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#got me drawing like a psychopath
foolishqhost · 1 year
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Silly little puppet guy got me drawing again and the robe drawing was inspired by a meme I saw I can't find it or I'd give credit to the original meme
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zleepysnails · 3 months
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Is opposite!Bob smoochable?
yes. you can freely smooch him without your face getting bit off 👍😀 unless. you want that. i mean why would you want that
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bonus
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soupjug · 1 year
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i feel really bad
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phantasmicfish · 7 months
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Just some more Dune Part 2 things that I thought were interesting with a specific focus on Feyd-Rautha:
- just… the way that he’s so very accurately portrayed as a psychopath adds a level of grit I didn’t get reading when the book
- the scenes with him and Lady Fenring got me good. The book mentions that he finds her attractive, definitely echoed in the movie. There weren’t explicitly written scenes in the book of how Lady Fenring slept with him (but this was confirmed through dialogue), so I liked the movie’s interpretation of her luring him using her Bene Gesserit abilities
- I would have liked to see Feyd-Rautha tested by the Gom Jabbar the same way Paul was. In the book (and I think part 1 of the movie?) it’s specified that Paul has endured the most amount of pain anyone can handle from the test, but given that movie Feyd-Rautha seems canonically a sadist + masochist, I wonder how long he would have lasted?
- overall the vibe and aesthetic of the Harkonnen’s was terrifying and great. The black and white visuals, dimly lit rooms, flashing lights… There are a lot of different villains in Dune, especially in Part 2 — The Emperor, Jessica, but the most clear-cut ones by far are the Harkonnens. I think the visuals definitely amplify that. I find it rather interesting that the Harkonnens are portrayed to be evil as an entire house. The fact that they all had bald heads gave them a mass identity, served to make them seem perhaps more alien and less human, all capable of committing heinous crimes. Even Feyd-Raytha’s servants or whoever eat human organs
- I think it was an interesting choice to have Feyd-Rautha actually stab Paul during their final fight, we see the blade actually hurt Paul, penetrate his skin, we see Paul gasping for breath, we see Paul struggling for survival. I believe the book made the fight seem more cut-and-dry, that Feyd was a formidable opponent but he didn’t actually stab Paul (though he does draw blood). So I sorta felt the fight was a good contrast between showing Paul as still human while he maintains this cult status. I could see how his ability to survive this fight, despite his injuries, also elevate his messiah status among the Fremen
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rapilne · 5 months
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-Ice Cold
beomgyu x fem!reader
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warnings: sub!beomgyu, sex (?) this contains smut, not proofread, MDNI, beomgyu pov-ish
a/n: no summary cause i couldn't tell you what this is about. this is my first time writing anything like this, i wrote it on my notes so im not sure how many words there are, i think too many, this is without a doubt too long, pls bear with me. also english is not my first language, if something doesn't make sense well idk figure it out pretty pls, thankssss 🫶
--
"she's my girlfriend," beomgyu said, his expression a mask of utter sincerity.
his words hung in the air, the silence filled with unspoken questions. 
yeonjun squinted at him, scrutinizing his face before glancing at taehyun then back at him. "so, you're saying… you have like a crush on her?"
an exasperated sigh escaped beomgyu. “what? no!" he protested "i mean, yes? wait no..” he closed his eyes and said slowly “… it’s like i said it. she’s my girlfriend for real.”
the weight of his words hanged heavily, yet his friends remained speechless, drinks on their hands and stares like daggers. 
beomgyu shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to do to stop them from looking at him like that.
