#and every single time I always fail to be normal about this scene

[thefanciestborrower]

Don’t you love watching a movie where your favorite character almost gets baked into a literal pastry you have to force yourself to be normal about it cause your friends are with you?

Yeah so this is Elmont and I want to eat him

#I’ve watched this movie every year for my birthday since I was like 13 #and every single time I always fail to be normal about this scene #once I even insisted we have pigs in a blanket at my party as a snack food because of this #I wanted to eat him so bad I made my mom make food based on him good lord #Vore mention #fandom vore

[koqabear]

「 Camera Shy 」

♫: Automatic, Red Velvet // Movie Star, CIX // Color Me, JUNNY // Kitty Cat, KISS OF LIFE

“You’ve always tried to live an honest and responsible life; never spending money on anything ridiculous, scoffing at the things other people would be so willing to drop their paycheck on. But when life gets hard, you’re bound to give into your guilty pleasures, right?”

camboy!Beomgyu x fem!reader

Genre: f2l, smut, pw/minimal plot 

Word count: 14.4K (there’s like three different smut scenes here)

Warnings: gyu has a thing for glasses idk don’t question me, (mc wears glasses, not necessarily prescription), gyu is lowkey manipulative if u squint, slight possessiveness on his part? nothing toxic (i think), alcohol consumption, gyu has a tattoo.. 

smut warnings: gyu is a bit of a perv! mean dom!Beomgyu, sub!mc, masturbation (f&m), filmed sex, (consensual), dirty talk, degrading, use of toys (f&m rec.), exhibitionism, voyeurism technically, bit of a voice/hand kink? slight humiliation kink, mentions of safe words & subspace, mentions of squirting lmao, manhandling, spanking, pet names (princess, baby, etc.), fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, marking, dry humping, handcuffing, biting, unprotected sex, dumbification, dacryphilia, creampie (lmk if i should add anything!)

Notes: lemme tell you. i wrote abt the tattoo before i stumbled upon that pic, when i tell you i was just ??? barely proof-read heehee. the thought of this au hit me like a that-so-raven vision, and I literally spent the whole day making sure I could finish this. enjoy bc i love camboy aus sm. (oh and pls, do me a favor and reblog— i have an ominous feeling about what’ll happen to this fic once i post it.)

Beomgyu has always found the idea of his work a bit ridiculous. 

Day by day, he’s a normal college student— he spends his early mornings in classes, taking all the morning slots everyone was always reluctant to enroll in before he went off to work; he was known as that cute server amongst the women that visited the restaurant he worked at, able to upsell and gain tips with ease as he quickly became a favorite amongst his coworkers.

He liked the attention— of course he did, he needed to in order to thrive in the field of his actual job, his hours at the restaurant nothing but a side hustle compared to the hundreds he could make of a single stream.

Those hundreds could always breach into the thousands— but those were on especially good days, like his annual Valentine’s Day stream he always held for his lonely, single viewers. 

Beomgyu was quite the sweet talker— he got the practice from his day-to-day shifts, watching girls his age and older fawn at his words and flutter their eyes playfully. It was clear they enjoyed the attention just as much as he did, a cute smile on his face as he faked a shy laugh whenever they would compliment him.

Your hair looks really nice today. You smell amazing. Do you work out? You have a really nice voice. 

He got that last compliment a lot.

“Do I?” he would purr, a sultry smile crawling on his face each time, like a practiced action as he would tilt his head teasingly— the reaction would be positive each time, without fail, and he would always end up with a collection of napkins with scrawled phone numbers every time he would clock out— his coworkers would poke fun at him every time they watched him dump them all out apathetically. 

You weren’t into that one person? Dude, the lady at table seven was so fucking hot.

Beomgyu never really paid mind to their teasing— he could care less for the men and women that tried to butter him up during his shifts, forced to act as though their shameless flirting didn’t make his stomach twist unpleasantly— instead, he would be forced to smile, laughing sheepishly before he would slip away with one last comment. 

“I’m flattered, really— but, I have someone I’m interested in.” 

That someone was you— the pretty girl that sat across from him during his ten am lecture, finding himself spacing out every time and staring off into your direction; though you never seemed to notice, much too caught up in taking notes as he watched the way your brows would furrow, biting at your lip and adjusting your glasses as you remained focused— whether those glasses were for reading, blue light, prescription, or even decoration, he didn’t care— all he cared about was how unnecessarily attractive you looked in them. 

He thought about you more than he liked to admit— it was frustrating at first, his thoughts starting as nothing more than puppy love to something worse— it was only after you piqued his interest that he began streaming more. 

This was both a good and bad thing; good because, well, he began to climb the ranks of popularity and earn more, but bad because he would find himself thinking of you. Each. And every. Time. 

“Wish I could fuck you,” he would sigh out, his comments going too fast for him to keep up with as his eyes fluttered shut; leaning back against his headboard, he shifts, making sure everything but his lips remain out of frame before he’s back to closing his eyes, “would you let me make you feel good? God, I’d do anything just to feel you, taste you…”

As far as his audience knows, he’s speaking to them— the comments grow wild and tips flood in, all asking him to stop being a tease as they watch the way he palms himself through his sweatpants; grabbing at his length, stroking it slowly as he lets his imagination run wild. 

He’s not wearing boxers; Beomgyu knows it drives his viewers mad, able to see as a wet spot begins to form on the light material, his tip leaking furiously as his other hand tugs the hem of his sweater over his chest— his vision is hazy as he reads the requests, laughing softly as he allows his fingers to trace along his chest absentmindedly— tracing over the muscle of his abdomen, circling his nipples slowly as he reads a comment under his breath.

Stop teasing and hurry up already !! >///<

The comment has him rolling his eyes— yet his usual tippers begin to request the same thing, and his hand is slowly tugging at the tied strings of his pants as he smiles, mocking and mean as he bites his lip. 

“Hurry up? You want to command me while you’re over here throwing money at me like a whore? All just to watch me fuck myself, dreaming that it could be you?”

The comments start speeding up; it’s all a blur to him, but the sound of money coming in is enough to tell him that his usual audience is active again.

“Pathetic,” he sighs, his voice deep and grumbly as he reads over the requests that come in with the money: yes, i wish it were me there… please, can we see your cock?

“Desperate little sluts,” Beomgyu hums, tugging his waistband down and allowing his cock to spring up; it smacks against his stomach, and though the people in his comments attempt to regain his attention with dirty words and useless requests, he knows it’s all because of you— guiltily, he finds his thoughts straying the moment his hand wraps around his cock. 

His streams have a certain formula to them; the more money, the better the show. Which is exactly why he ends up kneeling in front of the camera, fucking his cock into a clear flashlight as he listens to the sounds of tips coming in left and right— but his eyes remained shut, spilling enough filth to have his audience satisfied as he allows to let his imagination run wild. 

In every stream, he cums to the thought of you; he has to bite his lip to not moan out your name like a pathetic bitch in heat, flooding his fleshlight with cum and continuing to fuck into it until his next orgasm.

In every stream, he finds himself thinking the same thought at least once— do you watch his streams?

»»»

The concept of camboys is ridiculous to you.

Why in the world would you spend all your money and emotions on a single person, when you can just go on Twitter and find the next best account that has yet to be suspended? Well, it’s not as though you find the idea of sex work appalling, but you don’t think you’d ever feel good about yourself spending a hard-earned paycheck because you were horny. 

You’re not stupid; you know sex workers make bank, and you know that there are people in the world that love emptying out their bank accounts to such workers; whether it’s due to a kink or to feed into their parasocial relationship, you’re not sure. 

You find that a good session on Twitter and your fingers usually does the trick— maybe a toy or two, if you find yourself feeling that needy. 

Today’s session quickly becomes both disappointing and humbling; every account you try to look for has either been suspended or deleted, and every video you come across is something that’s not to your taste or something you’ve seen many, many times. 

You feel weak as you come across the same account again; guiltypleasures— and he’s damn right, because you’re unable to resist the urge to click on his icon, feeling your thighs rub together with impatience as you sit back in bed— scrolling through, you’re surprised to see that he’s posted another video— without a second thought, you’re watching it. 

“Fucking pathetic,” he sighs out, the familiar growled phrase making you gulp; you never found yourself to be too attracted to men who are extremely dominating and mean, but the man on your screen is somehow able to make it work as you find yourself getting wetter, “are you touching yourself right now? Don’t you wish I was there with you?”

And shit, you think you know why he’s able to make you come back to him every time, even if he’s posted nothing new and you’re forced to rewatch old videos most of the time; maybe it’s because of his hands, delicate and thin as they wrap around his favorite pocket pussy, or maybe it’s the way he slowly fucks into the said toy; stretching it out, his tip poking out and oozing enough cum that you can hear the wet squelching sounds that come from every thrust.

Or maybe, it’s his voice, deep and breathy and addicting as he mumbles out filthy things like it’s the only thing he knew how to do; his lips are red and swollen as he groans, hissing through his teeth as you watch the way his hands tighten around his toy. 

“Shit, I’d fuck you so good,” he sighs out, hips rutting into the toy in his hands as he laughs; his head tilts, and though you’re only able to see his lips, you know his eyes are teasing as he looks into the camera, “fuck you so that you’d never want anyone else but me.”

His thrusts are picking up— you didn’t even realize the moment you began touching yourself, embarrassing whimpers and breaths falling from your lips as you keep your eyes honed in on his motions; you’re close, so close, your ministration speeding up as you fight to keep your eyes open. 

“You’d be my good little cumdump, just for me to use— right?”

The video ends shortly after.

God damn it! your mind screams, the sudden cut-off catching you so off guard that you completely ruined your orgasm; you feel insanely embarrassed by how frustrated you feel, not realizing how short the clip he posted was until now. Clicking away, you feel as though your mood is ruined as you read the contents of his tweet. 

A small clip from the stream. Watch the rest here: https://…..

Shit. Of course he would be a camboy. How did you not realize this sooner?

Honestly, if you sounded like that, you would be one too— and frustratingly enough, the brief cutoff is a damn good marketing strategy, because after a moment of thought, you’re clicking on the link.

You could just rewatch the video— you could also just go rewatch his previous videos, or even use your imagination to help you finish— but the idea of doing so is much more unpleasant than usual. (And humiliating, because you’ve found with horror that you’ve begun to memorize how his previous, equally as short, clips go.)

Your resolve begins to weaken the moment you click on his page— because of course, everything costs money— It costs to see his previous streams, costs to message him, and costs to get a fucking membership. 

Who is paying for all this?!

You, apparently— because after some serious, slightly horny-impaired thought, you decide that getting a low-tier membership wouldn’t be too bad, right?

The cost is monthly (because of course it is, this website seems to want to charge you for just looking at his page) and you wince slightly as you watch your transaction go through. 

Once you see the notification of your purchase pop up on your phone, you feel dreadfully sobered. 

Because shit, being a low-tier subscriber only gets you a part of his most recent streams— about less than half of it, you notice— only able to get full access to streams prior to this month. It’s enough for now, but you can’t help but feel as though you’ve become the very thing you’ve despised as you lay back in your bed, staring at your ceiling for a moment before you’re sighing.

You’re still horny. 

»»»

You think you can get behind the whole camboy thing. One may say you’ve been swayed, and quite honestly, you don’t think you could dispel such claims at this point.

Because it’s been a few months, and you’ve managed to stay through the whole thing. You’re surprised that you’ve begun to keep his streaming times in mind as you go about your day, ending your study sessions early or wondering if you’ll get home from work in time to watch his streams. 

You always do. Maybe it’s a deity above making sure you get your money’s worth, or maybe it’s the fact that guiltypleasures is a human too, with a normal life and better shit to do than sit in front of a camera and jerk off all day. 

The idea of following in his footsteps has crossed your mind more often than you expected; anything would be better than being a hostess at this god-awful job you have, forced to sit through the way people take out their anger on you and proceed to flirt with the servers— one of those servers being Beomgyu.

You were able to realize how popular Beomgyu was after your second shift— it didn’t take a genius to figure out why as you were left to deal with the way women of your age and older (mostly older. So many older women.) would creep up to you shyly, putting up a front of innocence as they asked you is Beomgyu here today? Could we sit in his area, please?

Seeing him rack up tips after a busy shift is always enough to have you wondering if you should switch to being a server— but then you see the way the women are treated, your stomach flipping in disgust at the way men leer and comment at them— you’ve even seen Beomgyu get cursed at plenty of times as well, shivering at the jealous partners and the way they’ve been blacklisted for threatening him. 

Tonight is one of those nights. You’ve clocked out, shrugging on your jacket and gathering your belongings when you see Beomgyu storm in through the employee entrance; you don’t think you’ve ever seen him angry, but the sight has your eyes widening as you watch the way he frowns at his uniform, cursing angrily under his breath as he approaches the break table you stand by. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, low and breathy and mean as he continues complaining, berating the customer that had the audacity to throw their drink at him— but you, in your very depraved state, remain stuck on the way he sounds, his voice far too attractive for a person who is spouting out filth.

This feels familiar. 

“Hey, you okay?” you ask softly, feeling awkward as you mentally slap yourself for your train of thought; it seems as though Beomgyu hadn’t even realized you were there, his head snapping up as he stares at you like a deer caught in headlights— his mood is immediately shifting as he sends you a sweet smile, acting as though his clothes aren’t soaked as he waves you off causally. 

“Yeah. Just some ridiculous customers,” he says, laughing softly as he grabs at a pile of napkins on the table; you wince as you watch him scrub roughly at the stains, unable to stop yourself as you jump to his aide. 

“Here, you’ll only get the stains in deeper if you do that,” you say, taking the napkin from his hands as you begin to dab at his uniform without much thought; you’re much closer than you should be to someone you’ve never really talked to, but you don’t seem to realize it as Beomgyu practically forgets to breathe from your proximity. 

Shit, how did he find himself in this situation? He might as well go back out and thank the jealous, “tough guy” boyfriend that threw his drink at Beomgyu, because he feels as though every guilty fantasy is coming back to mind as he takes in your concentrated expression, your hand placed firmly on his chest for support as the other dabs at the stains in his uniform. 

You smell so good. Even though you’ve been in the restaurant just as long as him and have been around food this whole time, he’s still able to pick up on your scent with every shaky breath he takes. 

You’re wearing your glasses, too.

Beomgyu’s mind is wandering off to dangerous places; he knows he needs to get himself under control, because the danger of him popping a boner just from how close you are is a higher probability than he’d like to admit. It seems as though you’re snapping out of your trance the moment he clears his throat, your face growing hot and slightly horrified as you jump back; Beomgyu can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips at the sight, finding your embarrassment oddly endearing. 

“Sorry, got carried away,” you say, smiling shakily as you take in the way Beomgyu practically beams at you— always a sweet, nice guy, waving you off without a problem as he laughs softly.

“No, it seems to have helped,” he says, and you can’t help but notice how oddly charismatic he is even now, during this mundane interaction that has you stuttering over your words stupidly— but to be fair, how are you supposed to give him advice on how to get the stains out when he’s looking at you with the cutest god damn puppy eyes you’ve ever seen, his brown eyes round and sparkly as he listens intently to every word you say? 

“I wouldn’t have thought to do that,” he smiles, his cheeks puffing up cutely and oh, is it weird that you want to coo at how cute he is and pinch his cheeks…? 

Definitely weird, you decide, letting out a soft laugh as he tells you that he’ll try it as soon as he gets home. 

“Speaking of which, I’ll let you go; you probably don’t want to be here longer than necessary,” Beomgyu is so kind and considerate even as you tell him it’s fine and that you didn’t have any plans after work anyway. 

“I’ll let you get back to work,” you can’t help the soft laugh that escapes you as Beomgyu asks you to wish him luck, the smile he sports coy as you follow his command without any hesitation— you take this as your chance to leave before things get awkward, but a part of you itches to go back and talk to him more. 

Beomgyu’s good, you realize as you’re exiting the building, a bewildered laugh escaping you as you realize that he managed to charm you just from that short interaction. 

You get why he’s so popular. 

»»»

Any plans to go to bed early and rest are immediately thrown out the minute your phone buzzes beside you. 

You were just about to put your laptop away— just on the verge of falling asleep, until your eyes reluctantly drifted to read the words that take over your screen— it’s a Twitter notification, the username making your eyes widen as you’re scrambling to unlock your phone and read the rest. 

guiltypleasures

had a shitty shift today, let me take it out on you? https://…….

Oh. oh, oh lord… you can feel the exhaustion lifted off in an instant; suddenly, you’re wide awake, eyes widening as you quickly copy the link of his tweet into your browser— while your mind scolds you for trying to stay up and possibly ruining your sleep schedule, the other, much more sinister part of it tells you that you’re paying for a reason. 

The stream starts in five minutes. 

While you wait anxiously in your room, your hands swiftly going to your nightstand to take out some toys— your trusty vibrator and a dildo you recently bought, all because of him— Beomgyu paces around his setup, gathering his own toys and changing into something that the viewers might like; today's ensemble is a bit more bothersome than usual, but he knows how much his viewers like when he dresses up and role plays a bit with them. 

He was tired; today's shift took a toll on him, and he’d rather be fast asleep than putting on a stream— but after looking at today's earnings, he couldn’t help but feel unsatisfied with it all, deciding on impulse that he would put on a stream to make up for his lack of tips— instead, he’ll earn tips in another way. 

“Hey,” he starts quietly, sitting back in his seat as he takes a glance at his monitor, making sure his face is out of frame. The viewer count rises and comments flood in no time, all of them freaking out about how good he looks in the suit he wears; the all-black ensemble feels stifling to him, but he knows taking it off will be worth it in the end. 

Bad day today? Let us make you feel better :( 

His top tippers are all begging for his attention, desperate and needy as always as they beg for him to get started— but he feels a lot more sluggish than usual, his gloved hands caressing his thighs slowly as he reads the comments out loud. 

“Yeah, today’s shift wasn’t that great,” he speaks, his voice deep and sultry as he allows a moment to pass, reading all the comments that beg for him to use them, “I only thought about you though. Just wanted to see you.”

There he goes again— he’s no longer talking to his audience, but to you instead, closing his eyes and imagining a world where you’re in front of him, or even on the other side of this screen, one of the many faces that lusts over the way his cock begins to harden, the bulge becoming much more apparent as he lets his mind wander.

Unbeknownst to him, you are on the other side of your screen; a shy and flustered mess as you shift in your bed, watching the comments fly by as you wonder if you should join in— not that you could, anyway, your low-tier subscription excluding you from doing such things, as ridiculous as it is. 

You’re practically devouring the man on your screen with your eyes; taking in the way he’s dressed, his pretty hands covered with leather gloves as he runs them slowly over his black trousers; stopping as they run back to his hips, a hand beginning to palm at his bulge as he spreads his legs a little wider in his chair— today's setup is a bit different, along with his attitude as he seems to sweet talk the audience more than usual. 

“Seeing you is the only good part of my day,” he sighed, his free hand trailing up his chest before it stops at his tie— he’s tugging at it, loosening it and allowing it to hang around his neck as he continues, “Can’t stop thinking about how much I want you, how I’d fuck you until all you can remember is my name.”

The offer is tempting; you groan a little as you watch him begin to slide off his blazer, throwing it to the side before he’s unbuttoning his white shirt— he’s making quick work to become undressed, you notice, untucking the material and undoing his belt as the sounds of it jingling ring out in the room. 

Yet, no one knows his name— no one knows anything about him, except the tattoo that runs across his side as he slides off his shirt, the sharp, elegant lines running all along his ribs, trailing down to his hip bones and disappearing under his pants— the rest of him remaining a mystery as you’re left to lust over a nameless, faceless stranger. 

That’s probably where the appeal comes from; you’re able to imagine anything about him, from what his face looks like to what he may do when the cameras are off; you’re free to mold him into the perfect fantasy, using him and projecting onto him as you watch him slowly unzip his pants, a hand slipping under as he begins to jerk himself off teasingly, slow as always as he waits for the requests to come in— like clockwork, your eyes fall to the end of his tattoo, taking in the cute heart that rests by his hip bone, the ending of the elaborate piece that always has you wondering what it’d be like to see in person. 

“Hmm? You want more?” he says, tilting his head slightly as he smiles; it’s mocking as always, biting into his lip as he begins to roll his hips into his hand— making a show out of it, throwing his head back and letting out a breathy moan that has you shivering.

“How about you show me just how much you want it,” he sighs out, smiling evilly as tips begin to come in left and right as a response; you find the way he’s able to manipulate the audience impressive, always able to get them to blow their money on him without hesitation. 

He leans forward, towards the screen, and you’re able to admire his lips as he reads the comments, mouthing them as the lights cast a glow on his pretty, pouty mouth, his neck tempting and begging to be marked as you watch the way he displays it so teasingly. 

“Good girl,” he laughs softly, your eyes flickering to the comment section for a moment; his top tipper has spent an egregious amount on him yet again, and you listen to the way he softly begins to fulfill her request, the rest of the audience momentarily disappearing as he begins to speak to her. 

“Always such an obedient thing for me, hmm? Tell me, what do you want to see?” 

His manipulation is seamless as he watches another tip flood in; all from the same person, the amount doubled in order to get his attention past all the others that blow a measly twenty on him, nothing compared to the three hundred that is highlighted in gold, the comment momentarily pinned for the man to read it.

I want you to fuck your favorite fleshlight and use a vibrator while you think of me. Can you moan my name please? It’s—

Her comment has your eyes widening for a second; it’s bold and demanding, and the idea of requesting such a thing from the camboy in front of you is daunting as you read her request over and over— your face feels hot and you’re already taking off your sweatpants from how needy you are, wondering if the man on your screen will accept such a request.

The first two are nothing to him— in fact, it’s more on the tamer side as he already finds himself reaching for the aforementioned toys. 

The problem lies in the last request. 

He’s not one to moan names on a live stream; he usually saves it for personal requests he gets, the videos much more personal and calculated as he gets to take his time with them— so for his top tipper to request such a thing on his livestream is a bit more difficult; especially when he spends this time thinking of you. 

But then again, it’s three hundred dollars. 

“Okay then, is that what you want? Hmm?” he teases softly, purring out her name at the end as he watches the way she tips him again; it has him laughing in amusement, sitting back in his chair before he’s crossing his arms over his chest, singing out her name with a soft lilt as he watches the way she continues to pour money at him like it’s nothing. 

Soon enough, more requests come in; all with the same amount and request, hoping that they’ll be able to hear their names fall from his lips as he slowly begins to tug down his pants, raising his hips as he’s left in nothing but his underwear, the briefs straining painfully as his cock twitches, begging to be free. 

“One at a time,” he murmurs sweetly, patronizing as he mumbles that it’s her turn now, watching the way she seems to react with every purr of her name. 

The sudden trend of requests makes his stream slightly difficult; he’s always found himself to be a lot more into them when he’s mentally moaning out your name, lips ghosting over the syllables every time he’s coming undone. Instead, he’s forced to moan out the name of a stranger as he begins to palm himself slowly, even though his mind thinks back to you and the small interaction you had today. 

He feels his cock twitch at the mere thought. It’s painfully hard and won’t stop leaking as he takes it out, not needing to use any lubricant as he begins stroking it slowly, hips jumping at the feeling of the leather against his skin— and though his lips moan another’s name, his eyes remain closed, thinking about you. 

You and your meek personality, always letting guests take out their anger on you before they’re turning around and sucking up to Beomgyu— he’s always had to resist the urge to fuck them up as a response, knowing that you think no one else notices your sullied mood and your crestfallen gaze every time they seem to get away with it. 

He’s never free to comfort you. You’re both far too busy to be around each other for longer than a few minutes, and today was like a blessing as he caught you at just the right time— he would have stayed the rest of his shift back there talking to you, if only he hadn’t been playing the part of a sweet, considerate guy. 

