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hyewka · 1 year ago

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can i suggest a fic where beomgyu is helping take the reader’s mind off a bad breakup…. by fucking the living SHIT out of her NDJDNDJDJDJ

while i fuck you straight | c.bg

warnings; hard dom best friend!gyu, sub!reader, unprotected + pullout method, breeding kink, a spank or two, praise + degradation (mostly praise), slut shaming, rough marking, a tinge of possessiveness, friends w/ benefits, no romantic feelings involved (or are there?), ruined orgasm, princess pet name, beomgyus an insatiable manwhore lol, needy perv gyu with a lot of spit play, fingering, titty sucking hehe, literal messy filth and also barely proofread on my end

a/n; have to thank jazmine with all my heart for proof reading and giving suggestions, i love you so much 😭 @heart2beom this shouldn’t be a big deal as it is, but it is my first time writing full on dom beomgyu so it is this mini celebration for me and all the dom!gyu enthusiasts (i hope) 😇 reblogs are appreciated, keeps me going

You held your phone above your face, scrolling mindlessly through your socials, though subconsciously, you were really just awaiting a call from your boyfriend. Well, now ex-boyfriend. It's already been a week since you got dumped but no matter what went down that day, you couldn't get over him.

It was pitiful every time you jumped up from your bed at a notification just to find it was in fact not your ex asking to take you back and ...just a random spam email.

Beomgyu had his back against your bed, legs sprawled on the floor, also on his phone. You guys had run out of things to talk about when every conversation spun its way back to your ex- Seen that new marvel movie? You wanted to watch it with your boyfriend. That professor just got fired! You remember your boyfriend used to complain about that class. Gosh, you don’t think you’ll ever get over him.

"You're miserable." Beomgyu suddenly brings up.

You groan, as you repeatedly refresh your feed. "Gee, thanks Beomgyu. That definitely doesn't make me ten times more miserable."

He lets his head fall back on your bed, looking up at you through an upside down lens, abandoning his phone. “No, like truly miserable. I’ve never seen you so up and dry and…sober. Be young, live a little.”

You narrow your eyes at him, looking past your phone for the first time in a while. “…You talk like you’re 80 years old, about to retire and wallow in self pity, having experienced all there is to life. Thanks Gyu but no thanks.”

“I’m an old soul Y/N.” He says patting his chest, and you roll your eyes. Not necessarily refuting it, it’s his entire personality. “Where’s the chick I used to know anyway. The old Y/N would’ve been over this in a day with a quick hookup rebound.”

You finally put your phone down, staring up your ceiling. He was totally right. Who else would be right about you if not Beomgyu? But you don’t want to think about your old self, or you’d start sobbing again. Not like you were a totally great person, but that person wouldn’t be so stuck on someone. Anything but being the lovesick, doting person you would’ve made fun of just a year ago. God, he really changed you hadn’t he?

You kick your feet, whining, falling into the abyss of treasured memories. “You don’t understand, he was different, he—he was the one, you know?”

He ponders for a bit, room silent, staring at you through his soft lashes, and you think that maybe he’ll give it you; sympathize and understand that grieving was the entire process of a first love. The silence is suffocating when finally, he lets out a light scoff, cutting through it. “No, no I don’t know. Bet you just got soft.”

“God, fuck you Beomgyu.”

He grins his stupid grin that the situation definitely doesn’t call for, “You wish.”

You think if he wasn’t with you through thick and thin for the past four years, you would’ve definitely developed some sort of hatred.

You could visibly notice a lightbulb spark above his head with the way he immediately sits up straight. “Hey, hey wait.”

You tentatively watch as he turns his back away from you, laying both his arms on the soft cushion of your mattress. “I think I might’ve just had the best idea ever. Of the century. The idea of the century.”

“I highly doubt that.” You say, blindly feeling the surface for your phone already.

“Just hear me out,” he whines noticing your eagerness to dismiss him. “But also don’t freak out or anything. Promise me.”

You stare at him, hesitant before you give in to his doe eyes. Sighing, you say: “Okay. I promise I won’t ‘freak’ out. What’s your groundbreaking idea?”

“We should like… fuck.”

Your brows are slow to raise, the rapidness of your blinking at what you think you just heard—no, not think, know. Beomgyu’s voice, loud and clear with his diction, your eyes widen at the final click of it all. Before you know it, you’re reaching for the pillow behind you, flinging it at him with all strength.

It’s like he predicted it prior, dodging one… and then another as you throw all remaining pillows on your bed. Instead of missing with your last one, you decide to hold on to it, and attack him with it. His smug demeanor of successfully dodging everything just a second ago, dissipates as he takes cover for protection. “Are you fucking—are you crazy?!” you yell exapserated, more than awake with your wide eyes.

“Ya! You—you promised you wouldn’t freak out!” When that doesn’t stop your mania with the damn pillow, he decides to lay it all out with as much speed as he can’t seem to escape your wrath. “You want to forget him don’t you? I mean, you should! He dumped you, it’s over! Sulking over him is—Ow! So out of character for you—fuck—I promise a one time fuck would get your mind off him.”

Your pillow is mid air, and Beomgyu opens an eye to peek, hands still in protection mode—you sigh, landing a weak hit on his head before loosening your grip. You do want to forget. You’d do anything to get rid of what you’re feeling. But…

“It—it wouldn’t change anything for me. If that’s a worry. You know that no matter what, you’re my best friend.” He finds his footing, collecting himself, looking at you with intensity you could date back to just a few times over the course of your very long friendship. “Someone I care about. I can’t stand seeing you hurt and not being able to do anything. You know that.”

You bite down on your lip, staring at the familiar boy with his familiar brown bed of hair, and his familiar eyes, lips…How fast did he get you to actually give this a thought? Probably a minute or two. Beomgyu had a way with convincing you to do …anything. “I…know. But what if, what if I’m still head over heels in love with him? What if it doesn’t change anything for me?”

A grin gradually takes over his face, one that is once again, not fitting for the situation. “Why—why are you smiling like an idiot? This is—”

“It’ll change.”

You knit your brows together. “What?”

You don’t notice the way Beomgyu’s hand slowly inched to yours but suddenly, his palm was over your hand, squeezing it just a bit. “Having sex with me is a once in a life time opportunity. You’ll forget him. I promise.”

If you weren’t so lost in his eyes, as cliché as it sounds, you would’ve been completely taken out—probably a joke on his sheer confidence because who just says that? But he’s so …hypnotizing as you don’t even take notice of the ‘okay’ that leaves your lips.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” You exhale, “Okay. We’re adults. This won’t matter in a few weeks. Let’s do it.”

Beomgyu doesn’t hesitate for more than a few seconds before he was on your bed, crashing his lips on yours, a brief taste of strawberry lip balm, knocking a breath out of you until he slows down, testing the waters, then he stops, noses brushing against each other as he searches for something in your eyes, breathing already heavy, “Is this weird? Was that weird?”

You gulp looking down on his already glistening lips, and you nod. “The—the situation, not …the kiss. Fucking your best friend is an odd situation. The kiss…the kiss was good.” You ramble, your voice barely a whisper but he catches it anyway as you take notice of a small smile before he’s kissing you again, hands once cupping your cheeks already moving down to your tits, ministrating gently—every bit of his action seemed careful, too careful for what you know of the things your friends had told you in heated rants and swoons.

Half of the dictionary could be used to describe Beomgyu, and promiscuous was not an exclusion. You could probably say you already fucked him with the headache inducing details about what being with him in bed was like. Which is why you’re nervous as hell right now. From what you know, Beomgyu was… a lot. More than you could handle now, after an entire year of keeping yourself to one man.

“Jaehyun was worried about you. Was worried about what you’d do to me.” You blurt out randomly when Beomgyus’ moved to peppering feathery kisses along your jawline. He hums against your skin, then stops for a second to whisper, “He was?”

You could feel the smirk on his lips, opening his mouth a tiny amount to slightly suck on your neck at the process of your words—of course Beomgyu would get an ego boost from this. “Why?”

Beomgyu is practically suffocating with how little space he’s giving you, body flush against flush, your chest heaving the rougher he increasingly gets with his marking, his sly hand down to rub between your thighs, right at your core.

“Said you only wanted to get into my pants—h-ha shit, slow down, slow down Gyu.” You were getting teary eyed by his increased speed, friction against your sweats getting you wetter by the second whenever the pad of his finger teased your slit. “You know he—he asked me to stop hanging around you b-because—”

None of this was new to Beomgyu, your past boyfriends have always been worried about him for the exact reason—that he’d convince you to let him fuck you, because apparently women can’t have male best friends without it being more than platonic. But …you guess you aren’t really proving them any wrong now with the way you were letting him have his way, marking messy purple splotches all over, in hungry predatory manner, getting rougher and rougher by the second. You gasp when he abuses the same spot he just visited a few seconds ago, “Beomgyu!”

“Because?”

He presses on your aching core, pending you with the question. He didn’t seem as happy as he was with his smugness prior. “Because he thinks you’re a sleaze.”

An incredulous— mean chuckle from the back of his throat and suddenly his hand was down your panties, abandoning the long game of teasing in matter of seconds. He doesn’t touch you though, which only proves to make you more insane. “That’s dumb. Do you think I’m a sleaze?” You shiver, his deep voice so close to your ears, breath fanning against your cool skin—your eyes could go sore from how hard you’re shutting them closed.

You refuse to give it all to him, it makes you feel embarrassed and small. A new, foreign feeling you never thought you’d experience with Beomgyu of all people. “I-in some ways, yes.”

Not a satisfying response from you, he clicks his tongue like you were a misbehaving child, “You’re really annoying, you know that?”

You don’t get a chance to retort before you feel the pad of his finger prodding your pussy, then moving to gather your wetness.

Suddenly, he freezes his movement, pulling back from your neck, looking at you with an amused glint to his dark eyes. “Shit, you’re fucking drenched. And I barely did anything—”

You think he’s making fun of you so your cheeks quickly flush red, already putting up walls of defence but then he kisses you in the heat of the moment, wiping your frown away and you’re finding yourself reciprocating without a second thought—the kiss so sloppy and messy, string of saliva connecting your lips when he pulls away out of breath. “Fuck, that’s so hot princess. You’re so hot.” He breathes in awe of the spit—he truly is the biggest perv.

“Spread your legs for me.” he groans, trying to get better access to your pussy. You obey, admittedly a little slow, but who can blame you? It feels embarrassing regardless of who, but it’s ten folds with your best friend. “Moreee.” he whines, and god you wish you could slap him—can he not see that you’re trying?

“Beomgyu—“

Your voice gets cut off, gasping when he takes it upon himself to pull down your sweatpants with a quick swift motion, taking it off completely, revealing your patterned underwear—and god, now you’re hiding your face…everything was so embarrassing. He takes a second to examine the wet dark spot right in the middle, proof to what he felt earlier, but then you kick your feet. “Stop staring freak!” you shriek.

You can see through the cracks of your fingers the smirk he has on, looking at you with so much intensity you think you’d melt. He reaches out to grab your hand and put it down, even through your resistance, you couldn’t match his strength to your dismay. “I wanna see your face. Have to let me see you fall apart on my fingers like a little slut.”

You’re scandalized at his wording, your cheeks once again quickly heating up. But you let him part your timid legs anyway, big hands gripping the softness of your thighs, spreading your legs as much as he possibly could, to the point you felt yourself cramp up. But even with whines of protest he doesn’t ease up—bunching your panties to the side, impatient when finally he inserts a digit—experimental with his movement before you hear him groan out a curse. “You’re so tight holy shit, did he even fuck you?”

“Actually, don’t answer that. I don’t wanna know.”

Your senses are already overflowing, you could feel his hard on, his erection pressed on your bare skin, you’re hyper aware of the finger inside you—slender and slow with expertise as he pushes in and out, talking to you as if you could respond with anything more than restrained mewls. “Maybe dating him was good, then you had to be monogamous and not whore around with every guy you laid eyes on like you used to.”

“I-I never whored around—shit.” He suddenly speeds up, a merciless grin spread on his face—did he find messing with you funny?

“Yes you did. It was a new guy every…it was weekly, wasn’t it?”

You shake your head at his accusations, tears brimming when his mouth finds it use, suckling harshly on your nipples through your flimsy top—your body extra sensitive with the way you spasm on a singular finger. He pumps in two without warning and you yelp, hand reaching out to grab at his hair. You swear you could cum just from the stretch. “Stop denying it, you’d do anything for dick. I’m surprised you stayed so long with that bitch. Was he any good?”

One thing you won’t do is tell Beomgyu details of your sex life with your ex. You refuse. But Beomgyu is stubborn, and he isn’t one to give up so easily. Especially if he feels like you’re withholding information from him. “Tell me.”

“I’m not telling you anything.”

He raises his eyebrows in mocking shock, “No way. He never made you cum?”

Your nostrils flair from pure embarrassment and shock. How’d he know? You quickly try to control your expressions, masking it to not give him a hint that his guess was right, but he knew you too well. You hate that. Especially now.

“Can’t believe you’re hung up on a man—fuck, baby are you close? Hung up on a man that never made you orgasm—shit,” He breathes, rubbing his clothed dick on your thigh, getting off at the sight of your face. You really are falling apart. “Don’t worry princess, I’ll take care of you.”

You tighten your hold on his hair, feeling yourself get close as you grind down on his fingers, chasing your high, choosing for your sanity to ignore all his sweet talkings.

“Gyu, gyu I-I’m gonna—No—no-why? God, fuck you, you’re such a—such a dickhead!”

Beomgyu just ruined your orgasm by completely taking out his fingers, you could practically cry out of frustration and yet he didn’t seem the least bit sorry. Instead, he makes a show of licking his fingers, the ones he just had in you, swirling his tongue and sucking them clean while making direct eye contact. You cower a little but still keep your eyes on him. Now you aren’t sure if you could stay as bitter.

You blink rapidly to collect yourself, because holy shit, you’re getting weak for…Beomgyu. “Why’d you do that? I was close Gyu.” you say exasperated.

He unbuckles his jeans, “I said I’d take care of you, just trust me.” Zipping down his pants, he’s quick to drop it down to his knees before completely abandoning them on the floor.