"i just don't understand what's so surprising about it," he muttered, a pout forming on his lips.
choi beomgyu had always been the epitome of charisma. from his looks to his charm, whether he stepped into a crowded room or sauntered down a bustling street, all eyes gravitated toward him, and once you got an interaction, you will just want him to sty forever.
he was well-known and well-liked everywhere he went: university corridors, his guitar lessons, basketball practice, even the corner store near his apartment. everyone seemed to gravitate toward him, drawn in by his undeniable charm.
he likes to think he got that from his mother.
beomgyu, reveling in the spotlight, thrived on the attention. the way people's faces lit up upon his arrival was a drug he couldn't resist. 
specially when he is so used to getting his way. always obtaining whatever he wanted whenever he wanted it, never in a malicious or manipulative way, he was bold, confident, overly friendly and people loved him. asking was usually all it took.
so, all things considered, he'd never struggled to draw the attention of those he found attractive. one could almost say he had his pick of the litter.
he thinks it might be true. 
that is the reason why setting his sights on you should be the most foolish thing beomgyu has ever done in his entire existence. and yet, there he was, unable to resist the pull, despite the warning bells ringing in the depths of his mind.
from the first time he met you, in his advanced music business class, it was as though you existed in a world entirely apart from his own. not responding to any of his advances was an odd sight for him.
initially, he brushed it off, attributing it to a fleeting lapse or perhaps an uncharacteristic bad mood on your part. after all, he reasoned, he was an attention seeker, but he certainly wasn't a psychopath.
yet, after you acted the same way the next time, and the next, and the next time he tried to talk to you, he couldn’t help but take it personally. 
he soon realized it wasn't merely a matter of wounded ego. from the very first meeting, he had mustered his most charming smile just for you. after all, he thought you might just be the prettiest girl he had ever seen in his life. and after just a few classes, he realized you were also one of the smartest people he knew. 
it’s been a long while, but everything about you seemed to snag his attention, like you were the main character in a movie and he couldn't take his eyes off the screen.
so, whyy you, out of everyone, had to be the one to him the cold shoulder like that? or even better, why couldn’t he just like someone who liked him back?
he soon came to find out, thanks to his seat mate, jun, that your behavior was not uncommon.
he couldn't shake off the words his friend had offered in consolation: "don't sweat it, she's like that with pretty much everyone."
of course, in true beomgyu fashion, he couldn't help but sweat it. 
he did pick up on your vibe—not shy at all, like he thought at first, but definitely serious and reserved— still, he wasn't accustomed to blending in with the crowd like that; being treated like “pretty much everyone” didn't sit right with him. 
"it's all so high school," jun chuckled then, shaking his head. "but seriously, they actually nicknamed her the ice queen.”
now it seems like getting on your good side might be a task for the gods.
good thing he is known for always getting what he wants.
— 
taking a sip of boba should never be this unpleasant. except that time he order matcha when he meant taro, beomgyu has always treated his boba runs as a particularly happy time. right now though, it isn’t going so well. especially when yeonjun goes “you’re fucking lying,” with a snickering tone.
“i only lied when i told you that mesh shirt you’re wearing was a look.”
“how dare you”
beomgyu then stands up and looks at the counter. there are only a couple of tapioca pearls left on his drink and he thinks he might ask for some more. are tapioca pearls refills allowed in this place? he doesn’t think they’re allowed anywhere, but he might as well ask.
“ok, ok, sit back down hyung,” taehyun tugs him from his arm, “when did this even happened?”
“i only have like two tapioca pearls left,” beomgyu ignores him and yeonjun goes, “he is talking about boba because he is lying.” he laughs. “there is no way. not even for you, gyu.” 
“look, i don’t know what is so unbelievable about me and y/n being together now,”
“y/n and me,” taehyun corrects
“what?” 
“the correct way to say it is ‘y/n and me’, not ‘me and y/n,” taehyun looks at beomgyu after sipping his own cup, “it can depend on the context of the sentence, like both are grammatically correct, but ‘y/n and me’ is considered mo-“
“what on actual fucking earth are you talking about?“
“that is literally not important!” yeonjun interrupts them both with a loud voice, “can we please come back to the topic and know why are you lying about y/n being your girlfriend?”
beomgyu glares at yeonjun, throwing his straw to the trashcan right next to them. they came in quite late to the boba shop and didn’t get the best table. it is a popular place after all. 