He thinks back to how you felt against him. How, even though your actions were innocent and you were much more focused on taking out the stain of his uniform, he still felt the warmth of your hand against his chest, delicate and smaller than his as you leaned in close enough to allow himself to get a whiff of your sweet scent.

And those glasses. 

He never thought he would find himself hung up on such an item, but the way they make your eyes look big and sparkly is practically enough to make him cum on the spot. Instead, he grabs a hold of his newest fleshlight, soft and tight, just how he imagines you would be. 

It’s perverted, but as he slides his cock into the tight sleeve, groaning slightly at how he’s barely able to push through, he imagines that it’s you. His mind begins to wonder what it would be like if you were above him right now, your thighs encasing his and your pussy leaking onto his cock as he fucked into you without abandon. 

As he turns on his vibrator, running it along his balls and letting out pathetic moans, he imagines what it would be like to use it on you while he fucked you, imagining the way your tits would bounce and your eyes would squeeze shut as he made you cum until you were unable to hold yourself up. 

On the other side of the screen, you imagine the same thing. Your legs are shaking and you’re fighting to keep your eyes open as you follow the pace he’s set, pressing your vibrator firmly against your clit and letting out weak whimpers at the sensation. You try to ignore the way he calls out the same name over and over, wondering instead what it would be like to hear your name from his lips— the sound is ringing throughout your mind the moment you imagine it, burying your face into your pillow as you increase the intensity of your toy. 

“Let me fill you up, want you dripping with my cum,” he growls out, the sloppy sounds of his thrusts only spurring you on as your thighs close around your hand, hips grinding into your dildo as you sink your teeth into your lip ruthlessly— it’s almost enough to draw blood as you watch the way he cums into his toy, hips continuing to rut into the it even long after he’s come, a white ring forming at the base as he turns the vibrator off from the overstimulation. 

“_— Shit,” Beomgyu almost slipped up for a second, proceeding to moan out his requested name repeatedly as a distraction. 

And you know you’re imagining it, but you’re briefly coming undone after that, your pussy tightening against your dildo and your legs shaking as you run your vibrator along your clit, imagining that it’s him inside you, that he’s currently spilling his load in your cunt— your mind swearing that you almost heard your name slip from his lips for a second— and it isn’t until you recover from your orgasm, the sound of another name leaving his lips repeatedly making you come to, that you realize it was your brain playing trick on you to help you get off. 

But you weren’t imagining things. 

Beomgyu hopes his audience didn’t pick up on his small mistake, but he’s relieved to see that they’re none the wiser as they continue to request to hear their name next.

“Let’s see…” he says, and you’re barely able to keep your eyes open as you watch the way he leans towards the camera again, reading requests off the monitor as he grinds his hips into his toy absentmindedly throughout it.

He’s barely getting started.

In turn, so are you. 

»»»

Beomgyu is the sweetest guy you’ve ever met. 

After your brief conversation at the restaurant, you quickly found yourself talking to him more often. 

It turned into him sitting next to you during the one class you shared, your friendship growing stronger day by day as you got to know him better. 

He acts like a puppy; he’s so sweet and kind, his voice soft and endearing every time he spoke to you— and, like a stark contrast to the flirty and outgoing guy you saw during your shifts at the restaurant, he was very shy, ever the gentleman as he always treated you with nothing but kindness. 

“Good morning,” Beomgyu hums, sitting in the seat next to yours before he’s placing down a cup of coffee, “I got this for you. I already finished mine, but I thought you might like some too.”

Sweet gestures like these were common with him; despite your insistence that he really didn’t need to, he always did it anyway, ever the charming man as he sent you a cute smile that would have you unable to say no. 

“Hey, I heard you’re friends with Yeonjun?” you ask, reluctantly accepting the drink after he insisted that you didn’t need to feel bad; your lips are curving into a small smile as you take a drink, stomach flipping at the realization that it was your usual order— you’re surprised he was able to remember it after the first time you got coffee together. 

Beomgyu nods in confirmation. You’re a bit surprised by his answer, unable to see the two be friends due to their contrasting personalities. You can tell that he’s curious as to why you’re asking as he pouts slightly— a habit he always does when he’s confused— and you’re quick to swallow down your drink and give him context.

“He’s having a party this weekend. I was wondering if you’re going?” you say, and Beomgyu feels his stomach drop slightly; not because you were going— well, not entirely, at least— but because if you were going, you’d definitely end up seeing a different side of him. And after seeing how fond you are of his puppy-like behavior, he dreads seeing your reaction to a much more reckless side of him.

“I… think so,” he says sheepishly, wondering what kind of excuse he should make to not go— but he pauses, seeing the way you pout at him, grabbing his arm desperately as you lean into him as you plead.

“You should go— pleeeasee? Yeonjun’s parties are super over the top and he always invites hella people, I don’t wanna be there alone.” 

You have this man wrapped around your finger; with one look at your face, your gaze sweet and pleading as you cutely pout at him expectantly, he finds himself agreeing, unable to fight back a smile as he watches the way you cheer triumphantly, quieting down the moment the lecture starts. 

Beomgyu will definitely have to be careful this weekend— but seeing you will be worth it, even if he’s risking the chance of potentially changing the way you’ll view him forever. 

»»»

You have yet to see Beomgyu. 

The party started hours ago, yet you’ve only been present for a few as you’ve already both greeted and lost Yeonjun, forced to mingle with people you barely know as you all hang out in his backyard— because lord knows how packed and stuffy the place would’ve been if he held it inside. 

You currently find yourself playing cup pong, teaming with the girl in your communications class as you go against two strangers— Yunjin is much friendlier and outgoing when she’s drunk, cheering you on and yelling triumphantly with every ball you get in— you’ve barely had anything to drink as a result, and Yunjin is eager to fix that as she hands you a small shot cup; you’re hesitant at first, only accepting it after she explains that it isn’t strong at all, the soju mixed in with other things as she tells you you’ll barely feel it. 

It’s not that you’re a lightweight that would get drunk off one shot, but you’d rather not get shit-faced when you have yet to find Beomgyu; your eyes scan over the place once more after you take the shot, Yunjin’s cheers falling deaf onto your ears as you allow the team in front of you have their turn. 

“Drinking already?”

Beomgyu has snuck up on you successfully— you’re flinching in surprise as you feel his hand fall gently on the small of your back, leaning in close so he’s properly able to speak to you over the music. 

Beomgyu feels as though looking at you is a sin; he’s forcing himself to keep his eyes off you, listening to the way you ramble into his ear about how happy you are to see him, your head tilting back and exposing the column of your neck to him to get him to hear you. 

“You’re not wearing your glasses,” he comments, oddly hung up on it as he watches the way your smile only widens.

“Yeah, didn’t feel like it,” you say lightheartedly, leaning back against Beomgyu and finding comfort in the position that allows the two of you to speak over the booming music.

Unbeknownst to you, he takes this moment to drink in your appearance. The white, oversized button-up you wear is left completely open as it drapes over your figure, the light blue denim shorts entirely too tempting as they ride up your thighs, much too short to even cover you properly— but of course, that’s the look you were going for, leaving your bottoms unbuttoned and folded down as you allow your bikini to peek through— the color is flattering on your skin, and Beomgyu wonders if he’ll be strong enough to resist you, eyes flickering over to the pool that’s filled with plenty of people as a distraction. 

“You wanna go in?” you ask, and Beomgyu realizes you’ve followed his line of sight, shaking his head quickly in response. You laugh, turning around briefly as you listen to the sounds of Yunjin telling you that you have to drink— you freely down the shot in the plastic cup this time, much more at ease now that Beomgyu is around— and turn back to him, pulling at his shirt slightly as you take in his attire.

“Come on, you’re definitely dressed for the part!” 

And that much was true— though he realized halfway through his drive here that doing so would not be a good idea, especially if he wanted to keep up this cute, innocent act of his.

“It’s too full right now,” he says, his excuse valid as you study the pool for a moment— only to agree, turning back to the game as you tell Beomgyu to cheer for you with a cheeky smile. 

It doesn’t take much longer for you to get tipsy— all because you made the mistake of trusting Yunjin to play properly during her turn, missing entirely and proceeding to get the two of you obliterated after she went against one of the guys on the opposite team (Jake, he later told you.)— but you’re quick to make sure to bring Beomgyu down with you, handing him every other shot you get as you tell him he’s now on your team.

What you don’t seem to realize is that Beomgyu is not a lightweight— far from it, watching with amusement as you slowly begin to get tipsy, your mouth loosening and your personality becoming much more outgoing after losing the game to Jake and his friend— three times in a row. 

“Again?” you ask, laughing at the way Yunjin yells in agreement— Beomgyu has to tug on your shirt to get you away, telling you that it’s definitely not a good idea to go again, especially with someone as uncoordinated as Yunjin. 

“Why didn’t you play with me then?” you say, leaning against him as you smile up at him prettily; he’s leading you away from the table and towards the grass, over to where a small campfire is lit, plenty of chairs scattered about as the music becomes louder in this area. 

“You don’t like games?” you ask him, stumbling to a stop and tugging at his shirt to stop with you, just so he’s able to hear you better. Coyly, you smile, your eyes twinkling mischievously as you lean in to speak to him quietly, “Don’t you wanna play with me?” 

Your words are fairly innocent— but your delivery is not, and it has Beomgyu sputtering in surprise as he wonders how he should respond to such a random advance— though he doesn’t need to in the end, watching as you break character and laugh at your own antics, perking up immediately as you listen to the song that’s playing. 

“Oh, I love this song!” 

You’re dancing carelessly to the song without a second thought, pulling Beomgyu in and laughing at the way he seems reluctant to let loose; it’s probably the alcohol in your system that’s making you act like such an idiot, leaning against him and smiling at the way he seems adamant to avoid your gaze. 

“You know, I just realized that we’re matching!” you laugh, tugging at the collar of his white button-up before you’re glancing down; it’s tucked neatly into his denim shorts, and your smile is only growing wider as you look back up at him, “we look like a couple or something.”

Your words affect him much more than he’d like to admit— but he has no time to dwell on it, eyes looking past you and at Yeonjun, who walks straight toward the two of you with a grin stuck on his face. 

“Hey, why didn’t you tell me you were here?” Yeonjun yells, grabbing your attention as you’re turning to greet Yeonjun; you’re bubbly and seem to find everything funny as you giggle slightly, waving at him happily before you’re stepping away from Beomgyu. 

“I couldn’t find you,” Beomgyu mumbles, watching the way Yeonjun slings an arm around your shoulders casually— he feels oddly angered at the sight, unsure why it irritates him so much to see the two of you act so close. 

“Didn’t know you two were friends,” Yeonjun says, and he watches as you begin to ramble about your history with Beomgyu with a small smile— scanning your outfit, he frowns. 

“You haven’t gotten in the pool yet?” Yeonjun asks, raising a brow at your entirely dry figure; you shake your head, which only makes him tilt his head in confusion, “I thought you said that’s the only reason you were coming?”

“Well, I just haven’t gotten the chance to,” you say sheepishly, the shy smile on your face quickly turning to one of confusion the moment Yeonjun hugs you; he’s got you tight, and you’re stumbling along with him as you begin questioning what he’s doing, your eyes widening the moment you peek over his shoulder— you’re heading straight to the pool, the volume of your yells rising significantly as you begin to struggle against your friend, yelling at Beomgyu to come to your rescue. 

(It’s all for dramatic effect. Yeonjun laughs at the way you pretend to struggle against him, and he pretends he doesn’t hear your laugh of joy the moment he falls over the edge, letting go of you in time and forcing the two of you into the water.)

You’re pleasantly surprised to find that the water isn’t freezing; you personally thank Yeonjun’s heating system as you come up for air, wiping at your face and adjusting your hair as you begin to splash Yeonjun, insulting him for being such a bully. 

Your movements are immediately stopping the moment you spot Beomgyu at the edge— Yeonjun is quick to leave, sending you a small wink (the term “wink” used loosely) before he’s off to find his next target—he’s taken his shoes off and he looks more than ready to jump in, and you can’t help but laugh sweetly at his concern before you realize that you should probably take off your shoes as well.

“You okay?” He asks you, watching the way you cringe as you take off your shoes, tossing them over the edge and leaving them to dry as you swim to where he stands. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you smile, watching the way he seems hesitant to do anything— to get in or leave, you’re unsure. A second passes before an evil thought pops into your head, taking notice of your equally soaked clothes that remain stuck on your body.

“Oh. Hey, could you hold this?” you begin, shedding off your shirt before you’re bundling it into a ball, holding out the fabric for him— he crouches down, arm reaching out for your shirt— and you seize your moment, both hands grabbing onto him and tugging as hard as you can. 

And Beomgyu, in his unguarded state, falls in immediately. 

The laugh you let out is pure evil as you watch him fall in, flailing for a second before he’s coming up for air— and honestly, Beomgyu can’t even be mad, at least not when you’re laughing so hard, your face lit up as you take in the way his hair is completely flat on his head. 

“Sorry. Couldn’t help it,” you say, but you don’t look sorry at all as you swim over to your shirt that’s now sunk into the bottom of the pool. You’re diving down to get it, quick to throw it over the edge and by your shoes before you’re tugging off your shorts. You’re glancing back at Beomgyu, relieved to see he doesn’t look angry at all, when you spot something peculiar. 

“Woah, what’s that?” you ask, approaching Beomgyu eagerly as he’s quick to follow your gaze. His cheeks are on fire and his hands are quick to fly onto his ribs, turning away from your curious hands and even more curious gaze as he stutters out an excuse. 

“It’s nothing.” That’s probably one of the lamest things Beomgyu has ever said, and you’re not believing him for a second as your eyes widen at his sudden change in behavior. 

“Is it a tattoo?” you ask, trying to get a peek through the cracks of his fingers; but the water makes everything blurry, unable to get the details of it before you’re humming appreciatively. “Hmm. That’s cool— I didn’t know that was such a common spot to get tattooed.”

“Is it?” he asks, and suddenly, he doesn’t seem to want to hide it anymore. Your curious gaze and awed compliments have him smiling, raising a brow as he feels himself become more confident— the idea that you of all people would judge him seems ridiculous now.

“Who else do you know that has a tattoo here?” you’re late to process the question— only because your eyes are widening as he admits that it is a tattoo, the words flying out of your mouth before you can truly process if it’s a good idea. 

“I don’t know. I’ve just seen it online, I guess.” Of course, this could mean many things— but it means one thing to you, and you’re practically biting your tongue from the sheer terror that you inadvertently admitted to a guilty, secret pleasure of yours.

“Online?” he asks, and you try to not look suspicious as you choose to simply remain quiet and nod. 

“Yeah, like on Pinterest and stuff,” you add, hoping that it’s enough to prove your innocence (to yourself) as you watch Beomgyu nod along to your words. 

“Aren’t your clothes weighing you down?” you ask, eyeing the way he’s barely moved with a small smile, “or like, are you not wearing anything underneath?”

Most of the people here came with their swimsuits underneath— some just opted to strip to their underwear, which is why you didn’t feel alarmed to find people stripping their layers in order to jump into the pool. 

Though, now that you think about it, you feel a bit bad for forcing Beomgyu to get in without much of a warning. Your concerns are quickly soothed, however, when Beomgyu shakes his head, hands coming up to unbutton his shirt before he’s laughing softly at your words. 

“I was wearing my shorts underneath these,” he confesses, your eyes widening as you find yourself going silent— because wow, was Beomgyu always this ripped?

You feel odd as you watch him strip, sliding off his shirt as most of his torso remains underwater; he’s slowly making his way to where you stand by the edge, and you can feel your heart stopping as you take in the look in his eyes. 

Dark. Dangerous. Tempting. You think you’re imagining things as you look away, gulping heavily as you feel yourself sobering suddenly. He’s throwing his shirt in the direction that your pile of clothes lie, and you feel oddly embarrassed by the way you have to look away as he strips his bottoms off as well. 

You’re only glancing back in time to see him hover out of the pool for a second, his upper body coming out of the water as he takes a moment to lay out both your clothing properly. 

Holy shit. 

Was it common for people to have the same tattoo? It surely was, right? Those are the only things that are going through your mind as you observe Beomgyu’s tattoo, taking in the familiarity of each line as your eyes drift down to his v-line— your eyes spot the small, perfect heart that rests right at his pubic bone.

Oh god. Oh god, oh god oh god, you think, trying your best to not lose your shit and melt in a puddle of horror and embarrassment as you realize that Beomgyu has the exact tattoo as guiltypleasures.

It had to be a popular tattoo. Or maybe it was a reference to something, or a drawing a tattoo artist put out to let other people use— anything, it had to be anything else than the conclusion your mind was terrified of making, meeting Beomgyu’s gaze shyly as you realize that he’s caught you staring, hard.

“It’s pretty,” you breathe out, unsure you can trust your voice as you watch Beomgyu sink back into the pool, “Is it… a reference to something?”

Please say yes. Please say yes.

“Thanks,” he starts, leaving you on edge as he takes a moment to inspect his tattoo— running his fingertips over it, tracing over the delicate lines in a way that has you gripping onto the edge of the pool, “and no, it’s not. I designed it myself.”

You’re gonna pass out.

“Really?” you grit out, hoping he can’t pick up on the tension of your voice as you smile, albeit forced, “Like, it’s one of a kind?”

“Yup,” he grins, staring down at his tattoo with a proud look on his face, “One of a kind. My tattoo artist didn’t even post it, upon my request.”

You’re gonna cry. Maybe you’ll scream, or even sink into the pool and try to drown yourself. 

Because Choi Beomgyu, your closest friend for the past few months and the man you may or may have not been beginning to crush on, is guiltypleasures, the man you lust after every night and fucking pay to watch. 

You know they say that quiet guys are the freakiest, but this is too fucking much. 

“That’s so cool,” you say, sinking into the pool so the water is up to your mouth, hoping that you won’t blurt out any more stupidities as you stare off into the distance, attempting to let this new information settle in. 

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, and you hate how attentive Beomgyu has become— even more because everything is starting to click, his husky and deep voice a replica of your stupid camboy’s, your body reacting involuntarily to the sound of it as you simply nod softly. 

“Mhmm,” you hum out, coming out of the water a bit so you can speak, “I think those drinks from earlier fucked up my stomach— I should go home.”

“Oh,” Beomgyu says, and you feel awful for the way he’s become confused at your sudden shift in mood, “Are you sure you’ll be okay driving—?”

“I Ubered here,” you mumble, oddly embarrassed at your words, “cause I knew I’d probably drink a lot.” 

“Well then let me take you home,” he insists, ever the gentleman as you try to say that he shouldn’t, that he should just stay and enjoy the party. 

“It’s dangerous to call an Uber at this hour though,” he continues, his stupid fucking puppy eyes taking a toll on your resolve as you bite your lip, “Plus, I only really came to this party because of you.”

God, what the hell was this behavior?! This innocent, shy, and sweet Beomgyu was a complete one-eighty— scratch that— was an entirely different fucking person than the one that always talked down at you at night, spilling filth like it was in his nature and treating you like you were worthless.

It was a bit terrifying as you watched the way he remained entirely oblivious to the Earth-shattering realization, getting out of the pool and reaching out to help you out with a sweet smile. 

After a second, you take it. 

You feel so awkward as you gather your clothes; you’re jumpy and you’re sure Beomgyu has picked up on it as he eyes you from time to time, watching as you wring out your clothes as much as you can before you’re slipping on your shirt, your shorts left in your hand as you avoid Beomgyu’s eyes entirely. 

“I have a few blankets in my car— you should use those to keep yourself warm,” he says softly, looking back at you and frowning at the way you only nod with a tense smile. 

Was he wrong about you? Were you lying when you reacted positively to his tattoo? Beomgyu has no idea why something as simple as a tattoo would change the way you treat him entirely, but he’s determined to get to the bottom of this as you enter his car, entirely stiff as you wrap one of his aforementioned blankets around yourself. 

“Hey, did something happen tonight?” He asks you halfway through his drive, licking his lips nervously as he watches the way you jump in your seat, not expecting his question at all as you remain silent for a second.

“Uhm, no?” you say, though you seem unsure of your own answer as you wrap the blankets a little tighter around yourself, “I’m telling you, it was probably the drinks— I didn’t think my stomach would be so sensitive tonight.”

Your explanation is entirely plausible, but Beomgyu doesn’t believe it as he watches the way you remain tense, his car slowing to a stop as the two of you wait at the stoplight in an awkward silence. 

“You’re lying,” Beomgyu says, deciding that it’s better to just be bold instead of tiptoeing around the subject, “Is it because of my tattoo?”

Your lips press together. 

“It is,” he says, and he feels an unexpected wave of disappointment and anger wash over him, “did something that small put you off that much?”

“That’s not it,” you say, your heart pounding against your chest and your body heating up as you realize that you’ve upset him— and greatly, because you’re able to see the way his brows knit together and his hand tightens on the steering wheel as he begins to drive again. 

Did he think you were judging him? That you thought less of him because of such a small thing? 

“Then what is it?” he insists, and you’re mortified to see that you’re stuck in traffic, victim to Beomgyu’s sharp gaze that demands answers, “Cause you’ve been acting weird since I showed it to you.”

“I’ve seen it before,” you mutter quietly, sinking into your seat from the humiliation, “I recognized it. Your tattoo.”

Beomgyu pauses. Then he thinks of the many times he’s had his shirt ride up when he’s around you, from stretching to taking off his hoodie and having his undershirt get pulled up along with it.

“Okay?”

“Like. Online.”

That’s enough to leave him silent. Stupefied, even. One glance at you and your body language is enough to confirm that it’s exactly what he’s thinking, your posture so small that you look like you wish you could disappear. 

“You’ve—“ he swallows, wondering what else to say as traffic begins moving again, “like… Twitter—?”

“Your streams.” 

Fuck. Fuck, oh fuck, Beomgyu needs to get the fuck out of the car this instant, because his dick is already hardening and he can feel his brain short-circuiting at your words— you watch his streams. 

In your mind, you feel as though you’ve completely dug a hole for yourself— Beomgyu is probably horrified at your confession, but it’s not as though you knew it was him, or that you had any malicious intent, or that—!

All Beomgyu can think of is how he shouldn’t park the car in the middle of the road and fuck you stupid. 

“Did you watch them a lot?” he asks you, his voice eerily quiet and stable, and oh no he’s interrogating you right now, this is the end for you.

“Yeah,” you say, deciding to be completely transparent now that you’ve decided to tell the truth, “I’m sorry.” 

Is it possible to come untouched like this? Beomgyu might just find out, because the way your voice is so meek and shy and guilty has him biting down on his lip, his mind growing foggier and his foot pressing down on the gas pedal a little harder as he begins to weave through lanes. 

“You were a subscriber then,” he says calmly, and you feel as though he’s trying to humiliate you on purpose as you nod your head in admittance— unbeknownst to you, that’s exactly what he’s doing, enjoying the way he’s breaking you down from just a few questions with sick pleasure. 

“How much money did you spend on me then?” You’re finding his line of questioning a bit odd at this point, but you refuse to look up from your lap as you find yourself answering anyways. 

“I was just a low-tier subscriber…” you say, and it feels even more humiliating to admit that you cheaped out on him— what the hell was wrong with you?

“Low-tier? Not even a single tip?” he repeats, and you don’t seem to register the way he pouts at you until it’s far too late.

Stopping at a red light, he grabs your chin, turning your face roughly so you’re looking at him— and he’s back, the man behind the screen, except this time you can see the sheer pity that fills his gaze as he speaks to you as though you’re lower than him.

“How are you gonna make it up to me now?”

»»»

God. Fuck. Are you dreaming? You think you might pass out.

