#also we know so much about the guy already (which is kinda creepy in and of itself) you can't tell me we don't have his dob | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

joelscruff · 1 year ago

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truth or dare (joel miller x f!reader) 18+

notification blog | kofi | in honor of my bestie han @swiftispunk who recently celebrated her birthday (and in honor of spooky season starting 🎃) i thought i'd step outside the boundaries of what i usually write and try something new. i'd also like to give a huge shoutout to @toxicanonymity whose entire masterlist greatly influenced my desire to try something like this. please heed the warnings!!! and as i said this is my first time writing anything like this so pls be kind 🫠

summary: a harmless game of truth or dare ends with you tied up in a certain mysterious neighbor's garage. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: dubcon (reader is given a choice to leave, but not immediately), dark!joel, age gap (reader is college age, joel is in his fifties), unprotected p in v sex, use of restraints, ropes, spanking, degradation, sir kink, dirty talk (use of 'little girl' as a pet name), face fucking, rough sex, creampie, brief anal play, humiliation, inappropriate use of a household item (he puts a flashlight up her cooch), marking (with a sharpie), size kink (joel is much bigger than reader and can lift her), pls lemme know if i forgot anything word count: 8.3k

Your palms are sweaty, fingers sticking to your skin as you stand at the edge of the property with goosebumps already blooming along your flesh. The air is chilly, that end of summer evening air flooding your nostrils as a car drives past through streams of leftover rainwater, headlights blurring your vision for a moment. It passes quickly and you're alone again, standing on the street corner with a mixture of anticipation and dread filling your trembling body.

Everything had been fine about twenty minutes ago. A typical party with your hometown friends, one last hurrah before everyone splits off for the third year in a row to go back to their respective colleges, back to long lectures and underwhelming frat boys. It had gone the same way it always does when you get together - shots, secrets, schemes. No end of summer party could ever be complete without a game of truth or dare, not for your crowd anyway.

It had started simple. "Which one of us had the best glow-up this year?" "I dare you to text the last guy you slept with." "What's the kinkiest thing you've done with somebody?" "I dare you to show us the last nude someone sent you." Typical borderline adolescent challenges, things you all still followed through with despite being too old for the game - it's the principle of it, to indulge and pretend, if only for a little while, that life is as simple as it once was.

"Who's the last person you had a sex dream about?"

You'd twisted your hands awkwardly in your lap, felt heat rush to the apples of your cheeks. Usually a question like this wouldn't make you hesitate, but the subject of the answer had been a slightly embarrassing one. As soon as the name Joel Miller had fallen from your lips, you'd been met with screams and squeals and excited chatter from every direction.

"He's so fucking creepy though," one of your friends had said with wide eyes, palm over her mouth, "He gives off serial killer vibes."

"Oh please, he's not that bad," another had chimed in, "He's just a loner, kinda mysterious. I see the vision."

"Are we forgetting the part where he's old as hell? Dude must be in his fifties, at least."

"But that means experience."

"It could also mean limp dick."

"You guys are disgusting," you'd moaned, leaning back on your hands, "It was one dream, let's move on."

And they had. Briefly. Until it was once again your turn and they'd all rounded on you with cheshire cat grins and glinting stares. You should have known what was coming when you chose Dare.

"I dare you to go over to his house."

You'd resisted, of course. The dare itself didn't even make much sense; what were you meant to do? Go over and ding-dong-ditch his front door like a twelve year old boy? But it had only snowballed from there, all five girls tossing in their own thoughts and ideas, talking and giggling over each other. "She should ask him on a date." "She should just flirt a little bit, see how he reacts." "She could see how far she can get with him, maybe?" "Oh shit, that's good."

You could have always said no - there was no way any of them could force you to do it, even if it would have ended the party abruptly with grumbled complaints and a slammed door. But the more they talked the more you found yourself listening, letting the concept sink in, the images of the dream you'd had the other night flooding to the front of your mind. Mysterious and elusive Joel Miller, big hands covered in the motor oil he uses to tinker with his truck, trailing his messy fingers between the swells of your breasts...

They'd managed to convince you just by the reminder alone, though also due to the fact that they'd each tossed in a twenty dollar bill and stated that simply getting a kiss on the cheek would warrant a win. The prospect was intriguing; it would be a testament to your own desirability, your game. How far can you get with your quiet neighbor who probably hasn't touched a woman in years? Who'll probably fold the second he realizes someone as young and beautiful as you is interested in him?

"I'll do it," you'd said with a smirk, rising from the hardwood, "How hard can it be?"

Harder than you thought, apparently. Because now you stand a few feet from Joel Miller's house, loitering soundlessly at the edge of his front lawn, hesitating. The sun has gone down, turning the hedges along the side of his property into frighteningly tall shadows, dark and menacing. A light breeze flows past and you wrap yourself tighter in your well-worn maroon cardigan, shivering, staring at your boots and wondering if you can really bring yourself to do this.

It'll be so humiliating if he rejects your advances. On the other hand, will it somehow be less-so if he returns your flirtatiousness and you then have to reject him once you've gotten what you came for? How will that make you look? You're not even really sure why you care - probably because the man has done nothing to you whatsoever, nothing that would warrant such a foolish prank as this being played on him. It makes you feel bad, in a way. As much as you and your friends make fun of him, he really is just a man who keeps to himself - perhaps this is going too far.

You notice light flickering nearby, a reflection of fluorescents in the puddles of his driveway. You figured he'd be in his garage - it's where he spends most of his time, bent over the exposed hood of the truck he's seemingly been working on ever since he moved in at the beginning of the summer. You've never seen him drive it, never even seen him leave the property, but you've passed by the house on more than one occasion. You've seen the way he rolls up the sleeves of his flannel, forearms splattered black and grey, expression focused on the task at hand while sweat drips from his greying temples.

Having a sex dream about him really shouldn't have been that shocking, now that you think about it. The man is a mystery, sure, but he isn't ugly by any means.

You swallow down your qualms, picturing the faces of your friends more than likely smooshed against the living room window a few houses back, watching. As soon as you turn the corner, you'll disappear from view, obstructed by the hedges and the sudden darkness of night. You take one more deep breath, one last burst of chilly evening air into your lungs, and accept your fate.

He doesn't notice you walking up his driveway, taking slow and meager steps as you assess the open garage, the truck with its hood popped as usual, the flickering of the florescent lights hanging from the ceiling. He doesn't notice you, but you notice him. You spot a pair of steel toed boots and long denim clad legs sticking out from underneath the truck, hear the clink and clang of metal against metal while he tinkers with something down there, unseen. As you reach the garage it becomes apparent that you still have one last chance to end this before it begins, turn around and take the loss.

But you don't.

"Excuse me," you offer in a weak voice, teetering nervously at the edge of the garage door, neither inside nor out - neutral ground.

The clinking stops, replaced by the steady pounding of your heart in your chest, the heaviness of your breathing. You try to loosen your hands from their fisted forms and unclench your fingers, focusing on the stretch of flesh and bone while the legs beneath the car slowly begin to inch forward. He's not laying on any type of support, one of those wheeled contraptions you've seen other people use - no, he's simply got his back to the ground, a back and body that's slowly coming into view.

His black and green flannel rides up where he's been laying on it, as well as the grey t-shirt he wears beneath; as he slides out from under the car you spot a bare sliver of skin just above his waistband, a patch of hair that trails down into his jeans. A lump forms in your throat. When he finally peeks his head out, you swallow around it and try to remember to breathe.

Greying hair slicked back behind his ears, cheekbones smeared slightly with something black, scruff lining a strong yet soft jawline, a plump bottom lip, and those eyes... dark brown, almost black. It's the face that's practically been haunting you all summer, whether you want to admit it to yourself or not.

His brow furrows as soon as he sees you, "Can I help you?"

It's not the first time you've heard him talk, but it's certainly the first time he's ever spoken directly to you. His accent is stronger than you remember, words slipping smoothly past his lips like butter as he eyes you from the floor of his garage, knees up, hands still hidden in the darkness. A few seconds pass before you realize he's asked you a question.

"Oh, um-" You haven't thought this through very far, that's for sure. What the fuck do you even say? You take a breath and remind yourself that you're good at this, have seduced your fair share of frat boys in the past two years with minimal effort and have never heard the word no. Sure, Joel Miller isn't a frat boy - far from it - but underneath his cold exterior he's still very much a man, and very much capable of falling under the spell of a beautiful woman. You hope, anyway.

"I was just taking a walk," you lie, "Saw your light on, thought I'd come say hi."

He stares at you blankly, like he's unsure exactly how he's supposed to respond - or perhaps he's already seeing through your façade. You take a step into his garage, poised at the edge as you lean casually against the opening.

"Honestly, um-" you push some hair behind your ear and attempt to look shy, though it's not a huge jump from how you're actually feeling, "I've been meaning to talk to you, before I go back to college."

At your words he raises an eyebrow and slowly brings his hands downwards, palms pressing flat against the dark concrete. You watch as he eases himself up and out from under the truck, and god he's tall - tall and broad and huge compared to you, a fact that sends a little flutter into your belly. He takes a step toward the work bench against the wall, eyes still on you as he reaches down and picks up a rag to wipe his hands, big and wide and streaked with oil. You remember your dream and feel a twinge in your underwear.

"Talk to me about what?" he asks, massaging the rag against his fingers.

You shrug as nonchalantly as you can, taking another step inside his garage, closer to where he stands at the work bench. You cross your legs in an attempt to show them off, stretching your ankle toward a spare tire on the floor and accentuating the sheerness of your black tights, the little run that splits the material at the inside of your knee, the hint of bare skin that peeks out beneath.

"Nothing in particular," you say, keeping your voice soft and steady but doing your best to keep that shy girlishness present, "Just... wanted to." You peer up at him from under your lashes and bite your lip, then reach out your hand for him to take. You say your name.

He assesses your hand but doesn't take it, brow still furrowed. "Joel," he replies, "And I'm a bit preoccupied at the moment. Don't really have time to talk." His voice is cold and gruff, absolutely no sign of interest or attraction - dammit.

"What're you doing?" you ask, tilting your head.

He continues to stare at you blankly, "What does it look like I'm doin'?"

Okaaaay, then.

You shrug again and take another step, turning to look at the wall next to you. Tools line the shelves, wrenches and screwdrivers and the like dangling rather precariously here and there, smeared in motor oil and dust. It's a mess but you'd be willing to bet that it's organized chaos, that he likes it this way.

"What's this?" you ask, pointing to a particularly large object, something that looks like a mixture between a pair of scissors and a wrench.

"Bolt cutters," he supplies you monotonously.

"Ohh," you say with a nod, leaning a bit into the confused pretty girl stereotype and hoping maybe he's a sucker for it, "And what's that?" You point toward a small cylindrical object, black and tactical, only a few inches long.

"You never seen a flashlight before?"

Oh. Right. "Woops," you giggle, "Sorry."

You turn your face to look at him sheepishly and he's still watching you, big arms now crossed against his broad chest - impatient. Well, this is clearly not working either. He's frowning, eyes so focused on your face that you feel almost naked beneath it, like he's staring into your soul. You clear your throat awkwardly and tug your bottom lip between your teeth, breaking your own gaze away from him and trying to find something else to comment on.

"So you've been working on your truck," you state, gesturing toward the vehicle as if only just noticing it was even there, "What's - uh - what's wrong with it?"

He's clearly not buying into whatever the fuck you're even trying to sell. He remains silent, eyes still on you, and suddenly it's like you've never even interacted with a man before - and to be honest, maybe you haven't. Frat boys are certainly not men by any means, and nowhere near in the same league as Joel Miller by a long shot, probably almost triple their age with a dark and mysterious aura that feels almost suffocating. He just stares at you, slightly unnerving, but also seductive in its own way, almost like he's challenging you.

"What do you want?" he asks blankly.

"I-I told you," your voice is already faltering, losing its flirtatious edge the more you realize how dumb of an idea this was, "I just wanted to talk to you."

"Yeah, I got that," he says stiffly, "Why?"

You've already exhausted the avenues you thought might work, which means you've got one last chance before he sends you packing. With bated breath you take the final few steps toward him and - averting your gaze - you reach your hand out to touch his forearm with your fingertips. It's feather light, but you're suddenly very aware of the goosebumps that rise on his freckled flesh, the way the thick hair on his arms seems to stand on end the second your skin touches his. Okay, now we're getting somewhere.

"I think you're handsome," you murmur softly, feeling warmth rush to your cheeks when you realize that it's not a lie. And it really isn't. As your gaze gradually tilts up you catch a glimpse of the hair on his chest, peeking out from under his grey t-shirt. You spot his pecs beneath the fabric of his flannel, see the throbbing veins in his neck, the coarseness of his scruff, the sharp curve of his nose, and those fucking eyes - looking at you with a darkness, a lust, that wasn't there before.

He's not just handsome; he's fucking gorgeous.

"What're you doin'?" he asks you, that gruffness still present but being taken over by something else, something darker.

"Nothing," you breathe, still trailing your fingers along his forearm until they reach its apex and dip into the soft part behind his elbow, damp with sweat. You swallow, throat going dry as you stroke his skin with your thumb.

"Doesn't feel like nothin'," his voice is quieter, matching yours, and he tilts his head slightly as he continues to stare into your eyes, "Why're you really here, sweetheart?"

Sweetheart. The word sends a burst of warmth to your chest, a smile to your lips. You unlock your eyes from his bashfully, watching your own movements as you trail your fingers back down toward his hand and wrap them around one of his fingers, so thick compared to your own. You squeeze gently, biting your lip again as you peer back up at him. Here it is. Moment of truth. You tilt your head up slightly, eyelashes fluttering as you lean forward to connect your lips with his.

Except, they don't connect.

Instead he pulls his hands away from you, brings them upwards and wraps them around your upper arms, squeezing tightly. Your eyes widen, confusion flooding your features.

"Turn around and bend over."

"W-what?" Shock doesn't even begin to describe the ice cold feeling that now makes its way through your body, edged with something else - something you can't explain.

"Turn around," he repeats, his big hands squeezing your arms even tighter - relentless, firm - as he peers down at you with a dark hunger in his eyes, glinting black beneath the fluorescents, "And bend over."

He does not give you another chance to obey - you're too frozen in surprise and confusion to do anything yourself. Instead, he uses the force of his weight on your arms to spin you on the spot, shoving you against the work bench. You feel one of his hands move from your arm to your back, pushing hard until you fold, warm cheek coming to rest against the cold wood.

"Wh-what are you doing?" your voice is meager, weak, and you feel him wrap one of his hands around both your wrists like it's nothing, pinning them against your back like they're simply twigs in his wide palm.

