your moots.

🦆 If I were to make a summoning circle for you, what food could I summon you with?

🐺 Build a NHL starting line up (3F, 2D, 1G) based on a really weird criteria for comedic effect (e.g. guys with names that sound like Dylan).

🧸 Do you have any object that you like a little too much or can’t seem to get rid of? What is it and why?

⚔️ What is goaltender interference? (Wrong answers only).

🔥 Give me an unpopular opinion on hockey. Preferably Hot Takes (not serious).

🌪️ What’s something that's been on your mind for a long time that you just can’t seem to shake?

❄️ What is your most and least favorite thing about winter?

🏔️ What is an obstacle you have overcome that you are proud of?

💣 Blow it up: pick one NHL team. Change its name, mascot, logo/colors. Tell me why you chose the new elements.

🌟 What are your five favorite things about yourself? Come on, don’t be shy. Give me 5.

🪽 Name a NHL player whom you would: Sacrifice to the Gods, Do Hard Crimes With, and Save the World With.

⛽️ What snacks would you pick up at the gas station for a road trip?

🐀 What is the funniest thing you’ve ever heard a hockey player say?

👑 If you could add an award to the NHL awards, what would it be and who would be its inaugural recipient?

🌲What is a place that gives you a sense of peace?

🔔 Who is an NHL player you are convinced you can best in a physical altercation?

🐯 What movie villain or creature do you think people should love more?

😈 What is your weirdest head canon about an NHL player?

🍹 If I were to make a summoning circle for you, what drink could I summon you with (cocktail or coffee order, alcoholic or nonalcoholic)?

🗽What’s a gift that you didn’t think you wanted but turned out to be useful or great?

🏛️ Here, have a soap box. What is one thing you feel really strongly about that you think everyone should know?

🦧 What cryptid do you think is real? Why? (If you don’t have one, make one up).

🐧 Show me a good rock. (You can also paint me a word picture).

🦈 What type of shark would you be?

🦑 Vampires and werewolves. Give me the pros and cons.

🎶 What would your goal song be and why?

⚡️ Describe yourself like a rainstorm.

🍁 Using a scale of one leaf to five leaves, how much maple syrup do you put on pancakes/waffles/french toast?

🏒What was your first impression of hockey? Why? Has it changed? If so, why?

🎰 What is a gamble/risky decision you have made recently that has paid off?

🦅 For Americans & Non-Americans alike, what’s the most *American* thing you’ve ever done?

✈️ What is a place you long to see?

[red-panda-agere]

You guys had to have expected this at some point

Also, I would just like to note, that some of these are exclusive to certain plot lines, but since it’s Sonic, I’m kinda of blurring the lines of the plotlines ig??? Like, I’m making headcanons based on SA2 and Prime, so do with this what you will.

Regressor! Shadow

(!¡! Diaper/Pull-up mention !¡!)

He is an itty bitty baby, and regressed due to unbelievable amounts of trauma and just a lack of childhood. He deserves the absolute best.

Shadow is the fussiest little hedgy to ever grace the earth.

He has a collection of shark plushies and other assorted items/toys.

His headspace ranges from 3 all the way down to completely nonverbal. He’s not very good at pinpointing what age he feels because he has no concept of what childhood feels like.

Shadow really likes to wear baggy clothes when little, even though he doesn’t wear clothes normally. Big sweaters and sleeper onsies are ideal.

He doesn’t really understand the concept of diapers, but knows they’re for babies, so he enjoys wearing them just for comfort.

Shadow actually doesn’t understand most ‘little’ things and gets really upset about this fact. He will melt down over the fact that he doesn’t understand why children can’t just do things on their own, because relying on someone or asking for help is such a foreign concept to him.

Little Shadow didn’t know he wanted to be cared for or shown affection until it was really given to him. Rouge was the first to know about Shadow’s regression, and ever since, “Mimi” Rouge has shown him real (platonic) affection and now that the little one has had cuddles, he refuses to let them stop. He’s just a clingy little baby.

-Rouge is probably Shadow’s main caregiver. Sonic is more of an older sibling who regresses with him, but will take on a sort of caregiver role if he’s not regressed with him and Rouge isn’t there.