“I know, I know I said I wouldn’t stream tonight— shouldn’t you just be happy I’m here?”

Your stomach is twisted in knots and you feel small as you attempt to take in everything properly— Beomgyu’s setup, the same room you’ve seen countless times before— you’re able to see it all, from his large computer monitors, his filming camera, to his grandiose bed and the insane amount of toys he keeps on standby. 

You shift restlessly on your feet, entirely bare save for a shirt that Beomgyu let you borrow— another white button-up, the very same one that he loved to wear when he dressed up, now hanging from your figure as he allowed the two of you to freshen up the moment you got to his home. 

Nervously, you had left the shirt completely buttoned up; you watched from behind his camera as he continued to sweet talk his viewers, dressed comfortably in a sweater and sweats, his attire a complete contrast to your own. 

“You’re happy to see me? I don’t believe you,” he smiles, and you feel as though you’re back to being a faceless member of his stream as you press your thighs together, able to hear the way notifications pop up on his computer, all of them signifying a new tip. 

“You know, today’s a pretty special occasion actually,” he begins, pausing to see his comments and the reactions within them, “you’re curious? Do you wanna try something new with me?”

Yes. It’s the only thing he sees in his comments, and he lets out a soft laugh before he’s turning back to his camera.

Then, he’s looking past it.

“Come here, baby.”

You knew this was coming— you agreed to this, for crying out loud, but you still feel as though your legs are made of jello as you hesitate, biting your lip before your eyes are widening nervously, the safe word the two of you established beforehand running through your mind like a mantra you mustn’t forget. 

“Come on, you don’t want to keep them waiting, do you?” he asks, eyes flickering over to his screen, watching the way everyone seems to go haywire from his words, “See? They’re curious, they want to see you.”

You’re taking your first step towards the camera— then another, and another, until you’re walking past the setup, your back facing the camera as you make your way to where he sits at the edge of the bed, unsure of what to do as you remain frozen in front of him.

“What, are you nervous?” he asks, and he’s only able to let out a mean laugh the moment you’re nodding in response, unable to use your voice properly— that’ll change soon, he thinks, reaching for your hands and guiding them to his shoulders. 

“Don’t be,” he whispers, aiming for your thighs next as he’s tugging at them, pleased with the way you let him mold you to his desired position, your thighs on either side of his as you hover over him pathetically, “I know they’ll love you.”

Neither of your full faces can be seen— but the audience can definitely see the way he captures your lips in a harsh kiss, filled with nothing but pure need as he finally gets to feel you properly— you feel as though you’re about to run out air when he finally pulls away, laughing as he feels the way you buttoned every single button of the shirt he gave you. 

“Now why would you do that?” he whispers against your lips, and your fingers dig into his shoulders pathetically as you watch him rip it open— the viewers are going wild at the sight, tipping ridiculous amounts of money just so they can get Beomgyu to see their requests; curiously your eyes drift to his monitor.

You practically collapse at the things you read on the screen.

Finger her. Eat her out. Use a vibrator on her, tie her up, breed her until she can’t walk straight, use a dildo on her— 

The horror comes from the fact that Beomgyu is clearly considering doing all of it.

“What do you think baby?” he asks you, pressing his hand on the small of your back and forcing you to arch into him, your ass perking out and your cunt left to be entirely displayed as he trails his hand up your back, lifting your shirt along with it as he allows the viewers to get a good look at you.

“Anything that piques your interest?” he whispers, your head buried in his shoulder as you shake from the embarrassment of it all, “or…”

You jolt at the way his hand lands a sharp smack on your ass. He’s quick to soothe the area, smiling at the way he takes in the small whimper you let out, burying your face deeper into his shoulder and arching more in response. He lands another one, much more harsher than the last as his hand immediately drifts to your pussy, spreading you for the camera and watching the way you practically glisten under the light. 

“Should I decide how I get to use you for myself?”

He’s a bit surprised to find that you’re quick to nod at his second request, much too shy to even lift your head from where it rests as your fingers dig into his skin. 

He smiles, his eyes drifting back to the monitor as he begins reading over their requests. 

“Hmm, are you shy, princess?” he asks, fingers trailing along your slit, feeling the way your hole flutters at the feeling, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside as you whine quietly, nodding at his words.

“But you’re so fucking wet, and we haven’t even done anything,” slowly, his fingers slip inside— you’re both moaning at the feeling, and Beomgyu thinks that he might just be the one to cum as he feels the way you stretch around his fingers. 

“God, you’re so tight,” he groans, beginning to test out the waters by scissoring you— spreading you out for the camera, watching over your shoulder as your arousal practically leaks out; he gulps, unable to keep his eyes away from the sight as he sighs.

“Feels so soft and warm,” he mutters, placing a kiss on your temple before he’s reaching for something off-screen— the box of toys, you realize, forced to keep your face buried in his shoulder in an attempt to not show your face to his audience. 

“Just like I thought you would be,” he says, smiling against your skin as he murmurs the words into your ear— just for you to hear, not for the thousands of people who are currently watching the stream.

“Do you know what I thought about every time I went live?” he asks, sitting up and shifting so that you’re back in position, shaking your head softly as you feel his fingers begin to circle your entrance. 

“You.” the stretch you suddenly feel has you moaning pathetically, the first sound the viewers are able to hear as the comments begin to fly past— your legs are shaking at the feeling of him slowly pushing the silicone dildo into your pussy, thick and long as you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling tears prick at your eyes from how full you feel.

“I thought of you. Every time.” 

Beomgyu’s eyes are dark as his hand grabs at your ass, spreading your cheeks and showing off the way the dildo begins disappearing into your tight cunt, your arousal already beginning to drip down the toy with every slow thrust of his. 

“Wished you were there every time I would stream. I thought about fucking you the way I would fuck my toys,” his thrusts begin speeding up; you’re a moaning mess against him as you push your ass back, showcasing yourself perfectly and pushing up against the toy that he continues to ram into you— you’re jolting back into him with every thrust, your hands beginning to cramp with how hard you’re holding on to him.

“I would always moan your name too, did you ever notice?”

Your mind goes back to the time you thought you heard it— and, unexpectedly, you’re coming undone, reaching your peak as you respond with a pathetic yes…! The realization that it had all been real much more overwhelming than you thought. 

Beomgyu continues to fuck the toy into you even long after you’re done coming; you’re a whimpering, crying mess against him, the stimulation making your mind muddled as you quietly attempt to get him to stop. 

“Hmm? What do you want baby?” he asks, lips trailing down your neck and to your shoulders, where he begins to slip off your shirt so that you’re more exposed. He remains fully clothed as he begins sucking bruises into your skin, following one of his requests to mark up your pretty skin— his hair falls over his face, covering him momentarily as he begins drifting along your body carelessly.

It’s too much— yet, it’s not enough to have you using your safe word, and the fact makes Beomgyu smile as he bottoms out the toy inside you, grinding it into your pathetic pussy as he watches the way a ring of your cum begins to form around the base. 

“Come on, talk to me. We’re waiting,” you’re hesitant to speak— that much is clear, especially when you know how much traction this stream is currently getting, the sound of tips constant as you shake your head in defeat. 

“No? Okay then,” your shirt is being slipped off, leaving you naked as you wince slightly at the feeling of your garment being removed. Once again, Beomgyu is moving you around, and you’re facing the camera now as your legs are pried open by his own, the toy still stuffed inside you as you sit on Beomgyu’s lap— right on his hard cock, whining softly as you feel him begin to hold your hips down, grinding into you for some release. 

“Don’t wanna use your words? Don’t wanna say anything to me or the viewers?” he tries again, eyes narrowing at the way you remain disobedient and shake your head, laying back against him as you pant softly.

“You’re not gonna thank our viewers for wanting me to please you, you fucking whore?” his hands are swift, and before you realize what he’s doing, your hands are cuffed behind your back, the fuzzy feeling reminding you of the cuffs he uses on himself sometimes. 

“Fine. You wanna be ungrateful, stay quiet?” every sound that leaves your lips is unsure and soft, barely able to reach the microphone of the camera as Beomgyu scoffs at you. “Then stay fucking quiet. I don’t wanna hear a single word from you, understand?”

He doesn’t let you respond— of course he wouldn’t let you— but the way your mouth falls open suggests that you almost went against his command, the vibrator that he now pressed onto your clit making your legs shake with the sudden stimulation, threatening to close before Beomgyu’s own pried you back open swiftly. 

“Look at you. Like a bitch in heat, only thinking about yourself,” he growls, his other hand beginning to thrust the toy back into you at a harsh pace, listening to the sounds of your arousal and the toy smacking against your skin with a satisfied groan, “Do you have any idea how many people wish they were in your place, wish they could be getting fucked stupid instead of having to sit and watch as I do it to you?”

He pauses. Then, he turns up the intensity of the vibrator with a cruel laugh. 

“You would fucking know,” he seethes, taking in the way you writhe against him pathetically, biting at your lip to keep quiet as your hands struggle behind your back, “shit, can’t you hear how pathetic you sound? I bet you were a lot louder when you watched me, just another of my useless viewers that wish that I would fuck you— that I would even fucking acknowledge you.”

Everything that happens next is all a blur— your mind is foggy and you’re coming undone as you feel Beomgyu bite down on your neck, unable to hold back the pure keen of pleasure that rips through you, a string of unintelligible sounds flowing out of you desperately as you cream around the toy, feeling tears sting your eyes the moment Beomgyu decides to turn the intensity up again.

“Take it. I know you can,” he laughs purely because he knows that you have yet to use your safe word. It’s even worse because he’s right, the overstimulation fogging your mind and making you melt in his arms, still able to trust him even if your mind isn’t entirely there.

After a moment, the vibrator is turned off— you can hear him toss it to the side before he’s pulling the dildo out of your aching cunt, your body twitching at the sudden feeling before your cum is oozing out, dripping all over Beomgyu’s sweats and onto his sheets as he merely laughs at you. 

You’re being turned around again— you feel woozy as you cling to Beomgyu, barely capable of hovering over him as he simply looks up at you, his eyes holding that same, innocent puppy-like look that got you trapped in his clutches in the first place.

“I feel so stuffy,” he pouts, tilting his head up at you as you simply whine incoherently in response, “I know baby. Won’t you help me out?” 

It takes you a second to even register his request, your hands suddenly freed by him before you finally realize what he asked; your hands are slow and clumsy as you reach for the hem of his sweater, barely able to tug it up before he’s helping you out— your hands land on his shoulders once more for stability, your gaze falling on his chest and trailing down curiously. 

And there it is. The very tattoo that got you into this mess, though this time you’re free to gawk at it, not paying attention to the way Beomgyu realized he caught you staring until he’s grabbing your hand, placing it on his chest and trailing it down, allowing you to feel him up as he shudders slightly at the feeling.

Your fingers trace over the tattoo. All the way down, following every elaborate line until you’re stopped by the hem of his pants, hands immediately slipping under before you’re tugging them off, pulling off his boxers too as you feel him lift his hips, left just as bare as you before he smiles. 

You feel his cock poking at your entrance, painfully hard as he begins to rub it against your slit; teasing you with the tip, looking over your shoulder to see what his viewers may be saying. 

“What do you think?” He asks, pushing his tip into your cunt before he’s pulling back out. The action has you whining hopelessly, and Beomgyu has to take a second to recollect his resolve, pausing all movements in order to not come then and there.

“Should I fuck her? Does she deserve it?” He asks, looking over at you, cooing softly at the way your eyes remain glassy and fucked out, “Don’t cry. You don’t deserve to cry, not when you’ve been so ungrateful to our viewers.”

A tip catches his attention, and he’s briefly scanning over the amount and request before he’s biting back a smile.

“See? Even though you haven’t said a word to them, they still want to see me fuck you,” he says, taking your hands off his shoulders and leaving you to wobble momentarily as he places your cuffs back on. 

“Aren’t they the sweetest?”

You’re barely able to process what’s going on— all you know is that your position changes within seconds, and your face is buried into the mattress while your ass is up in the air, your legs shaky as you’re barely able to hold yourself up; luckily for you, Beomgyu is there to help, hands grabbing onto your hips before he’s making you lean back. 

His cock is poking at your entrance, and he’s already able to feel the way your cunt tries to suck him in as he passes his tip along your entrance, left entranced with the way you look under him, a complete, ruined mess as you quietly whine out to him, your voice muffled from where your face remained in his sheets.

It’s cute, really, the way you’re able to focus so hard on keeping your face hidden— if you lifted your head now, every single viewer on his screen would be able to drink up your expression as he fucked you— the thought irritates Beomgyu.

He’ll just have to make sure to fuck you until you’re too weak to move. 

“God, you’re such a brat,” he groans out, entering you slowly and feeling the way you clamp onto him dangerously; even with how wet you are, he finds it difficult to fuck you, gritting his teeth and taking a moment where he merely concentrates on not coming inside you then and there. 

“Stop fucking squeezing like that— ah— shit—,” it seems as though your pussy has him going stupid, unable to form a coherent sentence as he slowly pulls out— the whine you let out is long and lethal, so desperate and carnal that Beomgyu finds himself losing control; tightening his hold on your hips, he begins to fuck into you without a care.

“Such a good little pussy,” he grits out, watching the way your ass bounces against him with every thrust, “fuck, wish you’d let me fuck you sooner— would’ve made you mine, wouldn’t be able to get enough of you— god, fuck—!” 

The way you tighten at his words is dangerous. He’s cursing and talking down like he always does, but this time, it’s just for you. The very thought is enough to have you clenching around him again, mouth agape and drooling against his sheets as your sounds get louder. 

Another tip rings through— the same person from before, repeating the only part of their previous request that Beomgyu has yet to fulfill. 

Won’t she say thank you?

The words have him stuttering out a laugh, unable to help the way he moans in between. His thrusts slow, and he’s bottoming out inside you before his motions are nothing but a slow grind, rutting his hips into your aching pussy while he reaches for something off-screen. 

Your whines and soft complaints at the sudden change of pace are brief— because soon after a familiar buzzing sound is filling your ears, and before you can react, the same vibrator form before is pressed against your clit on the highest setting. 

“Gyuuuuu…!” you whine out, long and desperate and incoherent as Beomgyu grabs at your cuffs, using them as leverage to make you slam back into him. His thrusts are brutal and the sound of skin against skin is enough rivalry to the buzzing of the toy as he begins to use the last of his energy to fuck you to your orgasm, watching as the chat buzzes with excitement from your sudden word.

What? What’d she say?? Was that his name? omg?!

“Do you think you deserve to come?” he sneers, his voice gruff as you shake your head, knowing damn well that you haven’t been perfectly compliant to him like he wanted you to be, especially now that you may have just slipped up and let out a personal fact about him.

“Exactly,” he continues, his thrusts toning down in speed, but not intensity— he pulls out to the tip with every thrust, only to slam back into you and have you jolt forward from the harshness of his pace; the vibrator that was once relentless on your clit is now hovering mere centimeters from you, taunting you as all stimulation becomes insignificant to what it was before.

“Maybe, if you’re good for me, I’ll let you come,” he begins, watching the way you can only nod eagerly against the sheets, your hands struggling against your cuffs— he’s holding your hand at the sight, fingers interlocking as he watches you grip onto his hand with both of yours tightly.

“Will you be good for me? Are you gonna listen to whatever the fuck I ask you to do?” he says, his voice hardening at the end as he looks at you expectantly— a second passes before you’re nodding again. 

“My viewers have been so patient with you. The only reason you got all this was because they wanted it— if it were up to me, I would’ve dumped my load in you already and left.” 

That’s a lie— the biggest fucking lie Beomgyu has ever told, knowing damn well that he would’ve done all this and more to you any day, entirely unprovoked. But he knows his viewers love it, and so do you, because your cunt squeezes him so tightly he’s afraid he might just come early. 

“Aren’t you grateful they loved you so much? Hmm?” you’re barely registering his words anymore. But you’re nodding nonetheless, your thighs beginning to shake from the sheer pleasure of feeling Beomgyu rut into your cunt throughout all this. 

“Tell them thank you,” he says sweetly, not giving you enough time to speak before he’s back to fucking you wildly; his pace picking up, aiming for that specific spot that leaves you dumb and drooly as he places the vibrator back on your clit— any chances of sounding sane are thrown out the window as he begins tugging on your cuffs, bouncing you back against him as the wet sounds of his thrusts ring out through the room. 

“Did you hear me—?” he asks, landing a smack to your ass before he’s soothing the area, slowing down so he can smack you again, “I said say thank you. Do you think you’re above us, pretty?”

Your first attempt to speak is a garbled mess.

“Come on, I know you can do better than that. Or— do you just wanna be a cute little cumdump for me—? Ah, let me use you every time I stream… don’t need any fucking toys when I have my pretty doll for me— right—?” His own sentences are becoming more incoherent the longer he fucks you, addicted to the way your pussy practically sucks him in deeper in response. 

“Try again,” he growls, feeling his own orgasm approaching slowly, “show me you’re not a— shit, a fucking brat, and maybe I’ll let you… ugh, let you come.”

Beomgyu swore he got rid of his habit of rambling like this long ago. But, you seem to be able to bring it out of him, his calm and collected speeches crumbling like paper in his mind as he takes in the way both your arousals are smeared over skin and dripping down your thighs, forming a ring around Beomgyu’s cock as he feels his resolve beginning to crumble— he begins to fuck you carelessly, not able to think about anything else but reaching his high as he waits for your response.

“Mmh—! ugh… fuck…” your voice is increasing in volume, the shy person from before long gone as you begin to chase your orgasm, much too afraid to lose it as you try to form a single, coherent thought.

“Thank…. thank you…” you whine out, but it’s all too slurred and quiet and pathetic to Beomgyu as he growls out a sharp what? His hand pressing down on the small of your back as he glues your hands to your skin, forced to take the way he fucks you as you moan out uncontrollably.

“Thank you..! Thank you thank you, oh, fuck—!” holy shit, you’re full on crying right now, reduced to nothing but a mess of moans and tears as you ramble on repeatedly, only able to remember those limited words as you feel Beomgyu come inside you— warm and deep, stilling for just a moment before he’s back to fucking you, his own moans becoming much more needy at the feeling of overstimulation. 

“Thank you thank you thank youuuu, fuck, fuck fuck mmh—!”  you feel stupid. You’ve definitely been fucked stupid, moaning out those stupid thank you’s like a prayer as you feel yourself slumping completely, a boneless, gooey mess as you rely on Beomgyu to hold you up.

He continues to fuck into you slowly, even after you’ve gone entirely still; he thinks you might’ve passed out, but it’s only for a minute before he sees you shifting again, burying your head into the mattress as he hears the distant sound of you sniffling. 

Beomgyu feels concerned for a second, ready to check up on you and end the stream before you’re grabbing his hand again; then you’re clenching around him, mumbling his name so sweetly while you try to press yourself against him.

You’re straight up gone, he realizes, stilling for a moment and waiting for you to use your safe word— but you don’t, and he sees you peeking subtly at his monitor before you’re burying your face back into his sheets.

“You got a new tip.”

The words are barely audible to him, but he’s quick to glance at it upon your request; he almost chokes as he sees the five-hundred dollars that have been sent to him, his eyes reading over the request a few times before he’s looking back at you.

Could you try to make her squirt ?

“It’s five hundred dollars,” you mutter, and all Beomgyu can do is let out a bewildered laugh, leaning down to place a kiss on your shoulder before he’s whispering in your ear if you’re okay to continue— the small nod you give him is enough to have his cock hardening inside you. 

Fuck, he’s gonna give you the aftercare of the century after this. 

#txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #beomgyu smut #txt fanfic #txt fanfiction #txt imagines #txt oneshots #txt ff #txt fluff #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x you #beomgyu x y/n #beomgyu ff #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu oneshot

[01zfan]

rotten valentine | p. wb

fwb!wonbin x fem. reader | 4.5k words

contains: red flag wonbin, he’s kinda toxic, this is like the evil version of necklace

happy (late) valentines day!

the fourteenth day in the month of february came and went for you each year. it wasn’t always a normal day in your life—it used to be an event. writing every single one of your classmates names on a note with candy attached and receiving what seemed like thousands back. the excitement and magic of the day devolved from elementary school, turning into the occasional candy gram you would get from your friends in junior high. by the time you got to college, valentine’s day had just become another day. 

you were well into adult life now, and your life was drained of all romance. you forgot what it was like to kiss someone you were dating and your last serious relationship felt like a distant memory. it felt like romance was make believe, something manufactured in movie studios to make profit. you had suitors and you had the dating apps, but nothing sparked that same feeling you found yourself chasing late at night.

wonbin was someone you yearned for. he came into your life like a meteor, crashing on the surface of your mind and killing all potential thoughts you had of finding someone else. 

you saw him first at a party, the dimly lit room failed to hide the way he looked at you. his gaze pierced through the sea of people and you found yourself thinking about the scenes in the movies. this was the part where wonbin came up to you and cracked jokes with you all night, woo’ing you and calling you pretty. you rationalized that wonbin didn’t have his script when he unceremoniously came up to you, pulling your attention way from your friends. you followed him like a moth to a flame deeper to the dance floor, where the music was so loud you could barely hear him. he took a sip from his cup, letting it rest in his hand. you barely had wonbin’s attention as he leaned over to request a song to the dj.

after making the request wonbin leaned against the wall and continued to drink. the previously muted yellow light that made you feel like the party was shot on film turned to a deep red. it felt almost choreographed as as wonbin’s eyes raked down your body. in any other instance you would’ve been disgusted by a man looking at you with so much lust. but you felt proud that you had piqued his interest. you didn’t want to lose him. 

the music changed to the song wonbin requested and he smirked. you found that he donned that look anytime someone did what he wanted, so smug like he knew no one could deny him. it was the same smugness that made his eyes stay on your chest as he took another sip of his drink.

“did you come alone?” wonbin asked.

you looked behind to your friends that kept a careful eye on you. you’re shocked wonbin didn’t notice them. maybe he was too caught up in you to notice.

“i came with my friends.” you said.

the lights started flashing red, making the party around you feel like a nightclub. people started dancing to the song more frantically than before, moving from gentle sways to jumping on the makeshift dance floor. some people bumped into you, making the drink in your cup raise over the rim and splash on your hand. wonbin remained untouched on the wall a look of amusement on his face as he looked at the partygoers have fun because of his song suggestion. the dj gave him a nod of acknowledgement and you could see it go directly to his head. the confidence made you dizzy just like his perfume did when he beckoned you to come to his corner. you placed a hand on the wall to steady yourself and wonbin brought a hand to your hip. his hand was comforting just like the smell of aged spice that flooded your nose. wonbin looked at you for a moment before leaning to your ear.