"What you're clearly fuckin' beggin' for," he replies gruffly, and you feel his other hand at your skirt, feel the brush of his fingertips at the hem as he reaches upward to grip the band of your tights. Your eyes widen and instinctively you pull back, pull away - he just pushes you back down.

"I'm not-" you begin, shock quickly being replaced with fear when you realize how easily overpowered you are, how fluidly he's able to tug down your tights and expose your ass to him, clad in only a black thong already lost between your cheeks.

"Oh, you're not, huh?" his voice is cold and stoic, angry, "You think you can play games with me, little girl?" His hand comes to rest against the swell of your behind and you suddenly feel his breath above you, hot in your ear, "Tell me why you're really here."

You try to lift your head up to look at him better but he just shoves you back down again. Panic floods your body, mixed with the unmistakable burn of arousal. You feel yourself twitch in your underwear, feel a sudden gush of warmth spill inside the fabric as he begins to trail his finger up and down the thin line of black cotton.

"I-I'm..." You're at a complete loss for words, unable to articulate anything, unsure of what exactly is happening - or about to happen. Two minutes ago you'd been sure he was about to tell you to leave, practically kick you out of the garage himself, and now you're not sure leaving is even a possibility.

He pulls his hand back and you cry out when it comes down to slap against one of your cheeks, a sharp sting and burn you hadn't been anticipating.

"Tell me why you're here," he repeats - authoritarian, firm.

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out except a frightened squeak, something which clearly eggs him on even more. He spanks you again, harder this time, palm flat and wide against your pebbled flesh. The sound that slips past your lips is somehow akin to a moan of some sort, guttural and deep.

"I'll just make it harder and harder, sweetheart," he says then, and the pet name no longer contains the warmth it did mere moments ago; instead it's cold and detached, mocking. You're still reeling when his hand comes down to slap against you again, even harder this time, and your hands ball into fists behind your back as you let out another low moan. More slick gushes into your panties and it's impossible to deny that somehow, despite the fear twinging in your heart, you're so fucking turned on.

"M-my friends," you gasp out, and you feel him squeeze your abused ass cheek which you're sure is already dark with his handprint, "They- they dared me to see how far I c-could get with you."

He lets your words sink in for a moment, squeezing again - tighter, so tight that it hurts. You whimper against the wooden top of the work bench, legs shaking.

"So you came here to get fucked," he finally states.

"N-no, I swear, I-"

"Wasn't a question," he interrupts, and you feel his other hand tighten around your wrists, "You came here to get fucked so you're gonna get fucked, end of story."

"But I-"

Without any warning he suddenly pushes himself up against you from behind, the rough denim of his jeans pressing deliciously up against your exposed skin. You gasp, eyes going wide when you feel the long, thick shape of his dick between your cheeks, huge and hard. He holds it there, his free hand coming down to lay flat beside your head against the work bench.

"You feel that?" he asks, voice suddenly quieter but still full of that ice cold malice, "You feel that cock?"

Fuck. "Y-yes," you breathe, "I feel it."

"You have five seconds before i close this door and stuff you full, understand?" Suddenly all you can hear is the heavy sound of his breathing, the panting of your own, the thud of your heart where it presses painfully against the wood. He's giving you an out.

"I- I-" you swallow, brows furrowing when you feel his hand slacken around your wrists. You could pull away now, yank yourself out of his grasp and sprint down his driveway, return to your friends. Forget this ever even happened.

It's your last chance.

"Five," he begins, breath warm against your face.

Run. Just run.

"Four."

But why?

"Three."

Why don't you want to run?

"Two."

Why do you want to stay?

"One."

He pulls his hand up from the work bench and hits a button on the wall, eliciting a loud mechanical noise to your left as the garage door starts to close. You watch with wide eyes as your chance to leave slowly vanishes inch by inch until it's gone completely, and yet no part of you itches to run, to escape. There's nothing to escape from, you realize. You want to be here. You want him to fuck you.

As the reality of your situation starts to settle, his grip around your wrists tightens once again. You sense him reaching up somewhere above you, and you suddenly feel the harsh texture of what feels like thickly braided rope wrapping around your wrists. The realization that he's restraining you sends another pool of release into your panties, another faint squeak past your lips.

"You gonna stay still for me?" he asks, voice dark and clearer now in the silence of his garage, no sounds of rain or cars to disrupt you, "Huh? You gonna be a good girl?"

"Yes," you breathe, nodding against the wood.

"Say it."

"I'm gonna stay still," you promise, "I'm gonna be a good girl."

He finishes knotting the rope around your wrists, tight and uncomfortable against your skin. He pushes his groin up against your ass again, brings his now free hands downward to reach through your cardigan and squeeze your breasts. Your nipples are hard beneath the soft cotton of your shirt, no bra between the layer of material and your bare skin; he tweaks them in his fingers and you shudder.

"These are mine," he whispers in your ear, scruff nuzzling against the side of your face, "These tits, this ass," he drops his hands from your breasts to squeeze your cheeks again, "and this pussy." His hand drops to the puffy shape of your lips beneath your thong and you whimper. "Understand?"

"Y-yes."

"Yes, what?"

You're not sure what he's asking for, what he wants you to say. You take a guess. "Yes, sir," you whisper, and you feel him smile against your ear. Bingo.

He doesn't bother to pull your tights down the rest of the way; instead, he rips them, pulling them apart in his big hands and reaching inside to curl his index finger around the thin strip of your thong. He pulls it - hard - and it rips from you with a rough tearing sound and a painful sting, eliciting a loud gasp from you which he rewards with another spank.

You feel his finger slip between your lips for a moment, gathering some of your release before he pulls it away. "Juicy fuckin' pussy," he mutters, and you hear the sound of his zipper coming undone, vulgar in the quiet room. You have no time to ask about protection, no time to even really process how quickly this is already happening, before you feel the warm tip of his cock pushing against your twitching hole. You gasp again, hands furling under the ropes.

"Shh," he quiets you, stilling for a second, "Don't squirm."

"Sorry," you whisper, tears pricking in your eyes, "I'm sorry."

"What're you sorry for?" he murmurs, feeding his cock to you in small increments, reveling in the noises falling past your lips. It's so fucking big, bigger than you'd anticipated - it feels like he's spearing you, splitting you in half, especially without much preparation. It stretches and burns, but the warmth of it, the way it pulses as it invades your body, just makes you gush even more. "Hm?" he continues, "What're you sorry for? You sorry for squirmin' or sorry you pissed me off?"

Your eyes roll back as he bottoms out, his pubic hair pressing coarsely against your pussy lips, heavy balls firm to your ass. You try to speak but it's hard to get the words out when you're so full, the wide tip of him pushing into your cervix.

"You a virgin?" he asks you then, voice changing for a moment, like for the briefest of seconds he's wondering whether he should have gone slower.

You shake your head quickly, "N-no," you manage to gasp out.

"Feel like a fuckin' virgin," he grunts, pulling out and then immediately slamming back inside. Your head bumps against the work bench, a groan falling from your mouth as he makes a home inside you. "Christ," he mutters, "Tight little thing. You feel me in your stomach, baby?"

You're not sure he wants you to answer, but it becomes clear when his hand slaps down on your ass cheek again and you cry out.

"Yes," you moan, then quickly amend, "Yes, sir."

"S'what happens when you come in here, actin' like a little slut," he suddenly reaches for your cardigan and yanks it off - it catches on your restrained hands and he simply rips it and tosses it to the floor, "But then again, you're not actin', are you? Huh? What's a slut like you doin' wearin' all these fuckin' layers?"

"I'm s-sorry," you repeat, already mourning the loss of your favorite sweater, now ripped to shreds at your feet.

"Sorry's not good enough, little girl," he breathes, thrusting into you again so hard that you yelp, cheek still pressed into the splintered wood of the work bench, "That's it, fuckin' take it."

He fucks you without any reservations, any inhibitions. Your legs shake and you can hear the slap of his hairy thighs against yours as he pounds into you relentlessly. You have no choice but to take it, the stretch of his huge cock becoming less painful the more he gives it to you over and over, the room full of the wet squelch of your pussy gripping him. He grabs your hips, fingertips digging into your bare flesh as he takes and takes; you wish you could see his face, wish you could see how he looks when he's fucking you, getting his pleasure. The thought makes you whine, tears streaming down your face as your body moves back and forth against the work bench.

It feels fucking amazing. You've never had a cock as big as his before, never been fucked so deep and so hard, like he doesn't care if he breaks you, makes you cry. He hasn't touched your clit and yet you already feel you could come from just this, just the relentless push and pull of his dick inside you. Unfortunately, just as soon as you feel your orgasm starting to build, he pulls out. Your brow furrows.

"Stand up," he orders, "and turn around."

You obey, relief overtaking you as soon as you're no longer bent at such an awkward angle. The moment you turn to face him you barely get a look at his face before he's reaching down and tearing your shirt in half - easily, like it's nothing. You don't even have time to wonder how the hell you're gonna get home with all your clothes ripped to shreds when his mouth is suddenly wrapped around your left nipple, and you whine at the sensation. You peer down at him, biting your lip and watching his wet lips suckle around the hard bud, beard scratching deliciously against your skin. Your hand aches to cup the back of his head but it's still pinned behind your back, tied tight beneath the rope.

"Fuck," you whimper, and his dark gaze flashes up to meet yours as he sucks, the hint of a smirk on his lips when he pulls away.

"Feels good, does it?" he asks, and seeing the words come out of his mouth is somehow more sinful than when you could only hear them, "You like bein' used?"

You nod almost immediately despite never having experienced anything like this in your life - though admittedly you've undeniably wanted to experience this, ached to have somebody take control, tell you what to do, make you do things. It's like you've somehow known subconsciously all summer that Joel Miller could be that person for you, despite never having said two words to him. It was just a feeling, an instinct, and that dream...

"Yeah?" he continues, and suddenly his hand comes up to cup your pussy, thumb finally pressing against your clit. You cry out, tears still trickling down your cheeks. "Said you were in college, right? You take any college dick up here? Be honest now."

You nod again, "Y-yes."

"How many?"

"I... I don't know," you breathe. It's the truth, and you can tell as soon as the words leave your mouth that it does something to him. He presses his thumb harder against your clit, two fingers slipping up inside of you.

"'Course you don't know," he murmurs, pushing them as deep inside as he can, making you whimper, "You wouldn't know, would you?"

Your thighs tighten together - squeezing his hand - and he just smirks again, curving his fingers and making you moan. Your lower back digs into the work bench as he stands, pushes you up against it and peers down into your eyes again with a hunger that's only getting worse. You assess his expression, the pout of his lips as he fucks you with his fingers, the focused lines creased into his forehead. So fucking handsome.

"You're not a good girl," he breathes, nose brushing yours, "Knew it from the day I saw you. You're just made for takin' cock. Am I right?"

"Yes," you whisper, nodding shakily and bumping your lips up toward his - he pulls away again and you can't help but feel disappointed, aching to feel his lips against yours.

"Tonight you're made to take my cock, that clear?" he continues, and you watch as his other hand travels downward to wrap around it - just out of your periphery. He's too close to you, crowded so much in your space that you know he won't like it if you break eye contact. You can tell by his arm movements that he's pumping himself at the same speed he's fucking you with his fingers, inhaling deeply, "I'm gonna ruin you, sweetheart. Whether you like it or not."

"Y-yes sir," you whisper, voice squeaking when he speeds up his fingers and pumps them in and out with fervor, thumb rubbing furiously against your clit. Yet again he brings you almost to the edge and then removes his hand completely, stepping back with a low chuckle when you whimper pathetically.

Your disappointment only lasts a moment because now you can see him, see the girthy length of him that's already been inside of you hanging out of his zipper, glistening with your slick. He's huge, tip dark and intrusive, beads of his own arousal dripping from the slit; your mouth waters. His eyes cast down to where you're looking and he smiles, dark and mocking.

"Never gonna see another dick like this, darlin'," he breathes, "So you better start showin' your appreciation." His eyes glint. "Kneel."

You're practically already on your way to kneeling before he says it, in awe of the sheer girth and shape of him. The second your bare knees hit the cold floor he's crowding you again, hand coming around to hold the back of your head.

"Open wide, baby," he murmurs.

Your jaw drops and he plunges inside your mouth quickly and seamlessly, making you gasp around his length as your eyes widen. You can't breathe, looking up at him with more tears already fogging your vision as he immediately slips into the depths of your throat with no hesitation. You gag, eyes bulging as you attempt to swallow around the intrusion, find your breath, but it's impossible.

"Yeah," he breathes, both of his hands cradling your face and holding you still as he lets his cock sit unmoving in your throat, "Yeah, that's it. That's what you're made for."

He only holds it there for a few seconds but by the time he pulls it out you're gasping for air, coughing and spluttering as tears stream relentlessly down your cheeks. He keeps cradling your face, tuts to himself as you try to get your breath back. The head of his cock bumps softly against your bottom lip.

"Not off to a great start, are we?" he murmurs, "Let's try again."

He pushes his cock past your lips again and you try your hardest not to gag, a little more prepared this time. The pulsing head of his cock situates itself firmly in your throat, the pubic hair at the base tickling your nose while his balls bounce against your chin. You look up at him with pleading eyes, watch as he stares down at you with nothing but malice in his expression, contempt. You're just a hole to him, nothing more.

He pulls out and lets you gasp another breath before he's shoving himself back in, hands moving back to hold your head firmly as he fucks your face. You don't move - you don't need to; he does all the work as he drags your head back and forth along his cock, hitting the back of your throat over and over again until you're gagging and practically sobbing for air. Your knees ache against the concrete floor and you know you'll have bruises tomorrow, know that you probably won't be able to swallow properly for a few days either. Somehow, you don't really care.

When he's gotten his fill he yanks himself out and allows you to catch your breath for a few seconds, throat constricting around nothing while you choke and gasp.

"Stand up," he orders, and even though you're still gasping for air you manage to bring yourself back up, legs shaking. Saliva drips down your chin, drooling from your mouth in long strands, but with your hands tied you can't make any attempt to clean yourself up - he probably wouldn't want you to anyway.

His wide palms are suddenly on your hips, and he picks you up and places you on top of the work bench with minimal effort, arms bulging. You're completely naked now save for your ripped tights while he's still fully clothed, dripping cock still peeking out past his zipper, covered in your saliva. He steps between your legs and pushes your thighs open, then slips inside of you once again in one short push, making you yelp.

"Oh, please," he grumbles, gripping your hips tightly and pulling your bare body taut against him, head hitting his chest, "We both know you can take it."