Instead of movies, sensory videos, or any sort of TV, little Shadow likes to watch livestreams/live video of sharks and fish at aquariums.

He’s a sassy and fussy little baby who has probably bitten before. Little Shadow does not really get along well with Little Sonic unless he’s feeling extra small, sleepy, or he just really doesn’t have it in him to fight with Sonic.

While being a fussy little goober, he’s actually one of the more calm little ones. As long as he has everything he could want (stuffies, snacks, movies, bottle, etc - just anything he needs in the moment to feel comfortable and fulfilled at the moment) without being asked to do anything, or even just being spoken to, he’s actually just a chill little guy.

-Though it can make no sense at times, there are times where, even when regressed, Shadow just needs some time alone. Whether he just needs the time to think or reflect or just to be little on his own, it’s okay to have alone time when you’re little too.

Rouge and Shadow have a made up language for safe words, just in case saying ‘no’ is too scary or saying anything at all in the moment is already daunting.

Shadow has a lot of trouble with any caregivers, not liking being told what to do in any sense. He doesn’t understand why he needs to be watched over or watched and parented when regressed, but after a small tumble that occurred in the living room after he was asked to pick up his toys, he started to understand a better.

“I don’t want to…” the regressed hedgy mumbled, crossing his arms and stopping his foot a bit. Rouge sighed softly. “Sweetie, if you can just put away your toys in the toy box by the time Mimi comes back, we can watch the shark videos tonight before bed, okay little guy?” Shadow continues pouting as Rouge walks into the kitchen to quickly clean the dishes. Not watching where he was walking, he went to go sit over on the couch, but stumbled over some of his blocks on the floor. Tears sprung to his eyes, even it hadn’t hurt all that bad, Shadow having been through far worse, it still frightened the regressed Shadow. Rouge heard the tumble and quickly rushed in, finding the misty eyed hedgehog breathing shakily as he carefully situated himself so he sat on his knees now. “Baby! Hey! Little guy, what happened?! I didn’t even fully step out of the room!” She pointed out. Shadow didn’t even turn to look at her, far too stubborn. With shaky hands, he started to move his blocks and other toys to the toy box like Mimi asked. Rouge looked worriedly over him, but smiled softly when he got all his toys put away. After which, he crawled over to Rouge, and softly cried to her shoulder. He was just an itty bitty baby… “Mimi…I feww down.” Shadow finally admitted. “I’m sor’y I didn’ c’ean up m’ toys.” He sniffled, shivering a bit as he sat in her lap.

He has a lot of nightmares, and gets very uncomfortable talking, about space. Being stuck in The Void in Sonic Prime and Space Colony ARK for a huge part of his life, it’s a very uncomfortable and isolating topic for him. Most people find space to awesome while he wants to curl up and hide away from it.

-Silver had only good intentions when he bought Shadow the glow in the dark stars for his room, not expecting a small Shadow freak out. It wasn’t a big panicky freak out, but he went nonverbal and closed himself off to everyone else in the room. Silver didn’t know, but would later gift the stars to Sonic instead, and got Shadow some new bath toys with some recommendations from Rouge.

Shadow gets flustered easily by little nicknames far too easily, and will the act like a ‘big boy’ but after a few minutes of little names, praise, and tons of kisses on his cheek, you’ll have a giggly little hedgy in no time.

Surprisingly, he has little to no shame with his little stuff. He’ll be having a normal conversation, and in the middle of someone talking, he’ll pull out his pacifier and pop it into his mouth and act like it’s the most normal thing ever. He doesn’t really understand that it’s not a normal thing for someone to want to do, but he also knows that any judgment will be kept to themselves, Shadow having the ability to easily kick just about anyone’s ass.

Bottles >>> Sippies

Rouge LOVES to spoil this little guy, and has dedicated most of her living room to be a safe play space for little Shadow. She has done everything she can to make it feel like a genuine play space for a child, not just a makeshift attempt for an adult who’s never experienced childhood. She wants to give Shadow a taste of a real childhood.

-He loves playing on the road carpet with his toy cars, especially when Sonic comes over. Silver likes playing with their plushies more when he comes over, the two having a closer headspace, while a Sonic is like the older cousin coming over to play.

(I’m so sorry my energy/motivation are DEPLETED right now. Trying to post stuff still, I swear.)