“wanna ditch your friends?” he asked. 

his amusing smile didn’t waiver, his curled up lips so close to your face you felt it on the shell of your ear. you knew he knew your answer. you didn’t even have to nod as you turned around to get through the dancing crowd. your mind was buzzing with alcohol as the beautiful man followed behind you. your friends had joined the cluster of partygoers as you walked up the stairs. they couldn’t even see you through the haze of smoke clouds and flashing lights. if you were in your right mind you would’ve joined them, squeezing your sweaty body through everyone till you made it to your group. but nothing else mattered to you except for getting wonbin alone, and wonbin’s hand on your ass was guiding you there.

wonbin’s collision with you that night wiped away all common sense you had in regards to him. if you had half a mind you would’ve told him you don’t fuck strangers at parties or fuck on beds that aren’t your own. but any rational thought was out the window when it came to wonbin. anything to feel the euphoria of being pressed into the sheets and hearing him moan because of you. his sloppy passion from his tipsy state paired with his precise thrusts made your throat raw from your cries. you had never felt that way in your life. that’s why each time he hit you with his late night messages you responded. it always started with a text, so non assuming and casual it made your head hurt.

you up?

you hated that your life had come to this, chasing after someone so bad for you. it had gotten to the point that you couldn’t bring wonbin up anymore in your friend’s presence, visible aggravation showing on their faces. you vividly remember when your friend gave you a wake up call. you should’ve listened, she wasn’t wrong when she told you about wonbin. he was hot and cold, only reached out to you when he needed to feel something wrapped around him, and took advantage of your lonliness. you nodded your head and felt the sting of tears as she comforted you through acceptance. 

the intervention was no use; you went back to him that night. you held strong for an hour, until wonbin attached an i need u to the end of his initial text. you couldn’t resist going back to wonbin when he said he needed you. you had gotten so used to seeing people kiss in movies that you started thinking kisses tasted like stale popcorn and artificial sweetener. but wonbin’s kisses tasted like vanilla and his lips felt like clouds. how could you not go back to him?

it didn’t help that wonbin knew it was wrong to play with your emotions. he wasn’t a bad person by any means, just someone who needed constant temporary company. he did all he could for the girls he had sex with and communicated what he was looking for before the arrangements started. but you were different. you were innocent and naive, still believing that the romance in movies was something obtainable. wonbin liked that about you, he believed the fact that you were a hopeless romantic made you better in bed. it made you ride him even if your legs were burning and it made you relax your throat and let your tongue go limp so you could take all of him. it also made you come back to him over and over again. it was almost too easy getting you to make the late night drive to his apartment. 

wonbin tried to ween himself off of you for your own sake, but you didn’t let it last long. it was usually wonbin to text you first, and he thought that you would just move on with your life if he never reached out to you again. so when the time came around that wonbin would send the infamous text, he just masturbated to get sex off his mind and went to bed. but while he was sleeping soundly you were tossing and turning, checking your phone every ten minutes waiting for your bat signal. 

you hated to admit it felt like you were at your lowest those three days you had no contact with wonbin. holding out and not texting him was the last bit of power you had in your dynamic with him. your mind rationalized that as long as it was wonbin texting you, you had some semblance of control. but you willingly tipped the scale on day three, telling wonbin you wanted to see him. the way he read your message immediately made your heart swell, the three bubbles in the gray text made you regret everything. it was like you were taking the biggest risk of your life waiting for a response from him. 

you were lucky that your risk played out well for you that night. you relinquished the last authority you had to wonbin by telling you that you needed him, but he made it up to you when you showed up at his door. the way he moaned your name and marked your neck made you truly believe that you were his. wonbin fucking you into the mattress made you believe that romance movies and couples holding hands had nothing on this.

when you woke up next to wonbin the next morning, nothing had changed. he was still uninterested in getting involved romantically, only offering you a tired goodbye as you got up from his bed. 

after that, you knew you had nothing else to gain from your relationship with wonbin. it never stopped you from putting on your coat and driving over to him, or knocking on his door. but that didn’t stop you from opening your phone when he sent you his text.

sorry for going ghost

busy week at work.

you scoffed and rolled your eyes like you didn’t miss him. atleast he had the decency to try and explain the situation. you knew that it was the truth—wonbin didn’t care enough to lie to you.

couldn’t stop thinking about my favorite girl though

you just wish wonbin wasn’t so fucking awful. you wish he didn’t know it either. he knew how awful he was for calling you his favorite girl even though you were on his backburner all the time. he knew how awful he was for hitting all your spots just right, for knowing your body so well within a few minutes. and he was so fucking rotten for knowing how to get you to show up at his door late at night.

you walked up the stairs to his apartment after he buzzed you in. you wish you could say you weren’t tingling with excitement going up the stairs. knowing that wonbin wanted to spend time with you regardless of the circumstance made you happy. it was hard to not believe you weren’t the most important person in wonbin’s life when he looked at you that way when he answered the door.

the view before you was shocking—wonbin stopped trying to be sweet about your hookups a long time ago. he had ditched the casual clothes and started answering in just his boxers and a white tee to let you know what his intentions were. he stopped leading you to the couch to uselessly chat you up and ask questions he didn’t care to hear the answers to. now all wonbin did was answer the door and immediately lead you to the bedroom, expecting you to ditch your clothes on the way. but this wonbin answered with a gummy smile and kissed you passionately in the hallway of closed apartment doors.

”i missed you.” wonbin said sweetly when he pulled away.

you were too busy staring at him with wide eyes to answer. he pulled you into his small apartment, closing the door and locking it. wonbin took in. your shocked expression and laughed—he was so fucking awful.

you hated that wonbin’s apartment was tidy. you believed that if you could find just one disgusting thing about him you would be able to take off the rose tinted glasses, but his apartment was even cleaner than yours. it was always dimly lit but you could make out the decorations and see the color palette he was trying to achieve. you could tell a musician lived here, from the edited sheet music that laid on the coffee table and his guitar resting on the couch. you had dreams of him leading you to the living room and playing you a song that made him think of you. but you had to settle for wonbin leading you to his bedroom.

wonbin walked to the edge of his bed while you took off your shoes and jacket. usually guests take them off at the front door, but you weren’t given the privilege to put your things on the coat rack or your shoes by the front door. you had to settle for throwing your jacket on the back of his chair and your shoes by the door. you don’t know wonbin was like that, but you’re sure finding out would’ve only made you feel awful.

after taking off your coat and shoes, you walked around wonbin’s bed to him. his head followed you all the way from his door, watching you with careful eyes.

you stood in front of him, playing with the ends of his hair. wonbin wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his face into your stomach. it was hard to not feel somber in these moments, with him being so touchy. you had seen wonbin in the mornings when you’d sneak away, hair splayed out on the pillow as the sun caught on his eyelashes. he looked so pure in those moments, nothing like the man that put you through emotional hell. his lips were soft even in the morning. even though wonbin was the devil in some aspects you couldn’t deny he wasn’t an angel, especially in the morning when his face was the first thing you woke up to. he was rotten but also so sweet, awful but so good. he was an enigma in your life, and it was a shame he didn’t want to be yours. but maybe if you sucked his dick good enough you’d change his mind.

wonbin continued to look at you as you got on your knees before him, slotting yourself between his legs. wonbin lifted his hips off the bed to take off his boxers, letting them pool at his ankles. his dick was hard and heavy in your hand. you rested your head on his thigh, bringing his tip to touch your tongue. wonbin propped himself up on his arms after taking a look at you, he knew you knew what to do. he ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh when you took in as much as you could, using your hand to occupy the space you couldn’t reach.

you head still rests on his thigh when he brings himself upright again to look at you. you want to make sure he’s watching when you relax your throat and touch your nose to his stomach. wonbin grunts now, bucking his hips up in the slightest way to make you gag.

you take wonbin from your mouth to try and regain your composure. the hold he has on your hair tilts your head up. wonbin looks at your teary eyes and swollen lips. his dick pulses in your hand as he looks at how ruined you are. inside and out, all because of him.

“you’re so fucking pretty.” wonbin says.

you whimper at his compliment and take him back into your mouth after licking a long strip down the shaft that makes wonbin hiss. he’s cruel and enjoyes withholding the sounds he truly wants to make. he believes it makes you work harder. when he hits the back of your throat he lets you hear a whimper and when your throat vibrates as you gag on him he moans. 

“so good,” wonbin whispers. “almost there.”

and you are so good. wonbin has hands in your hair is just for show. he doesn’t have to push your head or buck into your mouth to get what he needs to cum down your throat. you just do it because you like him more than you should. the premise of being close also gives you the vigor to continue, ignoring the pain in your knees from kneeling on the ground and the soreness of your jaw. it makes you flick your tongue over wonbin’s tip, and when his hand suddenly tightens in your hair he cums without warning. wonbin’s legs stiffen under your palms, and he lifts his hips up slightly to meet your lips.

the only time your defiant is when it comes to swallowing wonbin’s cum. you never turn down eating it but each time your eyes switch from lust to disgust. you take it all because wonbin wants you to, but each time you stick out your tongue and make a bleugh sound.

“you need to drink some fucking water,” you grimace. “your cum tastes like toxic waste.”

that’s the only peak of your strong personality that wonbin gets to see. any other time you are so docile and pliant, saying your yes’s and please’s and thank you’s. you are more mysterious than him sometimes, the way you successfully hide so much of your personality from wonbin. maybe he just doesn’t care enough to pick more at your surface to find out. but maybe if you knew how to use the mysteriousness to your advantage wonbin would be more intrigued by you. regardless, you always go back to the same docile fuck buddy when wonbin lifts your chin up to look at him.

“you like eating it though, don’t you?” wonbin says simply.

you mindlessly nod you head and your eyes are filled with the same look of adoration before he came in your mouth. it makes wonbin equal parts turned on and smug, his limp dick already working back up to a semi.

wonbin moves back on the bed and you get up from the floor to follow him. you stumble onto the sheets, doing everything in your power to not show how stiff your knees are. you crawl towards wonbin sitting against the headboard with that stupid smirk on his face. he looks down at your chest. the way your breasts hang freely makes him want to put them in his mouth, or hold them tightly until you squirm.

when you’re leaning against the headboard wonbin hands you a water bottle resting on his bedside table. the bottle has collapsed in on itself slightly and had condensation inside. you thank him anyway for the room temperature water—it’s just what you need because wonbin is the one who gave it to you. you finish the bottle, but the taste of him still remains on your tongue.

“thank you.” you say

wonbin still looks at you as you place the water on the other bedside table. he smiles at how shy you suddenly are, waiting for him to initiate the next part of the night. something about you makes his libido increase tenfold. his dick is already hard and straining against his lower stomach.

“how do you want it? want me to be romantic?” wonbin said sarcastically.

you looked at him in confusion, not sure where the second comment came from. did you let something slip again in the heat of the moment? did he pay attention to your instagram story that was indirecting him?

whatever wonbin meant, it was long forgotten when he leaned into you to kiss you again. it was sick how good he was at kissing, even more sick that passionate kisses meant nothing to him. someone should only kiss their lovers the way wonbin was kissing you. he was so gentle pressing his open mouth against yours, pressing his tongue against yours so gently. you have never been kissed this way you’re entire life, it was twisted that wonbin expected you to not catch feelings by the way he carefully touched your face and didn’t pull away from you until you lost your breath.

he was rotten for treating you like glass. when you had sex with other men, they would tear off your clothes impatiently to fuck you as soon as possible, but wonbin always took his time. he would pull down the waistband of your sweatpants while still kissing you, all you had to do was lift your hips. he never took off your panties with your pants either, always giving your under garments extra care. he knew how to take off your bra with one hand and shimmy you out of your panties with the other, pulling away from your lips to sigh contently when you were completely naked for him.

“so gorgeous.” wonbin said, almost like he couldn’t believe it.

wonbin guided your body to straddle his hips, letting your pussy rest on his hard dick. he enjoyed this part the most, being able to feel how wet you were without being inside. he liked how shy you got sitting on top of him, swiveling your hips to spread your slick on his shaft. wonbin liked that you were just as dirty as he was and that you were able to adapt to what he wanted so quickly. he looked down to where you two were almost connected then looked up to you. wonbin liked the glint you had in your eyes, like you were waiting for him to say something.

“wanna ride me?” wonbin asked.

you nodded and lifted your hips up. wonbin maintained eye contact as he grabbed his tip and used the knuckle of his finger to rub down your folds, until he found your entrance. he let go of his dick and his hands found your hips. wonbin looked to you, waiting for you to give him permission to slowly pull you down to him. but you took matters into your own hands, sliding your body down his shaft slowly.

wonbin couldn’t stop his moan from coming out, and you could only look down at his face for a moment before feeling heat creep on your face. you let out a tiny moan and collapsed your body down to tuck your face into wonbin’s neck. you also gave up trying to ride him, making him thurst up into you.

“so cute.” wonbin said breathlessly.

he pressed your lips to his absentmindedly while he continued to fuck up into you. you don’t know why wonbin kept craning his neck awkwardly to see your face that rested on his shoulder. you don’t know why he was making himself uncomfortable just to see your face contort in pleasure. you had spent so many other times having sex with wonbin while your face stayed buried in his neck. this was to personal, especially when he used his hand that was holding your ass down to tilt your head up. it felt like wonbin’s blown out eyes were looking straight into your soul, watching you be consumed by him completely.

seeing wonbin so enthralled by you was what brought you to your peak. your moans pierced through your throat, and wonbin finally let you go to your safe place in his neck. while your body went stiff from pleasure, his slow speed increased significantly. the sound of his skin slapping against yours filled the room and your hands on his shoulder dug into his skin for stability. he was awful for letting the pain from your nails only spur him on. he didn’t stop while you clenched around him uncontrollably, or when your moans turned into babbles and cries. wonbin wrapped an arm around you and held you close, still thrusting up into you.

“take it baby—fuckkkkk.” wonbin groaned.

you could feel the sudden heat inside of you and wonbin pulling you even closer. his hips stilled and you milked him, both of you basking in the heat and electricity of the moment. it was you pulling away from wonbin now, looking into his face that he pressed against the pillows. you raised your hips up before gliding back down, feeling white molten lava seeping out of you. wonbin got whiny almost immediately, wincing from the overstimulation and the feeling of you still seizing around him. you loved this part the most, seeing him completely at your mercy. you basked in the thought of his other girls walking in and seeing you two like this. like you were the dominant one, the one cooing at him that it’s okay. but you were reminded who called the shots when wonbin used his strength to still your hips and pull himself of of you. 

you rolled off of him and caught your breath, wonbin did the same but took significantly longer than usual. the next time you inevitably end up on top of him you’ll have to do the same thing again.

while wonbin composed himself you walked to the bathroom and peed, cleaning up the wet patch on your thighs when wonbin pulled out. the worst part was after everything when you were in the bathroom alone, contemplating if your relationship with wonbin had changed. fuck buddies didn’t fuck like that you would always think to yourself. but then wonbin would come in and have that same smug look from the party. you were reminded who you were and who wonbin was and what your relationship was. it was painful, but it was necessary. you got up from the toilet wordlessly and flushed so wonbin could do the same.

you go back to his room to put your clothes on and head for the door. you’re sure wonbin would come out of the bathroom and not spare a second thought about the empty space on his bed. it was for the better. you decided in that moment you would leave his apartment and never come back—this time you were serious. maybe you would make something of your day tomorrow to celebrate your freedom. you thought that rotting in your bed and regretting your decision about wonbin seemed way more appealing than going on a walk or watching a movie. when you turned the doorknob to get out you heard wonbin’s sink turn off and the sound of him speed walking through his apartment.

you looked at the wonbin, eyes flitting to his marked neck and bed head. he still had sleep in his eyes when he took your head in his hands. you gave into him completely as he bent your head down. he pressed his warm lips to your forehead. it caught you by surprise the sudden affection. it kept you frozen in place as he pinched your cheeks, smiling as he opened the door.

“happy valentines day.” wonbin said while opening the door fully.

you are frozen at his door as he kisses your knuckles. you had forgotten what day it was and that the fourteenth of february was supposed to mean something. you wordlessly walk out his door and wonbin closes it behind you, walking back to his bedroom to go back to sleep.

#requestz #01zfan: wonbin #wonbin smut #riize smut

[talesofely]

Filipino Perks

Pairings : Natasha Romanoff x Reader (gn, i think)

Summary : You and Natasha were assigned by Fury to get intel from a private art exhibit while you were on a date. However, Fury failed to give you tickets so now you're stuck in the car with absolutely no way to get in... or is there?

Warnings : Nothing, just one mention of y/f/n, which means your fake name. Readers' a liar.

Note : first fic! hopefully I did Nat justice. criticism, likes & reblogs r always appreciated!

★—★—★—★—★—★—★—★—★—★—★

You and Natasha were finally able to act like a couple, going on little dates without worrying about world threatening aliens or villains. But Fury just had to ruin it by calling and assigning you two on a mission since you were in the area. It was a simple mission, just get the intel from a company that SHIELD suspected to be working with HYDRA. The only hard part was it was a private art exhibit and you didn't have tickets. So that leads you two to stay in your parked car in the parking lot, trying to think of a way to get in.

"This is literally impossible! How the hell do they think we'll get in there without tickets?" You said with a groan, leaning back into the driver's seat dramatically. Natasha just chuckled at how dramatic you were being.

"Tasha, baby, as much as I love hearing your laugh that gives me butterflies every single time and make me feel like a lovesick teenager — we need a solution." You frowned, trying to show how serious you were. However, instead of helping you think of a solution, she just gave you an amused smile.

"I'm sure we can think of a way to get in, my love. Calm down." You girlfriend's reassuring tone made you pout, which consequently made her laugh.

"Maybe we can break one of the windows?" You suggested, eyeing the windows on the left side of building.

"That would cause a huge scene, детка." Natasha replied in 'in a matter of fact' tone.

"Threaten one of the guests to give us their invitations?" You tried again, seeing a young couple walk past your car towards the entrance.

"Nope."

"Threaten the guard to let us in?"

"Not gonna happen."

"I'll seduce one of the guests so they'll bring me as a plus one?"

Your girlfriend's glare was enough to answer your question.

"Okay, no, uhhh... I'll seduce the guard so he can let us in?"

"Seriously, babe?" You had to stifle a chuckle at how natasha was glaring at you.

"Then what? oh, I know! We can kill the guard!"

"Y/n. You are not seducing nor killing anyone, okay?" Natasha's tone was enough to shut you up, especially cause she called you y/n instead of all the gushing endearments she normally uses.

"Okay, I'll let you do the thinking, I guess..." You sighed, and closed your eyes, letting her think of a better solution.

You were supposed to give up and just wait for her idea when you saw one of the middle-aged guard's nameplate.

On the nameplate was his last name, Santos. Santos was a Filipino last name. Then it hit you, you can get in.

"Baby. I know how we'll get in." You said with a mischievous grin. Natasha looked at you in confusion and amusement. You looked so confident with your idea that she couldn't stop a small amused smile to show on her face.

"What is it, малыш?" She asked with a raised brow, not sure if she should take you seriously or if it's one of your unserious plans again.

"The guard. He's Filipino." You were already forming the conversation in your head while Nat just stares at you in pure confusion.

"And? I don't see how that will get us in, love." Instead of answering her, you get out of the car and opened her door for her. She stepped out in confusion, interwinding your fingers with her.

You approached the Filipino guard with a polite smile. He immediately held his hand out to ask for your invitation.

"Goodday, ma'am. Welcome to the exhibit. May I see your invitation, please?" The man looked like he was in his mid 50s. His Filipino accent wasn't too obvious, but it was there. It was enough for your smile to widen slightly, knowing your assumption was correct.

"Goodday rin boss! Filipino ka po?" You asked in a calm tone, earning a subtle confused look from natasha.

(Goodday to you too, boss! Are you a Filipino?)

"Ay oo! Filipino ka rin? Hindi halata ah? Mukha kang kano!" The man said with a smile, he reminded you of your father back in the Philippines.

(Oh yes! Are you a Filipino too? It isn't obvious, you look like an american!)

"Ay hindi po, half lang po. Fil-Am po ako, sa Pinas po ako lumaki." You replied with a chuckle. He seemed interested and kind enough to make your plan successful.

(No, I'm only half. I'm a Fil-am, but I grew up in the Philippines.)

"Ano pong pangalan niyo, boss?" You asked once again, getting ready to start the first step in your little plan.

(What's your name, boss?)

"Danilo, Danilo Santos." He confidently said, his filipino accent very evident now.

"Pwede po ba kaming pumasok? Naiwan kasi ng bebe ko yung invitation, birthday pa naman po niya ngayon." You let out a small sad smile, trying to win over the heart of the guard.

Danilo thought about it for a minute, looking at you with hesitant yet sympathetic eyes.

"O, siya, sige. Pumasok na kayo, wag nalang kayong maingay sa iba ah? Anong pangalan niyo ulit?" The guard said with a kind smile, making you instantly feel guilty for lying. (Alright, fine. Come inside, just don't tell others, okay? What're your names again?)

"Salamat po! Y/f/n po, siya naman po si Natalie. 'Di po siya marunong magtagalog, eh." (Thank you! I'm Y/f/n, she's Natalie. She can't speak tagalog.)

"Happy birthday, Natalie. Enjoy your day, ah!" Mr. Danilo smiled at Natasha who thanked him and gave a polite smile. He then suddenly leaned in to whisper into your ear.

"Ganda ng nobya mo, galing mong pumili." He gave you two thumbs up and a fatherly grin. (Your girlfriend's pretty, you're good at picking.)

"Sobra po, mahal po ata ako ni Kupido," You joked, causing him to chuckle. Natasha just looks at you confused but had a small adoring smile on her face. "Salamat po ulit, boss." You waved politely, before holding Natasha's waist to lead both of you inside. (Very, I think Cupid loves me. Thank you, again, boss.)

Once you were both inside, she stopped walking, causing you to stop aswell. You looked at her in concern, pulling her closer to your body.

"What's wrong, Tash?" She faced you with a small impressed smile.

"That was honestly impressive. But why'd you call him boss? And what the hell is a bebe?" Her obvious confusion made you chuckle.

"Oh boss? It's sorta like a Filipino culture. We use it as a sign of respect, like when you call someone ma'am or sir. It also helps when you want to get stuff done fast. It's hard to explain." You shrugged and she just nodded. She interwinded your fingers together, resuming your walk into the halls of the building.

"And bebe is?"

"Bebe is your significant other. It means, baby. Mostly teenagers use it to refer to their lovers," You snorted, laughing at your own explanation. "Like, 'bebe kita', which means, 'you're my baby'. But please never call me that, it reminds me of my highschool boyfriend, ew." You grimaced at the memory, making your girlfriend chuckle.

"What filipino endearment should I call you, then?" She asked in a soft tone, interested in the Filipino culture.

"Mahal." You smiled, squeezing her hand affectionately.

"I'm assuming that means Love?" You nodded and leaned down.

"Tinatangi kita, aking Natalia." You whispered, and placed a soft kiss on her temple. The way you said her name in a Filipino accent made her heart flutter. You smiled when you saw the almost unnoticeable pink tint on her cheeks. (I love you, my Natalia.)

"I love you, more."

★—★—★—★—★—★—★—★—★—★—★

note : the translations aren't 100% accurate since some filipino words doesn't have exact translations soooo yeah. i'm half filipino so i'm kinda confident with the tagalog lmfao. tysm for reading !

— sincerely, ely. ★

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x gender neutral reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff #soft natasha romanoff #adorable shit #ely !! ★ #by ely !! ★

[raisedbythetv89]

OK.

ALRIGHT.

It’s official…I’ve gone insane but it’s all their fault for being such insanely talented actors who gave so much nuance to their performances

I hadn’t given this moment in “Crush” the attention it deserves but the reason it’s so important is this is the first time Buffy lays eyes on Spike after Dawn tells her Spike is completely in love with her and Spike is literally at her house charming her family and planning to ask her out on their first date NOT date aka the biggest and boldest move he has made in an attempt to move them from enemies to lovers

She’s been going on and onnnn about how sick and wrong it is and how freaked out she is about the idea of “the slayer” and “the slayer of slayers” in love since she found out BUT THEN SHE ACTUALLY LAYS EYES ON HIM AND SEES HIM FITTING PERFECTLY INTO HER FAMILY AND LIFE AND MAKING HER MOM SMILE AND HER SISTER FEEL NORMAL AND SAFE and she has this like soft shocked bewilderment and she’s looking to him like “care to explain why you’re sitting on my kitchen counter rn?” (them having secret conversations with just their eyes in front of her family makes me insane 😩) and not one single look of disgust that she’s been claiming to feel all day because she’s surprised and therefore her guards aren’t up

And he’s got his terrified deer in headlights look he gets every time he first sees her unexpectedly 😭

and it’s SO CUTE because he is so terrified and he knows this is lunacy and the idea of them is insane and makes no sense but still in his heart of hearts he is a brave, vulnerable romantic. Shooting his shot just like he did with Cecily because “fella’s gotta try” compared to Angel who stalked her for over a YEAR before introducing himself and was the most wishy-washy, bread crumbing mother fucker when it came to actually being with her and Riley who had to be told he liked her and then had to get a bunch of help from Willow before he even made a move. Riley and Angel are genuinely both cowards who want to play the hero but never truly had the courage to do so which is why they always infantilized and shamed/guilted Buffy into being smaller to make them feel bigger which is the CORE of why Spike is literally the only one of all of Buffy’s romantic interests worthy of her because of his bravery, despite knowing with the utmost certainty he will fail and get hurt over and over again, that doesn’t stop him from trying anyway. He’s the only one brave enough and tbh crazy enough to love Buffy Summers in the ways she both needs and deserves.