It's not like you have any other choice at this point. He fucks you harder than he had before, now that he has easier access, can pull you so firmly against him that his entire length is continuously swallowed up entirely by your dripping pussy. His nails dig into your skin as his cock fucks up against your cervix over and over, so relentless it's almost painful. It's overwhelming how huge he is, not just his cock but his body in general, the way he towers over you and watches your expressions as he takes what's now his.

"Poor little thing," he mumbles, bringing one of his hands up to thumb the tears on your face, "Never been so full, huh? It's okay, shhh," his finger finds your lips and pushes against them almost mockingly, like he's chastising you, "Shhh, this is what you asked for, remember? S'what you wanted." You shake your head but he just nods, "Yeah, it is. You wanted that cock and now you're gettin' it."

Suddenly you're being lifted from the workbench, carried in his embrace with his cock still buried deep inside. You cry out, wrists straining against the ropes, itching to wrap your arms around his neck and hold yourself up with more stability. His arms come up to stretch along the expanse of your back, holding you still and pulling you even closer. As if on instinct your legs bend upwards to wrap around his waist, curling around his lower back while he pistons inside of you without restraint, without mercy.

"Fuck," you almost scream, feeling the rough denim of his jeans scratching against your ass, the heaviness of his balls slapping against you over and over again, "Fuckfuckfuck!"

"Yeah, there she is, there's that little slut," he says, a smile spreading across his face, voice somehow calm despite the fact that he's pounding into you over and over, "Nothin' like gettin' fucked stupid to sort ya out, huh? Needed to be punished, didn't you, sweetheart?"

You don't answer, can't answer, eyes rolling back as he fucks you with abandon. Of course it's not a surprise when he lands a hard spank against your ass, grips your cheek tightly in his palm and growls roughly in your ear, "Answer me, little girl."

"Yes," you force yourself to gasp out, head tilting back, "Yes sir, yes."

"S'right," he mutters, and you suddenly feel the pads of his fingers against your clit, rubbing at an aggressively fast pace that sends depraved noises spitting past your lips, "Come on that cock, tighten up that little pussy even more for me, baby, come on."

It only takes seconds for him to make you come, your eyes rolling back as your body shakes and writhes in his grasp. He doesn't slow his movements, keeps fucking you deep and hard as your legs loosen at his waist and you flop like a ragdoll in his arms.

"Chokin' that dick," he murmurs, "Had so many cocks in this little hole and you're still the tightest thing I've fucked," his brow furrows as he watches your face, watches as your eyes flutter open and your jaw slackens, "And what about your other hole, baby?" You feel one of his fingers prod against your asshole, circle the rim as he continues to bounce you up and down, "Ever had a cock in there?"

You tense up a little in his embrace, eyes widening. At your reaction he slows his movements, still holding you upright and allowing you to just sit on his cock for a moment while he continues to prod your asshole, "I'll take that as a no," he mutters, "Think my cock'll fit up there?"

"It won't," you whisper immediately, shaking your head.

He assesses your expression, eyes trailing up and down your face calculatingly, like he's weighing the pros and cons. Your heart stutters in your chest and you feel that fear from earlier slowly begin to creep back into your psyche, hands shaking under the rope.

"I won't," he states, and relief floods through your body; you relax in his embrace, becoming aware again of his cock still buried deep inside you. He very carefully prods the tip of his index finger inside your asshole and your eyes go wide again, mouth opening in protest. "Yet," he amends, smiling coldly at you, "I won't yet. Not today."

He pulls his finger out and walks with you to the work bench again, places you down gentler than before and peers at you with something in his gaze that you can't place, a curiosity that wasn't there before. It's gone in an instant though, and then he's fucking into you again without warning, gripping tight to your hips and slamming back and forth until you see stars.

"You thought this'd be so funny, didn't you?" he growls, looking at you again with that detached contempt, black eyes locked with yours. He brings his hand down and starts rubbing your clit again, not caring that you only just came a moment ago. "Thought you'd come here, have your fun, and leave again. But it's not so funny anymore, is it? Huh? Is it funny?"

"N-no," you gasp out, overstimulated to the point of even more tears as you squirm and writhe on the work bench, pussy aching from the insistent way he's pounding you and the relentless rubbing of his fingers against your clit.

"S'the last time you show up here tellin' lies," he mutters, "Understand me? Any time you come into my house from now on you're gettin' fucked, got it?"

"Y-yes," you cry, hands futilely attempting to ball into fists behind your back, and he shakes his head.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir!" you scream it, and just as the words pass your lips he stills inside of you, cock twitching as he starts to come. Your eyes go wide, mouth dropping open as his hand sends you into another climax just as he reaches his. Your head falls against his chest and you hear him groan above you, feel the way his cock pulsates and throbs and spits his cum in long and heavy spurts. Your thighs twitch and you feel his hand at your back, pulling you in close as he cups the back of your head.

You stay like that for a moment without speaking, your heavy breaths the only sound in the garage other than the rain now pelting heavily against the door. You swear you can hear his heartbeat.

"Good little girl, warmin' my cock," he murmurs in your ear, and you're still catching your breath, eyes closed, sobs wracking from your throat repeatedly. "Full o'me, huh? You feel all that, baby?"

You can only nod against his chest, wrists still straining against the rope as your toes curl somewhere below you and your body continues to shake. His cum settles warmly deep inside and your eyes roll back a bit when he pushes in further, like he's trying to keep it inside for as long as he can.

"Guess I found a new little cum dumpster, huh?" he whispers, carding his fingers through your hair, "I'll have to say thank you to your friends, or -" he pauses thoughtfully for a moment, "maybe I'll just have to send 'em a little message back with you."

You pull your face back from his chest, peering up at him with tired confusion. He reaches down and pulls out one of the drawers of the work bench, coming back up with a sharpie. You watch with fluttering lashes, unable to stop him - and not really wanting to - as he uncaps the marker and pushes your hair out of the way to write something across your chest, the cold tip making you jolt slightly.

"Shh," he murmurs, "It's okay, I'll untie ya in a sec."

It doesn't take him very long to finish writing whatever it is on your skin, and then he's slowly pulling his cock out of you. You whimper at the loss, thighs twitching as you peer down and watch his softening length slip past your hole, followed by a steady stream of his cum. He quickly reaches up and pushes what he can back inside, thumbing it back in carefully while the reality of what's just happened really begins to settle. You just let a man in his fifties tie you up, use you, come inside you, and write on your chest.

"Can't have all that slippin' out yet," he mutters, "Now, what can we use?" His eyes dart up to the shelves above you and he reaches up to grab something; when his hand comes back down you see the pocket flashlight from earlier, see the slightly flared base and know almost immediately what he's planning on using it for.

For some reason - whatever reason it is that you stayed here after he gave you an out, whatever reason you really came here in the first place - you don't protest.

He brings the flashlight downwards and quickly removes his hand from your pussy to replace it with the wide end, slipping it inside with only minimal resistance. You whimper and he hushes you, brushing his nose against yours as he assesses his handiwork.

"That should do it," he murmurs, then peers back up at you and pushes some stray hair out of your face "You keep that in there 'til you get home, okay?" His eyes have softened a bit, looking more similar to the way they did when you first showed up - is this the real him? You honestly have no idea.

You don't say anything, just nod slowly, feeling the anxiety from earlier begin to sink in yet again. How are you going to get home when you have no clothes? How are you going to explain to your friends what happened? How can you tell them - or show them - what you let him do to you?

These questions are clearly none of his concern. You watch as he backs up and gestures for you to stand with him; you do, with beyond shaky legs and the cold metal of the flashlight between your thighs.

"Turn around," he orders.

You feel him untie the rope from your wrists, essentially ending your time here - whatever it even was. It somehow doesn't feel real. You let them hang limply at your sides, feeling embarrassment flood your cheeks as you turn back around to look at him. He's watching you with a smirk, arms crossed - his dick is back in his jeans. He looks no different than he had when you arrived.

"Now get the fuck out," he says, dark eyes glinting once again under the flickering fluorescents, "before I change my mind."

The air is still chilly. The road is still wet. But thankfully, there are no cars.

You don't know how you manage to get home without anyone seeing you - hunched over, naked in the darkness, avoiding the streetlights, trying to ignore the ache between your legs and the icy intrusiveness of the flashlight still lodged inside of you - but you do. Your palms are sweaty again, heart pounding at the thought of your friends coming to greet you at the door, for the shock and confusion and screaming to begin - but that doesn't happen.

The moment you're back in the house you pull a jacket down from the coat rack and cover yourself, tiptoeing past the living room and waiting to be accosted by the friends who put you in this situation to begin with. Instead, they're nowhere to be seen. You hear the faint echo of laughter from the kitchen, hear the sounds of glass clattering and a fridge being shut. It's like they've already forgotten you even left, like the game meant nothing, and they've already found something new to entertain them, something better.

As if your futile attempt at getting a kiss on the cheek from Joel Miller is already something lost in the past.

And, you think, as you shakily climb the stairs and creep into the bathroom, tear the jacket from your shoulders and stare at your bare chest in the bathroom mirror, see the dark permanent lines that read TRUTH OR DARE...

Maybe that's how it should be.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #*

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bendyartistic · 5 months ago

Text

Be Aware of alexbstudios. (Part 2) TW: uh.. slur, sui mention.

Recently I've been requested by some people to make another awareness post about Alex, and what has been going on since I made my last callout. So.. let's take a look. I'm gonna be honest I have been paying little to no attention to him at all since my post up until this point, didn't think I'd have to.

Ever since I made it, Alex has been talking about me a lot more, and it feels much more obsessive in a way. I think it's funny but also pretty weird considering some of the things he's said about me. Eugh.

Anyways let's get to the stuff from after my callout to the present. This is just a rundown of everything, and there is some stuff I skipped since I didn't feel it was worth mentioning. Once my post had been made, a lot of people went over and said stuff to him (Though I didn't encourage that behavior, I only wanted to make my post so people knew about him, I'm not covering those unless it's important in this.) Little afterwards he made this... post. Erh, are you stalking me and other people?? ALSO don't say the r slur man, like what.

I find it really creepy that he has this list, and has notes along with them about why/who they are. Also why'd he spell my partners name like that? 💀 Next a little after that he reblogged someone's art and introduction saying this. (I don't want to really @ people in this, nor get anyone involved unless they asked to be.)

I still don't understand how Alex views me, but saying this in a reblog no less is so strange. Reblogging another post, saying this with it...

You're right Alex, I didn't need you in my life, yet here we are. Unfortunately. Besides that, no, 12 year old's should NOT be on Tumblr at all, even with restrictions, said restriction should be having the app blocked from their device.

I'm just gonna.. move on from that. Alex reblogged an art post, where he proceeded to @ over 50 people, myself included, saying "surely you can see the problem". I can't fit the entire thing sadly. I don't get what the point in these posts are honestly, besides annoy everyone. He's done it before as well. He got into a small bit of beef with a handful of folk not too long ago, which I got @'ed in at some point I think, didn't really pay much attention to it. Basically the original post is someone talking about art supplies and asking what one's other people use, which I personally think was a very neat post. Alex comes around though for some reason going off on nonsense. Hello? Who invited you!? (Again, censoring names cuz I don't want to get ppl involved.)

I'm honestly kind of wondering why he even showed up. He pretty soon after made this dumb post as if it could have some effect on the situation.. uh?

I guess mark your calendars guys for this date, where we have to immediately forget everything and forgive him! /j And there's this response he gave to an anon responding to his ✨patience✨ post.

Dunno, so far it hasn't because he's still talking about it, so clearly he hasn't gotten over it enough to let it blow over.

He's giving me those like.. stupid sigma edit vibes sometimes. Y'know what I'm talking about? Yeah. Also I'm not sure what to say about this really, but it's pretty funny.

Context for this next one: You and the person on your lockscreen fight god..? That's a weird one.

Wdym racist though? 🤨 Genuinely kinda curious about that. Btw wouldn't that make you like.. 9?? On a different note, I saw him previously talk about this "friend" he has going to a mental hospital, but I know nothing about it, nor do I really want to, however reblogging on an art post saying this feels off. Think the emotes are what do it.

Don't joke about mental hospitals at all, I shouldn't have to explain why. I'm going to move on from all the short stuff now because I do wanna start talking instead of making short joking comments.

Alex made this post, and so it begins with him talking about me again, eh?

Alex, you're already doomed. I can't put it any other way but from what I've seen maybe only 1 or 2 people even like you. The rest either hate you or want to avoid you at all cost, and I don't blame them at all considering you act like a fool and make everyone uncomfortable.

For my thoughts on you? I don't like you, never did. I just have to put up with you because this is the internet, and you'll probably never truly leave me alone like I once hoped. It's a shame honestly that you cannot follow a simple request from anyone. Don't think I don't know about your planned "response post" you're making, I'm still waiting for it. I don't know what good it's gonna do you though. Personally I don't care if you make one, I'd just read it to see the stuff you make up in it lol. (Edit: He decided to stop working on it after seeing this post lol.)

Enough of my rambling, I should continue with this so I can stop talking about him sooner. Regrettably I had to actually look up what this was about, I felt.. iffy reading it.

Saying gyatt right afterwards wasn't funny. At all. I'm quite upset now. There was absolutely no reason for that.

I was gonna be reasonable and say something genuine but I don't feel like it anymore, this ruined my mood. All I have to say is as much as I dislike you, don't actually do that. Sadly moving to the next nonsensical thing, he made a poll post asking this. (It's still ongoing btw)

Are people like.. forced into giving a reason? Like if I for example chose Bendy, am I immediately supposed to state my reasons? What if I don't want to, are we being held at gunpoint? What's up with that? I'm too lazy to interact with the post, I don't really feel like it anyways even if I wasn't lazy. Which one would you choose though lol I'm going to be serious now again cause this last thing is really just.. what the fuck. Palestine related 🍉, someone asking for help came to Alex, and this was his response to it...

MY GOD Alex. Did you really have to respond to that in this immature, insensitive fucking manner? Could it have not been in one of your stupid rambling posts. It should've been. I'm sorry to the person and I'm sorry I had to read it. You're pretty sick honestly. You need help.

That's it. I'm done.

In conclusion:

Alex is still the same and is still never going to change probably. He still shouldn't be here and I believe he really should get off now more than ever. If not I fear what else he might do next.

All I can really tell you folks is please, DNI with Alex, just leave him alone and block him. You're again not obligated to, but I am suggesting it if you want to be left alone by him. And hey, maybe you'll make it onto his dumb creepy list too, who knows. Alright, I'm finished, I stayed up way too late for this... I'm tired. Cya.

Reblogs are much appreciated, it helps spread the word, thanks.