“for the millionth time, yeonjun, i’m not lying!” he says with wide eyes. “what is it that you want? i can call her right now, put her on speaker and asker to tell you how much she likes me, yeah?”
yeonjun narrows his eyes at him, suspicious. “do it.”
“you’re fucking kidding me-“ 
the door chimes and yeonjun’s attention is momentarily taken by the sound. beomgyu takes advantage of this and quickly sizes his cup only to realize his mistake too late and have the matcha flavor assaulting his taste buds. he thinks it is a pretty cruel trick on the universe’s part.
he chokes back a gag and it’s impossible for taehyun to not roll his eyes. he appears to be inmune to beomgyu’s charm, consequences of their close friendship.
yeonjun’s laughter fills the air once he realizes what happened. “that’s what you get,“ he says.
“how can you drink that?”
“matcha is tasty,” with a grin on his face, yeonjun shrugs.
“matcha is a sin,” beomgyu retorts, wrinkling his nose in distaste.
taehyun's interruption brought a halt to the conversation. “the way you are just unwilling to talk about it makes me think that yeonjun might be onto something,” he muses, propping his chin on his hand.
“why would i lie about me being in a relationship with someone?”
“you tell us,” yeonjun says mockingly.
taehyun fixes him with a pointed look. “yeonjun stop,” he says and then looks at this other friend, “beomgyu, it is not really about you being in a relationship. it is about with who.”
“what’s is wrong with y/n?” he asks with a pout on his lips.
“oh nothing,” yeonjun scoffs. “except everyone says she is quite literally a bi-“
beomgyu's voice cut through the air with a sharp edge, his tone tinged with seriousness. "watch it, yeonjun,.” he warned, his gaze unwavering.
yeonjun raised his eyebrows, surprised by beomgyu's sudden change in demeanor. "i was just going to say she's quite literally a big fan of not making friends,” he finished instead, eyes wide.
taehyun intervened swiftly, sensing the tension rising. "beomgyu," he began, his tone soft, "i'm not doubting your feelings, but we kind of know y/n's reputation. she's known for being... distant, self-centered even. i just don't want to see you get hurt because you're too trusting."
taehyun's words struck a chord with beomgyu, but before he could respond, yeonjun chimed in, his voice tinged with remorse. "he's right, gyu," he admitted, a hint of regret on his tone. “and i'm sorry about before. but still, you need to be careful. y/n... people have tried to get close to her before, and it hasn't gone well."
beomgyu's heart sank at yeonjun's words, the weight of their implications settling heavily on his shoulders. 
"look," he begins, his voice tinged with a mixture of conviction and uncertainty, "y/n is different, okay? she's not like anyone else i've ever met. and maybe i haven't been completely open about it because... because i know how you guys get. but i mean it when i say i’ve known her like other people haven’t. she is good.”
there's a pause as beomgyu searches for the right words, a shadow of vulnerability flickering across his features. "she's not just some stereotype or rumor," he continues, "there's more to her than that ‘ice queen’ nonsense."
as the trio leave the place, beomgyu sips on his refilled boba. turns out they definitely don’t do refills, but, “just for you,” they said.
he even got another straw.
“and that’s my problem how?” you asked with straight expression.
the girl in front of you stumbled over her words, her voice quivering as she tries to play it off with a quiet laugh. "i-i’m not saying it's your problem," she began cautiously. "but, like, your signature could totally convince mr. yang to extend the due date. if we all get on board, he'd have to at least consider it. please?”
"no," you reply.
she blinks, caught off guard. “wait, what? i mean, i’m sorry?" 
leaning back, taking a sip of your iced coffee, you return your gaze to your book. “you’re good,” you say in an almost nonchalant tone. "i’d just rather not be disturbed while i’m reading.”
she recoils, her nervous vibe replaced by incredulity. "i'm not apologizing to you!" she snaps back before taking a deep breath. "i just—why not? it literally doesn’t hurt you at all to sign? we really need your help y/n. it will even give you more time to finish your own stuff! ”
"already finished it,” you say, not even making eye contact.
she let out a surprised squeak, but recovered quickly.