And I SWEAR the softness in her gaze and overall demeanor of dazed bewilderment and considering what she’s seeing in front of her just gives off this vibe to me that a part of her really likes the scene she’s walked into, the part of her Dawn represents that’s considering, again (but now with new light because I think she’s already considered it after “Something Blue”) what her life would be like if she dated Spike. It’s this TINY MOMENT of her girlhood that still exists under her slayer armor shining through - she’s seeing her (forbidden) crush after finding out she’s his (forbidden) crush too and he’s in her kitchen!! Making an effort with her family and he’s so CUTE and laughing and she basically classic Buffy swoons over a cute boy for just a second before her armor is back on and it’s actually too much for me

AND SPIKE uggghh 😭 he shifts sitting up taller like his inner William standing up when his lady walks in combined with his punk persona that meets every challenge head on but always with a bit of attitude and swagger. Already ready for the battle that is William the Bloody trying to love The Slayer.

This tiny moment of unspoken communication and body language perfectly encompasses what they both bring out in and give to each other and I’m obsessed. Spike brings out the abandoned young girl who is soft and vulnerable and just needs love and support and Buffy gives our brave, big-hearted, protective warrior looking for his place of belonging and people finally worthy of his love that he can care for and protect.

Am I insane for writing all of this about a 2 second clip? Yes, yes I am but this moment is IMPORTANT and it happens so quickly yet it contains so much and completely backs up what I already knew about this episode which was that the only reason Buffy was making such a big deal about Spike being in love with her is because she’s VERY attracted to him but that was so much easier to ignore before she knew the feelings were reciprocated. If she didn’t care about Spike she wouldn’t care about his feelings because they would be of no consequence to her but now…. her crush on her mortal enemy that’s killed two slayers wasn’t a big deal because it was literally never gonna happen…… suddenly could happen and she was SO unprepared for how to handle all of that and so overcompensating the entire episode and beyond 😹😹😹 because also it’s been well established how perceptive Spike is about how people are doing and what they’re feeling so when he says he knows there is something between them he’s not being delusional he is right on the money which freaks her out even more because how could he know about something she didn’t know about herself AGAIN 😹

#spuffy #spuffy meta #meta #spike and buffy #buffy summers wants the cringe lovesick vamp in her kitchen so bad your honor

[jolenequotes]

Dead Poets Society. 📖

10/10

— The damn tears… I can’t remember the last time i cried that much. It was absolutely beautiful. Literally made me into poetry. I’m reading and writing poetry. The impact this movie had on me is crazy. I wish i could forget about it and rewatch it again and again.

— At first, i was so hyped up! These boys were going to have such beautiful minds and hearts, they were going to have meaningful conversation. Mr. Keating was a wonderful teacher and the boys were so lucky to have him. I bet those lessons made every other student’s school life a lot more interesting and fun aswell. Made me wish i had someone to inspire me like him.

— This part was 🔛🔝.

— Amazing cinematography, amazing lighting, amazing cast, amazing script, amazing storyline, amazing actors… It felt as if they were actually living their normal lives in that school everyday. I loved every scene and absorbed it carefully.

— These two made me giggle so much. As someone who’s dealing with anxiety, i can say that we all need a neil in out lives. Because the guy inside us keeps us away from a lot of things and someone promosing us that ‘it’s going to be okay’ affects so much than you can guess. Even if that person doesn’t really do much, we feel relieved that someone actually cares our state of minds. That takes most the weight off of us.

— After i finished the movie, i scrolled through my socials and people were also crazy about these two. I didn’t really considered them as lovers but it’s one way to look at it i guess. 😅

— As the movie continued, i started feeling anxious and my guts didn’t fail me again. Neil’s death was a trauma for all but Todd & Mr. Keating the most. Losing such a person that ruled the people with kindness and the leader who never asked but always needed of course made people feel empty. But losing your roommate who checked up if you’re doing fine, convinced you to do as you wish, promised to take care of you is just… So upsetting that i had to pause and cry.

— Also FUCK Cameron for what he did. He always felt uneasy with the group and tried getting along anyway. Then ruined everything as if it was his own and everyone began to feeling depressed. Mr. Keating opened eyes and Cameron had no right to poke his annoying ass in them. I hope he becomes whatever he wants to be but never seen in daylight ever again. Mr. Keating was a captain to all.

— Todd’s poem, Neil’s play and failed confession, boys running to the woods to read their silly poems and every other scene was filmed so beautifully. Every single one of them had meanings behind them and i enjoyed all.

— Everyone should watch DPS before it’s too late to feel silly things in your stomach for reading beautiful writings. Watch it before you grow up as adults.

🎬,, Oh captain, my captain. You will be missed. (Rest in peace Robin Williams.)”

#dead poets society #film review #ethan hawke #robin williams #film #spotify

[eternalglitch]

Some advice on how to write a long form fic and actually stick with it / survive.

In writing communities, you will hear that there are two main types of writers. Planners/pantsers or architects/gardeners are some of the common names for the types, but basically either you make meticulous notes and plan the entire story out before starting, or you start with an idea and make it up as you go. (Pantsing comes from the phrase "by the seat of your pants".)

Note that these aren't black and white categories; MOST writers will fall in between, but that's normal with most types of things. I started out with a pantser/gardener inclination; I had a cool idea and I posted the first chapter with NO idea where I was going next.

What I learned in that decade of writing was that this will not get you through long pieces of work in a satisfying way. Character arcs are hard to get right, thematical consistency and payoff can happen but it's more luck and chance than your actual skill as a writer. There's always a few geniuses that can do it, but I do not recommend trying to stick to this method alone.

I fall significantly more in between these as a more mature writer after trying and failing at gardening alone. When I posted Like Father Like Son, I went and typed out one bullet point for each chapter I thought I would write. There were 13 planned chapters, so obviously this plan was not accurate – except I have remained true to almost all of the general plot points I had written down in January 2020 at the current time of September 2022. I just expanded on the plot by a significant amount.

As I got used to the tone and got more inspired, I came up with the idea to utilize arcs to break the story down farther. I decided 6 arcs felt right, with a vague idea of what each one would entail, and as I started each arc I would go back in and bullet point what I thought each chapter would be like in more detail. Things still had room to change and grow once I saw where each arc took me, but it is much less daunting to plan 7 chapters at a time instead of 40. It still gave me time to change the little things and have fun seeing where each chapter took me, but it also never left me stranded with no idea where I was trying to swim.

Once I hit the big climax / turning point, which is in Chapter 21: Flatline, I changed tactics a little. I've kept a doc where I write out scenes that I was too excited to wait for, and had accumulated about 20 different little scenes with no order. I put them all on sticky notes and grouped them until I got a clear path, and then I went and solidified the last three arcs in order to get character arcs and themes tied off in a satisfactory way. I had given myself enough time to really think about what I wanted to do, and now that I knew where I currently stood it felt effortless to fill out.

Now. Planning advice aside, how do you actually write a long fic? You will need two main things.

Stamina. This is a skill in and of itself, and unless you have completed at least a novel-length story before, you are new to it! This muscle isn't developed! The best way to throw yourself into training it would be challenging NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) in either November or July. In thirty days, you have to write 50k which pans out to 1,667 words a day. I have challenged and won it twice. I totally pantsed both times, which means I think both novels I wrote are severely lacking in quality, but they absolutely trained me to think on my feet and just push through writer's block. It's grueling and at times painful, but the feeling of crossing the 50k mark on November 30th? That's why I've stuck with writing. Genuinely it is worth doing at least once, you WILL become a better writer even if that piece of work itself is a mess.

Find something you are wildly excited to write in every single chapter. Yes, every single one. You tend to start a story very excited about a few select scenes, but when I start a chapter I try and find at least part of it that I am SO excited to type. This will give you energy and I think people can tell when you actually are enjoying writing rather than slogging through it. Bored of the chapter you're writing? Back to the drawing board, there IS a better way to get from points A to C. Even one chapter I wasn't interested in in between two I loved could make me procrastinate for months instead of just enjoying getting back into the writing.

#glitch speaks #writing advice #maybe this is helpful #maybe not #my writing

[jellifysh]

Ride with you (part 9)

Or, Jungkook’s Ex-Fiancés Can Really Hold A Grudge

OT7 x reader (mafia au, Jungkook x reader focus, exes to lovers, eventual polyamory, this one has a LOT OF EXPLAINING and backstory, mission stuff, gun shots, blood, death but it’s none of the main characters, can you tell that Jimin and and Namjoon are my bias/bias wrecker bc I’m starting to notice a pattern in my writing, Yoongi waxes lyrical abt jk and I think it’s cute but you can totally skip over it I get a little self indulgent, no fr like Yoongi is just inner monologuing for his whole bit but I think it’s worth paying attention to the difference between what Yoongi thinks and what he actually says out loud)

The organizations.

Two infamous institutions unknown by most, the lucky people whose lives didn’t revolve around sowing trouble in the shadows.

You, however, had always been part of the unlucky few. The people who lived in violence and chaos. Murderers, thieves, mafias, they were all violent means to an end. Normal people think of them as evil, unnecessary, and something that needed to be ended forever. But life wasn’t so simple. People needed power, and when politicians wanted governments toppled, the organizations were there. When local gangs wanted drugs to fund their business, when thieves needed jobs, when normal people whose lives spiraled out of control needed help to get back on their feet, the organizations were there.

There were always two, as long as you could remember, at war with each other for supremacy. Jungkook’s was more well versed in trafficking— weapons, humans, drugs, the general type of illegal contraband that no one ever seemed to know the source of. Their agents infiltrated small gangs, built them up bigger and stronger and made them into their puppets. Anywhere there were figurehead regimes, or money being traded behind the scenes, it was the work of Chessman’s pawns. They trained their agents to be manipulative and sly, and never caught at the scene of the crime. They were a dog-eat-dog organization. If you wanted a higher position, you fought for it, your status was always in flux, and people were always being overthrown by the next most ambitious person.

Jungkook had been eighth in line for the Head out of 1,268 agents, a constant routine of clawing at every advantage and using every underhanded tactic he could get to get closer to the top, and he was almost there. But then he met you.

Your organization was versed in espionage and political affairs. Each and every person in the company was trained to be a human weapon. You all knew dozens of different fighting styles, hundreds of different languages, thousands of different types of poisons and when to use them. Your organization was rigid in structure and discipline, unlike Jungkook’s. The top stayed at the top and the agents were taught to kneel at their feet, punished if they ever bent out of line. You were nothing but tools, and were reminded of that constantly, made to think of yourselves as worthless disposable weapons, even though a single one of you could render a nation’s government to pieces. Your organization worked closely with officials who wanted more power, and framed and killed people who were in their way without leaving a trace, making the most brutal murders seem like accidents. You were one of Jackal’s top shadow puppets, and you liked it that way.

Until you met Jungkook. After the organizations realized how much of a threat they were to each other, they talked their agents with getting rid of other at every opportunity. You and Jungkook were specially assigned to each other, you skills making you an equal match, and the best equipped to handle each other. You often ran into each other on missions where your organizations fought over the same target. But something about him kept you from killing him. You don’t know why, but when you looked into his eyes the first time, you couldn’t complete your extra objective. You had never failed an order, you usually completed them in record time. You would call ordinarily call failing to complete an order a defect, but now, years later, you were sure it was a blessing. You and Jungkook danced around each other on missions, fighting but not hurting, teasing but never threatening. You quickly grew fond of each other, and even bonded over your shared struggles.

Jimin hummed to himself as he thumbed through your file, eyes scanning the papers. He idly swiveled in place while sitting in Namjoon’s fancy desk chair, one foot propped up on the desk.

Normally he wouldn’t go through the effort of reading a file. It wasn’t usually any of his business. Files were raw information, data gathered by Yoongi that Namjoon used to craft a mission. Whatever they needed to know, Namjoon would tell them.

But Jimin was curious. It was a weird feeling honestly, almost new with how long it had been. For so long he had been bored. Content, but bored. Bangtan was successful and feared and money had been flowing in almost nonstop. They owned half of downtown, and basically controlled the rest due to their surrounding allies following their every order. They had a monopoly on trade, and had squads full of adoring henchman to take care of any opponents. Everything was perfect, and it was boring.

In the years after Jungkook left, they’d had nothing but luck, and Jimin hated every second of it. Jungkook was a breath of fresh air, he brought light and laughter to the house and fun to their lives that they didn’t have before him. And when he left, he took all of that with him as well, and it was worse knowing how much happier they could be— how much happier they had been— with him there.

For a long while, they tried to pretend they were fine with him being gone. They were fine with an empty seat at the table instead of him pouting for them to feed him from their plates, they were fine without him running around and laughing and bumping things over, they were fine with some peace and quiet while they worked instead of him talking their ear off. Really, he was annoying, he was needy, he was clingy— he was far more work than than he was worth. He was definitely the most demanding pet they had ever had to entertain. And yet, their lives had never been so miserable without him.

Finding him again after he left was easy. But you were an unforeseen variable. Jimin could still feel the way his blood boiled when he saw you. A part of him thought Jungkook would be a wreck without them, he was always clinging to them in the manor, how could he ever live away from them after needing their attention for so long? But instead, he was off in the woods, happily playing house with you. How could he be happy when they were suffering?

But Jimin remembered, under all the rose tinted memories of the happiest days with Jungkook, there were bad days. Days where he would mope around, days where no one would spare him attention, days where they would snap at him out of irritation, days where he would get jealous. Before, Jimin never understood his jealousy. Of course they loved him, he was the one they kept around most, even if they paid attention to others. They proposed to him even, of course they wanted him around forever.

But, seeing the closeness between you and him, Jimin now understands just what that kind of jealousy feels like.

He tapped his fingers on the desk thoughtfully, staring down at the polished mahogany surface. Knowing you though, seeing you interact with Jungkook and the rest of the boys in the time you’ve been here, Jimin can’t help but think. You had skill, plenty of it. In the time you’ve been here, you’ve done nothing but prove it. While you irritated him, something else in him flared back to life seeing you in action. The way you moved and fought was so precise, so calculated, so deadly and yet beautiful he couldn’t help but be enraptured by it. He had never encountered so much power in anybody besides him and his loves. Even some of Bangtan couldn’t compare to your ability.

Maybe they had been thinking about all wrong.

Jimin blinked, coming out of his thoughts from an approaching sound. He could hear the footsteps and smiled to himself, sitting up straight in the chair as he waited for the person to enter. Namjoon pushed the door open, stepping into the room and stopping in the doorway in slight shock at the sight of Jimin. “What are you doing in here?” He asked, suspiciously eying the file ahead in front of him.

“Aw, c’mon Joonie. I can’t pay you a visit?” He faux pouted, but Namjoon only narrowed his eyes, more suspicious. “Okay, okay, fine. I was looking over our new pet’s file.” Jimin sighed dramatically, standing from the chair and picking up the file, moving to slip it back into the file cabinet.

Namjoon raised an eyebrow at Jimin’s sudden interest. “Why? What were you looking for?” He asked, moving to sit down in his chair.

Jimin walked back to him, perching on the arm of his chair, slumping against Namjoon. “Well, for one, I was looking for details on her abilities. And, for leverage.” He sent Namjoon a sly smile.

“Leverage?” Namjoon tilted his head, not really following.

“I’ve been noticing some things about her. Like, the fact that she’s much more cooperative than someone’s whose been kidnapped ought to be.” Jimin trailed his fingers along Namjoon’s collar, feeling the fine thread of his suit as he spoke.

“Of course she’s being cooperative. We aren’t giving them a choice.” Namjoon replied, pulling out a notebook and pen, arranging his desk back to the way he liked it since Jimin had pushed his stuff out of the way.

“That’s different. It’s not like she’s doing the bare minimum. She’s interested, maybe even invested, in helping us.” Jimin responded, sitting up, gesturing with his hands to emphasize his point.

“She wants to see the organizations crumble as much as we do.” Namjoon reasoned.

“So does Jungkook, but he’s not giving us input on mission or helping us torture hostages.” Jimin retorted.

Namjoon sighed, resigned, looking straight at Jimin as he asked for an explanation. “What are you saying?”

Jimin rolled his eyes like it was obvious. “I’m saying that our new pet might have a bit of a perfectionist streak. She wants to help us because a part of her, albeit small, wants to impress us. She puts up a cute fight, but she always listens to us in the end.”

Namjoon looked at him intently, thinking on what he said for a moment, then turned back to fixing his desk, shaking his head. “I think you’re reading too much into it.”

“Think about it, Joon. No one told her to get Taehyung’s flashdrive. No one told her to save me, but she rushed to my side when I got shot. When we were splitting up roles for the mission, she insisted on joining and said that she was skilled enough to handle it.” Jimin rattled off, counting the instances on his fingers. “She could’ve sat back this whole time if she didn’t want to help us, but she does.”

Namjoon listened as Jimin spoke, tapping a pen in his hand against the table. “Alright. So, you think she’s eager to please. So what?”

Jimin smiled, a wicked curve to his lips. “So, I’m saying we use this to our advantage. We give her some rewards for helping us, a couple gentle pushes in the right direction, and not only will we have her as a little puppet, but Jungkook won’t have any reason to resist us either. He’s holding back because of her, I can sense it.”

Namjoon was still giving him a dubious look, so he continued, huffing. “Listen, I’m never wrong about these things. We just need to start small, and soon she’ll be putty in our hands.” Jimin eyes cut into teasing slits, smiling again. “And stop acting like you don’t like the idea. It’s so obvious that you’re fond of her already. Don’t you like the thought of a cute little baby doll around the house?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m being completely professional about this.” Namjoon denied, turning back to the desk and starting to write nonsense in the notebook.

“Right. And that’s why you let her sass Jin and give input on missions.”

“She has a lot of good ideas, it’d be inefficient to ignore them.”

“Sure,” Jimin teased, pinching his cheek. Namjoon chuckled, raising a hand to bat it away, when the door creaked again, you peeking in. Jimin didn’t hear any footsteps this time, a fact that surprised him. He knew the walking patterns of everyone in this house, but as he thought about it, he couldn’t recall if he’d ever even heard yours. You just get more and more interesting, he thought to himself.

“Joon?” You called into the room, peeking through the crack of the door. You moved to step in, then stopped after noticing Jimin inside as well. “Oh, if you’re busy I’ll go.”

“You’re fine, pet. Come in.” Jimin cooed encouragingly, before you could run out, and you timidly stepped inside, eyeing him like he’d jump at you.

“What is it?” Namjoon asked patiently, with none of the usual bite he’d have when he was talking to one of their underlings who barged into his office. Jimin struggled to hold back a smile, he was always right about these things.

You stood tall, demanding, “I need a new suit for the up coming mission. I tore mine in the last one, and it was too tight anyways.”

“We’ll find you another one.” Namjoon agreed, and you nodded, but stood there a second longer as if there was something else you wanted to say, fidgeting in place.

Jimin smirked. He could guess what this was about. You had been eyeing his and Hoseok‘s customized suits last time, and a professional like yourself was probably used to more high quality material. “You know, pet, if you do extra good for us on this next mission, you might even get a special custom suit like the ones we have.” He purred.

Your eyes sparkled at that, even if the rest of your face didn’t betray your excitement. Bingo. You nodded with the type of forced calm people had when trying not to outwardly celebrate. “Okay.” You said simply, turning and leaving, Jimin glimpsing a hint of a smile as you face away from them.

“Huh.” Namjoon said, staring at the door after she left. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I’m always right.” Jimin replied smugly. “She has a big ego. But we can use that to our advantage.”

Maybe the only issue with Jungkook being their pet before was that they needed another one to keep him company.

—

Yoongi wasn’t the fighting type.

Well, not exactly. While he wasn’t the type to throw a punch, he was absolutely the type to be sniping from the rooftop, steady and almost clinical in his aim. He was the type to be cynical even in the most positive of situations, the type to throw your words back in your face when arguing, the type to hang back and watch you make a fool of yourself and then laugh. He was the annoying, high and mighty, holier-than-thou type, and he had always been that way. It was funny to watch people fail, and even funnier that he had never failed at anything himself. His whole life he had been a genius, and always did everything better than the next guy. He was perfect and calculating.

He had never been tripped up by anything, until he met Jeon Jungkook.

When they found him, Jungkook was a skinny little shrimp, scared of his own shadow. He was scared of them for a long while, until he realized they weren’t trying to hurt him and then he clung to their backs every second of the day, using them like a personal shield for his anxieties. They knew he had potential, everyone does, it just takes a certain mindset to drag it out of them. They taught Jungkook how to defend himself by throwing him into the deep end and he came out better and stronger for it, rising above his fears and becoming more confident each day they spent with him.

Jungkook was full of surprises. While they had had pets and guests before, Jungkook was the most permanent, and Yoongi can still remember the way it threw him for a loop when he realized— when they all realized— they actually had developed a— somewhat twisted— form of love for the boy they had taken in. He was more than entertainment, he was cute bunny smiles and uncontrollable laughter. He thrived under the attention they gave him and begged for more with no shame. He quickly became comfortable and sassy and when he came out of his shell, he spent every moment making them happy.

Yoongi can still remember the first time Jungkook made him laugh because it was the first he had laughed at all in a long while. That was what tripped Yoongi up. The feelings Jungkook could pull out of him. All his life he had perfected the art of emotion. He knew how to control it, how to keep his cool in situations, and suddenly this kid came along and made him laugh with every stupid question, letting out snorts and chuckles that Jungkook insisted were cute, with that same wide bunny smile on his face. Cute. He’d never been called that before.

And it made it even worse when Jungkook had left. No one smiled for a long time after that. Everything felt off kilter, askew, like gun with a sticky trigger. The sudden loss of joy in their life was sticking to their every thought, and they had to push past the emotions to function even semi-normally.

Yoongi knew that Jungkook hated the parties. Honestly, if the others guys weren’t so dense when it came to other people’s emotions, maybe they’d have noticed too. He hated the parties himself. They were always too loud, with too many people with too much skin showing trying to get close to him. The only reason he ever came out of his room for them instead of locking himself inside was the way Jungkook would glue himself to his side. The younger man probably thought he was being subtle, they way he would casually lay himself across their laps, talk louder, flirt harder, and generally try to compete for their attention even more than he usually did, trying to be more interesting than the other people in the room. It almost hurt seeing the way the look on his face would desperate and pained when the other boys would push him away, hardly sparing him a glance. But then he cuddle up into Yoongi’s side, small and shy again and Yoongi would play with his hair, and they’d be in their own world again, ignoring everyone outside of their little bubble.

Yoongi could see the signs before he left. The other boys just saw it as cute rebellion, but Yoongi could see the way he would withdraw with every argument, emotionally, physically, mentally, not coming out of his room at all sometimes. And he couldn’t blame him. When he escaped, Yoongi knew. He saw him through the security cameras, jumping down from his bedroom window and running. He was supposed to report that sort of thing to Namjoon or Jin, but he made the excuse that he was hungry and went to the kitchen for some tangerines, “accidentally” turning off the cameras and alarms outside Jungkook’s bedroom.