[yngtort]

Cheater cheater, best friend eater

chan | lino | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin

NSFW ★

──────────

Xfem!reader You and jeongin had been best friends for years. He would do anything and everything to protect you. So when you call him drunk, crying your eyes out, he doesn’t hesitate to come to your rescue.

“Y/nnn, open up. I’m here.” He says as he knocks on the door of your apartment.

When you open the door, jeongin has to hold back a laugh at your clearly intoxicated state. Your eyes were blown out, while you subtly swayed as you stood. Dry tears littered your face, almost looking like a kid had taken chalk and went crazy.

“Hey,” you said, voice hoarse.

“Hurry up and let me in, it’s freezing.” Jeongin says, still stifling a laugh. He pushes his way into the apartment, locking the door behind him.

“How much have you had?” He asks before taking off his jacket his leather jacket, placing it on the back of the couch, and taking a seat.

You plop beside him. “not that much. Just two or three…bottles.”

“You’re joking, right?” Jeongin says in disbelief, looking at you almost like he was impressed. “What happened this time?”

A long sigh makes it passed your lips as you thought about how you ended up like this. Your boyfriend, Chris , had cheated on you after two years of dedication. You found out from changbin, a mutual friend of yours. He apologized for not telling you sooner and that he was tired of being an accomplice to Chris’s betrayal.

Go to him, you suppose.

But you didn’t cry because you were sad. it was just frustrating that you didn’t see the signs before hand. The relationship was already fizzling out— you and Chris argued every night. But for him to cheat on you, it was just insane. You hated being played, it’s the worst fucking feeling ever.

“Didn’t I tell you that he was a dick?” He clicked his tongue. “Your taste in men is deplorable.”

He’s right. You wish you could deny it, but the list of toxic men you’ve dated was extensive. That list also doubles as a list of how many jaws jeongin had broken.

“I’m just glad you’re done with him.” He said with a smile and you let out a nervous chuckle.

His smile dropped. “You are done with him, right?”

“Of course I am.. I just..” you scratched the back of your head, eyes darting around the room. “I haven’t actually broken up with him yet.”

“Excuse me?” He quirked an eyebrow. “The fuck do you mean you didn’t break up? Are you crazy?”

“I just don’t know how to bring it up.”

Jeongin scoffed, “oh but you can bring up ending our friendship over a pudding cup.”

“We were like 16-” “I don’t want to hear it.”

You rolled your eyes and sunk into the couch, wishing it would just swallow you whole.

“So what are you gonna do? Stay with him?” He asked.

“Of course not. I’m just-“ you paused.

“just being an idiot? Baby, I know.”

“Fuck you.”

Jeongin laughed, patting your knee. “Well until you figure out what you want to do, let’s pound some rum and coke. Yeah?”

—

A hour had gone past as you both sat there, passing a bottle a Hennessy back and forth. Shark boy and lava girl, collectively both of your favorite movie, played on the tv.

“Seriously, we shudda been them for Halloween.” Jeongin slurred, handing you the bottle.

“Next year.” You took a swig, slightly wincing at the wretched taste . “Fuck, I’m done. ‘Can’t keep drinkin this shit.”

Jeongin snickers, watching you set it down on the table. “Weak.” He taunted.

“Shut it, I’ve been drinkin all day. (Bc of Chris.) I hate men.” You grumbled, eyes narrowed.

Jeongin could tell how much this Chris incident was bothering you, although you barely showed it. he knew that you were probably blaming yourself, thinking you’re not good enough. But you more than enough, to him for sure. and he wanted you to know that.

Grinning, jeongin threw an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side. “know what? Just forget about these boys and just date me instead.”

You blinked, not knowing wether to take him seriously or not.

“ want us—Like me and you—” you pointed between the two of you. “To date?”

he was joking. He had to be. You’ve been best friends for practically your whole lives. Even when people tried to get yall together, not a single time did you ever consider it actually happening. And you were sure that jeongin felt the same way.

“I mean why not? I’d treat you better than any of your exes.” He said, eyes glancing down at your lips. “In more ways than one.”

He definitely didn’t feel the same way.

You felt the tips of your ears start to burn and you really hoped that it was because of the obsessive drinking. Jeongin seemed to notice and before you know it, his arm left your shoulder and slid to your waist.