#Please dni with alex.#callout post #call out post #be aware #tw #idk what to tag this as #ghost and pals #I wish he would just go away already.#ugh #thanks to the people who suggested I give an update though.#my post

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dearly-somber · 1 year ago

Text

It’s An Affectionate Thing | j.jk

-> pairing. wolf shifter!jungkook x human!reader (f)

-> genre. fluff, f2l (friends-to-lovers), pining, unrequited love, eventual romance

-> w/c. 2183

-> rating. 13+

-> a/n. this one was an excuse to write biting because 🤭

-> warnings. N/A

-> collection. mini-series

-> started. Jun. 30th, 2022 @ 18:21

-> fin. Jun. 30th, 2022 @ 22:23

-> edited. Jul. 5th, 2022 @ 00:46

-> divider credit. @mmadeinheavenn

Jungkook is… weird, to say the least.

He just randomly came up to you in class one day, sat his ass down on the edge of your desk, and started talking to you like it was a normal, everyday routine. Which it was not.

As you got to know him, he only got weirder.

If not for his clinginess (which was admittedly strange considering you’d never met a guy so touchy with a girl who wasn’t his girlfriend), you’d say his strange habit of rubbing his head against you was probably one of his weirder characteristics.

And it wasn’t even in a creepy If-you-don’t-get-away-from-me-immediately-I’m-going-to-call-the-cops kinda way, but more so a confused, what-the-fuck-are-you-doing kinda way. He’d hug you and not so subtly rub his cheek against yours, or he’d hold your hand and make up some dumb excuse to nose your wrist (he kept insisting that you were wearing perfume when he knew you didn’t).

One time—while hugging you—he pressed his face into your neck and just… inhaled. He hasn’t done it again after you unceremoniously shoved his face away with a warning not to do it again unless he wanted to keep both his eyes, but it was beyond weird and (dare I say) creepy (at the time)

He also quite literally growled at one of your classmates when he was being a misogynistic, sexist piece of shit and wouldn’t leave you alone. And sometimes, when he’s being a brat and moaning about how you pull away too quickly after giving him a hug, he whines. Like, back of his throat, puppy-begging-for-food kind of whine.

This in of itself would be somewhat bearable, if not for his friends. They were equally as weird, if not weirder.

There were eleven of them total, seven guys and four girls—all living in the same house near the edge of town. And despite already having such a large group, they were completely unwelcoming of outsiders, too tight-knit to allow others into their ranks. People had suspected that they were in a polyamorous relationship, or that it was some weird sex cult. They hadn’t ever specifically said that they were dating amongst themselves, and being the secretive group they were, they didn’t bother acknowledging nor denying any of the crazy school rumors.

You didn’t wanna bring the rumors up with Jungkook and make him uncomfortable, so instead you chose to ignore them and pretend they weren’t there. Jungkook tried to introduce you once, but you’d seen the way they looked at you—how they glared when you walked into the cafeteria with Jungkook glued to your hip. You’d come to the nifty conclusion that they did not like you, and as much as you wanted to make Jungkook happy by letting him introduce you to his inner circle, you didn’t wanna crush his little heart by being immediately rejected.

Coming up with excuses to avoid them was hard, but if they were anything like their youngest, it was probably for the best if you kept your distance, anyway.

How you wished you’d been able to stay away for longer.

“Jungkook, I really don’t wanna go to your house.”

“But we have to go somewhere, and you already told me that your parents don’t like me.” He whines, his big bambi eyes and pouty lips making you internally groan.

“That’s because they think you’re too clingy.” You state matter of factly, deadpanning your gaze to his arm, tightly wrapped around yours.

Grinning sheepishly, he tugs you in the direction of his housemates. “C’mon, it’ll be fun!” They walk a few meters ahead of you, shoving and pushing each other while talking, rowdy laughter echoing behind them. Your heart aches for a moment, watching them enviously. They look close…

“Are we gonna be able to get anything done? There’s like. Twelve of you in one house, thirteen plus myself.” You watch them retreat further and further ahead of you, your and Jungkook’s feet dragging as you fall behind. “They don’t exactly seem like the quiet type…”

Jungkook frowns at the (hopefully) unintentional dig, clearing his throat and hesitantly intertwining your hands. When you don’t pull away, he continues. “Just give them a chance. I know the rumors are weird, but they couldn’t be farther from the truth. I promise you you’ll like them once you get to know them,” he pleads, giving you his best puppy eyes. “Please?”

You sigh, nodding concededly and reluctantly letting him pull you along. “Okay. Can we at least do the assignment somewhere private? I don’t really think your friends—”

“Family.”

The correction throws you off guard, and you stare at him. Your voice betrays you, eyes soft. “Right, your family. I don’t… I don’t think they like me very much.”

He tsks. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. But,” he turns to you and boops your nose playfully. “If it really makes you feel better, we can do the project in my room.”

His room? Why his room? Why not outside, or in the kitchen, or anywhere else but his room?

You squint your eyes at him suspiciously. “What are you planning, Jungkook?”

He grins mischievously, batting his eyelashes in an effort to make himself look more innocent than you know he is. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You scoff. “Pervert.”

Jungkook giggles in response, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and leaning into you while not so subtly sniffing your hair.

…Brat.

Jungkook drags you upstairs to his room before any of his housemates can snatch you away from him, not bothering to listen to their rowdy complaints. He knows that they’ll overwhelm you the second they get their claws on you, and he’d preferably not scare you away just when you’re getting more comfortable around him.

He practically throws you onto his bed, followed directly by his overexcited body knocking the breath out of you. Jungkook huffs weirdly before pressing his forehead against your shoulder, hands laying curled up into your sides. Groaning, your hands shoot out to his shoulders, trying to push him off. “Can’t— can’t breathe—“

“Sorry,” he sheepishly grins, pushing himself up by his hands to look down at you with his hair flopping over his head. You catch your breath, feeling the immense relief at not having his full weight on top of you, too preoccupied to notice the compromising position you’re in—him hovering over you with his knees slotted on either side of your waist. Jungkook looks concerned when he asks, “Can you breathe yet?”

“Yeah… yeah, I can breathe. Can you uh,” your cheeks burn and you avoid meeting his eyes, your hands sliding from his shoulders. “Can you get off, please?”

“Oh, I— sorry, I’m sorry.” He gets off of you faster than you expected him to, sitting cross legged on the opposite side of the bed to give you some space. You copy him, staring at one another awkwardly. It’s your first time being in his house, let alone his room, and your heart stutters when you realize he closed the door behind you on your way in. Just great. You look at him, biting the inside of your lip. Jungkook has proven to be a very sweet boy, but he is still a boy—and you are a girl. Alone. In his bedroom.

You don’t want him getting the wrong idea.

“Listen, Kook…” He perks up, listening to you attentively. Taking an encouraging breath, you continue. “I hope you didn’t choose your room for ulterior motives, because I came here for school. I’m not going to have sex with you—“

Jungkook’s whole face turns red, frantically shaking his hands in front of you. “No no no! No, I’d never—I don’t, I don’t see you that way, I promise!” He rambles, scooting away from you in an effort to convince you that that’s not why he chose this location. Grinning stupidly, you reach over and pat his knee.

“Okay, okay, I believe you. Relax.” He pouts, crossing his arms over his chest and sulking. He just wanted to make you feel more comfortable… he didn’t think you’d take it the wrong way. Rolling your eyes at the cute pout on his lips, you ruffle his hair playfully. “Let’s get started, hm?”

You turn your back to him so that you can reach into your bag and grab your things, rifling through the books inside to look for your laptop. What you don’t notice is the weight of Jungkook’s eyes on your back—watching you and admiring the annoyed pout on your lips with a soft smile.

“Found it! So,” you cross your legs and situate the keyboard in your lap. “What do you wanna start with first? I was thinking we could start with, uhm…” Your voice dies in the back of your throat when you catch sight of Jungkook’s dazed, strangely affectionate half-smile. You clear your throat, cheeks heating up because why the fuck is he looking at you like you’ve hung the stars?

“Uhm… Jungkook?”

“Right, sorry,” he shakes his head as if to bring himself back to reality. “Why don’t we start with research first?” He’s hesitant, and you feel bad. He must think you’re going to say no.

“Sounds good. My screen is pretty small, though.” You bite your lip, thinking about how you could share the screen in a way that he wouldn’t hurt his neck.

“Uhm. I—I have… can you scoot a bit closer to the headboard?”

You look at him questioningly but give in to his hopeful puppy eyes. Sighing, you scoot back until he places a gentle hand on your knee to halt your movements. You try and look at his face but he looks down so that it’s hidden by his hair. “Jungkook?” You whisper, hesitant to increase your volume.

Jungkook either doesn’t hear you or he ignores you, clambering toward you distractedly and shifting in behind you. You suck in a breath, the hair on your arms raising. He slots his legs on either side of you, pulling you to his chest by your waist and hesitantly resting his chin on your shoulder. The closeness freezes you to the spot, and you swear you can feel him eyeing the side of your face for a reaction.

You exhale through your teeth and will yourself to relax in his arms despite your racing heart. Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook smiles, locking his hands around your waist and inhaling your scent as subtly as possible. You ignore him and clear your throat. “Shall we start with origin?” You whisper, unable to raise your voice due to the suffocating closeness, cheeks red and heart beating ten times too quickly.

Jungkook hums next to your ear. If he notices your racing heartbeat, he doesn’t comment on it.

Y/N yawns tiredly, apologizing in a half-asleep voice.

“Just take a break,” Jungkook pleads, trying to move her arms out of the way and biting back a growl of frustration when she swats his hands away from the screen.

“I’m fine.”

“You can barely keep your eyes open!” He reasons, pulling away to look at the back of her head. Stupid, stubborn girl. “Come on, Y/N. We’ve been working on this for hours. Let’s just take a quick break. Please?”

“We’re so close to finishing…” She sounds dejected, another yawn leaving her lips. Jungkook frowns at her, trying to figure out how to get her to put away her stupid computer and just take a nap, for gods sake. Knowing that this is the only course of action that’ll direct her attention to something other than this stupid class assignment, he determinedly leans forward.

You yelp in surprise, turning to Jungkook with wide eyes. Did he just—

“Did you just fucking bite me?” Your voice is filled with newfound life and energy, jaw hanging as you look down at your shoulder. Looking at him, you find no remorse in those chocolate brown eyes… only a smug, satisfied expression.

“Yes.” He laughs at the horror on your face, shaking his head as if he knows something you don’t. “It’s an affectionate thing, I promise.”

“How is you biting me an ‘affectionate thing’?” You hiss, watching as he shakes his head, hair flopping around his face cutely.

“It just is,” he shrugs. You squint suspiciously, setting the laptop down next to you while silently planning his demise.

Jungkook eyes you warily and yells when you punch his arm, rubbing the spot furiously. “What was that for!”

“Would you rather I bite you back?” You snap threateningly, sitting on your knees to look down at him. Jungkook’s eyes widen at the threat, his cheeks and the top of his ears going beet red. You grin to yourself evilly, crawling towards him. Your eyes squint in a silent threat, prowling like a bloodthirsty animal. “Just wait until I sink my teeth into you… c’mere!”

Jungkook yelps, jumping up from the bed and running away from you while incoherently yelling that no, only he’s allowed to bite you.

“Why?”

“I— I can’t tell you!”

“Guess I’m gonna bite you, then—“

“—Y/N NO!”

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writingforatwistedworld · 1 year ago

Note

oooo ok ok ok

so what bout a platonic deuce, epel, and lilia with a gn reader that kinda talks out loud to themselves when they play?

like they say how much they want to be this character's brother, or how they bet this character would be a good parental figure, etc. or even when another character says/does something they don't like they kinda just, voice their opinion on it?

just their reaction to reader talking out loud/voicing their thoughts lmao srry if this doesn't make sense

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, violence, description of violence, obsessive themes, religion, war (if you squint)

Deuce Spade/Epel Felmier/Lilia Vanrouge-Player voicing their thoughts whilst playing (PLATONIC!)

Deuce is a calm guy, they said. Deuce is a chill guy, they said

Well whoever they are haven't seen him when you are around, behind the screen or not

This guy is just happy that you confide in him enough that you voice your thoughts to him

Don't mention that you are just on venting-you-thoughts mode when you play… Like seriously, don't.

He is always more than happy to listen whenever you are talking.

Could be about how much you like his newest card design but could also be about what you want for dinner. Idk? I would recommend something light like banana muffins with blueberries. It's very tasty. Trust me.

If you could see through the coding he would be like “Oh really.” and “You don't say.” or “What? Really?”

What I am trying to say is that he is probably more engaged in this “conversation than most would be

If some poor NPC “interrupts” (aka not heating what he is hearing and starting to talk) he will show them how fragile the ordinary human nose is. In other words, fist meet face. Nose make crack. NPC is screaming.

But on another note, should you voice wishing to be a family member of his, say for example his sibling, he would be over the moon

He is in lalaland, imagining how he and his younger siblings would enjoy their free time together. Heck, probably taking care of some chicks

Oh, and what if you were his older sibling? Like, wow, you would be such a cool role model! You probably wouldn't be a thug like him so that makes you even… cooler (?) in his eyes

Dude over here is having such a great time imagining being your sibling he is low-key looking like he ascended

But then he starts to imagine the darker sides of life

Like how his younger sibling could be bullied in school whilst he is stuck on this island

Or even worse if you are the older one of you two, you might start dating!

I don't know if it is funny or sad that he is feeling a sensation of loss over a sibling he never had

Like bro, chill. Don't beat up that student that looks similar to the imaginary partner you just made up in your mind. They can't be held accountable for your min-OH NO DON… Didn't he want to stop with this?

Epel is literally frothing at his mouth when he hears your innermost thoughts

Now now, I know this is creepy (like wtf get yourself together man) but I promise he is totally normal (who am I kidding he looks like he has rabies) and is also a totally chill guy (is it obvious that I am lying?)

Religious indoctrination or whatnot

Imagine, you are already isolated in a village filled with religious zealots, always hearing how great that person (you) is

And then they spill everything on their mind to you

Give him a day or two and he will be back to normal… if we ignore that poor student in the corner

Like man, you noted one single time how much you liked this NPCs design and the next thing he knows he is seeing red

It's kinda like seeing your favorite family member favoring that one annoying cousin who is related to you over five corners

Has a notebook and writes everything he deems important down… which is a lot to be fair (but let the guy have his weird hobby, ok?)

But then you mention how you wish you were a family member of his and oh my god I think he is this close to breaking the fourth wall for real this time

This hits home to him

Remember how I told you about his village's eight lines higher than this one? Yeah.