The boys were furious naturally, in the way that people are when they don’t see how their own mistakes lead to their own misfortune. They tracked him down quickly but didn’t go after him, wanting to wait until he crawled back. They continued on with life as normal, but it wasn’t.

Jimin quickly grew tired of parties, grew tired of everything. He snapped at everyone who spoke to him, and eventually people stopped coming over for parties, and he stopped inviting them, moping around the house and whispering about how Jungkook would’ve loved the color of the sky or whatever random thing reminded him of the younger man that day. Namjoon grew quieter, he was always a quiet man, but he became distrustful of others around him, taking on more and more of the duties he usually relegated to others until they were essentially doing everything themselves. Jin was always on the phone calling people and asking about him, always tracking Jungkook’s every movement. When Jungkook was on a mission and off the grid, it was obvious in the way Jin’s shoulders would bunch tight and tense, and he would pace around the house anxiously. Hoseok was constantly training, but it only frustrated him more since Jungkook was his favorite training partner. Yoongi could always hear the thud of him beating the punching bags, hitting hard enough to almost knock them off the chains. Taehyung had always been introspective but now he was far more withdrawn, he and Jungkook were incredibly close and part of Yoongi thinks he probably blames himself for Jungkook’s leaving in a way. He wasn’t always into technology, but after Jungkook left, Taehyung asked Yoongi more about hacking and tracking, likely to try and pinpoint Jungkook’s location for himself.

And now, having him back was weird, because it was almost like old times. If Yoongi let himself zone out, he could almost believe nothing has changed. But there were plenty of changes. Yoongi could hear Jungkook’s voice again, but it was deeper, more experienced. He wasn’t the same cute kid they had all spoiled. He was toughened by life alone, and he was angry.

“Even after all this time, you’re still so similar to before,” Yoongi mused as he turned away from his computer, spinning his chair to face his bedroom door. “So why are you acting like I don’t already know you’re there?” He called out into the hallway and waited.

Jungkook slowly stepped into view, eyes everywhere but Yoongi. He looked around his room, lingering on the things that had changed. “You finally got rid of that ugly vase.” He said by way of greeting, gesturing to the flowers in the corner. They were in a sleek silver vase, rather than the colorful clay one he used to have. He’d gotten rid of most colorful decor after Jungkook had left, his room becoming a monochrome wasteland.

“I vaguely remember you telling me to get it in the first place.” Yoongi raised a brow, and Jungkook scoffed.

“As a joke. Anyone with eyes could tell that thing needed to be destroyed in a fire.” He deadpanned, but Yoongi could hear the slight amusement in his voice.

Yoongi bit his lip to hold back a smile. “What do you want?”

Jungkook shrugged noncommittally, digging throuh drawers and snooping through his shelves. “Y/n’s getting ready for her mission debrief. Jin said I shouldn’t bother her.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “And you listened? I’m surprised you didn’t break the door down.”

“Y/n can handle herself. They won’t hurt if she’s valuable to the mission.” Jungkook said, but Yoongi knew that wasn’t the whole truth.

“So why are you here?” He clarified his question, watching as the muscles in Jungkook’s back just slightly tensed, him freezing in place almost imperceptibly.

Jungkook looked at him over his shoulder, then at the open door. He walked over, closing the door silently then turned back to Yoongi, eyes glinting with determination.

“Uh oh, am I in trouble?” Yoongi joked dryly.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes at him, talking like Yoongi didn’t speak at all. “Why are you guys being so weird?”

“Huh?”

“What are you hiding? Why haven’t you thrown one of your stupid parties? Why are you doing work yourself instead of being lazy and making your expendables do it? Why don’t you have other pets keeping you company?” Jungkook rattled off question after question.

“Jungkook,” Yoongi said. Jungkook almost flinched at the sound of his name, plain and simple. No Jungkookie, no kookie-baby, just Jungkook. “Do you remember when we proposed?”

Yoongi asked the question with so much tenderness that it took them both by surprise, silence settling in the room like dust for a long moment. “I wish I didn’t.” Jungkook grumbled, looking away and kicking an empty water bottle that had been lying on the floor.

“We told you that you were like nothing we had ever seen before,” Yoongi stood from his chair, taking slow steps towards Jungkook as we spoke. “That you had given us new purpose for living, and that nothing had ever been so incredible as it had when you were with us. Did you think we were lying?” Yoongi was almost whispering the last few words, close enough to Jungkook that he had to look up to meet his eyes. The younger man had never been so tall before. Yoongi thought it suited him, him being tall was new, like his bravery, like his fury, like his independence.

Jungkook stared down at him, eyes still steely with the look he had when he was working hard to figure something out. “I don’t know. You guys lied about a lot of things.” He shrugged again, trying to maintain a casual air despite the heavy atmosphere.

“We never lied. We made mistakes, sure, but we never lied. You were more important to us than anything. We just lost sight of that for a while.” Yoongi explained, Jungkook immediately scoffing.

“And you expect me to believe that? How do I know this isn’t you just manipulating me? That you aren’t just saying whatever you can to make up for your past fuck ups?” His eyes narrowed into a fierce glare, with no real heat behind it. Yoongi could tell he wanted to be angry, but he couldn’t muster up the emotion, not right now. He wanted answers more than he wanted to be angry.

You breathed in and out, calm and content just being this close to him again. “Because you know us. You know me. Only you can tell if we’ve truly changed. And if we are lying to cover our ass, you wouldn’t believe us anyways. Not until you see it for yourself. I don’t think you’re the type to be won over with praise anymore.”

Jungkook huffed, “It doesn’t matter. You kidnapped me and my love, and you’re forcing us to help you. And don’t think for a second that I actually believe you’ll just let us go after all this.”

Yoongi shrugged. “I’m sure you’d find a way out anyways. And we’re not making you do anything you didn’t already want to do. Chessman and Jackal have been a thorn in our sides, like Namjoon said, and they’ve been tracking you. If we get rid of them, you could go back to your cute little cottage and not worry about moving every two months.”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes, studying Yoongi’s calm countenance for a lie. Yoongi took the opportunity to look over him as well. His hair had grown longer and shaggier in the time they’d been apart, it was always a cropped bowl cut, with a cute fringe that hung over the forehead when he was with them. But now he could see the remnants of blue dye at the ends and wondered about that story, what made him want to dye it, if you encouraged him or if it had been a spur of the moment thing Jungkook surprised you with. He had a small scar on his cheek that Yoongi wanted to run his thumb over but didn’t, and one that cut through his eyebrow that Jungkook probably thought made him look cooler. He was always reckless that way, getting excited over battle scars like they were tattoos, which, Yoongi noticed, he also had trailing over his arms. He had a couple tattoos when he was with them but not so many, not so colorful and detailed. And his shoulders were broad in a way that would make even Jin jealous, and he stood tall in a way that made Yoongi swear that if he squinted he’d look just like Namjoon.

“You’ve barely done anything since we’ve gotten here.” Jungkook eventually said, expression still guarded. “The others have been angry but you’ve been acting like you don’t care at all. Even less than you normally do.”

“Maybe I just don’t.” Yoongi tilted his head.

“No. You’re pretending.” Jungkook called him out easily, batting the excuse away almost as soon as it came out of his mouth. “So, what? Do you hate Y/n too?”

Yoongi quirked an eyebrow. Jungkook posed the question like it was meant be intimidating, like he wanted to make sure Yoongi wouldn’t try anything with you, but it almost seemed curious. Like he was asking for his opinion, or his approval.

“I think Y/n’s just as strong and crazy as you are, maybe more, but she holds back. But as far as the people you could’ve chosen to replace us with goes, I’m glad you found her. She suits you.” Yoongi replied honestly, seemingly more than Jungkook was expecting from the slight widening of his eyes.

Yoongi wouldn’t tell him about how he was the one doing all the research on you when they first started going after you, and that he had dragged up an (almost) complete timeline of your life, all your highs and lows, the ways you dragged yourself out of the mud again and again and the way you watched over Jungkook fiercely ever since you’ve first met him.

He wouldn’t tell him about him about how Yoongi was immensely impressed by the way you fought and his eyes keep drifting your form in the security cameras in the mission when you saved Jimin.

Yoongi wouldn’t tell him about how he thought it was cute when you argued with Jin and Hoseok, and how he could tell Namjoon had a soft spot for you already, or how he could feel one forming for you in himself.

Yoongi wouldn’t tell him that under different circumstances they’d likely all be obsessing over you the same way they were with Jungkook, considering you seemed to be the exact kind of crazy Bangtan usually sought out in their pets.

And Yoongi especially wouldn’t tell him that he had never been angry at Jungkook, and never could be, even with you in the picture.

Jungkook eventually sighed, breaking the silence again, stepping back towards the door. “Well, that’s good enough I guess. One less enemy in this house.” He grumbled, seemingly done with his psuedo interrogation.

Yoongi spoke up again as Jungkook had just put his hand on the door, making him pause. “None of us are your enemies, Jungkook-ah.”

Jungkook walked out of the room, almost like he hadn’t heard Yoongi at all.

—

Hoseok brushed against you as he walked into the room, shoulder bumping into yours in a definitely purposeful movement. You eyed him as he passed, not letting him intimidate you.

He eyed you in turn, eyes sweeping down your figure. “Your suit fits better this time.” He commented, carelessly settling in a chair in the corner.

“Yup. And I’ll have a custom made that fits even better after this mission.” You smiled proudly. “But I’ll be able to outdo you in this one just fine.”

“You keep telling yourself that, pup.” Hoseok smiled with no warmth. “If you can make it through this mission without making any mistakes, I’ll take back every bad thing I’ve ever said about you.” He responded, seemingly no faith in your abilities at all, though you were quite sure you had proved yourself already. No matter, you reassured yourself inwardly, just do well on this mission and they won’t be able to deny your skill ever again. You weren’t one to be under appreciated, and while you definitely didn’t care about what they thought about you as a person, you would make sure they knew your worth as a fighter.

“Get ready to eat your words then. I never make mistakes.” You replied, eyes cut into slits as you stared him down.

“Everyone slips up sometimes. And you’ve been a little too perfect lately.” He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes right back, the two of you glaring in the tense silence until the door opened.

Hoseok looked to the door, breaking eye contact first— which you counted as a small victory— as Namjoon walked in. “Just you today, Joonie?” Hoseok smiled easily, mood immediately sweeter at the sight of his love. He was always more smiley around the guys, you noticed, making it difficult for you to believe he was the same person sometimes. The same man who would glare at you was also the same man who would give his boyfriends the most tender stares and touches, soft and gentle like they’d break, and not like they were kings of the underground.

Namjoon hummed in response, opening the file. “This mission isn’t as serious. Simple recon, you get Warner in, he does the dirty work, and then you bring him back.”

Warner, still currently in the “dungeon” as Jungkook called it, was going to pose as your puppet. Bangtan would give him a couple crates of valuable supplies that he “stole” and let him barter with the informant he was meeting for information and a possible position in the organization. Since he was able to bargain with them, you assumed it was an agent of Chessman— Jungkook’s old organization— who he was meeting, but you weren’t yet sure, and it was better to prepare for every eventuality anyways. The thought that you might be seeing a familiar face form your organization tonight was both nerve wracking and blood boiling.

“So all we have to do is watch and don’t be detected.” Hoseok nodded after listening to Namjoon explain the objectives, then sent a sidelong glance at you. “Think you can handle that, puppy?”

“I’m a master at stealth. This will be a piece of cake.” You boasted.

“You certainly have a great sense of pride.” Namjoon commented almost thoughtfully.

“Of course it is. I’ve worked hard, and that deserves to be recognized.” You said, glaring at Hoseok as you put an emphasis on the last half of your words.

“Of course,” Namjoon said again, almost to himself. The closed the file in front of him and moved for the door, leading you all out. “Let’s go retrieve our prisoner then.”

—

As Hoseok sat in the backseat of the car next to you and a squirming Warner, he thought about how he’d rather be doing anything else. He hated this. He hated you for suggesting this mission. Honestly, Hoseok hated you for a lot of reasons.

One, you took Jungkook away from them. If it wasn’t for you, Hoseok wouldn’t be down a sparring partner, and their lives wouldn’t have been so miserable. Jungkook would’ve been happy when they found him again and they could’ve made it up to him for all the tough times before and be living happily ever after.

Two, Jungkook was in love with you. Not only had he moved on after leaving them, but he had given his heart to another person. He had laughed and cried and touched you, and you had comforted him and made him feel better and made him fall in love with you. Jungkook chose you, unlike how they were the ones to find him. And now because he was in love with you, he would likely never choose them over you ever again.

Three, he had to watch Jungkook be in love with you. He had to watch the stupid happy looks on your faces when you held hands, or kissed, or just looked at each other because you were so in love that you just couldn’t see the others face without breaking into a smile. Jungkook used to look at them like that. But now, he was like that with you. It was disgustingly sweet and made him want to punch a wall every time he saw it.

There were plenty of other petty reasons Hoseok couldn’t stand you, but most of all, he hated how much you reminded him of Jungkook. It was impossible to say that you and Jungkook weren’t perfect for each other. You had the same sense of same sense of humor as each other, the same focused look when you would go into a mission, the same mannerisms whether it was loading a gun or dusting off your suit, everything you did had Jungkook sewn into it and he hated it. He hated seeing echoes of someone he loved in someone else. He hated the way you would bicker with Jin, because that’s what Jungkook used to do. He hated the way you would volunteer to help with missions, because that’s what Jungkook used to do. He hated the way you walked, the way you talked, the way you breathed, because all of it was a reminder that you spent time with Jungkook while they were all losing their minds wishing for him to come back.

Warner bumped into his shoulder for the fortieth time in the last ten minutes and Hoseok snapped, grabbing the rope around his neck and pulling as he growled. “How does a man who’s tied up move so goddamn much?”

Warner didn’t answer him, because he had a piece of tape over his mouth, but instead stared up at him frightfully. He was tied up still, because Hoseok didn’t believe he wouldn’t just try to run as soon as they got outside, rope around his wrists, elbows, knees and ankles for good measure. The rope around his neck was just for intimidation factor, for moment like this where Hoseok needed something to grab and pull.

“We’re almost there, just avoid hurting our hostage before we get to the rendezvous point.” You rolled your eyes and Hoseok huffed, shoving Warner into you. You shoved him back more towards the center, ignoring the muffled groan Warner let out as you both irritated his bruises from your previous “discussion” with him in the basement.

Jin was driving the car, quiet for most of the ride as he sensed the tension between you two. He glanced into the rear view, seeing the both of you with arms crossed and looking out the windows like siblings on a road trip they didn’t ask for and sighed in relief as you slowly got closer to the destination. “Just remember to be careful. We don’t have sights on you for this one, so make sure to watch your corners and lead Warner back here as soon as the meeting’s over.”

“We got it, babe.” Hoseok said as the car rolled to a stop outside an abandoned warehouse, dark with overgrown plants creeping up the sides. “I’ll keep the puppy in line.” He said as he climbed out.

“I’m not a puppy! And I don’t need to watched.” You hissed, getting out your side and taking a wooden crate out of the trunk.

“Whatever.” Hoseok snapped back, grabbing Warner from the backseat and slinging him over his shoulders like he was a bag of marshmallows.

Jin did not feel any confidence in your ability to watch each other’s backs, but waved you both off anyways, saying good luck and moving his car to a more hidden spot until the two of you were finished.

You crept up to the side of the building as quietly as possible, the people Warner was here to meet were likely already inside, waiting. They told him to come alone, so you needed to get him and inside and make yourselves scarce. Hoseok propped him up against the wall, undoing the ropes and then ripping the tape off of his mouth, ignoring his squeal at the pain.

You shoved the wooden crate into his arms, not giving him a moment to recover. It was full of random ammunition and weapons, things Wanrer could use to barter with the informant. “Remember: these are the supplies you ‘stole’ from Bangtan during your raid. Try to trade them for information we could use or, most preferably, a position on the inside of the organization. Don’t mess this up.” You threatened, stressing the last sentence with a dire seriousness, watching Warner’s eyes widen at your intensity.

“I— I remember, I swear.” He squeaked and you nodded, stepping back.

“Good. Now go.” Hoseok pushed him towards the direction of the entrance, making him stumble over over his own feet, and the two of you watched him walk inside, making sure he wouldn’t run.

“Now, we just have to get inside.”

“What’re you talking about? There no way we can get in without being noticed, it’s an empty warehouse.” Hoseok eyed you dubiously. “It’s just wide open space, they’ll see us instantly.”

“Places like this usually have a lot of vents and ducts on the ceiling. If we can get up top, we can climb in through one and sit up in the rafters unseen.” You replied, pulling a grappling gun fork your tool belt.

“That’s stupid. What if we make too much noise, or fall?” He critiqued.

“Just don’t.” You said, rolling your eyes. You shot the gun up to the roof, watching it catch on the edge. You gave it a couple test pulls to test the stability. “Look, you can stay out here if you want, but I’m going in.”

“Fine.” Hoseok huffed. “Give me that, I don’t trust you not to drop us.” He held out his hand for the grappling hook and you pulled back.

“And I’m supposed to believe you won’t drop me?”

“Do you want to get in, or just stay out here and argue?”

“Fine.” You acquiesced, handing him the gun, and he wrapped his arm around your back, holding you tight as he let it pull both up to the top of the building.

To Hoseok’s surprise, you both made it in easily, popping open a grate on a vent that came out the top of the building, crawling in and navigating through the vents until you were close enough to hear conversation, coming upon another grate you could see the meeting through. Quietly, you pulled up the grate, and stared down into the room.

As you looked in on the scene, you saw they had already started talking. The informant was dressed in a white suit, crisp and clean. He spoke in a monotone voice, sounding almost bored as he spoke with Warner, who in contrast, was sweating bullets.

Warner’s voice cut into your ear as he spoke, voice lowering so much that you had to strain to hear them. “Listen, I know what we came here for, but I figured, before you get your stuff, you could help me out.” He whispered conspiratorially to the agent.

“What is he saying?” You murmured to yourself, anxiety chilling your body. This didn’t sound like any of the things you outlined for Warner to say. He was going way off script.

“Help you how?” The agent asked, confusion marring their clinical and smooth tone. Clearly whatever Warner was saying was throwing them for a loop as well.

“I was captured by Bangtan, I’ve got two of their agents trailing me right now, they’re osmewhere here, if you help me get rid of them—“

“That dumbass! He’s ratting us out. I told you he wasn’t shit but you just couldn’t help but want to be right all the time!” Hoseok hissed at you, but you were just staring blankly down at the scene below you, as if in disbelief.

“You were compromised?” The rendezvous agent cut Warner off, professional air completely abandoned, replaced with worry and anger that Warner didn’t seem able to sense.

Warner nodded, a smile on his face as he realized the agent understood. He continued speaking more enthusiastically, as he pleaded the other agent for help. “Yeah, exactly! Listen man, you’ve gotta get rid them for me, they’re threatening my life—“

Bang! Warner’s body slumped lifelessly to the floor, and Hoseok felt his heart drop.

The agent had whipped out a small handgun, nailing Warner right between the eyes. He turned to the guards in the room, barking orders frantically. “Search the perimeter, make sure the agents he was talking about aren’t within range. Open fire if you see anyone unfamiliar, and shoot to kill.”

Hoseok sighed, “That idiot. Let’s get out of here before we get shot.”

You crawled forward in the vents silently, maneuvering yoursef over another grate directly above the men grouped in the middle of the room around the informant relaying commands. You pulled up the grate, deathly silent as you pulled out two handguns strapped to your belt, one in each hand. Hoseok did not like the look on your face.

“What are you doing? We should be heading towards the exit.” He repeated.

Your head raised, locking eyes with his. Your face was completely blank, but your eyes screamed with silent fury, so much so that Hoseok almost flinched. “I’m finishing this mission.” You replied, calm like the eye of a hurricane, then dropped down from the rafters like a hawk diving for its prey.

Hoseok watched in awe for a moment. It was clear the guards weren’t expecting you to come to them, and it was doubly clear that they hadn’t thought to look up, two of them going down just from the force of you landing on their necks, another three going down as you swiftly planted bullets in their backs, shooting before they even had the chance to turn around.

From his vantage point, Hoseok could see a squad of guards coming in through an exit on the far side of the room, sneaking up on you. He waited until they were under him to drop on top of them as well, hearing some bones snap as they broke his fall. For good measure, he shot them, then focused on making his way over to you and covering your back.

There weren’t many guards at all in the abandoned safe house, clearly they were only planning on having to subdue Warner and not getting followed by secret agents set on killing them all. You two cleared out the building quickly, you swirling a path of destruction through the guards and Hoseok cleaning up behind you. The room eventually feel silent, no more guards left to stop you, as your eyes searched your surroundings for any remaining threats. You heard shuffling and looked to see the informant, clean white suit now dirty, slowly crawling towards the door on his hands and knees.

Hoseok leveled a gun at him. “Oh no, you don’t—“

“Stop!” Your arm knocked into his, knocking his shot off course and making him hit his shoulder instead of his head. The informant cried out in pain, ignored by Hoseok who instead turned to glare at you.

“Don’t tell me you’re about to say some high and mighty shit about murder being wrong when we just cleared the house.” He rolled his eyes.

“Not at all.” You said, turning towards the agent who was now sniveling on the floor, struggling to prop himself up on his elbows. You walked over to him, stepping on him and pushing him down in place with your foot. “We’re down an informant because he shot Warner. So he’ll be taking his place.”

The informant cried. “You— you won’t get away with this! You— you can’t—!”

You moved your foot over his bullet wound, pressing into it and twisting your foot. He cried out loudly then stopped abruptly, passing out from the pain. Once he stopped squeaking, you turned to Hoseok, cracking a smile that was weirdly innocent with the sprays of blood in your face.

“Carry him for me?”

Hoseok nodded, at a loss for words, stopping to sling the agent over his shoulder. He followed behind you as the two of you calmly walked out of the warehouse, no souls left to stop you. His blood thrummed strangely in his body, energy and adrenaline still pumping through his veins thinking of the ways you fought, alluring and dangerous. He was both impressed and terrified by your calmness, like you didn’t just enact your vengeance on a room of unsuspecting agents. Just thinking about it could still give him chills, seeing the content look on your face while you took them down with ease, like you weren’t affected by it at all. Your breathing had hardly changed after exerting yourself, like you had just taken a nice walk in the park. Hoseok wanted to know just how much of yourself you were hiding from them.

Hoseok thought you would hold them back, that you’d be a stick in the mud, but clearly, you did not like to play around. “No qualms about killing this time?” He asked, keeping his voice casual. “Jimin said you made a big fuss about killing on your last mission.”

“I don’t take kindly to having my operations jeopardized.” You said, in that all too calm voice, and Hoseok realized, oh, you weren’t calm at all actually. Looking closer he could see your hands shook and clenched into fists periodically, like you needed to punch something or scream, and your voice was hard with the effort of keeping venom out of your tone. You were angry. “Warner could’ve cost us everything. But he already got what he deserved.” You turned to look at Hoseok and the body slung over his shoulder, flashing a scary sweet smile over your shoulder. “But I think our new catch is even better.”

Hoseok shook his head in disbelief as you faced forward again. Looking at you now, he took back his earlier statement. What he hated most of all was how much he didn’t know about you.