"well, i guess that's cool for you," she muttered. "but, like, we need your signature or mr. yang won't even look at the petition.” 
nothing from your part.
mr. yang was a no-nonsense professor who smelled of tobacco and liked to look at everyone over his glasses as to remind you he is much more smarter than you. he hands out tough tasks, but always provides the necessary materials to complete them. though you weren't his favorite student, and he certainly wasn't your favorite teacher, you excelled in his class, meeting his high expectations. but you worked hard to get things done.
"look,” she sighed, “i know you're really smart, but some of us are really… struggling.“ she sighed sadly. ”it's taking forever to get through the text he sent, you know? if we all, like, come together and help each other out, we could totally make it happen. i don’t think he’d said no. what do you say?" she finished, giving you this hopeful look.
a look that was met with silence.
"y/n?" she tries again.
anna, the heroine in your book, seems genuinely tormented and you’re really starting to feel bad for her. if only she didn’t chose the red door. the blue door was the obvious right choice, but she decided to be adventurous. now, she will probably die. can vampires die? they can, you remember. in twilight, you have to cut them in little pieces and-
"hello?! earth to y/n?" you hear a loud voice in front of your face.
you glance up. right, the ‘help us change the due date’ girl from your class. can’t really say you remember her name. 
“you're still here?" you ask flatly. can people get any more annoying? 
"oh my god, seriously?!" she practically yells this time. "i can't believe you're such a bitch!"
suddenly, and before things could escalate further, beomgyu swoops in, looking all concerned. "whoa, what's going on?" he asks, his guitar hanging on his shoulder. “i heard yelling.”
beomgyu looks exceptionally good today, you decide. his dark, long hair framing his beautiful face, and eyes so deep and brown, you could not wait to get him alone…
"hey, beomie," you greet him with a smile. "nothing much. ready to leave?"
you've been waiting for him to finish his composition class. your own class got cut short, and you were ready to head home, but beomgyu insisted on spending the rest of the day with you, asking if you could wait for his class to end.
there's someone you can't say no to, and that's choi beomgyu, you've come to realize.
without waiting for an answer, you toss your book into your bag, grab your iced coffee, and take his hand, leading him towards the exit. your classmate watches you with wide eyes, speechless with incredulity. beomgyu glances back a little confused, offering her an apologetic smile and a quick wave as if to to smooth things over.
once outside, hand in hand, beomgyu asks carefully, "what was that?"
"oh, nothing at all,” you brush it off.
"she seemed mad," he remarks, and you stop in your tracks, making him stumble a little.
"did she? i didn't notice," you say, teasingly. "but i did notice i haven't kissed you yet."
with a playful glint in your eyes, you tilt his chin up with one hand and lean in, closing the distance between you as your lips meet in a slow, lingering kiss. beomgyu sighs contentedly, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer.
"you're the sweetest," he whispers against your lips, screaming girls all forgotten.
“look at this video i took on saturday,” jun leans over the table to show a clip to beomgyu as they sat with a couple of his classmates at the uni cafe. beomgyu recognizes the place as the han river, and the performers on the clip as a dance team yeonjun showed him before.
“oh, i know them!” he says with a big smile, “they’re sooo good. don’t you think they should be like performing on music videos or something?”
“they should,” jun agrees. “i’ve seen them on tiktok though, and they’re making really big numbers.”
“oh shit, yeah, me too! i keep telling y/n to come with me to see them whenever yeonjun tells me they have a showcase.”
this caught the attention of gina, a girl from his music production class “i’m sorry, but i still can't believe you're with her, gyu.” she remarks shaking his head incredulously. 
beomgyu looks up from his phone to give her a questioning look, “what?”
“ah, she’s right” hyunjin says through bites of his ham sandwich, "i mean, she's smoking hot, but she's also a total ice queen."
beomgyu glares at him. "come on, not this again, not with the higschool nickname stuff” he defended “she is not an ice anything, you calling her that is cringe. i’ll have you know, she is really sweet, actually.”