There had been others his age but they were little to none and his village is in the middle of nowhere so…

But we also know how much he loves his grandma so it is a given that he would cherish you as well

Also, his god saying that they would want to be related to him. Ugh. He is honored so much that it is disgusting

But I could see this isolation and certain closeness you only get with a sibling also being not so good for you

What if you like the other villagers your age more than him? What if his girly appearance drives you away from him? (Bro u probably more dangerous with those looks than without them bc no one expects you to be able to throw hands but go on)

This leads to more and more self-doubts until he more or less bursts and just turns into someone no one wants to be around because of how aggressive he is

Thank god for the fourth wall or else you wouldn't see him like his old, not-so-destructive self anymore

Lilia is… something

His interest in you isn't purely romantic. It started out as something more like him holding onto something so he wouldn't go mad during “those days” *add fire noises and screaming in the background*

So it's more of a “I BETTER BELIEVE IN SOMETHING OR ELSE I MIGHT LOOSE MY MIND” than “Omg I am such a good follower te-he” situation

Little to no one has had access to the Overseer's thoughts and he is just randomly hearing them whilst thinking about what to make for dinner

Like Epel, he is pretty intense when it comes to you. Difference is that Epels “interest” in you stems from a place of… let's say religious views and Lilias from “those days” *fire noises and screaming in the background intensifies*

But unlike the guy who more or less shares his height and is a cotton candy version of himself concerning their hair he doesn't write down your thoughts

Oh no

This guy listens to it like he is hearing the world's greatest opera singer perform live in front of him

Thank goodness no one other than the other Diasomnia students mention your ramblings or else there would be heads flying

What? Can't a guy hope to have some special link to his deity? God, you all are so cold. Can't you even try to see his perspective? (I am joking please don't do what he does your reaction is totally valid)

But then you once mentioned how much you want to be part of his little family and whoops- there went his sanity

What if he had adopted you and Silver at the same time?

Wouldn't that be the cutest?

Sebek is almost screaming when he suddenly hears *ahem* LILIA-SAMA cooing at nothing out of nowhere

You two would be so cute growing up together and he would be the one honored to be this close to some kind of reincarnation of his God

But- but what if he was the only one knowing who you truly were? The other Faes (Malleus and Sebek being the exceptions) can't hear you so what if… what if you were also seen as some sort of weird outsider like Silver?

Don't get him wrong, the Faes have never shown hostility to his son but there was always that certain distance, Sebek and his family being one of the few accepting the young silver-haired knight as he was

Suddenly Lilia feels a certain kind of rage bubbling up to the surface like he hadn't felt in a long time

Silver… uh… you better hide that meatclea- *coughcough* I mean, legendary sword from your father

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sunllghtt · 2 months ago

Text

Hi are you up for a messy scene analysis thing

Ofc it's this scene who do you think I am

I've been wanting to do this for God knows how long but I never had the balls and neither the words to (still don't) but I wanna try to properly talk about this scene. My primal instinct is to sit here and tell you how much this 30 second scene changed the trajectory of these characters in the next movies, how it made their friendship grow and develop and how much of a storytelling lesson it is (oh the so so deep understanding you need to have of your characters to have them say things so vaguely and still express exactly what they mean). I could also go down the emotional and subjective road and ramble about how much it means to me and how I resonate with it, but I've done that at least 837382 times and I think everyone knows it by now 😭 so!!! Let's get to the real thing

(I'm trying to keep it as analytical and straightforward as possible but please note that this is my favorite scene that's ever existed so neutrality is not really a possibility)

Rocket is a brat. He's restless, he's loud, he's always puffing up his chest and yelling at someone and picking fights with the wind cuz it was blowing in a way he didn't like and he's just an overall bastard. In this scene, though, we see him inside out. His head is low, his shoulders are slumped, he has his tail between his knees and he looks tired. He speaks quietly (curiously like he doesn't want anybody else to hear him), he's not deliberately insulting anyone and he's just..... defeated??

Up until that point I don't think we ever got to see Rocket like that. From what the movies have shown us he'd never had to. But in the past few days that led to this, Rocket had stolen batteries for no apparent reason (which we'll later learn why💀), ruined their ship, got literally kidnapped by Ravagers, blew up a creepy planet-guy-thing and oh my god attended his friend's dad's funeral. At least half of these things were directly or indirectly his fault and he knows it.

I don't think he ever doubted it was (we see it earlier in the movie when the Guardians leave to "The Chain" by Fleetwood Mac and Rocket scowls and winces like he either stepped in a pile of shit or got hit in the face by regret), but he still argued with Peter even knowing he was in the wrong just to keep up apparences or hold on to a little thread of pride when he was already feeling ashamed for being caught red-handed stealing shit he didn't need AND destroying their ship etc etc, and he just kinda fucked up big time. And I think that's (besides the general exhaustion of parenting a tree and fighting a planet and Yondu's death) is what got him so devastated in that scene.

Ofc Yondu played an extremely important role in that. He was the one to open Rocket's eyes, to give him some sort of reality check and show him the only thing isolation is ever gonna bring him is regret and bitterness (or, in other words, Yondu). Rocket is most of all hopeless and tired and just sad like that because he knows he hurt his friends. He knows he's chasing them away, that he yells at them, that he's always mean and that he steals batteries he doesn't need. He knows he's not awesome to put up with and seeing what happened to Yondu and his former friends probably made him terrified it'd happen to him and the Guardians too. He's stuck in this cycle of pushing them away with everything he can (and we could get into all his trauma regarding betrayal and death and literally endless other things but it's all very clear at this point) and he knows patience doesn't last forever. He's just scared, he feels bad and he's tired.

Now on the other hand we have Quill. He's also destroyed, he lost two fathers (3 if you count what Ego could've been, what he wanted him to be), basically relived his mother's death and had to watch literally every single one of them die. He's also scared and tired, yes, but all he has left is this unstable family of weird idiots who are learning how to show care and he's... pretty much fine with it. He wants it.

And when what Rocket's saying clicks, when he realizes who he's talking about, Quill, who's usually all smirks and teasing and bickering and name-calling, looks at his best friend like this,

because

(From vol 2 script!! Won't even try to comment on that last part before Quill's last line but I also really like that Peter just "shakes his head" over and over like he's just barely listening until he realizes what Rocket really means cuz it also shows a lot about his character. He's naturally a little slow and downright stupid when it comes to this kind of hidden emotional thing and he's also exhausted and depressed from everything that happened and STILL he stops and just. Sees Rocket, and sees Yondu.)

He's not doing well. He's probably sore and hurt and sad and miserable and yet he takes his sweet time to look down at Rocket, let go of his resentment from before and see right through him. In order to understand this scene it's important to remember he most likely doesn't know what Yondu told Rocket at all, he doesn't know anything they said to each other and how Yondu showed him they're mirrors. He doesn't know any of that. He just knows his best friend and his father and how much they resemble each other. He puts up with Rocket's bullshit because he knows how to deal with Yondu.

He could've just ignored him or pretended he didn't know what he was talking about. He could've made Rocket swallow his pride and "teach him a lesson" by making him say what he means without hiding behind metaphors and vague self-deprecation, because Rocket was probably vulnerable and defeated enough to be honest in that moment. And yet, he just looks at his friend, who's usually a loud and mean and restless brat, and is now staring at the floor with his ears droopy and his tail between his knees, and just says, as a form of reassurance and tenderness that's just as subtle and shy as Rocket's insecurities, "Well, of course not."

(The kind and soft and sweet DETERMINATION on his face tho like no!!! No we're not ditching you even though you suck I'm!!! Serious!!!!)

#this is #this is about a 28 second scene #and it has eight p EIGHT PAGES???!!!!???#people dont say “i like this thing” anymore no they write 8 page essays abt it #also i love Quill's not just like “oh nah man”#its a full on OF COURSE not. like undoubtedly and unquestionably youre NOT chasing us away and we dont hate you #normal behavior of a normal person (who is me because i am very normal)#gotg #rocket raccoon #peter quill #yondu udonta #guardians of the galaxy #rocky and pete #BATTERIES!!!

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lynxiesblog · 1 year ago

Text

It’s been almost a year since my last upload, so here’s a list of things I manifested since then 💖

Hii my luvs <3 here’s a list of things I manifested in the past 11 months ! Hopefully this helps you stay motivated about your desires because everything will work out .

This is also inspired by @youalreadyhavefullresults

・an iPhone 13

・money being given to me just because — literally got 160$ last week in CASH 🥰

・straight A’s in all my classes

・people complimenting me a LOT more — like every time I go out someone is either complimenting : my scent (my perfume), my makeup, my face, body (in a good way and non-creepy way), etc.

・braces — I had my braces at the time when I posted my 3dolc X Roe challenge but I’m still going to say I manifested them 🙄

・more friends — so many people that were in my grade and class last year that I didn’t talk to became my friends. My overall friend circle grew bigger

・more guy friends — most of my friends were girls which I love but I wanted to have some guy friends too and I got some 🤭 many of them added me to their close friends on Instagram and we hung out a lot during school (low key miss them)

・multiple people having a crush on me — I don’t know how to word this without it sounding weird but yeah😭. I had 4 dudes tell me they had a crush on me and they were low key attractive but my parents are kinda strict so no boyfriend for me (yet)

・my teachers liking me / being one of their favourite student — one of my teacher boosted my grade on my final report card, I didn’t even do any work that could give me extra credit.

(Pro tip : always be nice to your teachers like it’s so beneficial on the long run. Even when they’re low key assholes don’t hold a grudge)

・my anxiety whenever I have to present a presentation or speak out loud — I used to be so scared whenever I had to make a speech or just talk in front of people at school but I my fear went down. I’m still kinda nervous but so many subliminals helped me get over it.

・HUGE GLOW UP - OH MY GAWD, you guys I became so much prettier since I was last year no joke. I’ve had so many people stare at me in awe and compliment me. Like two weeks ago I was going grocery shopping alone since I have a store really close to me and I had to take the bus (I don’t have my drivers license yet 😔) and this lady that I sat next to full on turned and kept staring at me. When I looked at her she just smiled like kanaosj’akah!/&/$/78[•\*£\’s pls 💞

・acrylics — my mom wouldn’t let me get acrylic nails unless it was for a special event but she’s been letting me get one every month and I’m so so grateful

・a better relationship between my mom and dad — they have gotten so much nicer to one an other like my dad started buying gifts for my mom. It doesn’t happen very often but it’s a start

・my mom’s health

・a fun summer — compared to last year this summer has been way more exciting, even though I took summer classes for the month of June I still had so much fun and I still have a whole month to go

・finding lost items — you have no idea how many times I lost my AirPods because I sleep with them on overnight and whenever I wake up they are no where to be found 😭😭.

・getting a second ear piercing on each ear — my mom told me I could only get a 2nd piercing when I’d be 18 but I didn’t feel like waiting that long so I manifested she let me get them and she did 🙈. I got them last year during the time I posted my last post

・getting a KITTENN and a CATT — I’ve been wanting one so so badly and I’m finally getting one

・getting more clothes — I already have so many clothes and my mom said she would stop buying me some for a while , but she still bought me some and they are on the way 💞

・my parents finally getting their dream house 😩

・cute moments between me & my crush 🤭🤭

・greener eyes — my eyes have been getting lighter and look more green

・prettier 😽 (iykyk 😭😭)

・toxic people out of my life — specifically my old “friends”

#111111 #affirmations #law of assumption #loa #manifestation #subliminals #success story #kitties #self concept #desired appearance #desired body #desired face #spirituality #subliminal results

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fallinforerling · 2 years ago

Note

may i request (from the prompt phrases) 2 - 8 - 17 with erling 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

the shirt dilemma - eh

A/N: As I usually say: ERLING BRAINROT. I can’t stop writing for this man, I’m ABSOLUTELY in love with him. Thank you SO MUCH!!! for 800 followers. Feedback is always appreciated! Love you always xx

ೃ⁀➷ erling’s taglist

ೃ⁀➷ erling’s masterlist

ೃ⁀➷ masterlist

: ̗̀➛ requested phrases:

2. “i'll never wear the jersey of someone who isn't my boyfriend.”

8. “why are you staring at me like that?”

17. “you have a really pretty face, have you ever heard that?”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“I can’t believe people actually waste their time plotting about this stuff…” You murmured more to yourself than anyone else in the room, still scrolling through the infinite amount of photos that you found on Twitter. “Kinda creepy…”

“What’s up?” Jack murmured back, kicking your leg with his foot. You raised an eyebrow in his direction. “C’mon, you just said something that implies tea. Now you have to spill it.”

“I don’t have to do shit, Grealish.” You laughed, kicking him back. “But okay, here.” You sat on the couch. “I was on Twitter, and I found some tweets with my name on it, which is kinda weird since I’m not a public figure so… I don’t know, I was digging on my own shit until…” You turned your phone so he could see it.

His eyebrows raised until they almost touched the base of his hair, giving you a full view of the funniest expression you’d ever seen on him since ever.

“That’s an interesting take.”

“¿De qué hablan?” (What are you guys talking about?”) Julián asked, entering the room with hands full of snacks.

“Nada.” (Nothing) You really hated Julián’s impecable hearing. He was always around the corner when you were gossiping with Jack. “Más bien dame comida, que me tuviste esperando como mil años. Me muero de hambre.” (Give me some food, you’ve got me waiting for like a thousand years. I’m starving)

“Luego no me pidas que te cuente algo, porque te vas a quedar con las ganas.” (Later, don’t ask me for any gossip, cause I won’t share any) He replied, throwing a bag of chips at you.

“I actually love when you two speak Spanish in front of me and I understand absolutely nothing.” Jack said after you grabbed the bag, not paying attention to the dirty look Julián gave you before sitting next to him. “Makes me feel like I’m back in Spain for some vacation.”

“I just love when she speaks Spanish.” Erling’s voice startled you. You looked up at him, who was just entering the room. You tore your eyes apart from his figure as quickly as you could, wishing that the heart eyes weren’t that noticeable for any of them. God, he was so handsome.

“You love everything that she does.” Julián said, giggling a bit when you shot him a nasty look. That little fucker.

“True, you’re the biggest fanboy I’ve ever seen in my life.” Jack teased, nudging Erling’s arm when he sat next to you.

“What can I say? I’m a man with great taste.” Erling shot back, leaving you all shaky on the inside. You had to prevent your mouth from falling wide open. You could never get used to that type of compliments coming from him.

It was times like these when you wondered if Erling had any feelings for you. It would be awesome if he did. But you knew it couldn’t be possible; he was playing and teasing around. You were just friends.

“If you’re going to flirt with her, I’m leaving.” Jack said, openly enjoying how uncomfortable you were getting from all the attention. “But also? We could manage to see if we can get this little brat to come to the next game, eh?”