—

Taglist: @justmewondering-recs @zae007live @jcrml @royalchickens @devilsbooksworld @creatorspalace @scuzmunkie @uno7 @dreamamubarak @bbgniecyy @tinyoonsblog @cosmic-waves7 @arin-swear-rose @sld88 @skyys-universe @mageprincess7 @drunkzseok @n4mina @singukieee @elraeeee @ratherbefangirling @uniquelyabnormallyoriginal @bex-tk1 @btspurplesky @shownusshoulders @iheartsvt @drissteele @kookstempo @juju-227592 @bjoriis @blancflms @mooncuddler @purplelady85 @iiitsmaria @anonynim @veronawrites @silscintilla @singukieee @magicsweetener @tito-the-mermaid @queen-in-the-shadows @iloverubberduckiez-blog @scentisterror @sugarxbxby123 @mulletjoonsupremacy

#poly! bts x reader #ot7 x reader #bts x reader #bts x y/n #ot7 x yn #rwy

[theygotlost]

ok. here is my attempt to make a coherent post about the watch bbc.

my main reaction, over and over again watching the first episode, is: CHOICES WERE MADE. truly inscrutable choices for which I cannot possibly understand the rationale or thought process. If I was adapting discworld for the screen, it would ever in a million years occur to me to make these choices. some of these choices include, in no particular order:

cut-me-own-throat dibbler is a white woman with dreadlocs who uses a wheelchair. I can NOT make this up.

vetinari is also a woman. .....I have nothing else to say about this.

instead of a dragon sanctuary, sybil runs some kind of femdom petplay sex dungeon for bedraggled old men. including vimes. and this is how they meet. she traps him in her sex dungeon.

she's also skinny and average height. I repeat: sybil ramkin is SHORTER THAN VIMES.

the actor playing vimes does have a very vimey look about him I won't lie, I even like his little fauxhawk hair situation, but his performance is completely baffling. he's always making an over-the-top jim carrey face but doesn't sell it nearly as well as jim carrey so it's just awkward and not funny.

vimes' accent is also completely unplaceable. I swear it's different in every single scene. sometimes american, sometimes irish, sometimes an american doing a bad impression of an irish accent or vice versa. watching @fealtyfaggot (irish)'s face in real time as he tried to calculate this man's accent was entertaining to say the least.

honestly, every actor sounds like the director instructed them to do an irish accent except they're all bad at irish accents so they all sound weird in their own unique way.

goodboy bindle featherstone is a normal-sized, horrible cgi lizard and sybil uses him like a handheld flamethrower.

the series is attempting (and FAILING) to adapt the events of guards! guards! and night watch simultaneously. carcer is killmongerfied into a black man (not raceblind casting as ciarán pointed out to me, they specifically put out a casting call for a black actor) who is justifiably angry at the police system. and he's carcer. so he's still the main antagonist and a crazed serial killer. he's the bad guy.

john keel was also black and vimes is white, so while it doesn't actually happen in the first episode it seems apparent that CARCER will end up being the one to impersonate keel?!

AND carcer was best friends with vimes and they had some kind of ~history~ together where there was some kind of dramatic betrayal and vimes attempted suicide(?). what

I guess dwarves are.... not short? cheery is normal human height.

carrot's tragic backstory where he was thrown down a mineshaft as a baby (I laughed out loud when he said this) and his adoptive dwarf parents sent him to join the watch cause they hate him and are trying to get rid of him.

just...... why the cyberpunk angle? discworld isn't the most traditional, historically accurate medieval fantasy out there and it's not supposed to be, but.... WHY CYBERPUNK?

I almost forgot: colon and nobby are completely absent.

my only question after watching this is WHY. WHY WHY WHY WHY. why is this a discworld adaptation? why did they decide to adapt discworld in this way? there is absolutely no respect or appreciation for the source material or understanding of what makes it good. whoever came up with this does not seem to like discworld very much at all. every single second of these 42 minutes was a slap in the face.

If this was just its own show, not related to discworld in any way, it would still be pretty bad. But I could still see it having a cult following you know? there would for sure be a niche tumblr fandom for it. the best thing I can say about this show is that it would have been good if literally everthing about it was different.

#the watch watch

[ystrike1]

Averted Gaze R - By Rusena (8/10)

I'm not sure if love is involved here at all. This is a painfully realistic horror story. Nothing happens until it's too late. Incest is a heavy topic, but it's handled ok in this case. The one sided attraction is presented as entirely creepy, and unwanted. The obsession also hints at a mystery, and I want answers.

Dahye has blond, wavy, frizzy hair. She constantly straightens it, but it is always slightly messy. She works in an ice cream parlor, and she's trying her best. Money is tight, but her parents are well off. She can live with them until she's ready to leave.

Sexism is a pretty big issue in Korea. Daughters do not get treated like sons. Dahye has to do chores. Dawoon, her brother, does not. She feels suffocated, because Dawoon has always been the favorite.

But...why???

Dawoon is kind of horrible. His grades are shit. He's twenty and he dropped out of school. He has no goals in life whatsoever. He steals Dahye's wallet regularly, and he uses her money to buy gacha rolls. He doesn't have a life. He's the image of a failed son...but...

His parents spoil him. She thinks it's creepy. She tries to be nice to her brother. She tries to care about him, but it's so hard. Every single chapter the situation gets stranger. Dahye has to vacuum, do laundry, and dust for everyone...including Dawoon.

When she vacuums his room she notices a lot of issues. Big ones. Dawoon has been painting creepy faces on his bedroom walls. His parents seem to think he's interested in art...but...um...Dahye looks at his computer and sees something much worse. Her name. The word die. Rip. Tear. Slave. According to the notes she finds her brother wants to steal her, lock her up, use her, and kill her.

The next scene is heartbreaking. Dahye tells her parents and they don't believe her. Dawoon tells a paper thin lie. He says he was reading a horror novel online. The victims name is similar to Dahye's. That's all. You're overreacting. She knows that's not true. The notes were not written like a novel, and she saw her name several times. He deletes them. The parents don't pressure him, and Dahye has to keep living like everything is normal.

Dahye tells her best friend. Her best friend is...well...the best! She's supportive and she knows Dahye's home life is hard. She says Dahye has her full support, no matter what happens.

Dawoon starts to get worse, because he knows he can get away with acting out now. He was caught red handed with hand written incest porn and his parents defended him. When Dahye speaks to him he lashes out, and he becomes even ruder than usual. Things escalate. Dawoons mother approaches him. She says she's worried about him. She wants him to stop playing games every day, so he pushes her. He shoves the mother that defended him to the ground, and she actually gets injured. She has to wear heat packs and visit the chiropractor...but still nothing happens.

Auntie steps in. Auntie is the only adult with sense. She knows that Dawoon's mental health is in the toilet, because he doesn't go outside. Auntie thinks he should see a therapist and get a job. She wants his parents to shape up and act now, before it's too late. She tried to confront Dawoon, but he locked his door. Auntie peeked through his window, and she saw him...pleasuring himself...standing up near the wall covered in painted faces. That's not a good sign. He also didn't stop, even when their eyes locked. Auntie is extremely worried for Dahye. Dahye doesn't want to move out. She's not ready, but the situation is pretty dire. Auntie probably can't financially support Dahye, but she may have to find a couch to sleep on soon.

Dahye hears Dowoon on the phone. Apparently, it's his girlfriend. He looks at Dahye, and he says he's disappointed.

If he didn't have a girlfriend he would totally (bang) her.

First of all I'm worried about this girlfriend.

Second of all Dahye needs to leave, now, but she's worried that Dowoon will attack her parents.

It seems like Dowoon got a girlfriend to replace his sister, for now, but he's getting bolder.

(My theory is pretty sad. Dahye might not be her parents daughter. She's the only one with blond hair, and that would explain why they're so obsessed with Dowoon. He's their "only" child. If that's not true life is just unfair, and Dahye has been taking shit her entire life just because she's not the favorite. Her parents are very cold to her most of the time. It sharply contrasts with the way they treat Dowoon. I'm curious, and I hope Dowoon doesn't win.)

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon #Averted Gaze R

[elvisabutler]

can I request a consider! or a blurb or hc or full on fic of austin looking after p!a during a sub drop 🥺

satisfied and empty inside

summary: austin swears that he'll never let you have a sub drop after hearing your horror stories. he fails this one time. fandom: austin butler | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: t? this is tricky because sexual things are described but they don't really have sex. so i suppose high t? pairing: austin butler x priscilla actress reader ( little dove verse ) word count: 2441 warnings: the normal warnings apply for this verse. daddy kink. dom/sub dynamics. choking. brief mentions of past relationships that were not at all pleasant. sub drop. anxiety. negative self talk. author’s note: consider this faintly canon for the main verse? i always make the argument that austin never really ever lets dove experience sub drop but maybe that's only for when it's caused by papi. time frame is post met and cannes but pre press tour. you know that little tiny bit of time between them. beyond that, christ anon i adored this prompt and adored you for giving it to me. i truly hope you enjoy and deeply apologize for the wait. also welcome to my first time in forever and an age since i've written a sub drop.

The first thing you notice, the first thing that you notice when your body slowly drags itself into the land of being awake is that you're cold. There's no reason you should be cold, it's a practically balmy 73 degrees outside and Austin wasn't one to keep the house you two now owned together cold. That would always take some getting used to. The fact that you and Austin after every single ounce of bullshit that you and him put in your way have come out on the other end of things together. Sure, there's still so much you both have to work on with your own therapists and your couple therapist but here you are with your boyfriend, your dom, your- Austin.

Except, you're not here with him in the moment, are you? He's- he should be here in the bed but he's not, he's- where is he? Did he leave you? Were you that bad last night? You had- the scene was fine you thought, everything about last night was fine- almost perfect even but you're waking up alone in bed and Austin- Daddy hasn't been there for long enough for his side of the bed to get cold.

Maybe- no, Austin promised. Austin had said the two of you were fine, that things were going to get- going to be better. It wasn't perhaps the healthiest thing that you two had immediately gone back to being wrapped up in each other, you deciding to move at least temporarily to LA even while keeping your apartment in New York. It was just that being apart from one another after everything, after you had called his phone in the hotel shaking and so needy that you'd have thought his touch was the only thing that could cure you. That was the thing though, Austin knows that you- Austin knows more than anything at least for right now, you need to feel him touching you more often than not. You might not have been touch starved with other people, but you had missed his so much that it was like a missing limb. You had missed him like a missing limb in those hours you weren't busy and he wasn't talking to you because of course, just like Elvis and Priscilla somehow you break up and can't even do a clean break.

It's different now, it's supposed to be different now because you're here and he's here and you're supposed to work things out, make things better between the two of you so that you can build a truly solid relationship. The relationship is supposed to be between you and Austin, not you as Priscilla and him as Elvis or between Priscilla and Elvis. Having a solid relationship means not leaving the person alone when you said you wouldn't without a note or a little text or a voice memo. Austin would leave a message somehow someway but here you are with an empty bed and no note. You roll over, shivering despite your best efforts of curling into the covers as if they'll protect you from the thoughts that are starting to swirl around in your mind like a witch's brew in a pot. There's no missed calls, no missed messages, nothing missed on your phone or on the nightstand near it.

There is just you and a bed with half of it cold. There is just you and no Austin. There is just you and your mind. There is just you and the ghosts of people who are dead or still living but have themselves burrowed into your very psyche.

The crash hits you like the sudden drop of an elevator and you kept help the way a quiet whimper leaves your lips at it. You can feel where Austin's hand was around your neck, clenching and flexing and whispering such filth into your ear. "My good girl, taking my cock so well even when she can't breathe. Think I could leave a mark? Think the paparazzi would ask you what you did to earn that?" You can feel the sting of where his hands had slapped your ass, where he had palmed your ass and squeezed. You can feel the burning trail of his kisses only to be replaced by the cool air against your skin right now. None of those things are happening right now, the person you did them with isn't here right now. You're alone.

You're going to be alone forever aren't you? He's going to break things off with you like you did with him. This is him breaking things off with you like you did to him. Leaving him without a word until you decided to talk. You- He doesn't love you, he loves the you he met on set. He loves you as Priscilla not you and you and only you. He's probably meeting up with Kaia or some other new girl. He won't come back until you've left the bedroom. Or maybe he just wants you to fuck- to let out his dominant side- his daddy side so that whatever girl he's dating doesn't have to take it because they don't want to. Maybe him and Kaia never had broken up. It feels as if your chest has caved in on itself your lungs struggling to bring air into your body as you start to cry. He promised- He said he loved you, why isn't he here with you. Why are you alone again? Why isn't your collar on- nevermind that Austin had taken it off the night before because you had wanted to just feel his bare hand against your neck.

The tears start to fall before you realize what's happening as you curl even tighter into the blankets. The ceiling fan that's circling above you makes the subtle creaking noise it always does and it feels like the loudest thing in the room. A reminder that as much as you want to try with Austin again he has to want to try with you, has to want to be with you. Time passes as you cry, you think, the numbers on the clock by the bed not really registering until you hear your bedroom door open and a cheerful oh you're up before you swear you hear a curse.

It just makes you cry harder and has you sitting up and curling your knees to your chest as best you can as you try and wipe your tears because it hurts and you feel everything right now and you can't shut off your brain and and and-

"Dove?" Austin's voice feels like it's in a tunnel, like he's in the far away place you're certain he's in. After all, his side of the bed was cold when you woke up without him. You register his side of the bed sinking with his weight and his warm hand on your shoulder. Austin always does feel like your own personal furnace. You wonder if he felt that way for the other girls he's been with. "Oh my- my little dove."

Austin is there. Austin is touching you. Austin- Daddy is there. Breathing comes back in a rush and you take one, two, three shaky breaths before you feel Austin's arms wrap around you and you choke out a single word. "Where?"

He's confused for a moment before he realizes that you're asking him where he was. Asking him where he had run off to and left you alone. He doesn't know what time you woke up only that he came into the bedroom ready to wake you up with a kiss and instead found you crying looking as small as you could in the bed. You tense in his arms, still unsure that he's actually there or that you deserve having him around you but you don't shake his arms off, don't force him to stop touching you. "I- I thought I told you, little dove. I had a bunch of early interviews, didn't want to wake you up. I was going to take you out to brunch or lunch when I got done. You- I'm here."

"But you weren't." You hate how it sounds coming out of your mouth, all pectualance and sadness and you sound so much younger than you are when you say it. "You left me alone and it's- it's cold, Austin."

His arms tighten around you as he starts to stroke your back slowly, his lips kissing the crown of your head. "I know- and Daddy's sorry about that, dove. So so sorry about that. I should have written a note for you or sent you a text. I haven't even left the house. I've been in the office." He pauses, exhaling a little shakily. "I'm warm, Y/N, my perfect little dove, my girl- no my woman who puts up with me being an idiot and who's had my heart since our first hello."

Your fingers move to the dove necklace on his neck, it's almost identical to yours, but just subtly different enough that it's uniquely his. You press your own initials into your thumb as you fiddle with it and Austin does the same thing with your necklace around your neck. Neither of you speak for a moment, your tears turning into a sea of shivers before you finally muster up the ability to speak. "I thought- I thought you changed your mind."

About us is what goes unsaid. Because you've been there before, this isn't- he isn't Papi but it feels like it in the moment. Feels as if you're abandoned all over again. Feels as if you're tossed in the trash because you're not useful anymore, you're not the one for him any more and it crushes you. Austin lets out a huff of air and shakes his head.

"I didn't change my mind when you left me in Australia, if I didn't then, I don't think I ever really will." The way he moves to tilt your head up, grabbing your chin lightly and looks at you betrays the fact that he knows you're going to try and argue with him. "Ignoring the girls, dove. Just like I ignore the dates you went on."

A hint of a smile crosses your lips before you frown again, still shivering and trying to burrow into his arms, almost as if you want to become one with him. "Promise? I know I'm being stupid- and you know I'm not-"

"Dove- Y/N- you're not stupid. And I know you're usually so strong and tough and I love that about you but I left you alone and you- you dropped without me here. Because I wasn't here to see what was happening." He pulls you in for a soft kiss. "I promise. You're stuck with me until you get tired of me, because I'm not getting tired of you any time soon."

You still feel drained, still feel like the world has closed in on itself but there's a glimmer of sunshine there, a glimmer of hope your mind is latching onto in an attempt to pull you up from the depths that only brightens as you look at Austin and feel and smell Austin all around you. "Can we take a bath?" You ask softly, knowing the heat of it will help you calm down, will help bring you back up quicker.

Austin hums before nodding. "Can I get you to eat a snack first? I'll order in some food, we'll run a bath and we can just-"

"Yes." You answer, cutting him off before he can finish and looking a little alarmed when you do. "Yeah, I'd- I'll eat something and I don't- I just don't want to be alone. I need you, Au-Daddy."

Austin doesn't say a word for a moment before looks at you like you hung the moon and the stars. It's a little mind-boggling to see that look even after everything and your lips finally actually do fully form a smile so touched that you can't do anything but. When he finally speaks nuzzling your hair. "I always give you what you ask for and need, Dove." He moves to get off the bed despite your groan and whimper of protest at the loss of his body heat and his body in general. Once he stands up on the side of the bed he pulls you over and up next to him. "Come on, quick snack and then bath."

It doesn't take you a second to burrow yourself back under his arm as he pulls you close to his chest. In fact, in a fit of what he likes to pretend is genius he maneuvers you to be in front of him and allows himself to just walk with you holding onto him in the front. It's silly and a bit uncomfortable but it works well enough and makes you happy enough that he deals with it. You eat a bagel because it's easiest thing to scarf down in the kitchen before you and him make that same walk back to the bedroom and into the bathroom.

He takes his time as the water runs to take off your nightgown, placing soft kisses at every bit of exposed skin as he reveals them. You're still shivering a bit but sometimes it's from your own emotions while other times it's from the kisses his lips give you. Climbing into the tub after he manages to get in there is a bit of an adventure with how fuzzy your brain feels but you manage, Austin's arm snaking around your waist and pulling you up against his chest. "Starting to feel better?" He asks, his lips caressing your ear in a gesture you can't help but enjoy.

"A little." A simple answer but it's the only one your brain can wrap itself around. You pause and realize that you've stopped shivering. "I'm warm."

Austin's lips curl into a smile that you can feel against your skin. "I don't know, I think you're pretty hot."

That glimmer of hope, that thing your brain started to cling to explodes like a supernova, filling your brain with just enough happiness to make you actually laugh. It's not fixed- you know from experience pulling you out of this state takes a bit longer but it's a start.

His smile widens and he nips at the back of your neck. "There's my little Dove. Love you."

You hum a little happily and drowsily as you lean back and settle yourself against him as he slowly starts to bathe the both of you. "Love you too, Daddy."

#austin butler #austin butler x priscilla actress reader #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #austin butler x y/n #austin butler fanfic #austin butler angst #austin butler fluff #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fic #elvis 2022 #ally writes #god. #i miss writing them. #consistently.

[erikiara80]

Will and Jonathan

To celebrate Will’s birthday, long post dedicated to my favorite brothers and their beautiful bond.

Season 1

The most terrifying week of Jonathan’s life. First, he thought that if he had been at home, nothing bad would’ve happened to Will. Then, if you think about it, he is the only one who thought for at least two days that Will really died. His worst nightmare. He failed to protect his little brother.

But he’s always there for Will. And if he had been there that night too, the Demogorgon would’ve killed him and taken Will anyway. And Will would’ve have been lost.

When Will is sad, Jonathan can always make him smile and feel better: 

I have a brother, eight years younger than me. We are very close. I basically raised him. You know, single mom (divorced parents when I was 13 and my brother was 5), night shifts. And we were also poor. 

I relate to the Byers so much. In my family, I am Jonathan. It’s so painful to imagine what he felt when Hopper told him that they had lost Will

When he saw Will’s small body on that table

Season 1 is a roller coaster of emotions. But they all love Will too much. And their love saved him. This is one of the most precious moments in the whole show, imo. I love it so much.

Jonathan is so emotional. He holds Will’s hand as if he wants to be sure that Will won’t go away again. Also, wonderful performance from Charlie. I can feel all Jonathan’s love, happiness and relief

Season 2

Another big season for the Byers brothers. And another time Jonathan risked to lose Will. The crazy thing is that this time Will is there but something is trying to erase everything he is. Another nightmare (army of monsters aside, lol)

Once again, the season starts with Jonathan taking care of his family (I really hope tho that at the end of the story, he can finally live his life and find his happiness, knowing that his family is safe. It’s so unfair -Lonnie’s fault- that he has all those responsibilties at such young age)

Fortunately, he also has Nancy. He’s starting to find something for himself. Problem is, Henry doesn’t care. So, the moment Jon leaves town... oops, Will gets possessed. No wonder he thinks he can’t leave him and his mom. 

But before that, we get another beautiful moment where Jonathan encourauges Will to be himself and be proud of it (Jonathan is just a wonderful person, ok?)

Will is so upset about everything. He knows nobody can understand how he feels. At first he doesn’t even want to talk with Jonathan.

But Jonathan knows him so well and always knows what to say. Being a freak is actually the best. Normal people never accomplish anything important in this world. 

And then this. So sweet. Aaaand we also have little shit Will, who always reminds his siblings that they are friendless, lol. I love him

And of course, Will smiles again

Then, sorry Jonathan. The real nightmare begins. I love S2, because there’s so much love for Will in every scene. From Mike, Joyce, Jonathan. What an amazing season! I’m so happy that S5 will include big S2 ideas but also have S1 vibe. The two seasons where Will and the love people have for him are central.

The last episodes are incredible. I just love everything.

The shed scene is absolutely one of my favorite scenes of the show, and imo, one of the best. Stellar acting, perfect shots, amazing dialogue, and oh, the emotions. It’s simply perfect. And different from what we usually see in Stranger Things.

They love him so much

But then this moment kills me every time. Jonathan is desperate. He can’t hear Will screaming and being in such pain without helping him. I’m glad Nancy was there. In fact, a few minutes later, he tries to help Will, but it was a mistake. 

Jonathan couldn’t think anymore. He was sure Will was dying. He had to save him. But Nancy, as always, helped (yeah, she hurt Will, but it was the only way) This scene!

And then, he got his brother back

Season 3

There aren’t as many scenes as in the previous seasons, but the love between them is always there. 

Always protective

And even when he doesn’t say anything, Jonathan always see his brother’s pain, like Charlie said.

Season 4 

Both brothers are struggling a lot now. They’re older and for a while they probably thought they weren’t as close as they used to be. And that hurt and must have felt so strange. Jonathan is almost adult now. He feels all the weight of his responsibilities. He feels like living his life means abandoning his family. So he’s stuck. So glad he has Argyle!

And Will is dealing with feeling different, his feelings for Mike and the fear that he will never be happy. He’ll never find love. It doesn’t help that for the first time he doesn’t feel his brother’s support. Jonathan seems different and distant. Maybe Will, who’s more aware of his sexuality now, even believes that it’s his fault if his brother doesn’t spend much time with him anymore. 

That’s heartbreaking.

But of course it’s not true, it will never be true. Jonathan never stops caring, or being protective. No matter what.

Oh, and this moment. This moment...

This is the season where both Will and Jonathan have much less scenes than in any other season, and yet S4 is where they share probably their most emotional and beautiful moment. This is the only scene in the show, along with when they find Will’s fake body in the quarry, that made me cry.

It’s so beautiful. Many people criticize it and say it wasn’t clear enough. That the writers were cowards. But I think it’s the opposite. It’s so delicate. And so in character. Jonathan was so sweet. 

He didn’t push Will, because he didn’t know if Will was ready. He knows Will is afraid of losing the people he loves, that they won’t accept him. So he didn’t explicitly say that he knows. He just let his little brother know that he will always love him. That he will always be there. He made Will understand that he is important and special to him, and he will always be. 

And NOTHING. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING will ever change that.