He flings his cock out of the restrictions of his boxers and you’re practically drooling at the pretty sight. He isn’t the biggest you’ve seen but he definitely has the girth—his tip leaking pre cum down his length, hands trying to lube it with his spit. “Beomgyu, condom.”

“I don’t have one.” He breathes, already on you as he lays wet kisses down your collarbones before he gets irritated with your shirt and takes it off, revealing your bare tits. “God, you’re so sexy.” He drawls, sucking hickeys all over your chest in hunger.

You wish you didn’t have to, but you resist his touch and in turn he lets out an annoyed whine, his voice vibrating against your exposed skin. “Beomgyu, we can’t—we need a condom.”

He sticks out his bottom lip in a pout, the cutest you’ve seen him this entire day. “I’ll pull out, I promise. Please, I need you right now.”

In that moment of weakness, his tone so needy, as if he really did need you made you feel some sort of power—like you were the hottest, sexiest woman in the world. And so you bite your tongue, and trust Beomgyu to not ruin your life. You’ve done that quite a few times.

“Swear you’ll pull out.”

“You don’t trust me?”

“I do.” You say with conviction. “I do, obviously. It’s just-”

“I know. Take a breather for me. Said I’ll take care of you, didn’t I?”

You could feel him lining up to your entrance, his tip prodding your hole, and you’re already getting desperate. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Yes.” you breathe.

“Stick your tongue out.”

You do, not sure what to expect until Beomgyu spits, letting his saliva slowly fall down in your mouth. “Swallow.” he demands, his low voice making you shiver—dark eyes watching every twitch of your face intensely.

You gulp his saliva down your throat, obeying and suddenly his expression morphs into lust you’ve never been met with before. You don’t even get to process it for longer, bask in the attention you’re getting before he’s pressing your thighs to your body, pushing into you with a deep groan—filling you up to the brim, your cunt not prepared for the aching stretch. You can feel each vein against your walls, you can feel his slight twitching, you can feel everything. “Fuck, fuck you’re made for me. You’re perfect—shit, you’re perfect princess.”

“Gyu—” you cry out, gripping the sheets under you. It was too much, too much for him to already start slamming his hips. “Gyu what—” you’re cut off by your own moan the moment he hits your g-spot, your face scrunched up, hot as you let out lewd sounds with no control of your own, throat strained already. It's not a surprise he manages to find it on his first try, despite it catching you off guard with the sudden wave of pleasure.

“Should’ve fucked you sooner. Get your little pussy molded just for my dick. You would’ve liked that, right princess?” He breathes out in a long winded babble, his hips unrelenting with each thrust, already quickly building up to be in erratic speed. Through your blurry vision you could see his eyes focusing down on the jiggle of your breasts lewdly, drool trickling down the edge of his lips, the brutal slapping sounds of them from his roughness getting his head light with ecstasy. You’re more than aware of what he wanted to do when he lets your legs rest from the ache of angling them so high. Dirty pervert.

You can’t handle him playing with your tits again, you were too sensitive for anything more than you’re getting but you can’t find it in your throat to say anything before Beomgyu gives in to his lust, leaning down to attach his mouth to your sore nipple. Abusing it as he suckles harshly, muffled moans against your breasts.

His pace getting quicker, clearly getting off from sucking your nipples like a dumb baby. It was getting you embarrassingly close, your pussy clenching around his dick. “Princess. My princess is so—mmf—so perfect.”

“Stop calling me that.” You manage to squeak out. Hes been using that nickname the entire time, and though it was easy to ignore everything else, the nickname was affecting you more than you’d like to admit.

He detaches from your tits, slowing his movement, looking up at you with furrowed eyebrows. “Huh? Princess? Why?”

“He—he used to.”

He blinks a few times before his lips draw into a sneer, clearly irritated and you’re about to backtrack, but it’s too late. Your eyes fly wide open, breath stricken when he, with no mercy, picks up his speed again, drilling his dick so far into you, you think there’s probably a bulge showing through your stomach—its when you let the tears stream down, let yourself go as he fucks you dumb with each sharp thrust serving as a punishment. But for what exactly? For mentioning your ex? Did he hate him that much?

“You can replace your memories of him with me princess. I know you can do that, I’ll make sure you do. You’re my princess, and I’m the only one who can call you that. Remember that, yea?”

You nod up and down, and he leans down to give your lips a peck, one then two then three until he loses it and it starts getting heated, tongue messily intertwining, spit exchanged in desperate action. Drilling his dick in and out your sopping pussy, squelching pornographic like sounds filling the room—you think you’re screaming at this point, mind too clouded to be fully present. You’ll definitely hear a word or two from your neighbors.

“Fuck princess, are you close?” he hisses, “I’m close too, so close. Tell me when you get there baby, okay?”

You manage to nod, pressure quickly building up

Suddenly you feel him force in a finger in your pussy, stretching you out to unimaginable degrees. “B-beomgyu—I’m cumming, I’m—” your panicked hands at the intense feeling reach out to grab at his chest, crumbling his shirt’s fabric, using the last bit of your strained voice to moan his name, your orgasm so overwhelming you genuinely start seeing white, body shaking as you try to calm yourself down. “F-fuck.” you breathe out.

The way you still clutch onto his arms pushes Beomgyu to his high too, quick to pull out of your gushing pussy before a mistake happened. It takes only two strokes before he’s spurting his seed all over your tummy, biting down a groan, obsessively taking in each inch of your body’s ruined state.

He did this. He ruined you.

The only thing filling the room being the heavy breaths of you both, Beomgyu’s hair plastered onto his forehead from sweat, yours disheveled, a complete mess. Suddenly, a notification ding goes off, and your attention’s snapped to your side. “It’s my phone.” You awkwardly point out, noticing the light before reaching your arm to get it to you.

He doesn’t move from his position, still practically hovering over you. But you try not to focus too much on it, instead taking a quick look at your notification.

Your brows twitch in surprise at seeing the message on your lock screen. Fuck, it’s your ex! Did he want you back? So miraculously? After fucking your best friend?

Without any thought, you unlock your phone, trying to skim where the ellipses left off. It was a long message and—

“We just fucked. Can’t you wait a few minutes before going on your phone— Are you texting Jaehyun?” His warm smile turning to utter rage gets you stuttering.

“No I—well—yes, but—” you fumble on your words, not knowing how to explain—not knowing why you feel like you should explain, but Beomgyu isn’t one to play around clearly, as he snatches your phone from your hand and throws it to god knows where before your body’s turned around like it was nothing to Beomgyu, like you were some ragdoll. Pushing your hips up to have your ass up in the air with your face pushed into the sheets. “B-beomgyu wha..—”

Slap. Your whole body jerks at the impact of his hand, feeling yourself get teary eyed again. “Beomgyu what the hell?” You shriek, trying to squirm from your position, your ass burning. Then you get another slap, and your legs start to shake, bottom lip wobbling at the painful feeling of his rings.

“I promised you I’d make you forget him. Clearly one fuck wasn’t enough to get your mind off that asshole.”

Your panic only lasts a millisecond at feeling his tip for a second time before you’re abusing your throat again at the oversensitivity of having Beomgyu’s dick slam into your pussy, fucking your juices back in. He’s rougher now, ten times rougher. Maybe this was what all your girlfriends were describing to you, the feeling of having Beomgyu’s dick rut into you like wild feverish dog, fucking you like all you are is a pair of limbs, just for him to hound.

You can’t think straight, not a single word coming out of your mouth is intelligible, all slurred together dumbly as he ruthlessly digs his fingers in your hips, helping you find rhythm, your body reacting on its own as it syncs with his thrusts, moving your hips enough for him to let a hand go to the back of your head, further pushing you into the mattress, drool messy staining your white sheets, loud muffled wails filling the room.

“Fuck, you like this don’t you? Getting fucked like a bitch?” your hear him growl. You don’t know what comes out of your mouth, you don’t know anything right now, because you are being fucked like a bitch while thinking like one too, your nose running with your tongue uselessly out like something out of a porno. “Should I breed you like a bitch too? Huh? Will that make your pretty little head forget?”

At that, you cum again, and he sneers, a mean laugh at noticing your orgasm, “You want me to breed you princess? Make you round with my seed?” he drawls each vowel mockingly like you were a dumb kitten and he had to explain a really simple concept—still ramming your cunt, not giving you a fair chance of responding.

That’s how it goes for you’re not sure how long, Beomgyu switching positions to have your leg draped over his shoulder as he fucks you to oblivion, making you orgasm over and over again, before you really feel like you had blacken out at some point only to find yourself waking up to him still going at it—your entire body sore, down to every inch, your nipples especially swollen from all his sucking. He never cums inside you, instead emptying his load all over your body, making you basically a show of his dried semen.

You trust him, even when his tendency to go far never died down no matter how much he got older. “You awake?”

You flutter your eyes open, a dark room, and Beomgyu. His face is abnormally close to yours. “What happened?” your voice comes out very strained, your throat hard to use. Great, you entirely lost your voice.

“Think I might’ve had my balls in…too deep.”

Even a chuckle hurts every bone in your body, holy shit, how were you going to go to work tomorrow?! “Hey, don’t move around too much, I already cleaned you up. Just try to go back to sleep.”

“I don’t feel sleepy. I can’t.”

Beomgyu suddenly giggles, you could make out the cute small thing he does with his lips when he does. “What?” you ask.

“Your voice sounds funny.”

You groan, rolling your eyes. Of course he’d find it funny. Maybe next time you should peg his ass and see how he’d like to not speak for an entire week.

You feel his all too familiar hand laying on your cheek, and you subtly gulp. You don’t know if he heard. He probably did with how close you guys are, noses practically brushing against each other, his breathing all your hearing can pick up. “You know I’m always here for you, right?”

You nod, until you realize he might not be able to see you properly. “Yes.”

“Good.”

He takes his hand off your cheek, then turns on his back, folding his arms over his chest, staring up the ceiling. So the room won’t fall into an awkward silence, you say: “I have a question.”

He shuffles a little on the bed, letting out a hum in acknowledgment. “What was the I’m perfect for you thing about? We’re definitely not like, compatible or anything.”

He laughs before he turns his head to you in disbelief. “Are you serious? Is that a serious question?”

You nod, “Do I not sound serious?”

“No, you sound like you just had the best fuck of your life.” You roll your eyes in good nature, though exasperated, you were exposed to too much of his ego in one day. If you had the strength and will to come up with something to level his ego down, you would. “It’s called dirty talk if you must know the term fair maiden.”

“God, you’re so silly, I’m going to sleep.” You withstand your pain to turn your back to him, groaning with each movement. But you can’t escape his wrath it seems, because he almost immediately snakes his arm around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder, his heartbeat all you can here against your back. “Can’t I find you perfect? You know, like…my dream girl. My princess.”

You rapidly blink a few times trying to process—past the deep rasp of his tired voice that you found yourself incredibly attracted to— his words and how it brewed big unfamiliar emotions, knowing now you won’t be able to get a blink of sleep after this.

“Can I keep calling you that by the way? It really sticks.”

Oh god, the last thing you’re going to do is self sabotage yourself even more and get yourself in a stickier situation than you already put yourself in. “No, that’s definitely staying in the bedroom.”

a/n: i have no idea how this reads, its basically bare of any editing so if the flow is a little choppy i sincerely apologize, i write at the golden time of 10pm-2am 😭

#txt smut #txt hard hours #beomgyu smut #choi beomgyu smut #dom!beomgyu #txt hard thoughts

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dionysism · 4 months ago

Text

ohhh i am really thinking about penelope and grief. 20 years of it.

10 spent knowing your love is fighting at war and may die at any moment, every sunrise and sunset spent wondering if you're staring at the same sun right now or if he's already gone. and then the war ends, but not for you. it might as well have never ended, because now new grief sets in.

now you wait for him to come home, but he doesn't. and you slowly but surely hear about other great men making it home, and their tales of victory, and maybe you even hear about your husbands great trojan horse, how it won it for them, but you do not hear anything else about him. you listen very closely to the names of fallen greeks at troy, still, you do not hear about him. you wait another year, two turns to three, to four. nothing. no news, no closure at all.

you can't help but spin the worst possible tales in your mind, night after night. is he dead? ship shattered against the rocks in some storm? has he drowned? did he stop somewhere for supplies and get ambushed? cut down? could his men have betrayed him? did he anger some god and bring about his own doom? is there a chance, at all, that he's still out there? will you ever see him again?

and your son. your beautiful son who you love, who gets older every year, who can only know his father through the fragments of memory you can pass down to him, but it's not the same, not enough. and hero as he may be, what you would prefer is a husband. a father to your son. and his great deeds are somewhat lost now anyway, as he is. you cannot put a man to rest when his fate remains unknown— if he had fallen at troy, or made it home only to succumb to some wound or illness, at least you would know. at least then you could find some small amount of solace in him leaving a name and legacy for your son to inherit, some closure for you, but all you have is wind and words. and telemachus is starting to look like him, and you begin to dread him getting any older, as you remember you promised your husband you would remarry when he comes of age. another joy soured by grief, most women delight in seeing the men their sons grow up to be, but it only marks doom for you. sometimes you tell him to shave. just a little longer. he may still come back. you have to believe he will come back.

then the suitors decend like vultures, eating you out of house and home and every one of their faces is a reminder that he is not here, that he has not been here for a long time now. that you might never see his face again. you remember him perfectly, still, after all these years. can still see clear as day the image of him in your mind the day he set off in his ship, remember to the last detail the clothes you sent him off with. you can't imagine a life with any of these men, nor any other man on earth, but it becomes more clear to you everyday the gods must not care what you want. oh, how you both must be cursed by them, to be served such a fate! but you are not completely without hope, not yet. and so you stall, for as long as you possibly can, with your clever weaving scheme. and for awhile, this is something. you almost allow yourself to smile at the thought of how he would love a scheme like this, thinking about all the tricks and strategies he must have employed at troy, how you would have liked to have heard about them. ("well, here's what i would have done," you would sometimes tell him when he would recount old stories from his past to you. "penelope, you're brilliant! i should take you everywhere i go" he would usually say, and, you really wish he would have.) but he has gone somewhere far away now, somewhere you cannot follow, or even know about, and you are left with more grief than you know how to carry.

at some point, he's gone longer than you were married to him. eventually, he's gone longer than you knew him at all. it may seem silly then, to be so grief-stricken still, to love him so hopelessly, still. but you are only human, so you are, and you do. you've been betrayed and your scheme exposed, there's no denying your son has become a man, and the inevitable can be put off no longer. you falter constantly between a relentless despair that he will never come home, and fickle hope you are just a few more days from seeing his ship on the horizon. still, your nights are spent mostly weeping.

then this strange beggar comes to your house. he tells you he's heard about your husband, tells you he's coming home! and you want to believe it, desperately, more than anything, you want to believe it. but it sounds too good to be true. and yet, faintly, this strange man kind of reminds you of your husband. something about him you can't quite place. maybe you're just going mad, looking for him in everything, finding him where he's not there. but maybe...

and so here is your last stand, your last shred of hope, one final scheme. you'll marry, but first, a contest. a bow, that only your husband can string, an arrow shot through 12 axeheads. a contest conveniently leaving the winner the only armed man in the room. and if not what you ultimately hope, maybe, at least, you can watch these idiots sputter and fail.