“No, no! Don’t start with that. I already said no a million times before.” You were tired of it. You knew, from past experience, that you would be recognized, and those stupid gossip sites would eat you up.

“C’mon, don’t be such a… coward.” Julián replied, always up to teasing you as well. “It’s fun, you should totally go. Emilia’s gonna be there.”

“But…”

“No, no, not ‘but’. You’re coming, end of discussion.” Erling cut you off, smiling widely when you looked at him. “Please?”

Aw, man. Fuck big blonde guys with green eyes.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

So there you were, two days later. Full of regrets and suffering, seeing how your friends (or more like enemies at this point) were smiling like little kids while you stood in the middle of the Etihad Stadium shop. Your arms were crossed, not wanting to give in two times in a row when it came to these guys’ wishes, but it was getting more and more difficult as the minutes passed and Erling’s eyes kept flashing you little looks that were keeping you on the edge.

“Why?” You finally spoke up, giving in to the silence that had overcome the room. “I’ve already accepted to come against my will. Why do I have to wear a jersey as well?”

“Because! Everyone that really loves the team wears a shirt!” Jack said, giving you a knowing look that screamed duh. “You’re our friend, it would be so rude if you just go there wearing…” He pointed to your baby blue shirt with a grin. “That.”

“What’s the matter with it? It’s City’s color, isn’t it?”

“C’mon, you’re not actually doing the most out here wearing a blue shirt, darling.” Erling’s voice had an effect on you. Dammit. “Be a good girl and wear a jersey.”

No, no, no. Don’t fall for it just because he called you a… Oh, god. God, help your daughter.

“Fine!” As usual, you just gave in once Erling stepped in. “Pick a stupid shirt so I can get out of here.”

You were hoping that you were being dramatic over nothing and that they’d probably pick a blank shirt with no actual handle on the back, but as Erling approached his own fucking section, you knew you were absolutely fucked.

“No! Not your stupid ego getting the best of you, I’m not wearing a Haaland shirt!” You wanted to. But it was the worst idea in the world. “I’ll never wear the jersey of someone who isn’t my boyfriend. That’s just a horrible idea.” You didn’t know why you just said that, but it was out there before you could backtrack on your words.

“Why not?” Jack asked, getting closer to you with that cheeky grin that you hated. “What’s wrong with wearing a friend’s jersey just for today? It isn’t good enough?”

Oh, you knew what he wanted to say with that little tone on the word “friend”.

“Because, my dear Jack. People love to speculate about things without actual proof. So, if they see me wearing Erling’s shirt while being here, they’ll think I’m his girlfriend, and…”

“So what?” Erling said, already handing you a shirt. “Let people assume whatever they want to assume.”

“Perhaps, would it be that bad if people think that you are his girlfriend?” It was the first time in twenty minutes that Julián had said a word, but when he did, he cornered you. “Just saying…”

“Yeah, would it?” Erling’s tone sounded almost evil as he slightly pressed the shirt towards you, leaving you no other option but to take it. “Just put it on.”

“I hate you…” You whispered, still grabbing the shirt with a bit more force than necessary.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You felt like everyone’s eyes were on you for the entirety of the game, which was ridiculous since you were the most boring person and no one— and when you said no one, it was really no one— was giving you a second look as you sat and watched the game like everyone else did.

The paranoia you were feeling was ridiculous. Never in a million years have you felt more targeted for wearing a fucking shirt that said Haaland on the back. You could only pray that a photo of you didn’t make it to Twitter, where a bunch of weird people were already making assumptions about the actual nature of your relationship with Erling. That’s why you were being so negative about wearing anything City or Erling related. You knew how the rumors started.

Like it would ever happen in reality.

“Relájate, boluda. Parece que estás acá contra tu voluntad.” (Girl, relax. You look like you’re here against your will) Emilia shouted over the fans’ voices, seeming entertained by your current state. Just like her boyfriend, apparently.

“¿Te parece?” (You think?) You couldn’t help the sarcastic tone in your voice. “Todo gracias al pendejo de tu novio.” (All thanks to your stupid boyfriend)

“Ay, ya. No es para tanto…” (Aw, c’mon. It’s not that big of a deal…) She paused, giggling. “Estás así porque te gusta Erling, ¿no?” (You’re acting like this because you like Erling, aren’t you?)

“¡¿Qué?!” (What?!) You shouted, feeling your face go deep red as the referee blew the final whistle, letting the entire stadium know that the game was over.

“It’s so obvious, babe. You totally like that man.” She took your hand, not letting you overcome the fact that someone finally acknowledged your feelings for him. “Let’s go.”

“Where?” Was all you managed to say, looking around to check if someone was paying attention to you. Again.

“The dressing room.”

Oh-oh.

Your eyes darted to the pitch, where most of the players were still walking around while exchanging greetings and jerseys. You spotted Erling right away; it was very difficult not to. He towered over almost every single person that walked past him, which could be funny if it weren’t for the fact that Emilie knew about your feelings for him. Suddenly, it felt so real. It felt like everyone knew.

“Move or I’ll have to drag you there myself.” Emilia’s tone gave the impression of being absolutely serious about the dragging part, so you started walking out of pure instinct.

You made your way across the sea of people that were leaving or lingering around the benches. You saw how it all appeared to move a bit slower as you followed her, who still had a hold on your wrist, like she was almost preventing you from escaping. You didn’t want to see Erling right now; the way you were so worked up about Emilia’s words was stupid, but you knew yourself, and it was very possible that you were about to blow everything because of the nerves.

“Breathe. You’re crushing my hand.”

“Is it too obvious?” You whispered once you made it to the tunnels.

“That you like him?” She turned to face you, smiling a bit before fixing your hair. “Not to him, I believe.” Her eyes looked behind you, a bigger smile appeared on her face. “But maybe it’s time to let you know that he likes you. Gotta go, Juli’s coming. Good luck.” She kissed your cheek briefly before walking away, leaving you nervous and shaky.

It seemed like being nervous and shaky was the new thing for you.

“What happened to the “no wearing a shirt that’s not my boyfriend's” rule?” You could feel Erling’s hands pinching the fabric of your new shirt before you turned around to face him. His voice was filled with that unique tone he only used when he won, or got his way around something he wanted. Today, both things happened. “Looks great on you, by the way.”

“You made me wear it, loser.” The only way to dissimulate the silent screaming you wanted to do right now was to answer with irony.

“And it’s the best decision I’ve made so far.” He stood in front of you in all his glory, clearly enjoying how pissed you were. You couldn’t help your eyes from going to his bare chest for a whole minute, biting your lip when your eyes met his. His smirk was so big, you wanted to punch him. “About to make the second one.”

So, so handsome. And so, so cocky.

“What? Why are you staring at me like that?” Was all you managed to say after a few seconds of pure silence, despite all the teammates roaming through the tunnel, clapping and screaming from their recent win.

“You have a really pretty face; have you ever heard that?” He leaned in, and your heart almost escaped through your throat. You couldn’t tear your eyes apart from his.

What if Emilia was right? Was this the right moment? He was totally flirting with you… Wasn’t he?

“I…”

“What about this? You wait here, looking as lovely as you do right now until I shower… And then I can take you to dinner so we can celebrate the win?” He whispered the proposition like it was a promise. At this point, you couldn’t even speak. “How does that sound?”

“Yeah, sure…” You whispered back, holding your bag so close to your chest that you could feel the handles burying themselves in your skin.

“Perfect.” Then he kissed your cheek, and you really stopped breathing for a few milliseconds. And as you were starting to have a little panic attack, he left.

Have you just… agreed to a date with Erling Haaland? Well, fuck.

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smilesrobotlover · 3 months ago

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Whumptober day 13- left for dead

I swapped today’s prompt with tomorrow’s prompt to make writing this easier :) but yayy! As you can see, this is gonna be such a fun one! :D idk how I feel about this but I kinda accepted that these are not gonna be written well.