And Will’s little smile and tears when he hears those words. Jonathan hasn’t forgotten about him. He wasn’t distant because he knows and doesn’t approve.

He’s just dealing with his own problems. And I love, love that here Will also wants to reassure Jonathan that he will always be there for him too.

This has never happened in other seasons. It was always Jonathan the one who offered support. And it makes me hope that in S5, the season of Will’s coming of age, he too will reassure and protect Jonathan, and tell him that he deserves happiness. 

Jonathan’s always been there for Will, and I’m sure he will do everything to protect him again in S5. But Will will protect his brother (and mom) too. Jonathan will see him become confident and find love with Mike. He’ll see his mom with Hopper, and El happy too. And he’ll finally know that he can live his life and that his family is safe and happy.

#will byers #jonathan byers #the byers brothers #jonwill #will's birthday #the byers #the byers family #brotherly love #stranger things

[luvvixu]

dazai x reader (she/her)

🗒️🕊️ paper cranes

genre: heavy angst, modern au

synopsis: the same situation becomes the same destiny.

how far would you go to declare your love and commitment towards your significant other? for someone like dazai osamu, who grew up in a stinky and monstrous society, he would do anything even if it would literally change him as a whole human-being.

love got him crazy, so don't blame him.

warning: some parts of the scene are based in the true stories. idk but i think i suck at making heavy angst.

word count: 2.6k

a/n: sorry i would always went through writer's block that is why i rarely post things hahahahhs

song: where'd all the time go? by dr. dog

not a single breath was wasted as soon as he heard about another way to make a wish if you're unlucky enough to wish upon the actual shooting star. he immediately went towards your place, unannounced, and started to make paper cranes.

10… for you, just for you.

he was bad at making origami. but he still tries to make it despite his hatred at unperfect lines he flatten on each side just to make a product out of paper. he endures every mistake and imperfections of his work.

50…for you, just for you.

he is willing to rewatch the tutorial on how to make paper cranes even though he's so sick of hearing the annoying voice over. and he doesn't even care anymore about all of the papers getting wasted around him. the papers on his notebook are getting thinner as each minute passes just by trying to make a perfect origami.

100…for you, just for you.

since then, he has spent day and night working. it seems like he forgot how to normally function as his mind only occupied making origami. he accepted this decision with passion, even though his hands were numb and tired.

200… for you, just for you.

as his hair swept on his bangs, he left no choice but to tie it up so that it would not bother his vision, for he's always looking down at the table. no wonder it feels like he couldn't feel his neck anymore because of the numbness and soreness he experienced. he compared the pain of looking down for too long on the rope he used to hang on his neck. there was no doubt the first option hurts more.

300… for you, just for you.

a tear slips on his eyes, you haven't been talking to him for too long. he misses the way your eyes would intertwine with his. the warmth of your small hands on him, feeling the total eccentric emotion as he dives in your galaxy. he would always get himself drunk and lost in your touch. but, anyway, he is getting good at origami.

400… for you, just for you.

it's been months. he now considers himself as professional at making origami, paper cranes to be specific. he can finally make it while both of his eyes are closed. there's also a spark on his hopeful chest when he realizes he's halfway through. those sleepless nights are totally worth it because he's able to look at your peaceful sleeping face while working on origami.

500… for you, just for you.

one day, a friend came to visit you. they were shocked to see more than dozens of paper cranes on the floor. but he doesn't care nor entertain them as he was keeping his attention on his now full time work. he's now halfway through and that gives him a beyond motivation. he could even fold a paper cranes under a minute, and he knew he was improving a lot.

600… for you, just for you.

there was a day where he would just lay down beside you and stare at your sleeping face. his lips would cackle on how adorable you were. he also never fails to mention all of his hardships on making origami. despite that, he took up this hobby like his life depended on it. he literally spends all of his time and money on crafting and buying papers for this.

700… for you, just for you.

he was almost near the end. the paper cranes double up on each weave on his hands. your room is filled with hundreds of paper cranes, each color evident on the ground. he looked at you as you breathed peacefully in your sleep. a smile broke on his lips as he reached out for your hand. whispers his love and declaration towards you, non-stop.

800… for you, just for you.

craft, eat, sleep, wake up, and repeat. these are his routine for the last months and he is consistent with his new schedule. if that would only make him see you shine once again, it will be all worth it. if that would only make you get out of the bed, it will be all worth it. he just loves you so much that it changed him, and he's not complaining about that.

900…for you, just for you.

how did you two end up here? why is he making such a big number of paper cranes? why is he so obsessed with making his wish be heard?

it all started when you almost lost your life in a tragic accident, an attempt suicide. you are saved, but got stuck in a coma. dazai was beyond devastated when the doctors stated that there's a low chance of surviving—but he's in denial. he is still hoping that those beautiful orbs of yours would eventually be seen by him once more.

money isn't a problem to him. he literally threatens the doctors just for you to have a stable supply of life support to help you live. he pours his power to make your life be comfortable, even if you're technically sleeping. so that when you wake up, you won't feel any eerie sensation.

one day, while he's out to get something to eat, there was a stranger telling a story to some stray children in the street. while waiting for the pedestrian light to signal a green light, he couldn't help but to eavesdrop at the story.

it was the story of a girl and thousands of paper cranes.

the girl was diagnosed with a disease. her father told her that if she made thousands of paper cranes, her wish would come true. so, she crafted thousands of paper cranes, hoping that her disease would go away.

after hearing the story, there was a spark in his chest. he admits, it sounds so childish and ridiculous. but he's in love and literally willing to do anything just to keep you alive. that is why he came to your place, unannounced. and he also started to learn how to make paper cranes until he finally reached the end.

999…for you, just for you.

look at him now, he was on the last paper crane. dazai couldn't help but to shed a tear, because after three months, he was able to craft the said number of origami. all of the bloodshed fatigue and sleepless night, with his hands working nonstop, he is near.

"y/n, my darling…" he grabs your thin and pale hand just for him to offer it a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

he stared at your emotionless sleeping face. even though half of your face is covered with a breathing mask, you are still beautiful. he treasures every beauty and flaws of yours. no matter how much you hate the insecurities launched in your body, he loves every single one of it as much as you despise it.

dazai continues to talk to you about his day just like he always does while folding the paper that will serve as his last resort for his wish.

fold and fold…and another fold, until the truth will finally be told.

the male collects all of the paper cranes in your bed, covering your whole unresponsive body with papers. it was so much that some of the cranes fell on the bed. finally, he placed the last crane that completed the mission.

"1000…for you, just for you." he mumbles.

dazai never believed in god, but he prays. now that he completed the thousand paper cranes, he reached out for all of the gods who might hear him please. a miracle should arrive at any moment, all he has to do is to place some faith in you and him.

on the first day, nothing happened to his dismay. but he remained patient. he prayed even harder on the following day but still no outcome. dazai unlocked another routine, praying for a miracle. everyday he would pray for you even if he is an atheist and doesn't believe in the concept of religion.

yet, he still prays, prays, and prayed…until he reached the same length of months while he was crafting the paper cranes. the patience of waiting for you has molded him into another persona, just like a lost man trekking into the unknown.

still no avail, you are not waking up—but he's in denial that he's starting to lose hope on this madness. he is mad, but not at you, he is mad over nothing. dazai was searching for someone to blame on his unsuccessful attempt of waking you up and bringing you back into his arms.

a year had passed, dazai grew thin in malnourishment, but not frail as you. he was walking solemnly towards your room with a balloon in his hand. there's also a piece of paper—paper crane to be specific. before the paper was crafted, it was filled with messy handwriting, a message that only contained three words and eight letters.

"i love you…"

those same three words and eight letters that he failed to declare to you when you're still awake, or should i say, alive. anyway, he rubbed his tired eyes that are now being homed with dark circles under his eyes.

supposedly, he meant to hide the fatigue that's evident on his face. but he realized, he shouldn't cover himself when it comes to you. no secrets and insincere should be tolerated in your vicinity. so, he visits you with his usual self, for today is important.

that's right, today is the day where you are born into this cruel world, your birthday. the same day you got admitted into this damned place, the hospital. and the same day you will be finally set free, forever.

after years of pain, suffering, melancholy, reminiscing, and thinking, dazai finally learned to let you go.

"happy birthday, belladonna." dazai tied the balloon on your wrist. he knew you really liked having a balloon tied on your wrist. you loved the way it sways along the wind.

"i miss you, i hope you are aware." dazai paused with a chuckle. "and i also hope you are aware that you have already missed three years of your life. everything comes so fast, doesn't it?" he continues as he lets his hand intertwine with yours.

"did you like the balloon? i specifically picked the color you like. i also made you a letter—a bunch of them, by the way. i just wished you would wake up and read every single one of them."

dazai let out a sigh, leaning his back on the chair beside you. his eyes trailed on the balloon floating in the air. "i always wonder if you could hear me grumble over some random things. if you do, you would probably laugh at my silliness. of course! i just made a thousand counts of paper cranes."

"on the contrary, i learned so many things that not once in my life, would do it for someone. i learned how to be patient, believe in a story i overheard while walking, pray to the gods that i don't even believe, and craft a paper crane. and most importantly, i learned how to love and do everything for them."

are you hurt? are you in pain? are you lost?

these hidden words are lingering in his fragile mind. dazai wants to mend your wounds. dazai wants to take your pain. dazai wants to make you to be each other's solace. oh, how delusional he is.

sadly, all of the sudden, his plan for both of you fell like a house of card when the clock strikes at six in the evening. the designated icu doctor for you suddenly approaches him without a noticed.

dazai tried not to get distracted by the look in his face, pained and agonized. he flashes a cheerful demure to take his negativities away—yet he failed to do so.

"the doctors told me yesterday…" dazai bites his lips to stop it from trembling. his grip on your unresponsive hand tightens, like he doesn't want to lose you.

"they told me that you are brain dead."

your body system collapses out of nowhere. the doctors were notified about your condition and were extremely hesitant to tell him, but it was no good to keep you in this hell place for any longer. all they had to do was to accept, and all dazai had to do is to also accept.

swallow the hard truth that you will no longer see the world just like how he sees it. digest the hard truth that you are officially gone and will not come back anymore.

in short, you are dead.

"i should've read the signs, you are tired. i'm so sorry, darling. i became so selfish that i let you continue without your consent. i let you suffer for my own desires just because i want you to be with me forever." a tear, followed by another, until he finally broke down right in front of you.

if you're probably still here, dazai knew you would wipe his tears and embrace him like he deserves the whole world. the image of you whispering sweet nothing in his ears is enough to make him feel weak. he literally loves the delusion of it.

"i love you so damn much that i gotta let you go because i have hurt a lot. i am getting an image of yourself saying "is it worth it?" but i am dumb and stupid because i kept on saying "yes". i'm so sorry!" his wails became louder and louder any second was passing. it was like all of his pent up emotions over the last three years had finally come to burst.

he lost his final resort because the next thing he knew, he was standing on the same street where he had heard about the story of the girl and thousands of paper cranes.

dazai was frantic and a mess, his mind was kept in shut. he does not remember a single thing of what happened after his big mental breakdown. but he was sure, a doctor came inside the room and he took him out.

a faint voice reached his ears during that moment. "i'm so sorry, mr. dazai. but just like we have talked to, let's put ms. y/n to rest." the doctor said and dazai was too lost to respond and digest the things he's said.

at that moment, he was somehow aware that they finally shut the machine down that only keeps you from being technically alive. his cold and empty eyes trailed on the balloon in your wrist and then to the clock above your head.

time of death, 11:59 PM…

today is your birthday.

today is your accident anniversary.

today is your deathday.

dazai was staring into the void of darkness as the midnight stars failed to appear in the doom sky. right on his spot, he declares that this place no longer feels like home.

"my y/n, my darling, my belladonna. i seem to have done everything, but why does this still happen?"

little did he know, he failed to hear the ending. the young girl still died even if she crafted thousands of paper cranes and prayed for the gods to let her survive.

he did the same process as the girl from the story and got the same ending—he finished making thousands of paper cranes, yet, you still died.

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#dazai #dazai angst #bsd #bungo stray dogs dazai #bsd dazai #dazai x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #angst #luvvixu

[pinkberrypocky]

pmmm rewatch live notes: ep 1

ive been rewatching pmmm w my friends who haven't seen it before and have decided that i am incapable of being normal abt it so uhhh.... gonna dump the notes i took during ep 1 here. they are entirely incomprehensible ramblings of a madman but the goal is to synthesize some actual analysis once im done w the watch through. im convinced there is significant color symbolism related to the colors of the holy quintet but idk the exact symbolism for each color so there's a good amount of notes of just instances of those colors that i think could help me pin down the symbolism later on so there's that too a gift for u (or i guess a hurdle if u don't care abt color symbolism but honestly if u don't care abt color symbolism i don't understand u). idk i thought it might be silly for like maybe 1 other guy out there. also my friends bullied me into it (read: hyped me up about it until i relented)

ok buckle in folks this is solidly two pages on google docs

first scene happens bc madoka remembers it from another timeline 

spiraling time is it the future or the past does it even matter

brightest thing in intro is her hair ribbons bc they are what links madoka and homura across time and space 

everything else is desaturated

god madoka w her in the intro bc god madoka saves and treats all the magical girls like that when she saves them from their witch future 

hard to tell what the world is like bc does it even matter 

no matter what the setting is homura will fail to save madoka and madoka will sacrifice herself 

also adds to the eerie effect 

madoka’s mom tells her to use the red ribbon

madoka never chose her fate for herself, she’s always doing what others want and what she thinks is best for others 

the scenery has a weird juxtaposition of greenery and industrial things which mirrors the juxtaposition of the magical girl stereotype and the psychological horror reality 

the classrooms are like bird cages 

homura walks in like she’s not seeing everyone and not really there bc she’s living in the past which is also the future 

THE ANGLE WHEN HOMURA FIRST TALKS TO MADOKA

like idk what that loom w the dramatic lighting means but it means Something

the way homura doesn’t hide that she knows the way to the nurses office shows that she’s getting desperate and tired of this cycle

insisting that madoka call her homura even though they “just met” shows how important their relationship is and how much she yearns for their old dynamic 

when she confronts madoka in the hall she shows emotion for the first time showing how much she cares about this 

it seems cruel but in reality she is grasping at straws to protect madoka 

she doesn’t care if she has to be seen as cold as long as madoka is safe

homura knows the math so well bc it’s the same every single fucking time

the symbolism of kyubey with the spikey evil statue that’s all rusty and the shadow where it merges w him 

when madoka reveals she has seen homura in a dream and they brush it off bc haha we’re just middle schoolers this is a magical girl anime nothing weird would happen

red in the scene where homura tries to kill kyubey… kyoko’s color… what does red represent in this show?

kyubey reaches out to madoka asking to be saved bc he knows that’s her weak spot , that she will always jump into danger to save other regardless of her own well being 

when homura appears trying to kill kyubey there are chains what could this represent 

chained to her cycle, chained to kyubey, chained to madoka 

they form the shape of a cross bc homura is jesus, she takes the brunt of the harm and the blame in an effort to save the others 

use of collage in the witch labyrinths is disorienting and jarring it doesn’t fit and it’s confusing and creepy and unsettling 

language is similar to german at times maybe a reference to historical german witches 

sayaka protects madoka in a  hug like embrace when they first end up in the labyrinth symbolizing the way she is to the end a protector

mami makes sure to act unbothered and not scared when she meets them to keep her persona of a magical girl who saves ppl despite the horrors of the reality 

the fact that mami uses guns alludes to the horror of magical girls hidden just beneath the surface 

the use of the word contract also shows the severity and adult nature of what they are about to embark on

#puella magi madoka magica #pmmm #madohomu #madoka magica #holy quintet #madoka kaname #homura akemi #mahou shoujo madoka magica #i deserve an award for typing out all those notes on my phone #my friends were so bamboozled by the amount of notes i got out of 20 minutes of content and it has given me a tiny bit of a god complex #the chains forming the cross has literally altered my brain chemistry. homura as jesus analysis is Cooking prepare yourself #pls be nice to me posting is scary and i don't know what im doing #but hi if ur reading this and like pmmm we should be friends

[signiorbenedickofpadua]

"lecturing" for the wip game! xo @hardly-an-escape

Certainly, my dear ❤️ I believe I've described the premise once before, but I'll give you a little recap anyway as well as a snippet! Perhaps this will somehow help this poor fic get out of WIP hell... I know how I want it to end, but I just can't figure out whether to throw some smut in the middle or just...skip it, uncharacteristically enough... A wise reader may at this point ask, "Why don't you just write the ending first then and decide later if you feel like calling it done or if you want to add a sex scene?" Well. That's a good question. Hm. I'll have to think on that.

So, anyway, it's a human AU wherein Professor!Hob (well, lecturer, technically) holds a series of intro lectures on Literary History. A certain tall, dark mysterious stranger sits in the front row every week without fail, watching and listening very intently. Of course, Hob does his best to ignore how attractive this guy is, because god dammit he's trying to be a better person these days and hooking up with his students does not help with that. Except...is he actually a student...? *the soundtrack in the background turns mysterious*

You may find out if you read the snippet below and also PART TWO and PART THREE since several of you asked about this WIP! (List of titles in the og WIP game post here.)

PART ONE

Part of the problem was that the man always sat in the front row, thus giving Hob far too good of a view of his full body, which was just as unfairly gorgeous as his face. His proclivity for the skinniest of jeans did nothing to help Hob in he Sisyphean task of keeping his eyes away, nor did the fact that he kept looking right back.

Of course, Hob was lecturing, and so it was to be expected that his students would look at him when he talked, but he also expected them to look away at least some of the time. At their notebooks or laptops as they took notes, for example, which this bloke never ever seemed to do. Sure, it was not an advanced course by any definition, and he might have a good memory, or was one of those people who preferred not to distract themselves with taking notes during lectures, instead refreshing his memory by studying at home later. Or perhaps he didn’t care about getting more than a barely passing grade for a basic course like this—except he appeared to be paying rapt attention at all times. It was likely this intense focus which made it so hard for Hob to just ignore him. He had taught plenty of good-looking people throughout his career, and it had never been a problem until now. He was quite practised at turning off the part of the brain that noticed such things, and, even when he did notice, it normally didn’t fluster him like this. The man just had a…a weight to his gaze, somehow. His pale eyes were piercing, and Hob could practically feel them boring into him even when his back was turned. He also believed that he had caught them wandering over his body every so often—lingering on his arms when he rolled his sleeves up to combat the heat of a fully packed and poorly ventilated classroom, homing in on the sliver of tummy skin exposed as he had to stretch up to turn the projector on with a pointer when the damn remote control malfunctioned again, and fixating on the hint of chest hair visible that one time he had accidentally left one too many buttons undone on his shirt. He really, really wished that he had not noticed any of this, because the only thing worse than being attracted to a student was being attracted to a student who reciprocated. Fortunately, the man had done nothing to indicate that he intended to actually make a move on Hob, which was some small consolation. In fact, many tortuous weeks passed without him saying a single a word, never raising his hand to answer one of Hob’s questions or ask one of his own, never approaching him after lectures with queries about the curriculum or the final exam, never even talking to his classmates. All he did was sit there, in the same place every time (front row, third seat from the right), silently staring at Hob while nursing a cup of coffee from Bennie’s café two buildings over. Then, every week without fail, he quietly slipped out of the room exactly five minutes before the time was up and the lecture ended, presumably to rush to some other lecture on a tight schedule. Hob could only hope that he checked the information he put up online about suggested reading and the end-of-term examination, since he never stayed to hear Hob’s reminders at the end of the lectures.

#ask games #wip game #tag games #my writing #snippets

[squadrah]

Imagine La squadra but it's just a 90's sitcom.

Been a while since I watched a 90's sitcom, but I'm cracking my knuckles, here we go!

Basic premise is that they all live in the same close neighborhood, so usually they show up together at local public places (café, bar, streets, each other's work places) for whatever reason.

Risotto: Bouncer at the local bar, so when everyone's there, he's usually on duty. Has had to remove every single person in the friend group from the bar at least once for whatever reason, some more smoothly than others. A stoic loner by nature, he has to ask his friends to help grow his collection of Beanie Babies, which he keeps in pristine glass cabinets (he is sometimes shown interacting with them because it adds that much needed moe to his personality). He and Formaggio are roommates, so the one time Risotto had to throw him out of the bar, he also had to carry Formaggio home.

Formaggio: Attendee at the nearby gas station, so every character who has a car ends up there and banter happens. Half of the cast gives him shit as comic relief, while the other half is in cahoots with him, because he tends to get Big Ideas that either work or fail spectacularly - whichever is funnier. Even when he wins big, you just know he's gonna blow all the money by next week and then he'll have to figure out something new. Despite this, he drops some nuggets of wisdom in unprecedented times. Not allowed to touch the Beanie Babies because he got grease on them once by accident.

Prosciutto: Legal expert at some nondescript company, so when anyone is pondering a scheme, he'll be the one casually chiming in on the legality of the thing and also the one finding loopholes in exchange for favors. Has incredible divorcee energy and there are a number of guys showing up whom he seems to have a history with, but none of them are ever confirmed as anything, so this is like a recurring mystery plot line the others like to pick up and discuss. Has some violent running gags because despite his resting bitch face, he's about as high strung as Ghiaccio and the others aren't helping.

Pesci: That one guy who has no idea how to stay on top of his own life so he keeps turning up at odd jobs, often plot-specific ones, but he is most often seen at the café or bar, cleaning tables and trying to stay part of the conversation. He's a sweetheart but also a hopeless romantic and a bumble bee, so everyone is always giving him advice, especially those who are not qualified to give life advice to anyone. Obviously has a thing for Prosciutto and the running gag is him sometimes playing up his own helplessness and lack of self-confidence a bit to get those much coveted face paps.

Ghiaccio: Works as a courier, so he's always up and about, running somewhere to deliver or having come from a delivery, and he also jogs in his free time, alone or with others like Risotto or Pesci. He's the angry one who always has a rant locked and loaded, and if anyone in the cast ordered something, including the aforementioned company Prosciutto (and others) work for, Ghiaccio will be the one coming in and questioning his and everyone else's life choices. He's kind of a health freak so some running gags involve him indulging a bit in something normal and then freaking out about it.

Melone: Secretary at the company Prosciutto works for, and one of his running gags is that whenever someone asks what the company does, he will say something new each time, to suggest that either the company is getting into all sorts of niches to stay afloat, or Melone is making shit up. Many scenes feature him on the phone, but it's almost never about company affairs because he just loves to chat and wasting company time. Obviously a sexy and perverted little freak but apparently he's the duct tape holding the company together, so no matter what he does they have to keep him.

Illuso: Pencil pusher at the same company as Prosciutto and Melone, and he copes with office life by stealing stationery. His kleptomania and hording tendencies tend to be his running gags, so sometimes he'll take out a pen to jot things down and Prosciutto recognizes it as his own and Illuso has to give it back or perish. Another company time waster, but unlike Melone, he gets to stay on board because he keeps dropping hints of how much he knows about the company's affairs and how much he would be willing to blab here and there. A smug jerk, but somehow he just fits in with everyone.

Sorbet and Gelato: Lumping them together despite leading separate lives because Sorbet runs the local café and Gelato runs the local bar, and they seem to have beef with each other where either one will turn up at the other's work place, stir up a big scene with tangible, nay, chewable homoerotic undertones, and then they always catch themselves having "gone too far" and arrive at some sort of truce. They are only ever fully friendly when blind drunk, in which case they have eyes for nobody else. Despite always talking of each other as a menace, it is very obvious that they're practically married.

#la squadra #risotto nero #formaggio #prosciutto #pesci #ghiaccio #melone #illuso #sorbet #gelato #sorgela #squadrah crossovers #squadrah original #thank you for sending it again!!!