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peachymilkandcream · 1 year ago

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Movie! William Afton NSFW Alphabet

(A/N: The NSFW Alphabets are their canon events I cannot stop this I'm sorry T-T Also please read the warnings, I don't care if it's fucked my guy literally stuffed children into suits he's fucked up.)

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, manipulation, domestic abuse, yandere themes, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, stockholm syndrome, violence, mind breaking, misogyny, age difference etc.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) William is surprisingly considerate, when he has the time to be. Most of his life is wrapped up in the chaos of covering up murders and coming up with new machines that sometimes sex just becomes stress relief and he doesn't have time for more. However when he can be convinced to take time away he really does try and care about his wife and make sure she feels clean and comfortable.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) Deranged psychos and their hands are a thing I'm telling you. The power in behind them is 100% a secret turn on they won't admit. And when you've made your career the work of your hands, (like child murders and a booming business) you can't help but pick that as the favourite. For her, he's not super partial but he really likes her hair, gripping it, pulling it, is what he daydreams about.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Let's just saw how else did they have four kids, cmon now. ;)

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) While it's not inherently sexual William really loves putting fear into others, and he 100% has a r*pe fantasy that he puts her through often. (Although for her he doesn't tell her that's what happening so it's 'authentic') This includes fake home invasions as well when he gets bored of vanilla sex and wants to "spice things up". Poor girl lives in fear daily.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) He has some before they met, mostly teenage mistakes when he had the time. After he started his career it was rare he did simply because of time. He knows enough of what he's doing, he knows how to make himself feel good and that's all that matters right?

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) My guy is a ride or die missionary, reverse cowgirl is the only other he'll consider. Anything else is just uncomfortable in his opinion, and again it's about what feels best for him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) William's very erratic so it really depends on the mood he's in, how his day has gone if this kids annoy him. He has been known to be more humorous on occasion but it's not often.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) Let's be honest William only gets his hair cut because his wife does it, he doesn't have the time to take care of himself like he should, those are precious moments that could go to his work. So no, he is not well groomed.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) This again depends on the occasion, usually it's just stress relief so it's quick and usually not very romantic, but if it's a special occasion like an anniversary or birthday then he'll be way more romantic.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Same as with his hair, he honestly just never has time XD

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Big somnophilia fan, probably a slight breeding kink, lingerie (especially stockings), hair pulling, choking, gagging, knife play 100% (he's a serial killer, I had to).

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Anywhere in the house really, anywhere he can get a moment alone. He used to enjoy when she distracted him in his workshop in the basement but now those old parts bring back haunting memories...

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) Her being a mother to his children, it warms his little black heart and gets him going. As well as any new sets of lingerie she buys or he buys for her.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) She wouldn't but if she tried to dominate him, he would nope the fuck out of there. My guy is an S tier misogynist and believes his wife should be beneath him literally and figuratively.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) He prefers receiving simply because it plays into the whole gagging thing. Her gagging on his dick as he face fucks her is so hot to him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) As stated before it depends on the occasion, special moments require more slow and sensual whereas annoyance or hurry is fast and rough.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) His whole life is about quickies, having just enough time to get himself off is what he usually does.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) He takes too many risks, if he's not careful he's going to end up hurting her.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) Obviously when he was younger it was more, but now he's a one or two rounds at most guy.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) No no never, no matter what it is he's come to not trust machines around his loved ones anymore.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) If he's in a goofy mood he will, but most of the time he doesn't have time to sit and tease her.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) He's actually quite loud, groaning and even soft whimpers are his specialty.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) William has a thing for stockings because that's the first thing he saw her in and he started fantasizing how her thighs would jiggle in them while he was eating her out.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) I'd say he's above average, not too much but enough, he's slightly thick with a few smaller veins.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) His drive has really changed from wanting to have sex to wanted her to relieve stress. So because of all the stress he's under, it's pretty high.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) William is out like a light after, dreaming about his victims or how he disposed of bodies. Solid sleeper while his wife lays awake plagued by waking nightmares of her own.

#william afton x oc #william afton smut #william afton x reader #steve raglan x oc #steve raglan x reader #steve raglan smut #five nights at freddys #five nights at freddys movies

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creepling · 1 year ago

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˚ ༘`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ WEEK 01: DBF! J. SLAUGHTER / 5k

WRITTEN FOR KINKTOBER 2023

synopsis. reader's father brings on an apprentice to work for him, but the young lad becomes an unlikely friend to the old man. johnny becomes a regular in your household, and the thoughts about him are becoming unbearable. when they become reality, johnny puts you in your rightful place.

tags. smut - MDNI. dad's best friend. college student!reader. size kink. height difference. reader is twenty-one, johnny is twenty-eight. dacryphilia. reader description in bikini top & shorts. sneaking off. bedroom sex. yearning. smoking cigarettes. power imbalance. secret relationship. rough kissing & sex. edging. oral (f & m receiving). use of 'little one', 'slut' and 'baby' as pet names. stomach bulge. johnny is too big for reader. positions: mating press, upstanding citizen, elevator stance.

Your dad was the guy the town went to to get anything from a tap to the free-loader truck fixed into shape. He was always handy with his hands, and it’s what brought the money in for the family. People come and go on the property, and you’re just glad the yards are big enough so they can work away in the blazing sun instead of disrupting the peace inside. At your considerable age, however, you never quite appreciated your dad appointing you as a jug maid when people came over—asking you to fetch water or mom’s home-grown lemonade and top it up for the guests.

Eight in the morning was the starting point, your mom fetching ingredients in the kitchen and your dad cleaning up his tools by the dining table. You idled behind the door as you listened to their conversation.

“Really? You’re gonna hire him?” Your mom said, confusion lacing her words.

“C’mon, it’s not the boy’s fault. Nancy said he couldn’t find permanent work in the city, and I’ve seen him fix things up – the kid’s got the touch. He can’t help who his family is,” Your dad defended.

“I don’t know, there’s rumours. I don’t wanna find out if there’s any truth,”

“Those are about Nancy, not him. Cut him some slack. You’ll like him when you get to know him.” That was the last you heard before you darted back to your room. As you changed for the day, you knew who your parents were talking about. Hesitant like your mother, you recalled your memories of the Sawyers and the Slaughters. They are a crazy bunch, not right in the head, tuned to the moon – the usual gossip about them. They were hushed words through the grapevine to you; you never met one of them in person. Now that Nancy’s ‘kid’ is your dad’s new apprentice, you could decide how crazy they are.

He drove in the yard in a busted-up truck, but the engine sounded clean and the exhaust clear as a whistle. Your dad stood out front while you and your mom hung by the porch. You strain your eyes to glimpse him in the bright sun. As he jumped out of the truck, your lips parted.

He was like something out of the movies. Hair slicked back – sun-kissed skin. Dust on his boots, the sleeves cut from his shirt. Head held high and flashing a smile as he shook your dad’s hand. You studied the flex of his arms – muscle-toned and robust. The rumours failed to mention how handsome he was, for sure.

Once he greets your dad, you and your mom walk towards him to get acquainted.

“I expected you to be a little scrawny thing,” Your mom smiled, just as surprised as you. The man chuckled and rubbed his neck awkwardly.

“You must be thinkin’ of Nubbins. I’m Johnny – Nancy’s son,” Johnny. It suited him like hair gel does a greaser.

“Gosh, I’m sorry, son, I’m bad with faces,” Your mom hollered, her bashfulness radiating off you and growing embarrassment in your core.

“This is my wife,” Your dad gestured, “And this quiet one at the back is my daughter,”

You introduce yourself. Johnny repeated your name, and it dripped like honey from his tongue. You mustered the coolest smile, hoping he blamed your bashfulness on the delirium of the heat. You spotted the hand he outstretched and shook it, your stomach doing summer salts at his firm grip—the stroke of his callous hands, deluging your hand. You could melt away in that moment.

Perch on the porch swing chair, nose in a book, your mind wandered to faraway lands to the noise of gears turning. Your dad praised Johnny’s working hands, a mutual bond in the early stages of establishment. Their tinkering perked your ears occasionally, your eyes peering over the book pages, salivating at the sight of Johnny’s gloved hands coated in soot. His eyes fixed on the mechanics, tiny strands of hair dangling over his forehead. Your dad calls on you, knocking you out of the trance.

“Fetch some lemonade, ay hun?”

You sighed, making your way into the house. In the shade, your skin still tingled. You glimpse your reflection in the hallway mirror. Cheeks dark – permanently flushed and hot. The pit of your stomach echoes alluring calls, burdening all logical thought. As you poured the glasses, you thought about those gloved hands gripping your sides, turning your body, greeting you with a rough kiss. Were his lips soft? Or brittle and callous, affected by the dry atmosphere. How much does his skin glisten with sweat? Do droplets run down the grooves of his muscles? His sun-kissed skin is littered with freckles, minuscule and collective, only noticeable when you kiss his points, running your tongue tactfully down his stomach.

“Honey, you’re spilling that!” Your mom rushed for a kitchen towel, soaking the lemonade that spread along the counter. You jumped out of your thoughts, awed by the mess, questioning the passing of time.

“Sorry, I was somewhere else…”

The thoughts only intensified when Johnny became a regular guest. He had much in common with your dad, and the unlikely man in his late 20s became a close friend to the older man. He was adopted by your dad’s friend circle, taking him under their wing, invited to BBQs, after-work bar drinks, and poker nights. When Johnny couldn’t make it, your dad always said he was in the city. You came to find Johnny wasn’t much older than you, but he likes to act like he is. One poker night, he walked past your bedroom, returning from the bathroom, eyeing the papers and books littering your desk. You felt his presence leaning on the door frame, thumbs hooked to his belt.

“Watcha got there?” He asked, his drawl never failing to amuse you.

“Summer reading. Gotta do it before I start the semester.”

“You’re always reading. Don’t ya eyes get sore?” His teasing took you by surprise. His hint at an observation was quite flattering. You thought he forgot you existed. It wouldn’t hurt to return the teasing, would it?

“Don’t your hands get sore from fixing so many cars?”

Johnny’s head leans back as he chuckles, a smirk on his face that could kill you on the spot. “You got me there, little one,” Johnny let his words linger as he walked back downstairs.

It should offend you to be called small, weaker, submissive. You were a grown-up. The grip on your pencil was firm but not from anger. It was from realising the sensation between your legs underneath your pyjama shorts. You were soaking wet.

July proved that this summer was hot, and there was no sign of it cooling down. Sitting outside was unbearable, and the thirst for cold water lay throats to dry as the pipes produced a lukewarm liquid that left a bad taste on the tongue. By the time Dad returned, the bags of ice melted in their plastic bags, causing your mother to rush about making ice cubes from scratch. All for the BBQ to still go ahead. The guests would be arriving soon.

Your parents’ friends arrived early to help out, and you heard the chin-wagging from up the stairs, cursing under your breath to find something decent to wear. Sweat invaded your skin even after having a shower, and the shorts and bikini top were becoming all too tempting to wear. You checked yourself in the mirror, the bikini strap tied around the back of your neck, the colour complimenting the hues of your skin. The plain and denim shorts are the most comfortable ones you own. Displaying your legs, room for the stomach, firm against your backside. It was the most revealing thing you’ve worn in a while, but as the sunlight reaches every corner of your bedroom, its feverish radiation gives you the excuse not to ponder. Checking your appearance once more, you sigh at your fussing and make your way downstairs.

Prepping food with your mom left you to wonder about your college friends. They were scattered around the states, living out their summers while you were stuck with the senior club. The guests remarked: if you don’t wanna hang with us old folks, we won’t take offence, hun. These people were considered your aunts and uncles; they’ve seen you in diapers. They braided your hair and kept your prying hands away from dangerous objects. The least you could do was spend time with them in your limbo stage of young adulthood and enjoy their company before you leave this town.

Things would have stayed wholesome if Johnny didn’t show up.

He wore the same clothes as always. This time, they looked like they had a fresh wash. His boots are polished, mechanic gloves discarded, his hair wet and slight back like he just hopped out of the shower. The congregation of the porch cooed at his arrival. The husbands were ready for handshakes, and the wives willfully smiled at his charming face. You were the only one to react like his welcome was neutral, even when you cocked your hip slightly to the side and fixed your hair.

He brought an offering of corn cobs, excusing the rest of his family not making attendance. “Momma wanted to give these as an apology for not comin’. She said she real busy. In truth, I think she was nervous comin’ here. She ain’t been out in a long while.”

They all thought how gratuitous the boy was looking out for his momma. You kept a blank face at their responses, knowing they would be as tense in meeting the ‘Black Nancy’. The black widow of Newt sitting with them, eating food with them, the rumours floating in their head like sewage in a gutter. It's a good thing he brought a meatless offering.

There were too many cooks in the kitchen as the men established a system by the grill, letting their wives sit around and ask Johnny questions, keeping him in their company. You sat by the edge, amused by the sight of his attempt to keep his cool.

They asked a lot about his family, and you sensed the tense build-up inside him from across the table. You bit your lip, staring into space, hearing the stutter of his words. He was like a meerkat around hyenas, and he didn’t like that one bit.