Warnings for: Deadhand and a pretty gruesome description of a bite and blood ;) also a near death experience whoops

~~~~~~

Ammon was grateful that torches were magically lit as they walked through the caverns; it was very dark down there. Even with his Hylian eyes, he found himself tripping over rocks and steps that he hadn’t spotted. Poor Kass stumbled into walls and into the men trying to see in the dark, but his Rito eyes were not as attuned to the darkness like Ammon’s Hylian eyes.

“I’m so sorry!” Kass said for the thousandth time after he bumped into Ammon.

“You’re fine, Kass,” Ammon said gently, resting his hand on his wing. “It’s hard to see down here.”

“Yeah,” Benji jumped in, smiling at Kass. “It’s no big deal. Linebeck’s been stumbling along as well.”

Linebeck let out an annoyed huff. “That’s ‘cause I’m lugging your butt around!”

“Oh what? Am I too heavy for you?”

“Yes! How can someone so small be so freaking dense?”

“Maybe you’re just weak!”

“How about I drop you?”

“Don’t drop him, Linebeck,” Ammon warned, grabbing onto Kass’s wing, but the rito flinched and hissed in pain, which caused Ammon to pull away. “What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing, I—” Kass stammered, holding his left wing closer to him. Ammon frowned and glanced at his wing.

“Is your wing injured?”

“I—I–”

“Kass.”

Kass sighed. “Yes… I—I hurt it up on the mountains. I was trapped in a net and fell on it.”

“Goddesses, Kass, why didn’t you say anything? I wouldn’t have forced you down here!”

Kass looked down, sighing once again. “You and Talon already had so much to deal with. And–and then Leon passed out and… I just didn’t want to add more issues.”

Ammon frowned, rubbing Kass’s uninjured wing. “Oh, Kass. You shouldn’t have suffered for our sake. We want to help, no matter how overwhelmed we are.”

“I know…”

It grew silent between the men, and Ammon rubbed his beard, thinking. “There’s two of us injured now… I don’t think it’s best for you all to stay down here.”

Kass glanced at Linebeck and Benji. “But… we can’t leave you alone!”

“Nonsense, we’ve been down here for thirty minutes and have found nothing,” Ammon said, a reassuring smile on his face. “You three can turn back, there’s just a couple of more places that need checking.”

“Oh, are you sure? I’d hate to leave you alone,” Kass said, and Ammon nodded.

“Positive. I don’t want Benji walking on his hurt leg and I don’t want you carrying him with your injured wing. I'll meet you guys up by the well, alright?”

Kass seemed reluctant, but Linebeck was already turned around, hauling Benji back to where the ladder was.

“Hey as long as I can get Benji off my back, I don’t care,” he huffed, and Kass lingered for a moment before turning to Ammon.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine being down here?” He asked, and Ammon chuckled.

“I said I’ll be fine. It’ll take two seconds. I promise.”

Kass sighed and turned to join Linebeck and Benji, but Ammon stopped him for just a moment. “Make sure you get that wing taken care of, alright?”

Kass nodded and smiled slightly, and he turned to join the others, leaving Ammon alone. Admittedly, Ammon didn’t like the idea of being down there alone, but he didn’t like the idea of having to protect three injured friends if something were to happen more. From how quiet it was down in the creepy caverns, Ammon just had to hope that it really was a dead animal decomposing in the well—it certainly smelled like it. But the water didn’t show any signs of blood, or flesh, so Ammon really began to wonder if the man that recruited them was even sane. Oh well, as long as he had the money, Ammon really didn’t care.

He and the others had investigated three rooms, each one being completely empty save for a singular chest containing a fairy in a bottle (who put it there, they didn’t know). There were only two rooms left to investigate, and Ammon reached the first one, not at all being surprised when it was empty. There were jars lining up against the walls, but that was it. Not even enemies of the dead popped up to attack him when he went inside to check the jars. Fortunately, there were a few rupees in them, which Ammon collected happily, and he went back outside, only to nearly get run over by the floating skull, which passed him by as if he were nothing important. He let out a breath as he watched in shock, the eerily silent creature traveling down the hallway with its fiery light shining against the darkness. Ammon let out a breath and continued on opposite from the skull, relieved that it wasn’t actively trying to kill him. Though he supposed he should kill, it—just in case it was the reason for the well acting strange.

When Ammon reached the last room, he entered and was not at all surprised that it was empty. But when he stepped further inside, the door slammed behind him, echoing out against the silence and making him jump ten feet in the air. He spun around and to his horror, saw that it was barred off. There was no escape.

A shuffle behind him reached his ears, and he spun around to see a hand sticking out from the dirt. It was pale with mud and grime smeared all over, along with blood-red fingernails that glistened in the torchlight. Ammon’s blood froze as he stared at it, afraid to step any closer.

The hand remained unmoving, but so did the door no matter what Ammon tried. He knew he had to stay as far away from the hand as possible, but… what if investigating it was the key? What if this hand is responsible for everything? He had a job to do, afterall, and so he couldn’t sit here anymore and do nothing.

Ammon drew his sword and cautiously walked closer to the hand sticking out of the ground. His ears were roaring as he listened for any hint of movement, his eyes were peeled for anything that would pop out and attack, and his body was tensed up so much that he felt like he could kill something in seconds if it came to it. As soon as he got close enough, he let out a yell and swung his sword at the hand, but as soon as it made contact, several other hands popped out from the ground and grabbed Ammon before he could register what was happening. He let out a cry as sharp nails dug into his skin, holding him in place.

“Let. GO!” He yelled, tearing his prosthetic arm out of the hand’s grip, ignoring the pain from the nails tearing his skin, and he turned just in time to spot it.

It looked like a hybrid of a person and a worm, with dirty, bloody, and pale skin that coiled around its body. Ammon couldn’t tell if it even had a face, since all he could see was a long, white neck facing him as it trudged through the dirt, getting dangerously close. His blood ran cold and he thrashed against the hands, not caring how badly they scratched him up. The thing was getting closer, and he needed to get away from it. He was able to get free enough to shift his body, and to his horror, he was suddenly face-to-face with the monster. It looked like a person, but it was deformed with its lips peeled back revealing its large, filthy teeth. Its eyes were sunken in, only showing black shadows where they should be, and its jaw unhinged like a snake as it tilted its head, threatening to bite him.

Ammon yelled in fear as he pulled his arm, slicing his sword right before it took a bite, and he stumbled back, scrambling to the wall as far away from the monster as he could get. The beast turned away in pain, retreating back to the ground, and disappearing before him. But the hands remained, squirming and swiping as if looking for him. Ammon’s heart was threatening to break out of his rib cage as he stood in shock for a moment, trying to comprehend everything he witnessed. But he didn’t get a second of peace as another hand sprang up from the ground, attempting to grab him. He yelled out as he dodged, trying to run back to the door, but he tripped and landed harshly on the ground. At once, the hands grabbed him, once again holding him in place as the beast re-emerged from the ground, wriggling its body through the ground and pointing its head to the ceiling. Ammon pulled against the hands, trying desperately to peel the fingers off of him before the beast reached him, and he nearly got them all off before two grabbed his arms, pulling them behind him. The monster lowered its head and opened its jaw inhumanly wide.

And he couldn’t break away in time before it took a bite.

Its head lurched forward like a snake striking its victim, its jaw clamping onto his right shoulder and neck and squeezing. Ammon tried to scream, but a strained gargle was what escaped his mouth as his lungs were crushed underneath the monster. The sickening sounds of his flesh ripping and his bones cracking and breaking rang out in his ears, and a metallic taste appeared in his mouth. The hands let go, but the beast didn’t, and blood dropped out of both their mouths. Ammon hit it with his prosthetic hand in a pathetic attempt to break free, and finally, it let go. Just as Ammon was released, he weakly stabbed his sword through its soft, fleshy mouth, and the creature gurgled and spat as it pierced through its throat and neck. It crumpled to the ground, along with Ammon, and it grew silent.

Ammon laid on his back, struggling to take in a breath as blood poured out of his shoulder, neck, and mouth. His right side felt numb, yet it was on fire; he felt nothing and everything at once.

He needed to move, to get up, to find the others before his injury overtook him, but he found no strength in his limbs. Everything felt too heavy.

He was going to die. The others wouldn’t find him in time before he succumbed to the monster’s bite. Even so, he still hoped they would. They had to. He couldn’t die like this, not like this. He still needed to find his son, he still had his family to look after, and he still had his friends who depended on him—he couldn’t die in a world that he didn’t belong to! He couldn’t abandon his own! He just… couldn’t…

The corners of his vision began to blur as he laid there, unable to move or scream. His breathing slowed, and he felt the all too familiar feeling of his life fading. Though this time there was no one there to save him. He was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it. His eyes closed, his body and spirit feeling detached from each other. The last thing he saw was the dark ceiling, dimly lit by the torches circling around in the room.

He only wished that his life didn’t end like this…

…

Then the next thing Ammon remembered was staring up at the ceiling, where a frantic Linebeck stared down at him, an empty bottle in his hands. The man was panting, almost looking like he was going to vomit any second, and Ammon narrowed his eyes confused. What happened?

“A-Ammon?” He asked, his voice shaking and weak. “Are—are you ok?”

Ammon stared for a moment, trying to see if he was ok. His shoulder surprisingly didn’t hurt anymore, though he still felt weak and sick to his stomach. Wasn’t he dying?

“Wha’ happened,” he mumbled, completely out of breath. Linebeck ran a hand through his hair, looking furious.

“You—you said that you were gonna return and—you—you took so long and we were worried and-and we just—I went looking for you and you were dead and I didn’t know what to do so I—I just—“ Linebeck looked at the empty bottle in his hand and shook his head. “I used the fairy we found earlier to save you and—I didn’t know what to do!”

His voice was thick with emotion and he put the bottle away, taking in a deep breath before gagging.

“Oh goddesses—“ he choked, covering his mouth and taking in steady breaths while Ammon watched. The fairy saved his life, he came back and saved him… he thought he was going to die.

“Thank you,” Ammon whispered, smiling weakly at the man. Linebeck sighed and wiped his face down, still glaring hard at him.

“No more separating, you hear?”

Ammon nodded and shakily gave a thumbs up with his prosthetic hand, letting it drop as his mind and body grew fatigued. Linebeck slid his hands under him, and with a grunt, he picked him up and held him close to his chest. Ammon’s head rested limply against him, and he closed his eyes, knowing he was safe now. He was safe, and he was going to live to see another day.

He was going to see his boy again.

#sorry if y’all wanted to see the gang travel more I didn’t want to write it #whumptober #whumptober 2024 #dead hand #blood #near character death #is that a tag #smiles writes #strangers across eras

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zeephyre · 11 months ago

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CRITICAL ROLE CAMPAIGN 3 EPISODE 86 SPOILERS

RAHHH, SPOOKY LAKE MINI ARC!!!!!!

God. I fucking love you Matthew Mercer.

The back door is indeed a back door and while that is exciting, I honestly need us to table all theories.

First of all, Matt really did his big one with this campaign and all of the spooky horror elements that are scattered all over. The nightmare king, Laudna, Jrusar tbh, Uthodurn and the Savaliir woods, the creepy ass monsters and gjosts we keep running into, the GHOST PIRATES, the fucking shattered teeth as a whole, RUIDUS, and now this fuck ass lake.

The way Matt slowly built up the suspense and the intrigue of this odd abandoned town that started as just curiosity and location discovery to help us understand where in Exandria they were, and then slowly became an investigation into how...empty it was despite no signs of struggle or even a mass exodus to somewhere safe... and then the notes about the disappearances... how people were rumored to have just...walked into the water.

GOD IT WAS SO GOOD.

The way my heart dropped out of my ass when Liam used the stone to talk to Dorian (I don't wanna discuss that "I miss you" that definitely felt like an "I love you", I'm so upset rn Robbie please come home). I knew the stone wikldnt work because he'd already talked to Caleb (which !!!!! CALEB!!!!!!! AHHHH) but then Matt was like "you hear something outside, it's Dorian" and I just???? Almost shat myself when I understood what was happening.

It is...interesting that whatever is in that lake only affected FCG, Orym, Chettie and Ashton.... it can't just be that they weren't women because... that doesn't really make any sense so it must be something magic related? Because they were making charisma saves and the witches have either max charisma or amazing fucking charisma. (But so does FCG? I think? Whatever).

I loved everything about that battle and the lake but I especially loved Laudna's whole deal... Dread Pirate Queen Laudna fan art needs to flood my social media feed so much that I get sick of it (I wont). She's such a silly little guy I love her to bits. (We won't discuss she who must not be named except to say... she was kinda spitting during that whole later interaction)

FINALLY THESE DUMB FUCKS SLEPT BUT GOD. I WAS CONVINCED MATT WANTED THEM DEAD FR.

ANYWAY. JESTER. JESTER LAVORRE. JESTER HAS SENDING. SHE TALKED TO US. SHE TALKED TO IMOGEN. THEY’RE EITHER ON THEIR WAY TO THE KEY OR TO THE LAKE AND EITHER WAY I KNOW WE'RE GONNA SEE THE NEIN AGAIN IDC IDC

Kinda almost broke down in tears when Jester spoke to Imogen because I just??? love Laura Bailey so much??? AND WHENEVER THE OTHER PCS SHOW UP I JUST GET SO HAPPY

I know Jester is being a terrorist with sending rn, and I know she's gonna message Imogen constantly.

Did not want them to leave that lake until Kiki's group showed up the next morning but my hellians never listen to me so cest la vie.

(Also????? Fearne and Chetney romantic tension??? Let's discuss. Let's also discuss how bad Fearne wants to kiss Imogen)

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undertalebabbleblog · 4 months ago

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UTDR 9th Anniversary Newsletter Musings

(Here's a link to the newsletter if you haven't already read it: Autumn 2024.) (It's spring right now where I am...) (Eh, oh well.)

First of all, Tori blowing fire to light the candles, very cool, might have to draw that.

Hmm, that's a lot of a certain number... You know what, I don't even have to go into this, we all know what it's referencing.

An interview with Sans, heck yeah!

As I expected, it's a joke, but... uh... just me, or does it seem like it might be talking about something else? Not entirely sure what, but I'm sure there's already plenty of theories despite it literally only coming out today. In any case, it was very amusing and some classic Undertale humour. Also

Jeez, Tori, it's been years, you've already made your feelings about Asgore's actions clear. Give the poor guy a break. (Link to the full interview if you wanna read it: Sans: What do you think about the number nine?)

...Toby? Toby, what does this mean? TOBY WHY DO YOU MAKE THE MOST INNOCUOUS STATEMENTS THAT HAVE SO MUCH POTENTIAL MEANING BEHIND THEM ...This is... ominous, to say the least, given the Snowgrave route and the fact that Toriel might join us in the Dark World in Chapter 3... ...I'm just overthinking this, right? ..........right???

Toby, this is the Undertale fandom you're talking to. Since when have we ever been responsible with Sans or his AUs? You should know better than to trust us with this skeleton by now. *Proceeds to use cup for strawberry milkshake* ....Dammit, now I want to draw him with a bunch of different-coloured eyes... just because...

Never misses a chance to do this sort of thing, does he? (It has my real name in it, which I don't really want to show, so have some badly edited screenshots instead.) I have made butterscotch cinnamon pie before and it was genuinely delicious. Would love to bake one in that Toriel pie tray. ...I wonder how a fish and chips pie would actually taste, though...?

PERFECTION

I would buy every single item of this kitchen merch if I had the money.

*vibrating intensely with excitement*

Very nice, always cool to see unused stuff and concepts.

. . .

*Well, there is a man here. *He might be happy to see you. *What do you think?

...I overthink these things too much.

And finally, we get a letter.

My best friend's favorite number is nine. It's because there isn't a number that's higher. 9. 99. 999. 9999. If everything gets high enough, You become invincible. Nothing can hurt you anymore. Nothing can hurt anyone anymore. But isn't it scary, to think there's a highest number? That, if you made 99 good memories, you couldn't hold anymore. So I don't like to keep count of the flowers we pick, or the times that they laugh, or how many scary faces they make. I just hope we'll be friends for 999 more years.

(Couldn't screenshot the whole thing because it was too big, so I just copied the text. Here's a link to the original: Letter) On one hand, the spacing is kind of reminiscent of what we assume is Gaster. But on the other hand, it's not in all caps, and the language is different, and from what we know of the mysterious scientist (which is quite frankly very little), it wouldn't make sense. There is, however, someone else that would make a lot more sense.

*I'll go get the flowers. *I should have laughed it off, like you did... *Okay, [Name], are you ready? *Do your creepy face!

And most telling of all, "My best friend"...

It's. It's Asriel. IT'S GOTTA BE AZZY OKAY COME ON, THERE'S THE MENTION OF THE SCARY FACES AND EVERYTHING

...Ahem.

My hypothesis is that it's Asriel Dreemurr.

Aaaaannnddd... that's it for this newsletter! I needed somewhere to dump my thoughts on it, and that's kinda what this blog is for, so yeah.

A very happy birthday to my favourite game of all time.

If you have any theories or observations about the newsletter, I'd love to see them!

See ya next time, Pup

#undertale #deltarune #babble #rant #ramble #undertale newsletter #utdr newsletter #undertale anniversary #undertale 9th anniversary #undertale merch #deltarune chapter 3 #deltarune chapter 4 #undertale au #utdr #toby fox #rose's rambles

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thesnazzysharky · 7 months ago

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Analyzing and reviewing some more stuff in the SOUP update for SJSM

So, in my last post talking about the SOUP update, I missed out on some things that I want to comment on. Obviously this won't be as long as my previous post, but I hope you enjoy regardless.

Miscellaneous Stuff

The funny red gummy worm mfs have 3d models now and judging from this still screenshot they'll actually move like worms. I really dig this change because not only will it make the pink and yellow room more surreal when you step into it, but it also makes it more clear that the worms are... well, worms, since that wasn't really made obvious in the original version where they were just 2d red lines moving across the floor. Very nice.

The bones that we see throughout the mansion will also be getting 3d models. A small but very great improvement. Always thought it was a bit lame and odd that the bones were 2d images. Especially since the skeleton of the Romantic Victim was a 3d model. Now all of them are 3d and will add to the atmosphere instead of looking out of place.

And there's this pic of Ringu showing her sharp teeth. Not much to say other than it looks cool.

Before we move on, I just want to talk about Beef Demon's redesign again. In the last post I kinda dunked on the dude, but after seeing him move around a bit and realizing he doesn't look as skinny as I originally thought thanks to that little showcase video Hoolopee posted on Twitter, I think he actually looks pretty cool and unnerving. I especially like the texture on him. It kinda makes him look like he's made out of meat, something I think the original model should have implied more. I think I'll start to prefer this model to the older once I get used to it. I think Jenbobby explained it best. The trailer just did my boy dirty.