“Jeongin,” “yes, baby?” He leaned in, free hand on your thigh.

oh.

“You’re drunk,” you place a hand on his chest trying to keep his body from moving any further. “You don’t know what you’re talking about”

“Then just blame it on the alcohol.” He chuckled. “I’ll take care of you for tonight and if you regret it in the morning, I’ll take full responsibility.”

—

If someone would’ve told yourself from a hour ago, that you’d be pressed down into the cushion of the couch by your best friend ; you wouldn’t have believed a word.

You wouldn’t be able fathom having jeongins head buried between your thighs as his tongue lapped over your clit with precision. Your hands tangled in his hair while you shamelessly rutted against his face.

You were a complete mess in your best friends hold and jeongin loved every second of it.

“So needy. Just look at you.” He said, planting kisses on your core. His member strained against his pants, begging to be set free. He had to focus on drawing soft circles on your hips, trying keep himself from flipping you over and pounding into you.

That’ll come later, but first he wanted to make you feel good on your own.

“Fuck— jeongin. ‘Mm so close,” You moaned out, head tossed over the arm of the couch as His tongue dipped in and out of you. you could feel your stomach tighten, orgasm creeping over until it bursts.

your body shakes violently as it rakes over you like a storm and jeongin has to hold you in place, still licking your clit as you cum. “S-stop it, inn. It’s too much.” You whimpered pathetically.

“shh, baby. Just a bit more” he whispered, still sucking you raw.

When he pulls his tongue off you, a string of saliva was the only connection between him and your core.

He moves up, bringing his lips to yours and you could taste yourself on his tongue. You could feel his length press against you, making you whine into the kiss.

You wanted him bad. Your fingers found their way to the waistband of his pants.

“Goddamn it, y/n” Jeongin pulled back with a hiss once he felt you free his member, taking it into your hand. “You’re so impenitent. want me to fill you up, yea?” He grunted, bucking his hips in your palm.

“Please,” You begged through a short breath. “Fuck, jeongin. Please, I need it.”

“Baby, it’s already in your hands. I’m sure you can figure it out. You’re such a smart girl.”

hearing him speak like that had an effect on you like no other. you were clenching around nothing, wondering if this was the same man you called your best friend. It was conflicting but it made you hornier than ever.

without hesitation, you positioned his member at your entrance.

“Good job, love.” Jeongin praised, planting a soft kiss and on your temple.

he slipped his tip inside, but to your surprise, didn’t go any further. Instead, he pumped his head in and out of your entrance, feeling it stretch and close around his dick. The constant teasing made you hyper aware of that certain spot. “Inn.” You whimpered, hands finding their way to hips. “Don’t play with me like this. Just fuck me.”

A wicked grin formed across his face as he got the reaction he wanted. “I’m sorry baby,” he chuckled, “ ‘just so fun seeing you clench and try to hold me in there.”

He grabbed your wrist, pinning them above your head.

“Forgive me, yeah?” He asked. Although he knew you’d never respond because you were to busy crying over his dick that he pushed inside you.

every inch of his girth was buried in your warmth.

He clicked his tongue, “Tight, you’re so fucking tight. Has Chris not been fucking you right??” He rasped into your ear, his hips starting a steady and sensual pace.

no, not like this. You had never been treated like this. Not by Chris— not by anyone. “If I had known, I would’ve done this sooner.”

His thrusts were strong and deep, dick brushing that spot that made your toes curl. The hand he held on Your stomach, pushing it, added that extra pressure that had you crying out his name. “you’re so good for me. Sucking me up so well.”

you continued on like that, your best friend fucking you dumb until you’re spluttering mess. Even when he flipped you onto your stomach— he didn’t miss a single beat. It felt like nothing could stop you two.

But when your phone goes off on the coffee table, there’s a pause. It was small interval, enough time for jeongin to reach over and grab it.

“Looks like that boyfriend of yours is missing you.” He pulled you up by your hair, back against his chest. “Lets answer it, hmm?”

Before you could even think about protesting, the phone was being pressed to your cheek as jeongin went back to fucking you from behind.

“Hey, babe. I’ve been trying to call you all day. Is the there something wrong?” Chris asks, but you could barely comprehend his words.