“How’s the old man? What was his name? Drayton! Is he still working at that gas station? Every time I drive by, there seems to be no gas in it,” The woman hollered, “Must be y’all bringing all the money in.”

“Wasn’t there a youngest? Must be cousins with yourself. ‘Went to school with my oldest, but he was not in it for long – teachers said he was slow-thinking. Think they pulled him out eventually. How’s he holdin’ up?”

The look in Johnny’s eyes, you hadn’t seen him like that before. Dark and daggering at the table, avoiding the gazes his way. You notice his forearm tense, his hands clenched into a fist. You felt like saying something.

“Quit your hollerin’ at ‘im! He don’t wanna gossip with ya!” Your dad’s friend nipped at his wife, causing the women to transfer into giggles.

“Would ya excuse me?” Johnny rose from the table and headed inside, insinuating use for the bathroom. As he entered the front door, you waited a few seconds before heading inside. Pausing by the hallway, you hear his footsteps, ear perking at a creak from upstairs. As you ascend the stairs, you see him loitering by the landing, arms crossed and back to the wall. His eyes closed, heaves of exhales coming from his nose – like he was meditating.

“Drains the life outta ya, doesn’t it?” You perked, earning a jolt of surprise from Johnny.

“What ya mean?” He drawled, shrugging his shoulders.

“They’re energy vampires. I love them and all, but- sometimes they never know when to read the room. I guess I just- I mean to say you’re not wrong for feeling annoyed by it,” You gingerly walk closer to him, eyes adjusting to his face in the dim light. He was always at a distance, a stunning piece to commend. This is the closest you’ve ever seen him. You glance at his worn-out jeans, the car spark burn-holes in his t-shirt, the scars littering his arms. He was a solidified dream, flesh and bone carved by the Gods – a little rugged. You cross your legs and hug your arms, unworthy of his stare.

He couldn’t help but stare, too, soaking you in from head to toe – revealing your attributes hidden by flowy blouses and cotton flares on an average day. Your skin looked soft and plush. The dip in your thighs from the denim hugging close, snug on your hips. The bikini demanded his attention, and his stare was everlasting on you. A warm aura collided with your tense muscles, still and eager. You straightened your back and hugged your arms tighter, defining the curve of your cleavage. Johnny cocked his eyebrow.

“You wanna hang out? We can sit in my room” Your suggestion slipped through your lips. You were urged by the thoughts signalling in your mind to fill the hunger for his hands on you. To find somewhere quiet and colluded for your moans to become ballads.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Johnny took a step closer to you. He was tall, his head tilted, eyes peering down at you. Your small stature shuffled back, but Johnny only leaned closer. The broadness of his shoulders engulfing you, his figure like a shadow. He was thinking about your suggestion, burying your head into the pillows, having his way with you. But for the first time, he felt like following a moral code – to not fuck his best friend’s daughter. He’d grown close to him and even appreciated his presence as the father figure he never had. But he had also grown fond of how you look at him, tempting him at every chance. Your acts were desperate; he mused on stripping you of your innocent facade, letting his hands reveal your alluring nature. Nervously laughing, you divert your eyes, swinging your legs in motion to your bedroom door.

“Well- while the old ones talk your ear off, I’ll be in my room. You’re welcome to join if you like,” You bite your lip and bat your eyes before closing the door.

Johnny shuffled between your door and the stairs, hearing the laughter from outside and a record hitting play through your wall. Both sound sources tugged at him until he finally gave him, opening your door discreetly.

You lay on your bed, positioned with your feet kicking the air, your hands splayed over a book you were reading earlier. The music mumbled as Johnny slowly closed the door, leaning on it as his eyes scanned your room. It was a physical personification of you, small tokens of memories littered around. The walls are still a pale pink from when you were a toddler, yellow-stained from cigarette smoke. Hand-me-down furniture in the set of dark wood, coffee stains on the desk, dust under the wardrobe. Johnny’s lips tugged into a smile, “Cute,”

You gave him room to sit on the bed, discarding your book and leaning on your side. Johnny prompted his back against the headboard, his boots dangling on the edge, mindful of the dirt on the soles. He digs into his pockets for his pack of cigarettes and lighter, clipping his lips onto the dout of the cigarette and pulling it out. You gaze at his pout and the clicker of the lighter, mimicking his inhale to steady the gutting pounds of your heart. You inch your fingers towards him, and he passes the cigarette, allowing you to pinch it between your fingers and draw it to your lips.

“Why’d you start working with my dad?” You ask the question you wanted to ask for a long time, to know the beginning of it all. To better understand the origins of his presence being the demise of your contentment.

“He offered me a job, I took it,” He shrugged, taking the cigarette as you passed it back.

“And now you’re the best of buddies. How’s that going?” You slightly tease, smiling at the sight of his smirk.

“I know you’re his daughter and all - but he’s a fun guy to hang around with. Doesn’t bother me he’s older. I like hanging out with him, and he’s taught me a lot on the job.”

Johnny taps the ashes into the ashtray at your bedside, his free hand by his side, inches away from yours. His hard fingertips traced circles on your duvet. You slide your fingers closer, breezing your nail along his index. He observed you, studying your innocent exterior, suspicious of your insinuating eyes.

“What about me? Am I fun to hang out with?” Your face dropped as he slowly shook his head.

“Don’t…” His warning was clear, but his tongue scaled along his cheek, trying to hold back. You roll your eyes and sit up, looking him dead in the eyes.

“You’re not that much older than me, y’know. You don’t get to treat me like a baby just because you're friends with my family.” You got your point across, narrowing your eyes as Johnny held in a chuckle.

“How old are you, anyways?” Johnny drawled, his eyes flickering to your lips.

“Twenty-one. And how old are you? Twenty-eight, going on Fifty?” Your face was straight, but you chewed on your cheek as his smirk grew contagious. A firmness gripped your wrist, and your breath hitches, pupils dilating as Johnny pours his stare into you. As he sits up, you feel small again, his shoulders at either side of you, his hard look demanding your attention.

“I see how it is. You’re all grown up now, but mommy and daddy still think you’re their sweet little baby. Everyone thinks you’re so damn cute, you’re the precious little angel. And you’re just getting darn’ sick of it,” Johnny’s words form a lump in your throat, and you meekly nod. His lips close to yours, and your mouth gapes open as he leans closer.

He pulls away, smirking at your intentions, biting the cigarette between his teeth. You turn away in a huff, rubbing your hot cheeks. How embarrassing to be teased like that and caught out on your feelings. Johnny was relishing it.

“Go back downstairs if you’re going to be like that,” You say, trying not to trip on your words and stand your ground. Johnny deadens the cigarette into the ashtray, and his boots scrape against the hardwood. He squats in front of you, forcing his gaze on yours.

“I ain’t doing anything outta malice, sweetheart. What you’re tryna do would cost me my job. What would your dad think of me? What would he think of you?” Johnny places his hands on your thighs, running his fingers along your bare skin. You caught your breath. “But… I’m not one to play by the rules. And, well, that little outfit of yours caught my eye the minute I came here.”

Johnny hooks his fingers under the hem of your shorts, his knuckles digging under the tight fabric. Your back arches along with your legs slowly opening, fixated on Johnny’s eyes on your body. “My, you’re just too tempting…” Johnny breathes out.

“No one has to know,” You convince, “I won’t tell anyone. You’ll still have your job.”

Johnny places his hand on the side of your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek. You realise how big he is compared to you, how his hand could cover your whole face or wrap wholly around your neck. His lips tug into a smirk as his eyes devour you, “Yeah, let’s keep this our little secret.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as his mouth strikes yours, inviting you into a rough embrace. A low, mumbled moan vibrates against his lips, causing him to chuckle. Immediately, his arms around you press you against his body, bringing your small frame into a cradle as he stands up. Your legs wrap around his hips, his hands gripping your ass and the back of your neck. The effortlessness of handling coursed through your mind, wondering what other aspects he can achieve. His initiation of power lends you your submissive state, and you allow him to spread your short frame along your bed, his broad shoulders on either side of you, and he props himself with his elbows. He leans to one side, letting his free hand fidget with your shorts, his lips never leaving for breath. He tugs them off, chuckling as they fumble over your thighs.

Johnny trails his kisses down to your chest, his teeth scraping against your skin, sending shivers up your spine. His hands caught onto your breasts, massaging into their warmth. His nose is buried into your cleavage, and you take the time to undo the back of your bikini, letting the fabric fall on either side of him. The strap tickles his ears, and his hands yank the rest of the fabric, his mouth latching onto your nipples, a drawn-out moan escaping your lips. You wondered how loud is too loud. Will people hear from downstairs? Taking no chances, you clasp your hand over your mouth, sinking into the bed as Johnny attacks your sensitivity.

“Lemmie hear those moans, little one,” Johnny said between kisses, “You sound so darn cute.”

There it was again. Little one. You feel your underwear drenched as you buck your hips, your pussy rubbing against the thin material. It only intensifies as Johnny lowers his kisses, catching sight of the damp trail pooling in your panties. “Fuuuck,” he breathes out, pressing his fingertips against your warmth, making you tense. Pleading with your eyes as he teases you, your hips grind against his touch, begging for pressure. Johnny was not one for pleasuring others, but the sight of your desperation and your sweet scent sent his actions into overdrive. His fingers pull down the thin, cotton fabric, abandoning it on the floor, spreading your legs to reveal your dripping cunt.

“Such a pretty little pussy,” He prompts your legs over his shoulders, exposing you. You mewl at your vulnerability, eyes locked on his fingers inching towards you. He groans at his fingers sliding neatly between your walls, gliding upwards to your gummy clit. His touch was light but enough to make you shift your hips lower. He grunts, gripping your legs and giving you a firm stare.

“I need you to stay still, baby girl. I wanna take my sweet’ass time with you, ‘that clear?”

You nod rapidly, agreeing to anything that involves him touching you. You mentally beg for him inside you, to fill you up with his immersive fingers, letting each one stretch you out and tighten at his touch. You wanted to feel his tongue toy with your clit, cum all over his mouth. But he wasn’t playing by your rules, and Johnny will do anything to make you beg.

Johnny idles your clit, making his touch lighter whenever you press against him. He chuckles at your defeat, your ass sinking lower into the bed, obeying him in hopes of pleasure. Johnny takes his time sliding inside you, one finger after another, his mouth agape at the sight of your stretching cunt. You yelp into your mouth, biting down on your finger as you ease into his touch, gasping as he pumps in and out. Your eyes widen at the feeling of his tongue rubbing against your clit. Your stomach tightens, your hands grip the sheets, and a sigh of relief escapes your lips.

The sight of Johnny’s eyes looking up at you was maddening, his stare dark and lustrous. His free hand holds your leg wide, having all access to your sensitive cunt. The tip of his tongue rapidly against your clit, sending a tight, pleasurable feeling to your core. His experience was unlike any other. It beat all the sex you had before out of the park. Your climax inches to finish, your moans pitching higher, mewling against your pursed lips. Then, he stops, the cold air hitting against your throbbing cunt, his tongue licking his lips.

“Why’d you stop? Please, I was so fucking close-” You protest, but Johnny already has his fingers on your lips, silencing you. With a firm hold on your jaw, he slaps your cunt until it’s raw, basking in your surprise. The way your small frame protests his touch amused him more than he liked to admit.

“Awh baby, I don’t want you cumming so early,” Johnny mockingly coos, rubbing the bulge protruding from his jeans, “I gotta have some pleasure too, y’know.”

You sit up, practically clawing at his jeans, letting his hands stroke your pretty face as you reveal his cock. Like his hands, his length reached over your face, his girth heavy against your nose. Kitten licking his shaft, Johnny chuckles at your eagerness.

“Who knew you were such a lil cock slut?” Johnny amused. It’s the quiet ones you gotta watch out for, he thought. His tip pokes your pretty little mouth, Johnny aiming entry, his head thrown back as you suck it gently in your mouth. He grips your hair, his burly strength pushing your mouth deeper around his cock. You choke as your nose tickles his base, gasping for air as he springs his cock out of your mouth. Once his cock is dripping in your drool, Johnny pushes you back, exposing your throbbing cunt to his erection.

Beyond the mist of lust, Johnny thought for a moment. His eyes scan you – your puppy eyes and puffy lips. His hands pressed down your thighs, exposing your entrance, his tip rubbing against your clit. He wanted nothing more than for you to be his tiny fucktoy. He undertakes, sliding his cock inside you, slow against your tightness, the pressure forcing him to stuff himself inside you. He watches as your pussy stretches around him, the way your stomach expands and reveals the bulge of his cock. He comprehends the size difference, how minuscule you are underneath him, and how in your stature you squirm under his force. You try to back up as he is halfway, your pussy choking on his cock, but he holds you in place.

“This getting too much for you, little one? Can’t you take all of me?” Johnny grunts in your ear, rutting the rest of his length inside you, smothering your face into the crook of his neck as you yelp. Burying his cock into you, he waits until you succumb to his length before getting back into position and pounding his cock in and out of you. The roughness to provoke against you sends mixed signals, your mind foggy and fixated on his cock. A jolt of pleasure fills you, his thumb rubs against your clit.

“Who knew daddy’s little girl was so cock-hungry,” Johnny teased, “A pretty thing like you wanting me to ruin this tiny pussy. Fuck, your dad’s gonna be pissed.”

He whispers sweet nothings into your ear, his fingers never leaving your clit, watching you ascend into lust as he tells you how dirty you are, how he sees the way you stare at him, how you were asking for this. You thank him repeatedly, asking him to go faster, harder.

“You gonna make me cum,” You purr, your high coming close. Your words encourage Johnny to keep going until the opposite occurs. His fingers leave your clit, his thrusts burn into a slow rhythm, and you feel like screaming. A numbing agony takes over. You sob into his chest. Johnny forces you to look at him, witnessing tears fall. His edging came to a breaking point. Your orgasm is denied and torturous. You plead with him with your eyes, your lip quivering. His pupils dilate as you sob.

His thrusts are harsher as if forcing the tears to keep spilling down your puffy cheeks, grunts breathing out his mouth at the sound of you choking on your sobs. His hand wraps around your neck, pushing the air from your lungs, using every possibility to see you crying. You knew he enjoyed this, feeling him twitch inside you, your lulling eyes catching the perverted look in his eye.