Specimen 9

So, another design that I'm a bit mixed on. My guy do be looking like a cranky ass old man who just got woken up from his nap, but on the other hand, I do like how they lean more into the "disembodied head made out of clay" aspect. He actually looks like he's made out of clay here, which is pretty cool.

But, he just looks a bit odd to me and isn't as creepy as the original model in my opinion. I feel like the neck plays a factor into this as well as it looks a bit too long. Decent model I suppose, just think this one will take some getting used to.

As for his boss form, the redesign here is... decent. I think he is too brightly colored and his head and jaw looks odd which makes him look less creepy to me, but it's a solid model.

Specimen 13

Originally I thought Specimen 13's model wasn't changed at all, but they actually did alter it a bit. Her hair is now slightly shorter and has changed a bit in appearance. Her fish body has went from blue to a more teal looking color and the end of her tail is a more triangular shape rather than looking like a typical fish tail. It also seems like compared to her original model, her breasts got a bit of a buff... nice so have fun with that.

Anyways, I do like this model, but I think the textures could've been done better. Comparing the models, her hair and the scales on her fish half look lower quality on the new model, which is odd. I also don't like how the end of her tail went from resembling the tail of a fish to... I don't even know what it's supposed to be anymore. Again, the model is pretty great, but it unfortunately gets brought down by the textures and tail.

Specimen 7

Wow... now this... this is a glow up. I already enjoyed Specimen 7's design before, but holy shit, this is amazing. The faces look like they're in more agony than ever, overall detail has been improved, and it looks more scarier overall. I don't know what else to add other than that this redesign is similar to how Spooper's redesign was handled. Do exactly what you did before... but just better. Move over Old Specimen 10 Eel Thing, because THIS is EASILY the best redesign from this update hands down. Specimen 7 fans are eating 100%.

Anyways, that's about it really. Not much else to say other than although it seems to be pretty controversial so far, I'll be gladly waiting for the SOUP update despite its faults I'll never forgive them for what they did to Bab though.

One more thing though...

You're telling me the mf behind the redesigns in this update is the same mf behind this? A-am I the only one shocked?

#sjsm #shojs #spookys house of jumpscares #spooky's house of jumpscares #spookys jumpscare mansion #spooky's jumpscare mansion #soup update

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messrsrobyn · 5 months ago

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for your anon concerned about tokenism which is a very important thing, it truly is. but what made me go easy on myself was realizing that fanfic is kinda not the place people should go for when looking for rep? now let me explain. it’s not that fics shouldn’t have rep, or that fic writers are exempted from having to incorporate it, because i don’t think it’s neither here and there. that’s not the argument we should be having. we should have rep in proper media, in things that actually make an impact in the world. that’s where the rep should happen and we should advocate for that etc etc. we also should be mindful of what we consume and how we do it and see if we only engage with cishet westernized stuff. but aside from that, if people are demanding from fic writers those things it’s kinda weird to me. like, my dude, you love the whitest, most cishet work of all times and that’s fine with you, but this random writer from xique xique bahia (brazilians will understand my joke) has to know all the intricacies of being a teen in the 70s in wales? or else they’re not doing a good work? like, maybe…! go read books that are diverse and engage in those fandoms too. a lot of HC are just like that anon said, so widely spread that just makes sense. desi harry is very dear to me. even if i also vibe with latino james. idk man, i think we can call off straight up problematic stuff. racist stuff. but if you go into fics trying to be educated maybe open a proper book and like, don’t expect fics to be a manifesto? i just want to see gay people kissing. and i think that’s the gist of it, i read books, i study, i educate myself so when i go into fanfiction im expecting to have a good time. i can also find amazing political stuff in it, but i don’t demand an academic work from writers. but some people are so braindead nowadays that the thought of actually opening a book and studying it too time consuming. so, anyways, yes please don’t be racist don’t be weird don’t be creepy, but also guys, maybe y’all should take fanfic less seriously and engage with other things outside of fandom.

I COULD NOT HAVE SAID IT BETTER MYSELF ‼️‼️‼️

the beauty of fanfiction is how chill it is !!! which is something that's been lost recently with all the moral debates (noisy jegulus haters, i'm looking at you and frowning) !!!

i'm doing a lit + pol degree, and that really shows the difference for me. yes, whilst i read these works for university i'm picking apart everything, i'm cross-referencing it with the politics of the time and how they've developed, at the back of my mind i've always got this idea of representation.

i don't with fanfiction. because that's not the point.

fanfiction is the a FREE and OPEN resource. we don't have to worry about whether publication companies find value in our ideas, we don't have to worry about whether our words hold as much worth as others. we just Write.

people get too concerned with the morality of fanfic, they expect perfection from people Doing A Hobby. and i get it, i get where frustrations come from, but at the end of the day this is a bit of fun.

and yes, diversity is SO important but at the end of the day, fanfiction is already the most diverse form of media out there. if you want deeper explorations, either write them, or take your frustrations out on the core material that fandoms are derived from. take your frustrations out on the fact that we have to add diversity to fandom spaces because it's not in original media.

fanfiction is fun, it's a hobby and i am getting So So So tired of people nitpicking and deciding what words have worth when that's the exact reason i criticise official publishers.

BONUS YAP: "i think that big authors needs to step up and-" NO ‼️‼️‼️ just because they have more hits does not mean fandom etiquette doesn't apply. just because their works have more kudos does not mean they owe anything !! maybe stop putting people who are Having Fun with a Hobby on a pedestal to be your moral light.

IT'S ALL SO FRUSTRATING IM SORRY. every time i open tiktok it takes a year off my life because it's not even FUN anymore 😭 why are we policing everything

#this sounds like me denying diversity doesnt it?#which isnt what i mean #i just mean like... fanfic authors are having Fun #and they're criticised for not doing enough #when it isn't their fault that they've been put on that pedestal #and fandom is already diverse #i think we just need to stop nitpicking and enjoy it #bc fandom is meant to be fun #and if we want diversity we need to create it instead of whining or take it up with the big people #take it up with jkr idk

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raibebe · 2 years ago

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Moving foreward

Genre: fluff Words: 2.457 Prompt: Samoyed hybrid Jeno x fem. reader

Warnings: unspecific allusions to childhood trauma, allusions to genetic modification

A/N: MY BABY IS BACK! And more baby and insecure than ever because this is set very early in the story and we get to learn some of his background! Bonus points for everyone who can guess which game he was playing. Also please appreciate the header, I ripped my hair out for streamer Jeno.

Hybridverse masterlist

“Wow, I can’t believe they’d just end it like that,” Jeno shook his head, falling back into his chair as he stared blankly at the ending screen of the game he had been playing on stream, “I need answers. This can’t be it. I know this isn’t it.” “We missed a few clues in the mines and the hospital I think,” he read a comment from his chat, “The mines were so creepy, you can’t blame me for that,” he whined, his ears flattening into his fluffy hair, “I was busy not getting that annoying girl killed even though she deserved it for being an absolute ass.” At that, his chat broke out in laughing emotes. “Am I wrong though?” He giggled, closing the game and enlarging his facecam for the viewers instead, so they didn’t have to look at the menu screen. For the cozy atmosphere that he was always striving for, he pulled up his curated playlist of calming videogame soundtracks.

“So… I kinda didn’t think we’d be able to finish so quickly, so I don’t really have anything else planned,” he admitted, “We could just jump into some other game real quick but I’m not in the mood for any shooters right now and I might launch myself out of my chair when I get jumpscared again.” He scanned the chat for good suggestions for a little while, his eyes darting over to the clock at the bottom of his screen. It was already quite late and the last half an hour of that game had been way too intense. So maybe he could just cut the stream early today and just get some extra cuddles. That would be nice. He’d very much like some cuddles. And maybe some ear scratches.

“Will you be playing ‘No home for us’ once it’s out?” He read out a question from one of his mods. “You know actually,” Jeno sighed, nervously picking at his cuticles, he knew that this question would be coming up sooner or later and that his answer might be unexpected. “I won’t.” Before he could even explain himself, his chat exploded with messages and confused emotes, the messages coming in so fast, twitch was barely able to buffer all of them. “Wait, wait wait, let me explain,” he asked, taking a deep breath to collect his thoughts, “I think the game is going to be great. From what I’ve seen in the trailers and promotional videos, it’s going to bring attention to lots of valid concerns regarding us hybrids and the graphics are absolutely phenomenal. But… But I think the story will hit too close to home for me. I don’t think I’d be in the right mindset to play this and for my mental health, I’ll refrain from playing it on stream. Maybe I’ll take a look and play it in private so I can tell you guys my thoughts on it at least. But I really can’t do this on stream for my own safety.”

The tone of the chat messages immediately turned from confused to concerned at his words. The game was supposed to be a heavily story-based game following the journey of three different hybrids and it had been praised to high heavens because of that. But especially the story of the female cat hybrid had made the hairs at the back of Jeno’s neck stand up just from seeing the promotional videos and the behind-the-scenes the company had sent him because they obviously wanted hybrid content creators to talk about their game. It was eerily similar to his story even though hers would probably be even more dramatic for obvious reasons of storytelling and would only have a happy ending if you made the correct choices throughout the game. And Jeno already knew that if he were sitting alone in his streaming room, he’d go insane with anxiety over every little choice he had made because he needed this potential happy ending to happen or he’d just end up crying.

“I- I’ve never really spoken about my story and how I ended up here but I know some longtime followers have probably a good understanding of it,” Jeno mused, sipping on his Redbull just to get a sense of comfort from having the stupid metal straw in his mouth. A coping mechanism - and a comparatively healthy one or so his therapist had told him.

“Yeah, my story sadly isn’t the one of the golden retriever hybrid,” he laughed uncomfortably, “No privileged background despite my breed. I- I actually grew up in a shelter for most of my life and I’ll always be incredibly grateful for how good care I was receiving there, the social workers really did their best trying to take care of me and all the others.” “Prestigious breed,” Jeno read the comment flying past, his head tilting in confusion, “What’s that even supposed to mean.” He could only snort. Unsure if he should be angry and tell this person off or if he should’ve just ignored the comment to avoid fueling the discussion further. “I mean I guess Samoyeds are on the rarer side of Hybrids but there’s more to it - to me - than that. Multiple factors go into adoption and- Maybe I should do a whole video about this. With a dramatic title and all.” Jeno cut himself short with a giggle before he could get worked up about it. Some people - humans - just didn’t know what life was like for lots of hybrids. Especially the younger humans who didn’t know much about the history and the continuous fight of Hybrids for basic human rights. And while it was seen as normal for Hybrids to attend college and school nowadays, they still had a long way to go until they’d reach true equality.

“Our family just took in a cat hybrid the other day from a shelter and it has been such a process and a half.” “I’m glad to hear that”, Jeno smiled, “Not that it’s been so hard but that you decided to take someone in need in. And I hope you’ll take the time and effort to try to understand them and learn if they need any special care so you can provide for them. I should really just make a video on this since you’re always so interested in anything hybrid matters. And you really seemed to like the last video where my girlfriend helped to test just how good my sense of smell really is.”

“I’ve actually thought about telling my story multiple times but- But it’s really not a pretty story. And I never wanted my platform to be about me as a person but rather about the games and just having fun and making your days better with it, maybe making some fun content about hybrids with my friend but that’s it. And I already know that if I end up telling my story, people will be nasty about it and tell me that I’m only doing it for attention. But at the same time, this obviously is a huge part of my life and why I am the person I am today and maybe I can do something good for the community if I use my platform to call attention to things like that.”

A soft knock on the door pulled Jeno from his train of thought, his head snapping to where you quietly slipped into the room. Despite the heavy topic feeling like a weight pressing down on his chest, he couldn’t fight the smile that spread on his lips nor how his tail started wagging. “Hi puppy,” you whispered, mirroring his smile. Making sure that your face was out of the camera shot, you stepped into the frame, letting Jeno pull you close with a grip around your waist. “Thought you might need some company,” you explained yourself, shyly waving to the viewers who were welcoming you warmly. “I’m okay,” Jeno promised, taking a deep breath to fill his lungs with your comforting smell. “You think it’s a good idea?” “Telling your story?” In lieu of an answer, he simply nodded, looking up at you from beneath his lashes. Smiling, you playfully scratched beneath his chin, always endlessly endeared with his puppy-like mannerisms.

“I think it could be a really good thing. To shine a light on some stuff people don’t really talk about and to make people pay attention to things they didn’t know existed,” you spoke your mind, “But it will also make you very vulnerable and I don’t know if you feel comfortable doing that. It’s- It’s a heavy topic just like you said and I don’t know what it’ll do to you mentally if you revisit that time.” “So you’re saying that I shouldn’t do it,” Jeno asked, his brows pulled together in a frown. “That’s not what I said,” you smiled, gently rubbing your thumb through the crease to make him stop frowning, “I know you’re much stronger than when we first met and that you grew so much as a person in such a short time but these memories are- they’re traumatic and you know I hate nothing more than seeing you distressed or in pain.”

With a glance to his chat that seemed to just be filled with his cute samoyed heart emote, Jeno took a deep breath, giving in to the urge to bury his face in your stomach, nuzzling into the comforting smell of your laundry detergent and something just inherently you. “I asked Doyoung for my files a while back. I have them here but I didn’t have the courage to look into them.” “Do you wanna do that?” You whispered, carefully taking his headset off so you could card your hands through his silky hair and scratch your nails gently against his scalp and along the base of his ears to relax him. “I think I do,” he whispered back, “I wanna do this. I need to know.” “Then I’ll be here to support you,” you smiled, resisting the urge to kiss the crown of Jenos head to keep your face off of the internet, “For every step of the way.” “Love you,” he mumbled into the fabric of your shirt but you were so used to hearing the words from him that you understood them anyways. “Love you too, pup.” Playfully, you pulled his chair off-screen, swallowing his surprised yelp with a sweet kiss. “I have to end the stream,” he sighed against your lips but contradictory to his words, he stole another kiss that you couldn’t help but smile into, butterflies erupting in your stomach like it was the first kiss you shared. “I’ll wait in bed,” you promised, carefully rolling Jeno back into the frame of his facecam.

Smiling fondly, you watched him stumble over his words with a pinkened face as he said goodbye to his followers. “I- Uhm- Yeah. Oh god,” he giggled, putting his hands on his cheeks to cool down his burning face, “Yeah. I- Like. Uhm. Bye?” At his flustered stuttering, the heart emotes in his chat were replaced by laughing emotes and only then did Jeno notice that his mods must have changed the chat to emote-only mode possibly due to the comments either being mean or it becoming so many, they couldn’t monitor all of them for his mental health. “We can leave the emote-only mode now I think,” he smiled gently, “Everyone, say thank you to our mods for keeping this a safe and positive space.”

“How dare my favorite streamer make me feel single,” he read out a comment, immediately feeling more blood rush to his face, “Well, yeah for those who don’t know or haven’t suspected, that was my girlfriend and I guess we’re going to try and figure out more about my story and stuff… And eventually, I’ll post a video and share as much as I feel comfortable. To… You know raise awareness and actually use my platform for something else rather than getting jumpscared by scary-looking creatures in an old asylum.” “Hmm, yeah, I don’t know what we’ll do on Friday yet. I have to see if Haechan and Chenle are free, so we can play keep expanding our base in ‘The Forest’ and get some more exploring done for once. Yeah… Oh no, I absolutely haven’t forgotten that Chenle betrayed me and left me by myself with that crazy mutant. I’ll get my revenge.” “So yeah, we’ll let you guys know beforehand if the terrible trio will get together on Friday or if I play something by myself. There is this new ghost-hunting game I wanted to give a shot. But until then, stay safe, be kind and don’t forget to stay hydrated. Bye bye, guys.”

Smiling into the camera and blowing a kiss to it, Jeno turned off his stream. Sighing, he slumped back into his chair for a bit, staring at the empty overlay of his streaming software. He was really going to do this. With his heartbeat picking up and his blood loudly rushing through his veins, he slowly reached out to the bottommost drawer of his desk. The drawer was empty, safe for two things: A thick, light brown file with his name written in Doyoung’s neat handwriting and the stamp of the shelter and an almost sterile-looking white one that just had the number 423 and a logo that resembled DNA splicing printed in black ink. The brown file didn’t worry him too much. Doyoung had already told him that it was mostly his medical records, court cases and documentation of his past failed adoptions. The white file on the other hand gave him chills just looking at it. He didn’t have many memories from when he was a young child - trauma-blocking his therapist had called it - but he could for some reason vividly remember the DNA splicing logo and it was enough to make him sick to the stomach. Gritting his teeth, he picked up the file to put it on his desk. Between all the dark equipment in his room, it stood out like a sore thumb. It clearly didn’t belong here. But whatever was documented in there, it was part of Jeno, no matter how much he hated it. “Tomorrow,” he whispered to no one but himself, pulling his lower lip between his sharp teeth. Tomorrow, he was going to ask you to sit down to look through the file.

Tonight, he only wanted the comfort of your touch. And if he was demanding to be the small spoon that night, scrolling through Twitter to see the cute clips his fans had made of your visit to the streaming room, that was between him and his browser history.

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