Jeongin pounded into you, hips slapping against yours and you know Chris can hear it. And if he can’t, he could definitely hear your cries. “Chris— ngh!”

“Y/n, what’s going on? Where are you?”

Jeogin chuckles from behind, pulling the phone back. “sorry, been really busy hasn’t she?” He asked bringing a mix of confusion and anger to the man on the other line.

“Who the fuck is this? Let me talk to y/n.”

“I would but,” Jeongin sucked in a breath, “she’s got her hands full.”

You didn’t know when their conversation ended or if jeongin had even hung up or not. you were too busy getting your back blown out.

“You must’ve liked the thought of him hearing you like that, huh? You were clenching so hard around me, I thought it would break off” He rasped, hips snapping wildly.

“Inn, inn, inn.” You cried, tears welling up in your eyes.

His hips stuttered, a telling sign that he was reaching his limit. Heat built in both of your stomachs, aching for relief. “Gonna fill you to the brim ‘n make you mine.” He whimpered, leaning down, nuzzling his face into the curve of your neck. “Love you so much, Ugh.”

“Me too, inn.” You mewled, rocking in rhythm with his rut. That action in its self has jeogins dick twitching, his load following swiftly after.

He milked himself until his seed was spilling out of you with each pump. “Such a mess.” He whispered, sliding out of you.

Your poor couch.

The rest of the night was spent in the confines of your bed, both you and jeongin confessing some unsaid feelings— before sharing slow and wet kisses until you were eventually lulled to sleep.

:)

[ranfused4ever]

Wang Yibo favourite/least favourite

character

performance

colour for him to wear

outfit

song

extra curricular activity

1. My favourite as in most likeable, it's between Lan Wangji and Zhai Zhiwei. I love them both endlessly much, but for different reasons, so it's hard to compare them. As for acting performance and overall greatness, it's Wei Ruolai.

Least favourite: Xie Yun. I can't even get through that show. And the voice actor @_@

2. Almost impossible to choose just one so my shortlist is the Produce 101 theme song performance, dragon fist, both wugans and Burn it all Down

Least favourite (unpopular opinion) : Versace on the Floor. Yep, I said it. It's just too much Chunlin for me and not enough Yibo. Plus, I don't like the song.

(it's still great though, of course. Just not a favourite)

3. With his complexion, he looks good in every colour but my favourite is when he wears soft colours like pink, baby blue, pastel yellow.

Least favourite: -

4. So many to choose from again as he tends to look amazing. Some highlights: the dragonfly suit from nye. And also the long coat from the pgz performance. The night king suit he wore at weibo night in march 2023. The outfit with the baggy jeans he wore at iqiyi scream night. The huge orange trousers he wore at the OnO roadshow. The pinstripe suit from weibo movie night.

Least favourite: those horrible double pants from the sdc3 press conference thing. I don't ever want to see those again. I hope they've been burned.

5. Can't choose between PGZ and LTS, I go back and forth. I also really love Soaring Dragon (the 2024 Olympics promo)

Least favourite: shadow of the shark

6. Gotta be the racing. It's so cool and he gets so excited about it.

Least favourite: -

Tagging: @anotherdescentintomadness @hayesru @islandgirl003 @emrinalex @yibo-best @fishwink @ilovesillythings-world @anyone who wants to

[lovelytsunoda]

can't stand the rain // george russell

summary: the nights are always long and lonely when she misses her lover. but dating a formula one driver isn't easy, and she knew that when she started dating the most wonderful and exciting man that she had ever met.

pairing: george russell x female reader

warnings: longing and pining! the harsh reality that which would be dating someone like george russell, but there is a happy ending! allusions to sex, but not written out.