“You keep doing that, and I’ll let you cum, baby girl,” Johnny promised, not caring how psychotic he sounded, showing his true colours. The creak of the bed intensifies as he drills into you, prompting him to pick you up in his arms. You instinctively wrap your arms around him, shocked at how flawlessly he picked you up, holding you like you weigh nothing. Your legs over his arms, his forehead pressing against yours. Mesmerised by the dark look in his eye, you silence your moans with pursed lips, astonished at your tender insides ruined by his rough thrusts. The tears keep streaming, the pain mixing with your arousal, your delicate cunt denied of pleasure, at his mercy for emancipation. Johnny kissed your tear-stained cheeks – a glutton to its salty taste.

“Such a good little pet for me, so fucking good,” Johnny mumbles, a belligerent on your ass, smacking you against him and grunting at the pleasure. “I’m gonna let you cum now, doll. Fuck – I want you to cum.”

You gasp in relief, repeating gratitude, the depths of his pummelling enough to bring your high from your ruined pussy to its release. As you speak and squirm, you cling to his broad frame, nails digging into his shoulders, suffocating your face into his neck. Johnny is unyielding to your cunt tightening around him, his length bathing in your wetness, an exhausted groan flowing from his agape mouth. Johnny holds your dead weight as you grow limp, lightheaded from the rush, but still able to keep you with perfect precision. Knowing his climax is approaching, Johnny slips your lame, small body off him, forcing you to his knees. You become alert in your position, held in place with your head directly under his pulsating dick, his hand firm on the top of your head, ready for his load.

Strings of hot seed stretch your face and hairline, grumbling curses from Johnny, the sight of you marked with his release clouding his mind— the residue hanging from your lips, relishing in his salty taste. Johnny smirks down at you. Even in his transition to clarity, you are a sight for sore eyes. “You look so pretty like that, little one,” he chuckled.

Both of you are quick to change, aware of the passing of time and the guests downstairs. Johnny helps you tie your bikini, brazing your tits for the last time before buckling his jeans. Cleaning the cum and tears from your face with a cloth, you gaze at him, fumbling with his belt, trailing your eyes along the perimeters of his body. Wondering if all of this was just another wet dream.

Johnny revised the excuse with you once more, “I was in the bathroom, bothered by last night's dinner. You were in your room studying. Got it?”

You smirk slyly, making Johnny cock his eyebrow. “You really want them thinking you were on the toilet for half an hour?”

Johnny rolls his eyes, “Better than them knowing I was fucking you. Unless you got another excuse, smartass?”

A smile erupts on your face, giggling under your breath. Your eyes look at Johnny, ready to ask about the elephant in the room. “Is this gonna be the first and only time?”

Johnny thinks about it momentarily, shrugging as he gazes down at you. “It can’t be too regular. But I would be lyin’ if I said I didn’t wanna see you again,”

You sit there bashful, the flash of shyness intensifying when he gently kisses the top of your hand, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. He had an edge to him. You discovered that in the trice, but it only heightened your infatuation with him. To be under him, in his command, you never felt more safe, excited, and thrilled by what life threw at you. The risk of getting caught, in any other situation, your good nature meets with anxiety. Johnny made it worth it. It was impossible to deny him. And Johnny could sleep tonight knowing he had you wrapped around his finger.

“‘Til next time, sweet thing,'' Johnny exited, winking before closing the door. You lay back on your bed, gaining your senses, the butterflies in your stomach still prevalent and consuming.

#johnny slaughter x reader #johnny sawyer x reader #tcm game #texas chainsaw massacre #kinktober 2023 #johnny slaughter smut #creepling.brainrot #fanfic #smut

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memmemmemoww · 4 months ago

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"What happened to our love.. it used to be so nice...it used to be so good"

Reader x Simon Riley | A Call of duty fanfic

Summary: Simon Riley and reader used to date but had a falling out which lead to them breaking up. Years later 141 and the 274 (readers task force) have to team up on a mission to locate the missing missiles. A lot of memories get re-opened for good and bad.

warnings: TW cursing, TW cheating, TW talks about in game terrorism

pt 1

| I will try to follow the og plot of mw2 but ill add a little bit of my own ideas|

You and Simon met on the 141. You were a new recruit but you two quickly grew fond of each other. This slowly turned into a relationship, a very lovey and caring one. Even your task force members knew about it...and supported it even your Captain let you guys keep together in secret. That all changed one day when you walked in on him with another recruit...an image you could never seem to get out of your head. You never even gave him time to explain. Maybe that was on you. You put in a transfer which Price accepted, as much as he was against it. Then you left and didn't look back.. or so you thought. Now your in the same room with the man who broke your heart five years ago and your old team...the 141, Johnny, Kyle, and Price. There was some underline tension that all of you ignored. They needed help on the mission that involved stolen missiles which you Captain, Captain Anderson decided to lend a helping hand...yay. You all stood around a table while Price spoke, debriefing the team.

"We have a lead on Hassan's phone. It leads us to location on the west coast of Galicia Spain." he spoke as he passed out files onto the table. You grabbed one and opened it. Hassan. You heard about him and the Las Almas. A terrorist group. "We will be infiltrating this location tomorrow. So rest up. Captain Anderson as agreed to let us set up shop at the 274." he spoke to his team. "Yes yes" he said as she looked over to you, "{reader} can you show them to your rooms" she asked. You sighed...great...back with your old team.. once again. You nodded, "Yes ma'am" you spoke as you set down the file and made your way out of the room, 141 slowly following behind you, "So how are you these days." Garrick asked as he walked up to you, walking side by side. You looked over at him and answered, "I'm good. How about you" You asked which he made a sarcastic sigh, "Ill be better when we catch this guy" she said which you nod in agreement.. That's when Price spoke up, "We at the 141 missed you." he said. Well you knew that wasn't true for Simon.. Given how silent he was. You just chuckled as you stopped in front of a room, you opened the door and stood to the side.

"You guys can rest up here for the night. If you need anything Captains room is right down the hall" you said with a smile. Garrick and Price made their way into the room, checking it out. Soap was about to enter before he looked over at you, "It was really good seeing you, hope you are doing well" he said before he went it. Simon just stood there like he wanted to say something but you could care less, you turned and was about to walk back to the briefing room when his hand grabbed your wrist.

"{reader} listen... the way things were left" he started but you cut him off, "forget it Simon. I'm over that" you spoke which you knew wasn't true but as long as he believed it that's what mattered. With that you pull your hand away and walked back to the briefing room. Your captain was cleaning up the files and she noticed you and quickly spoke, "{reader} I know-" but you cut her off, "Next to you decide to bring that team back into my life. Tell me. As much as I love them I cant... I cant stand seeing him.. knowing what he did." You spoke before grabbing one the files for the upcoming mission. You then walked out of the room and made your way to your private quatres. Entering your quarters you let out a groan and locked the door behind you. This is going to be okay. You told yourself... just get the mission over with you thought as you placed down the file on the table. You flopped down onto the bed sighing.....fuck

a/n: HELLOOOOOO I hope y'all enjoy this cause I know I'm having fun writing it! kinda of a messy and rushed start but I just need it so I could get to the good bits :D

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darkniters · 1 year ago

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omg i loved the girl dad schlatt short you wrote,

could you do more, maybe of them two and reader, appearing on stream?

Thank you, it’s ok if you don’t want to!

jschlatt whos a girl dad

two

“boys, we got a crazy stream lined up for you all today.” schlatt grinned at the camera, leaning back in his chair as he looks towards his right.

off of the side of the camera, is you! sitting with your young daughter in your lap. she’s old enough to be speaking, but in this situation that isnt really the best thing.

she can run her mind a lot, yappin about whatever comes into head and just saying anything and everything all at once. i mean, its a GREAT sign, your kids healthy, but johns bright idea of bringing her on stream to play city skylines with him isn’t something that is sitting right with you.

“may i introduce you all, to the specialist guests of all time…” he reaches his arms over, and she jumps into them. he then lifts her up and over, and onto his lap with great ease. “you boys remember small men dont you?”

a codename came up by schlatt to keep her identity fully concealed. she’s also sporting a pair of sunglasses and a mask, which he ripped directly from ranboo with absolutely no shame.

“SMALL MEN?” she whips her head around to stare at her father, shes so much smaller than him that he’s had to lower the camera, the top of his head cut off. “i thought i was UTKA?” she sounds offended.

schlatt stares down at her, his hand holding her back in place as the other rests on the table, as he lets out a hearty chuckle, “these losers wont be calling you utka, sweetheart. thats what we call you!” he explains. you can see through the side of the sunglasses that her eyes are shining up at her dad.

“speaking of ‘we’ as the collective,” he looks over at you, a giddy smile again finds it way on his face. you roll your eyes, before rolling your chair into frame as well.

you make an explosion noise from your mouth, making small men giggle loudly. schlatt pulls your chair as close as possible, before he rests his hand on your arm rest, making sure you dont move out of frame.

“family reunion, baby! like a big ram family right infront of ya.” he cheers, small men starts frantically waving at the screen.

“small men wave up at the camera up there, they cant see you when you wave to the screen!” you tell her, her heads moving around as if its a chickens, quickly jutting around in every direction like she’s never been in the room before.

she finds the camera and leans forward, waving frantically and crazily, and schlatt starts waving too, copying her to the best of his ability. you let out a much more relaxed wave, just lifting your hand and moving your fingers.

“alright, small men. you ready to make a city?” schlatt gently grabs her hand and brings it to the mouse. she grabs ahold of it, her hand looking pathetic compared to the size of it.

“daddy im gonna make… the BEST city. in the whole. ENTIRE world.” she beams, excitement taking over her to become a character.

he has chat and view number invisible, meaning whatever chat is saying, none of you will see. overall being a good thing for your anxieties, you dont want to know what everyone is saying.

after an entire explosion and the new monument “BIG MAONTIN” in the city “the hOuse,” you leave the room briefly.

you notice how quiet the house is outside the room, it feels almost alien to have a house so quiet. but you know that your daughter, and your lover are going to have a memory to cherish forever. and that means so much more to you than anything else you could be doing right now.

#jschlatt x reader #jschlatt x you #jschlatt hcs #jschlatt headcanons #schlatt x reader #schlatt x you #schlatt hcs #schlatt headcanons

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tokiwarcube · 5 months ago

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Hello, I love your writing and hope you're doing well <3

Could you write hc's about Toki before dethklok got famous? Like in his flashback in Doomstar Requiem? Preferably with a reader that's very supportive of him and always goes to his concerts in shitty venues to cheer him on.

Aww, thank you so much! This week has been incredible — very tiring, but incredible all the same. And it’s been nice to come back to the hotel (or in this case, hang out in the airport) and work on fun requests like these! Below the cut! <3

Fresh out of Norway, Dethklok was nothing short of a dream come true for Toki. He doesn’t believe in God, but this is the closest thing he’s ever felt to divine intervention. That doesn’t even graze the gratefulness he feels for you — he can’t even begin to string together how much you and your unwavering presence mean to him.

He lives for the crowd, whether it be a shitty dive bar or… well, a less shitty dive bar. But frankly, this is his first time ever doing this — he’s gone from complete isolation to performing in front of others basically overnight, and he’d be lying if it wasn’t a little nerve-wracking. Especially when the crowd isn’t feeling it quite yet — there always seems to be a few people at the barrier who are clearly just there for the next band, and it can feel pretty damn crushing. But then he looks over at you, grinning and cheering for him under the neon lights, and suddenly he feels like he could do anything.

(He hates the idea of you tabling for this very reason — because yes you’re pretty, and funny, and you’d probably sell a damn-good amount of merch just by being you… but if he can’t see you in the crowd, he’s not quite the same on stage. And it definitely bleeds through into his performance, and his behavior after the show. He needs his number one fan!)

You’ve gotta keep him from throwing his pick at you every night. You have him — the fans can have a pick or two.

He always links hands with you after shows — hell, he’ll bring you into fan photos if you feel comfortable with it. You might not be on stage, but you're just as much of a band member as he is at this rate.

He begged you to come with them on their first tour — they were only opening for some other band, but still, they’re touring! And despite your better judgement, against the advice of your family and coworkers, love won out… and off you went. And the van was cramped, sure, and the food wasn’t exactly great; and yet, it was the most magical thing you had ever experienced.

(The memories still glimmer sweetly in your mind over a decade later, and even today, he still has all of the photos he took saved.)

It’s fun taking him to weird little American places — doesn’t matter what state you go to, there’s always something new and novel. His eyes light up just about every time you take him somewhere new, and honestly, it never gets old. He always has a myriad of questions, too. Doesn’t matter if its a national landmark or a fast food truck — he will have questions.

He’s particularly interested in zoos and animal sanctuaries, though. The first time he saw one of the big cats, he damn near vibrated out of his skin. You’ve gotta hold his hand pretty tightly so he doesn’t get too close to the leopards and jaguars when they start to chirp and meow in his direction.

He gets a very far-off look in his eyes listening to their stories sometimes, particularly as sanctuaries and rescues, but still, he always asks the keeper if you can just stay a few more minutes to watch them. Hand in yours, sat cross-legged on the ground, with nothing but fondness in his eyes.

(In modern times, you have to keep him from buying a big cat. He doesn’t forget the stories he was told, but he does think he’s different, and it’s a Herculean struggle to remind him otherwise.)

He experiments with fashion quite a bit, with… varying success. Truly, love knows no bounds. However, he does find that he does really like having facial hair after seeing how you smile against his lips when his hair tickles you just a bit.

He genuinely lives for your touch, to the point where he can’t really sleep without you at night anymore! But in the beginning, he was very nervous about initiating on his own. He would eat up anything you threw his way — even brushing by him in the cramped as fuck van is electric, to him.

He always asks you to tell him stories at night — anything will do (he loves to hear you speak), but he likes happy stories about you the most.

He loves holding your hand at night, gazing at you under the fluorescent street lights — they’ve become an odd little piece of your shared life, funnily enough. The dying streetlamp outside of your apartment, the highway lights as the boys drive the van around the country… it’s a simple thing, but their shine has lit up more than just the night for Toki.

#metalocalypse toki x reader #toki wartooth x reader #metalocalypse x reader #dethklok x reader #dethklok toki x reader

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the-violet-galaxy · 5 months ago

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I don’t want Old Moon to come back to life -- and I REALLY hope this arc doesn’t end with him being alive again, in any capacity.

In my opinion, bringing Old Moon back to life would be a terrible decision for everything, on all narrative fronts.

It’s true a lot of characters come back to life in TSAMS. When Lunar died, him getting resurrected was part of the story from the beginning (Monty located part of his nanomachine body and started work right away). Solar coming back to life has been a key point of this arc. Etc

But Old Moon's death was permanent. The story was that it couldn’t be undone.

So much of the story, angst, and arcs (New Moon’s entire life; Sun in so much pain from losing his brother) centered around Old Moon being gone for good.

What made Old Moon’s death so impactful WAS that it was permanent. He made the choice to die and Sun would never see him again. He would never meet Earth or bond with Lunar or Solar. The whole painful denial of closure.

But -- to be able to just… BRING HIM BACK TO LIFE, it cheapens everything. It retroactively makes everything, all the angst and character development involving the memory of Old Moon, lose what made it so good. (And now knowing it was possible from the very beginning??? Doubly so. So many sad moments are tainted knowing that Monty was sitting off to the side, awkwardly whistling and twiddling his thumbs.)

Because the story was written this way, bringing Old Moon back is one of those things that shouldn’t be touched. Some characters need to die and stay dead.

(I was even hesitant when Monty first brought up that Moon could talk to his old self. I was worried this meant Old Moon was still “technically alive”, which would lead to the cheapening of things. But, when they said Old Moon was just an “instinctual copy”/comatose at all times, I was a little reassured; that was manageable. The show even stressed that Old Moon wasn’t actually alive; Monty said it plainly that he couldn’t take over, he was just an instinctual copy. New Moon himself said “he knows he’s dead. He knows he's isn't going to come back.”

So…

Why are we playing with the idea of him coming back now!? After all that!?

And bringing him back wouldn’t FIX anything. Not for Sun or the family --

Recently, Sun disowned New Moon, and started talking about how toxic Old Moon really was towards him.

And we saw how Old Moon acted while comatose. Even in DEATH, Old Moon didn’t really want to change who he was or how he behaved. He even says he’s afraid of talking to Sun because of what he might say. If he won’t change after experiencing death, he is probably never going to. If he comes back, he’ll most likely go right back to being the exact same asshole.

And we know that Sun has developed enough to finally not take it. He would NOT let Old Moon treat him like that anymore. He is willing to cut a toxic family member out of his life.

So, what -- would the story just bring Old Moon back, have him be the same asshole that Sun has moved beyond, and then have Sun put his foot down and do a second disownment? I just don’t see the point in that.

Even if something really dumb happens, like Old Moon is given a SECOND BODY so that there are both Moons at the same time… are they just gonna have Old Moon be exiled from the family and become a drifter side character out in the world, who only shows up to cameo once in a while? That would not be satisfying -- and I doubt Old Moon would be happy being away from the family, seeing how the show hammers in how his family is the only thing he cares about.

(And you can’t have him hanging around as a permanent member of the cast alongside New Moon – you’d have to juggle two Moon characters, which just seems like a HUGE headache for everyone and could get confusing for the viewers trying to keep who is who straight. I’m sure that acting for two Moons in every scene would also be a pain in the ass for the voice actors. Plus, New Moon is just THE MOON of The Sun and Moon Show now; are they going to alternate between which Moon is doing the gaming videos??? That’d be a mess.)

(The only other option is to fuse both Moons into Moon-V.3. which is. Please no. We’ve already had a Moon reset, and this would essentially be the same thing, creating a whole new person. It’s redundant, we’ve done that before. Please do something else.)

New Moon is a real piece of work right now and I don't like this arc, but this is his story to conclude. Not Old Moon's. New Moon has to deal with the repercussions of what he's done to the family (and it's looking like Dark Sun has been controlling him or nudging his personality, so he might not be as guilty as we initially thought; we'll have to see the extent of how much control Dark Sun had). New Moon has to face the consequences of his actions himself. In a way, Old Moon ran away from his consequences when he let himself die, he never had to face up to what he did or atone with his own hands; New Moon needs to stay and face what he's done in this story, he needs to face what happened to the family. Even if it's revealed it's not entirely his fault, he needs to stay. (If he does stay, he will actually be better than Old Moon, who ran away.)

If Old Moon HAS to come back, there’s just one way I can think of that I’d want it to go, but this is already long enough, so I’ll save it for later. I just wanted to throw my opinion out here.

TLDR: I don’t want Old Moon to come back to life AT ALL because it will cheapen the story and his death, and if he comes back to life there’s no satisfying place for him.

#the sun and moon show #sun and moon show #TSAMS Moon #sams moon #wanted to get this out there while there was still time to

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hyuuukais · 9 months ago

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.・゜-: ✧ :- FICTIONAL REALITY .・゜-: ✧ :-

pairing • bang chan x fem reader

synopsis • fiction or reality? y/n preferred the former, escaping into another world, escaping her problems. so what happens when reality takes that away from her; wiping her own story-in-progress off both her laptop and beloved usb? and what happens when she opens the door in the middle of a crisis to none other then the love interest of her novel... and he's holding her usb?

warnings • general, blood/injury, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH(S)

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN • HERE COMES THE BRIDE (2k)

It's a beautiful venue, really, all decked out in gorgeous flowers leading you down the aisle to the love of your life. You had decided to go with a beach wedding, the outdoors a relaxing atmosphere and the beach, a fun aspect. At least, that's what you pitched to Yeonjun. Another reason was it's out in the open, therefore no closed doors. The only time you'd be inside a building would be before you left, getting ready elsewhere with Yeji and being picked up by Hyunjin.

Little did Yeonjun know you were never planning on making it there, escaping at the last minute in your wedding dress to a car rental one town over. Hyunjin helped put your things into the rental from his trunk, wishing you good luck with your new life. He'd snuck his information into your bag in case you needed someone, but you shredded the paper as soon as you found it. This was a fresh start, no one and nothing from your old life to bring you back to it or come back to you. Only memories and old wounds would haunt you now.

However, this was not the case. Your old life found a way to seep back in ways you never expected, ways you still fail to understand. So now you get into Hyunjin's car and tell him new instructions; you're going to the venue, determined to get this right. You weren't doing this again, letting him win and be his forever. No, you were going to get married and be happy and live and love again.

He's already standing at the end with his best man, a childhood friend you never really got to know. Sometimes you would wonder if he was ever so bad to him as he was to you, wishing you could take him away from all the pain. But you don't know him, and he could be just as bad. The seats lined up on either side of the aisle are empty for the most part, only a few people right at the front.

You recognize his brown, curly hair before anything else, your heart aching in your chest. As far as you know, you're the only one other than Yeonjun who knows what's going on. Chan must be here for the laughs, for Yeonjun to see him and know what you're missing because of him. Beside him is Jeongin, and as you pass him you notice a trickle of dark red running down his neck from his ear, but he doesn't say anything and you act like you don't notice. He avoids your eyes, but the way his jaw is clenched is telling.

Music plays loudly as you make your way to the front, stopping in front of Yeonjun. Yeji stands close to your side as your maid of honour, wearing a lovely silk lilac dress. She's more nervous than you it seems, a strange sense of calm washing over your body as you look directly into Yeonjun's eyes. Looking you up and down, he smirks, a glint in his eye, and you know he thinks he's already got this in the bag.

"Shall we begin?" The officiator walks forward.

"Ye-"

"No," you cut Yeonjun off. "There's someone missing."

Yeonjun narrows his eyes at you, but you play innocent, looking down the aisle. Any minute now, he should be here. You know he'll be here. Another minute passes and you can tell Yeonjun is growing impatient, the mask of a loving partner slowly slipping as you make him wait. Your chest tightens when his hand raises, but he only rakes his fingers through his hair.

"Whoever it is clearly isn't showing up," he snaps suddenly, earning a strange look from Hyunjin. "I mean, we can wait a little longer, but we shouldn't hold off so long for one person. The sooner I can marry you, the better."

He clasps your hands together, smiling down at you.

"You're right," you smile back. "We should start."

The officiate begins, looking uncomfortably between you two. When Yeonjun says his vows, you pretend to be grateful, even forcing out a few tears. It's all bullshit, everything he says. You can't wait any longer.

"I won't marry you," you announce.

"What?" Yeonjun's nostrils flare and his eyes narrow further.

"You have caused me so much pain, and I'm done." You step back, creating some distance between you as you recite your vows. "I have lived the past year and a half in fear of you finding me, of you bringing me down. Now I'm back here, and I won't let that happen again. You might think I'm just a scared little girl, but what you don't realize is that everything you've done leading up to this has only pissed me off."

He tries to grab you when you back up more, but Chan is out of his seat in the blink of an eye. Trapped in his arms, Yeonjun thrashes, trying to get to you. Chan is stronger, grip tight around Yeonjun's upper torso and arms.

"Min, Jeongin, now!" You hope they remember what to do.

A familiar face runs down the aisle, taking Chan's place in holding Yeonjun back. Minho struggles to keep ahold of him at first, hands slipping as they switch positions. Before Yeonjun can advance on you, Chan's fist is flying, knocking Yeonjun backward into Minho's arms.

Jeongin's chin falls to his chest, eyes open just enough to see the whites. Dark red blood gushes from his nose at the same time you hear Yeonjun cry out, the same dark red spurting out of a hole in his neck. Another appears soon after, then again on the other side. The whole time he's crying out, Chan is at your side, looking you over.

"I'm okay," you say, holding his face. "I'm okay."

Placing a hand on his chest, you take a silver band from Yeji, and the world around you fades. It's just you and Chan, staring into each other's eyes as your hands find one another. You're about to slip the ring onto him, but he grabs your hand before you can.

"We need to do this right," he says, cupping your face.

"We don't have time-"

"Then we make time." He's brushing hair out of your face, eyes flickering down to your lips.

"This might not work," you whisper.

"It will, I know it will."

"How can you be so sure?" Your free hand holds his shoulder, scared to let go.

"Because Y/n." Chan smiles, wide and blinding. "Because I love you, so, so much. You created me, gave me life, and although I know you think I only love you because of that, it's not true. If there's one thing I can take away from Yeonjun, it's that I have the freedom to choose, and I choose you. And you should too."

Your vision blurs with tears as he takes both your hands in his.

"It's time, Y/n," he whispers. "Make your choice."

"I choose myself." And he smiles and nods, wiping your tears away right as they start to fall. "I choose to be free."

The silver band slips on perfectly, and all you can hear now is silence. No muffled yelling, no music, nothing. It's you and it's him and it's everything.

Until someone pulls you away, back into those dark rooms.

Darkness engulfs you, turning around in a slow circle until your eyes adjust and you recognize the light coming up at the edge of the room. Someone coughs behind you, a strangled, gurgling sound, and you're met with two bodies. One lies on the chair facing where you used to sit, head turned away in a messy puddle of red, and you know who it is. Lying on the ground face down is another man, the wire that used to connect you and Yeonjun stuck into his arm.

"Y/n," he croaks and you crouch down hesitantly. "Y/n."

He coughs again, and you realize there's no more water in the room when blood spatters out of his mouth and onto the floor. Carefully helping him onto his back, you gasp shakily at the sight of him. There's a large wound running down the length of his chest, white shirt turned a much darker shade, and the same colour covering the lower half of his face, dried around his nose and mouth. The wire is jammed into his arm, veins around it black.

"What did you do?" You place a hand on his cheek, tears threatening to spill over.

"He's gone," Jeongin chokes out. "He was using this to connect you, your souls, your very beings. If it was still in you when I ripped the wires out, it would have killed you too."

"But why did you connect yourself?"

"He needed something to keep him grounded, I think." Jeongin's eyes flutter for a moment, but he manages keeps them open. "If I didn't connect myself, he would have reached out and found something or someone else. This way-" His breath catches. "This way he's gone for good."

"But that's just this realm right?" You ask, desperation seeping into your words. "You were fine at the wedding. You'll be fine when I get out of here too, won't you?"

He shakes his head. "I was supposed to die a long time ago."

Tears finally fall, mixing with the blood by his head. His breathing is slow, eyes falling shut one last time, but a small smile graces his face.

"So, you and Chan?" He coughs. "Gonna make it through?"

"That's what you're concerned about?" You laugh and sob at the same time, crossing your legs and propping his head up gently into your lap. You brush your fingers through his hair with one hand, holding his face with the other. "I don't know what's going to happen now. I don't even know if he's gonna be there when I get out."

"He'll be there, I can still..." Jeongin takes a deep breath, voice rising in pitch. "Feel him. I can feel him."

Jeongin brings a shaky hand up to your own on his cheek and you hold back another sob. This kid who you couldn't save, this kid who deserved better than the life he was given, holding onto you in his final moments.

"Thank you for trying," he whispers. "Thank you."

"Jeongin?" A beat passes and he says nothing, the rise and fall of his chest coming to an end. "No, no Jeongin, no."

Your body hunches over him, cradling his head in your arms as you weep over his body, unmoving. All that fills the room are your sobs and the sound of you crying out to him, calling out his name and pleading the universe to bring him back. It takes a long time for you to finally detach from him, laying his head down with care. You can't leave him here, but you have no way to bring him with you either.

With a heavy heart, you start your way to the door, but stop when you catch a glimpse of Yeonjun's face as you pass the chairs. Approaching him, you take in the way his hair has fallen into his eyes and the wires dangling above him, marked with the blood of the boy on the ground. You note the way his eyes are half closed and the way one of his legs hangs off the chair. You don't know why you feel compelled to memorize every last detail of his face, but you do.

The same door you left through before is closed behind you, but when you open it this time there's no light. The path is dark, too dark, but you head down anyway. A strange dizziness washes over you hard, bringing you down to your knees. Someone catches you as you fall, but you're suddenly too drowsy to keep your eyes open, letting this feeling whisk you away.