I can't stand the rain, against my window cause he ain't here with me//hey window pane tell me, do you remember how sweet it used to be? when we were together everything was so grand//now that we parted there's just one sound that I just can't stand

it was on nights like these that she missed george the most.

rain drops crashing down against the window panes, a steady haze of fog rolling across the english country side.

she hated that sound when he wasn't here to share it with.

y/n was sitting on the couch by the window, a scented bath and body works candle on the coffee table, burning and filling the main floor of the house with that simple, summer scent as she wrapped herself in a blanket, powerpoint presentations reflecting off the blue light lenses as she typed.

dating someone as magnetic and larger than life as george russell was no easy feat. the days and nights were long, the timezones too much to bear as his schedule demanded he jet off to some faraway country every weekend.

sometimes, it felt like her george wasn't actually her george, but the world's george.

she slammed her laptop shut, rubbing her eyes under her glasses before she turned on the tv, dialing in to sky sports as the warm up for the evenings race began.

if george were here, they would be watching some stupid movie on netflix (last rainstorm it was bait, a movie about tsunamis and twelve foot long sharks), with the plush calvin klein blanket pulled tightly around their bodies until one of them got tired of the film and started getting handsy.

something about the rain always got george russell going. those afternoons usually ended up with y/n on her back, georges gentle kisses against her skin as he made love to her, the pitter patter of the rain in the background.

she missed him.

the race ended, and she sent him a congratulations text, knowing that he did the best that he could in a car that wasn’t where either mercedes driver had expected it to be.

she blew out the candle, phone in the back pocket of her jeans as she moved to the kitchen of a house that felt too large for just her alone as she warmed up the kettle.

her phone rang, and she slipped the small device out of her pocket, beaming as she swiped up to talk to the most important man in her life.

“hey, beautiful.” george russell beamed from the other end of the line, and the other side of the world. “how are you feeling?”

“tired.” y/n laughed. “uni is relentless. remind me why I decided to go to law school?”

“because I wanted a strong, powerful girlfriend?”

“hilarious. it’s killing me slowly.” she grimaced, placing a bag of peppermint tea in her indigo mug. “you had a good race today, honey. I know the car is shite this year, but you’re driving the hell out of that thing.”

“you know what, I think I’m finally getting the hang of the car.”

“that’s really good, georgie. I’m proud of you.”

george smiled sadly, wishing that he could reach through the phone and hold his lover in his arms. every part of his skin, his body aches for her touch, for the feeling of cradling her in his arms again.

“I miss you. I’ll be home before you know it, yeah? you’ll wake up in a few mornings and I will be there and you’ll get to wrap your arms around me and we’ll make the most of the time we have before I have to go to the next race.”

“I wish it were easier. I wish I could come with you.”

“I know, sweetheart. I know.”

two days passed since that phone call, and the rain showed no signs of stopping. a few times the downpour has lightened to a manageable drizzle, but it was still as if the clouds in the sky were reading her emotions.

reading how much she longed for georges presence.

how she missed watching him play backgammon with his mates at the table by the french doors, sunlight refracting on his face.

how she missed his touch, even when it was the touch of his cold, cold feet in bed.

how she missed his cooking, even when he burned the simplest of dishes and ended up ordering takeaway (and swallowing his pride).

the weather outside reflected how she felt, but that fact did nothing to make her feel better. george was stuck in team meetings, despite the promise of a two week break before the next double header began.

she was debating the merits of going to visit her parents in the city, reconnecting with the world and getting away from her feelings and her term papers. it seemed like all she had done since george left was drink peppermint tea and pore over old court documents.

until the morning all was right again.

the sunlight was orange as it filtered through her curtains, the sun just beginning to rise over the hilly countryside. she heard footsteps, and the sound of the creaky bedroom door swinging open.

she’s have to to tell george to fix that.

george.

she didn’t believe her eyes. there he was, kneeling in front of the bed to kiss her forehead. she grumbled his name, trying to peel her groggy eyes open.

“I’m right here, darling. caught an earlier flight. there’s an iced coffee in the fridge for you.”

she smiled, reaching for his hand. “I missed you.”

“I know, love. can I join you?”

“you may.” she hummed, pulling the blankets back up over her shoulders. normally she would have loved to watch her boyfriend undress, but this morning she was far too sleepy to care about the sound of georges heavy hilfiger belt hitting the hardwood floor.

eyes still closed, she felt the mattress dip next to her as george slipped underneath the covers, taking her into his arms. she sighed contentedly, resting her head on his bare chest as the driver ran his large hand up and down her back.

“I love you, y/n.”

“I love you too, george william russell.”

TAGS

@daydreamingleclerc @libraryofloveletters @magnummagnussen @scuderiamh @sidcrosbyspuck @oconso @cl16version @cartierre @monzabee