Warm sun on your face, soft sheets entangle your legs. Your eyes are crusted shut, but you pry them open and stretch out in your bed. Slowly, you get up, head swimming. You wait for the feeling to go away, walking over to the window and opening the curtain. Below are bustling city streets, people with places to go filling the sidewalks. You rub your eyes, exiting your bedroom to start the kettle, sitting on the red chaise lounge as you wait for it to boil.

●

notes • i cried writing this lol. what do we think happened to chan?

taglist • @yongbbokkie @chaeryred @tenebrisirae @toplinelix @chansdoll @amaranth-writing @3rachachoo @linosjureumi @thebrownemo @tfshouldidohere @channie-143 @frogieeheart @kangaracharacha @skzswife @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @palindrome969 @laylasbunbunny @bloomingstay

TAGLIST CLOSED ^^^blue means i can't tag you

#.・゜-: ✧ :- FICTIONAL REALITY .・゜-: ✧ :-#skz #stray kids #non idol au #bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan x fem reader #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz series #stray kids fanfic #bang chan series

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duraxxor · 1 month ago

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Good Morning

This is a story designed to catch all of you up on recent events. And is told from the perspective of the duality that is Duraxxor. Please enjoy!

A phrase that I have not known for some time. There was always this bittersweetness in basking in the rising of the day star. The myriads of hot colors that are often shown through in the atmospheric reflection that is our skies. It’s like… an ozone autumn one may say. It always reminded me of the Sin’dorei homelands. Wait, why does it also remind me of… someone?

“A dragon. It reminds us of that dragon of Azeroth’s blood. Delicious blood as it is, Azalora is a fresh slate. Much like we were. Or should I say… I was. Fate has dealt her a chance, unlike I. “

Hmmmm. A fresh dawn, one might say that one is. That’s right, meeting her was an interesting turn of events to start off with returning to Azeroth. Life always seems to find a way, in the strangest of places. That includes unlife. As logical as her mind is, she still has a lot to learn in her experiences.

“And that isn’t just about how she likes her cut of meat and flavor? Everyone knows there is only one way to eat a steak. Hahahaha… “

Ha! I do hope that we meet again soon. It was a most pleasant experience to have a new face to look at you as helpful and not entirely a threat. Although, that may come back to bite one in the tail. Wait… Why am I talking to myself?

“Really? We have fought against aberrations and had voices in your head so many times and you are surprised to be speaking to yourself of all people? Oh Alphus, you really haven’t been yourself for some time, have you? I suppose that comes with the fact that we haven’t been whole for so long. It reminds me of the current conflict between the Gravekeeper and the Courier. Oh, that was a most painful night, one I won’t soon forget. “

Ah. I take it you are the part of me that is Duraxxor, the name we have gone by for the past what? Decade?

“It’s been a little over fifteen years, old friend. “

Old friend? Look, we aren’t exactly separate entities like the two involved. You aren’t a leftover of my past; you are every bit as part of me as much as I may dislike the notion of me being a blood sucking monster. Why do you think you chose to meet with the Courier and hear her story out if she so wishes to share it?

“On the contrary, I have my pessimistic opinions that she won’t fully share. Remember, while Annaliese Handhour is a death knight, she was also a warlock in life. And with warlocks come complicated stories. Complications that they wish to not share. That is how we wound up absolutely getting our shit rocked when we tried to bargain with the Gravekeeper. We overstepped a boundary line, one might say. “

As if you really hoped to care about overstepping boundaries. That’s always been your specialty in these desolate years of conflict. Let us hope she at least forgives us for doing so in the future. Then again, you already plan to tread in waters that could already place her on our bad side by meeting with the Courier.

“Now see here, I have betrayed no one’s trust. If anything, there have already been a few betrayals already. When one doesn’t quite share their details, it is already a sign of bad faith and trust. And after we worked so hard to bring her back from her second death. “

Didn’t we also have a second death? . . .

“That is highly exaggerated. That was merely a setback, and we are fortunate enough to have had the Lady in Red as a dear friend. An ally who understands the raw potentials of what it is we have tried to accomplish! An evolution that will secure our birthright to no longer be a curse! A monster fraternizing with another monster. “

Is that really what you tell yourself? You and I both know if she had to choose between herself and us, it would always be herself. Even so, I can’t help but feel like I know her from the past. A deep, forgotten memory that goes all the way back to my childhood? Why do you think that is?

“That is precisely the point I wish to make about your confusion in speaking amongst yourself. Though the name Duraxxor may have come from the Scourge itself, I have always lived within you, Alphus. I am as much Alphus as you are. And yet, I am your shadow within your soul. “

. . . The darkest thoughts that were born from our curse. The beast of rage and the chaos that swirls within our heart. You mean to tell me you are exactly what was learned within the Shadowlands? You are that fragment of my soul that is foul and destructive?

“I suppose if you wish to look at it that way? Yes. Except I am the beast, as you put it, that has kept us ongoing ever since you crumbled into tiny, little shards of a mirror that were once your core memories. Memories that have only returned because we finally. . . “

You are trailing off. You realize it too, don’t you? The woman before us at this moment. She was the key, and she has always been that key even before I died. I wish I had known sooner who I originally was in life. I wouldn’t be sitting here, holding her hand with a severed ring finger. My beloved wife. . .

“It’s not entirely your fault, Alphus. What could you do? If anything, it was my fault. It was I who chose to believe in the bitter rumors that were plastered into the minds of even our blood children. Ravlynn and Aiden couldn’t know. The legacy of that foul man was nothing more than a children’s bedtime story in their hearts. Instead of investigating that claim all those years ago, I bitterly snarled and refused to acknowledge the emotion that is love born of understanding and kindness. That is why I made the mistake of trying to wed one of my own kind. A lie in a lie. All this time, I had been chasing pieces of your wife because of old emotions I didn’t quite understand. Because as much as it pains me to admit, I am quite the malevolent thing when it comes to what makes Duraxxor. “

We both have our sins, Duraxxor. I have over five hundred years' worth of questionable morality. It’s not about the wrong and right we do. It’s about how we choose to live. To fight. People live and they also die. For what purpose, that is up to them even if another force chooses to intervene. And this lady. This woman. She chose to continue to live even in the worst possible conditions because she chose to hold onto hope. Hope that WE will come for her.

“Hmph. You mean YOU come for her. This isn’t some fairy tale that w- “

Cutting yourself off again, I see. You know that was always a nasty habit. Tell me, how did the story go again? The one she told the kids. You heard it once from them, right?

“. . .Once upon a time there was a monster, most feared by all in the land. It was a terribly angry thing, all teeth and claws. Where it walked, death followed close behind. There was also a very sad princess, who lived in the land. They say she cried so much that she put the rains to shame. The king and queen wanted the princess to marry a grand duke, but he was ugly and wicked. Rotten straight to the core. The princess cried all day and all night, because she didn’t love the duke. She could never love a man like him.”

And with good reason. Ostidal Tindervale always was quite the pisspot of a noble.

“Now that I have had the luxury of meeting that excrement, quite so. Anyhow, she told the man that she didn’t want to marry the duke, that her parents were leaving her no choice. The man took her hand, stared deep into her eyes, and told her she -always- had a choice. “

Oh, that sounds vaguely familiar. It almost sounds like something you have said once before. That WE have said before. There is always a freedom of choice.

“Are you going to keep interrupting me? The man told the princess that she could run away. He took her far away… and even though her family sent many men to retrieve her, the man killed them without mercy to protect her. that he would protect her, help her get far away from there so that she could finally be free. He was so brutal in his efforts, that it was only a matter of time before the princess realized that the man who saved her was also the monster that everyone else feared. It didn’t matter to the princess though, because by then she’d realized that she’d fallen for the monstrous man… and he was with her. “

Here comes my favorite part of the whole thing. . .

“They ran away together, married, KISSED… and lived happily ever after! ~ Mwah Mwah Mwah Mwah!~ “

It’s a wonder you and I haven’t died more than twice with how insufferable you can be, you know that? Do you understand now what I am getting at?

“Of course I do! Duke the puke was a horrid pisspot that never let things go. History has a tendency to repeat itself and the monster in the story was always. . . Me. “

It was you and I both, wasn’t it? That numb feeling even before death where one after another, we killed people that threatened our livelihood. Her livelihood. It didn’t matter who they were, what their status quo was, or even if they were the Regent Lord himself, we fought for what we felt was the right choice to make. We didn’t let others dictate it. The shadow that turned monster because the world labeled us the moment we came out of the womb.

“And speaking of Arrydhalia, I believe it’s time I let you have the floor completely. I have… certain, internal affairs to take care of. I’m sure you will intermingle really soon. “

The timing was always impeccable for us both. But, as usual, he wasn’t a dishonest creature by any means. I looked upon the face of the storyteller that had passed my legacy onto our children through story. Sunken eyes with discolored skin begin to crinkle and stir as the light of the daystar bled through the window. The grasp onto the hand that lacked a wedding finger tightened. Where said finger would interlock like, the tips of chew nubs pressed against one another like some sort of a pact. No other would have this finger, just as she promised in her own, darkest hour. And yet, as the light caressed her dark curls and brought those azure eyes to creep open, I felt this desire to sing an unfamiliar song about the day.

So Good mornin’ Good mornin’ Sunbeams will soon smile through. Good mornin’ Good mornin’ to you and you and you and you.

[ Tagging for direct mentions: @azalora-the-azerite-dragoness , @gravekeeper-anna , @safrona-shadowsun , @sanguinesorceress , and a special thank you to @nyyght not only for Arrydhalia's character but the fairy tale story that started it all. ]

[ Art credits also go to the following: @frrrozi for Azalora, @handhourgalleries for Gravekeeper and Safrona, and @caladhel-iarian for Malakortana and me for the shot of Arrydhalia sound asleep. ]

#dura #batdad #alphus #the duality of duraxxor #catch-up #rp amongst friends #life wife #Gravekeeper #Azalora #Malakortana #Safrona #Arrydhalia #story rp

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mikuni14 · 9 months ago

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Dead Friend Forever - Ep 9

(I wanted to eat a cake when the episode started and I ended up sitting through the entire first scene holding it in front of my open mouth like a 🤡, it was so embarrassing when I caught myself doing it. Yep, DFF everybody! I was so invested that I couldn't watch and chew at the same time)

This is the 9th episode of this series that I rated 🔟, this series is really something else. There are still 3 episodes left, the series is devoting more and more time to what is happening in the present time and I'm starting to worry whether... 3 episodes is too much? Won't the endings get dragged? Will it stick the landing? My anxiety is 📈.

I love how this series is run, how natural it flows, how it jumps smoothly in "time and space" without being chaotic and incomprehensible. The narration, editing, pacing are 10/10. (But unlike the plot, my thoughts are very chaotic, as seen below lol)

It's amazing how everything that happens can be described as the butterfly effect. How Top's stupid smashing of the camera set off a chain of events that ended in the destruction of the entire family and a heartbreaking tragedy. I like how sharply focused Tan is (I'll just call him Tan, I'm lazy), how he's fully willing to sacrifice EVERYTHING, how he makes sure that Phee doesn't desecrate Non's memory with a new relationship.. It seems to me that Tan doesn't tell Phee everything because 1) someone stretched the wire that killed Deng 🤔 2) he doesn't seem particularly concerned about Por being dead 🙂

I like how in Phee's relationship with Jin, Tan makes Phee feel guilty, treating him as Non's boyfriend and how Phee does it to himself too. I once heard someone say in regards to romantic relationships, that it is impossible for new feelings to be born without the death of old ones. And this is another thing I love about DFF: they show the complexity of human feelings, including something as complicated as the fading of an old love and the emergence of a new one, the feeling of guilt associated with it, the feeling of having to hold on to the flame of memory and feelings towards the old love that has not ended normally, that could have been hurt, that could have been a victim, so these feelings are somehow "obligatory" for that old love, plus a sense of guilt and agony, because there is a probability that the new love could have once hurt the old love…

We can also say that the series explained why it all took 3 years. As predicted, it turns out that they couldn't get anything out of the boys, who usually just cut off their conversations and left. Then they all finished school, Phee and Tan had no results (because they're also, only boys, Tan couldn't do anything on his own, and Phee, well, he was distracted) and they simply went away to their studies, maybe different universities and the catalysts that accelerated the events now were: 1) the traumatic death of Tan's parents, which left him with nothing to lose, he probably also went a little crazy 2) Jin leaving the country 3) a unique opportunity of gathering everyone in one place

What I also really like is the realistic approach to the tiring, old trope that lying to loved ones "for their good" or for some "secret mission" that is supposed to bring happiness to everyone actually ends badly - unlike some series I have watched recently 🙄 DFF approached it realistically and clearly showed that people lied to by their loved ones, suffer a lot and feel betrayed to the point of not wanting to continue contact with someone who "wanted only good for them."

Questions: Photo of Non and Keng - they are in the clothes from their kidnapping, so the photo must have been taken then and only now given to the press/corrupt police to mislead, or it is photoshopped. Anyway, these are not new photos, and Keng looks safe and sound, the photo is taken from the back and he doesn't look like someone after a car accident. How did Tan get into school? After all, a student has some papers from the previous school, no one suddenly appears at a school and starts going there??? The series shows Tan under the influence of his psychedelic drug, with him having blurry visions and acting obviously drugged. However, when they are in the house and also under the influence of drugs, they act quite normal and only have clear visions, and surprisingly everyone has similar visions (except Jin, who also sees Keng). But apart from that, no psychedelia, strange colors or blurred image. And why would White also have a vision of the masked killer?

Finally, two comments: The sex scene - my jaw dropped, I didn't expect it, I didn't expect them to go all the way. This scene (as well as the entire series so far) shows how incredibly compatible and harmonious Phee and Jin are. (Now there are no more excuses that a decent sex scene can't be done in other BL series lol) I'm vibrating seeing how Tan is happy with what's happening even with Por's death. This is real, pure hatred, I hope they won't fuck it up and Tan won't "convert to goodness, love and brotherhood" and become "good" and "forgiving" and "a better person than them". I like how the show shows action and reaction and sticks to it. The entire logical progression of events is shown, from that stupid camera through Non's fall, the tragic deaths of Non and Tan's parents, ending with Tan standing with a smile over the chaos unfolding before his eyes. And yes. Including the fatalities. I'm vibrating.

My favorite moment, no surprise 😍

Forgive the quality of the photo, but Ta has such a great body, muscular, but in a natural, casual style 😍

#dead friend forever #thai bl #bl drama

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fractiflos · 7 months ago

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I've decided to do the thing where I put a poll up of my wips and write however many sentences that wip gets. BUT! These wips aren't even published yet. I like to put something up then come back to it later so I can at least take the pressure off myself. Because the pressure of getting a first chapter out makes it difficult to write.

Jult - Inspired by a conversation me and my sister had in a shoe store. We were wondering if Best Jeanist ever put a J at the front of words (ex: Jhe Jaghetti jas jood) and if he owned jean themed items like a Jable and Jhair. Then I learned there was a jult around him and thought "hey, what if he had a Jult in canon universe?" which is what happened. Although, this one is a one-shot.

Snippet: The parents would leave the hospital as confident and reassured as new parents could be, doing their best to make sure their child grew up happy and healthy. His blond hair grew out and took on a shine along with his oddly long lashes, and his green eyes always sparkling, much like his mother’s. Yet, despite his healthy look and appetite, there was something worrying about him.

He only liked denim.

Shigaraki - Frankenstein AU! Where AFO brings Yoichi back to life, Frankenstein style. And what luck, Yoichi appears to have lost his memories, leaving him with the opportunity to create the perfect little brother. When Second and Third find out, they try and get his memories back. But there's something that all four of them don't know. That's. Not. Yoichi.

Snippet: It was not a dark day when Yoichi died. It was sunny and there was not a cloud in the sky, though they couldn’t tell as they ran through the sewers like frightened rats. Hearts pounding in their ears, terror palpable in the air.

Ice King AU - The AU where everyone was born earlier into the Age of the Dawn of Quirks. Second and Third are brainwashed and work for AFO while Yoichi has become unrecognizable to everyone ever since putting on the quirked crown that gave him the ice powers. Meanwhile, Izuku and Katsuki are unaware of his tragic backstory and beat him up everytime he kidnaps a hero.

Snippet: At twelve years old, Izuku Midoriya should have been in middle school cutting open a dead frog. Instead, he was battling against a very large, very alive frog with acid spit.

Pokemon AU - Instead of quirks, they get pokemon. Izuku is still bullied for having an eevee that can't evolve. AFO and Garaki do all sorts of unethical experiments on pokemon. And it's really annoying how I can't type an accented "e" on my computer for some reason.

Snippet: Izuku Midoriya was 9 years old when he learned that not all Pokémon were treated equally.

Death Tree - Are you in the market for a fic with lesbian duoholders? Another Victorian era AU, but this time Yoichi and Second are both girls. I thought about how easily AFO's possessiveness over Yoichi would translate over to the attitudes toward women. He'd still have to disguise how deep it goes, but even if he slips up every once in a while, no one would suspect anything. The actual plot is Yone falls in love with the daughter of the stable manager, and they eventually start a secret relationship. She also makes some friends in the small town that she lives near and is pretty happy. Then her friends start dying. Looks like they're going to regret not paying more attention to AFOs behavior.

Snippet: Yone was thirteen years old the first time she met the girl. Her wild hair was a flame in the summer sun, freckles scattered across her cheeks in a way that was reminiscent of the stars in the sky and calculating ruby eyes. She couldn’t help her staring, not used to seeing someone display such blemishes so freely.

#bnha #jane's rambles #note: snippets are subject to change when I put up the actual chapter #But probably not since most of those are first lines and those tend to stay the same

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befuddled-calico-whump · 11 months ago

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The Return

cw: referenced torture, intimate whumper, mild dissociation, nudity, dubcon touch, vaguely referenced dubcon

previous ///// T$$ Masterlist

The spy becomes Sahota again as he passes through the compound doors, leaving behind two dead men in a courthouse basement. Two more tally marks on a more morbid list, one he's never bothered to make. Nowadays, he almost wishes he'd been counting his kills from the start, if only to know how bloodsoaked he’s become, if only to remind himself that this is who he is, all he'll ever be.

If you're drowning in blood, there are no lifeboats coming to save you.

Sahota walks silent into the bedroom he shares with Shepard Vic, the one place his master allows him to be Ander, though it's been quite some time since he's felt like Ander. He doesn't turn on the lights, not wanting to wake Vic, and makes his way into the connected bathroom from memory, closing the door behind him and flipping on the single bulb that sits muted over the shower.

He doesn't look into the mirror as he crosses the small room. He already knows what he'll see. A bruised and scarred face that doesn't always feel like his own. Sahota turns the hot water on and strips, trying to suppress a wince as he removes his shirt even though the session is over and he's alone. It's a habit. He does a cursory glance in the mirror to look over his back, finding it bruised, but not nearly as bad as his ribs and stomach. Another one of his captors’ flaws. They'd have better luck with a victim if they'd broaden their area of attack, if they got creative.

Along with the cuts and bruises, they’d also given his hands some attention. Two broken fingers on the right, and a pulled nail on his left index. If they'd been smarter, they would've saved those for the camera. It was the only time they'd made him scream.

But then, dead men don't need to be smart.

Sahota steps into the flow of hot water, carefully running his hands through his hair, washing off the weariness of the mission. In less than six hours, he'll need to be alert and ready to brief the team on the new intel. Knowing them and their naivete, they'll probably question his acquired bruises instead of letting it lie, but they should shut up quick enough if he offers no explanation.

He thinks they might be afraid of him. They should be, but their fear doesn't bring the satisfaction he’d thought it would. His own fault, really. He still gets tangled in his own emotions, in something that threatens to grow into attachment. He should be reveling in the way they look at him, at the feeling of finally being the one calling the shots, the one in control, the one who's doing the hurting.

But it doesn't feel good. It just makes him feel like Vic.

Sahota lets out a sigh as he turns his face upwards to let the water fall on it—

—and tenses as he feels a pair of hands settles on his waist.

Vic. He has the size, the heat, the calloused palms memorized. His body relaxes.

The older man slips under the water to join him. “Back already?”

“They didn't stand a chance.” He leans into the heat of Vic's body. He likes him better when he's hurt, that's no secret. It's when he can expect the most attention, even with the new team around to divide his master's focus.

“I'm glad. I thought I'd miss you tonight,” Vic says, nuzzling the side of his neck. Over the years they've settled into something more akin to the life of an old married couple, if that couple dealt in blood. Stolen kisses and affectionate touches, maybe being laid down in bed a few times a week. It almost feels warm and gentle and genuine. Sahota could make himself believe it if not for nights like this, when he returns wounded and some of Vic's old habits open their eyes.

His master moves one hand up his side, digging fingers into his bruised ribs until the pressure drags a yelp from his throat. He pulls him around so they're face-to-face and kisses him through the pain as he holds him in a too-tight embrace.

“Did you find anything?” The older man's tone shifts to something more businesslike. How easily Vic changes roles, seemingly without struggle or pause. The spy wishes it could flow so well for him.

“Yes. I've compiled everything into a file. I'll have it ready to go by morning.”

“Good job.”

A seed of warmth blooms in Sahota's chest at the words, simple as they are. “How much longer do you think it will be until we're ready to launch this mission?”

Vic reaches around to shut off the water. “A few more weeks at most. They're making steady progress. Hunter especially.”

Sahota tenses at the mention of Harbor, but forces himself to shake it off, stepping out onto the bath mat. “Is that so?” is all he says. He's already seen the way Vic looks at him. Like a cat watching a mouse. A new toy.

He used to get that look in his eyes for him, and Sahota hates the twinge of jealousy in his chest, hates the sharper emotions hiding behind it.

“His biotech will prove invaluable for the mission. Maybe for more.”

“More?”

“He’d be an asset to the team.”

Sahota knows he isn't talking about the new kids. He means the two of them. The team. He doubts Harbor's role will end at asset. A sick mixture of jealousy and fear creeps up his throat, threatening to spill out of his mouth in spoken worries, in pleading don't replace me's, don't make me obsolete's.

He chokes it down. Vic wants what Vic wants, and attempting to sway his desires only ever ends poorly.

Instead, Sahota towels off, careful to hold the thick fabric only in his uninjured fingers.

“Maybe he will,” he says. He has no time to waste on his own conflicting emotions. He has intelligence to sort, and if he gets started now, he might be able to catch a few hours of sleep before the team is awake.

He dresses, pocketing a roll of medical tape. He'll set and bind his fingers while the files are uploading. It's more efficient that way.

Vic calls after him in a soft voice, in the tone that reminds Sahota that he does love him, in what ways he can.

“Goodnight, little spy.”

Another name reserved for closed doors, for just the two of them. To remind him that he belongs to Vic, and he should be grateful.

“Good night,” he replies, then pulls the door closed behind him.

@theonewithallthefixations , @violet-prism-creatively , @whump-me

#sahota after being tortured: *criticizing his captors methods and lack of creativity*#yeah heed the warnings! sahota definitely gets a darker tone than the rest #and yeah im on a sahota roll i guess #t$$ sahota #intimate whumper #spy whump #total$hit$how #angst #a sanitized version for this account

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trulybetty · 11 months ago

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Sunday Week In Review XVI & 2023 Wrapped

I feel like 2023 just started five minutes ago, am I the only one who feels like this year as passed by quickly but at the same time dragged its heels?

I've seen so many lovely end of year close out posts and years in review. I toyed with how I wanted to close out the year and what I could say that could sum it up sufficiently.

Betty rambles under the cut with this weeks reads if you're interested...

2023 has been a weird year if I'm entirely honest and somewhat isolating. I returned from mat leave, back to working from home, and having to scramble to make adjustments when things fell through. Which resulted in Mr. Truly and I working opposite shifts to ensure the S.S. Truly stayed afloat.

But during the last six months somehow I made it back to Tumblr, to an old account from way back when - pre-dating when the Canucks made it to game seven kinda old - I blew off the dust, cleaned house and made myself a little space. I still don't know 100% how it all happened, though I think it started with the Reddit forum.

You don't need to know the whole spiel about Pedro, because while we're here because of him, it's the community that holds us here. After floating and not really knowing what I was doing, I started to make connections within this community and finding a seat at the table (we'll come back to that) and I found joy again. I'd kinda lost myself in the fog that is half a dozen other titles/roles others looked to me as that had replaced just Betty.

I started writing, hadn't done that in years. I rekindled by love for graphic design, what I went to school for. I was reading books again, as well as so many great fanfics here. I even bought poetry books, something I hadn't done since I don't know when.

I've been really fortunate in my experience that I've encountered so many wonderful people. I may not get to be as social as I'd like to be, and I still have a fear of dropping into DM's & Asks unannounced. I have the shittest memory, if I don't keep a tab open or reply straight away it's sometimes days or weeks before I remember again. But I really hope that I've returned in kind what others have given me because I'd hate for anyone to feel like they don't belong here, because you do.

This community is a table (told you I'd come back) and it's size is immeasurable. It has no bounds and there's always room for whatever kind of chair you pull up and if you don't have one? We'll find one. Need to leave for a while? We'll save your seat. This my friends is a community, and if you're met with those who tell you the table is full, I'm telling you now, they're not a part of it.

Are there going to be those with more notes? Yes. Are there going to be people you're going to compare your writing to? Yes. Are you going to maybe want to pack it all in and delete your masterlist now and then? Yes.

But none of that takes away anything that makes you, you and what you bring to the table.

Life is hard enough without the added pressure of thinking you need to score imaginary internet points with stats and metrics that carry no value. I wish I knew the magic formula, because I'm still trying to figure it out myself, but let's try and be kinder to ourselves eh?

But I'm really going into 2024 with the goal of curating my own joy - whether it be indulging in the fanfics I want to write and read, more obnoxious coffees, a new fountain pen, giving myself permission to buy the fancy notebook, get back to baking or binging both seasons of Julia and pretending I can make one of her recipes.

So to sum it up, before this goes into a further incoherent ramble, this year has been about reaching out, starting connections and building something meaningful. I've met some amazing people that I am lucky to call friends and without their kindness and extending a seat at the table I'm not sure I'd still be around these parts.

Here's to more of that in 2024 - while I'm not always the best at replying to messages, my DM's and Ask's are always open, feel free to drop in at any time 💕

Pedro Tax™️ for your time...

T R U L Y U P D A T E S . . .

December x 500 is complete-ish? Thanks to being sick towards the end of the month there's three entries missing, but I'm hoping to sneak them in during the new year! I'm looking forward to a quieter writing schedule that's for sure!

W H A T I R E A D . . . Didn't read as much as I wanted to this week - but I'm off this next week, so hoping to do a little more and get through some of my TBR list!

All I Want for Christmas (Frankie) by @morallyinept This was a delightful festive meet-cute that had me on the edge of my seat and also explores the character of Frankie and the ramifications of his actions on his friendships and his ex.

All I Want (Will Miller) by @laurfilijames This was a bittersweet one-shot that touched on the idea that the festive season isn’t always for everyone and that you never know what’s going on with someone.

I Put My Book Down to Be Here (Dieter) by @frenchiereading My first New Year’s Eve fic I’ve read this season and it’s so sweet and has a soft Dieter (my fave), who is still his chaotic self! I loved this from start to finish and such a great meet-cute!

Had Me Fooled (Dave) by @wildemaven Heidi has done such an amazing job with this mini series that can be read as a standalone or as a series. I love a soft Dave and Heidi does it so well. This last one had my toes curling in all their romantic glory and I will be revisiting this series again I'm sure!

Reunions (The Thief) by @ladamedusoif I'm behind on Rose's December prompts, but this was the steamy follow up to My Kiss, Only For You (go read that first, no seriously, go read it) and it was so delectable and my greedy self hopes we see these two again in the future.

Cookies (Tim) by @ladamedusoif Speaking of delicious things, this was as indulgent and sweet as the cookies made in this fic. Tim was one of the characters I didn't see becoming such a favourite this year - but I love seeing everyone's interpretation of him. This one here? In my top ranked versions 🫠

So here's to 2024!

Thank you for every interaction, reblog, or tag - every single one is held clutched to my heart in appreciation every time!

Stay safe, and whatever you're doing or wherever you are sending you much love!

#betty's sunday in review #sunday week in review #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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