"sweet? seriously, beomgyu?" hyejin chimed in, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "every time i've tried talking to her, she acts like i don't even exist."
“sh-“
"yeah, and remember when she snapped at mark for accidentally bumping into her? it was like she thought she was too good to even acknowledge him."
“but-“ 
"and what about that time she ignored seungmin’s text asking for help with the assignment? she could have at least replied!”
beomgyu's heart sank as he listened to his friends.
“remember last week? what she did to lilly? the stuff with the signatures? honestly, she is such a bitch sometimes…”
before beomgyu could respond, you happened to walk past their table, expression as frosty as ever. misinterpreting their conversation, you shot beomgyu a hurt look before walking away.
"great, now she thinks we're all talking behind her back," gina mutters with a wary look on her face.
beomgyu watches you go away, his heart sinking with the weight of the misunderstanding, realizing you must think you were talking bad about her too. 
he stands up abruptly, “for the record,” he interjects with a sharp voice “this better be the last time i hear any of you calling her names, i won't stand for anyone disrespecting her. we’re done.”
glaring at all of them, he turned and strode out of the café, leaving his former friends speechless. outside, he quickened his pace, determined to catch up to you and make things right before it was too late.
the doorbell rings incessantly, echoing through the hallway as beomgyu refuses to give up. he's been following you from the school building to your apartment, his determination evident in every step he takes. but despite his efforts, you continued to ignore him, driving him to the brink of frustration.
beomgyu knows he's pushing it, but the thought of you disregarding him like this drives him crazy. with each ring of the doorbell, he feels a surge of desperation, making him want to rip all his hair out. 
he keeps ringing the bell and knocking on the door with urgency. he's fully aware that he's risking disturbing the neighbors, they may even call the police.
he’ll risk going to jail for you, he thinks.
finally, the door swings open with a sharp smack, and you're standing there, glaring at him. "knock it off!" you yell, frustration evident in your voice.
despite your fiery eyes, he’s just glad to see your face.
"i'm sorry," beomgyu blurts out, his words coming out in a rush. “but i am sorry you had to listen to that, not sorry because i was agreeing with them or anything, because i was not. i definitely was not, in fact i was letting them know how wonderful and sweet you are, is honestly what i always do. they’re not even my friends anymore. i literally ended it with them. i let them know, oh fuck, i always let everyone know you’re perfect and sweet and the best person i've ever met in my life and that i'm just so so lucky to have you and i love you more than anything and i don’t care about what anyone says because you’re always so, so good to me.”
his words spill out in a jumbled mess, but the sincerity in his voice is unmistakable. beomgyu's desperation is palpable, his rambling emotions laid bare. 
you stare at beomgyu, your expression neutral, as his words hang in the air between you. his eyes search yours desperately and, for a moment, he thinks he might have finally pushed you too far, that his rambling confession may have been a mistake.
but then, without warning, you break the tension with two simple words. "come in," you say.
relief floods beomgyu's features as he exhales a shaky breath, the weight lifting from his shoulders. without hesitation, he steps through the doorway, the sound of the door clicking shut behind him.
beomgyu is standing right in front of you, in your bed, with red cheeks in anticipation. 
“beomie, do you think i’m a bitch?” you ask with a teasing pout on your lips.
“no! no, no, no i don’t” he responds, looking up at you with puppy eyes, long lashes and a slight frown on his face
“correct,” you concede, putting his hair behind his ear softly “you were dying for me to even look at you, beomie, so i did. how can i be a bitch when i give all you the attention you so desperately beg from me?”
beomgyu exhales, clearing his throat to prevent himself for making any noise. you look down at him, his dark hair, indolent eyes and pouting lips. so pretty, just for you.
“answer me.” 
“you’re not, you are so good to me, you’re always so good to me.” he whines, but somehow his voice gets lower. aching to touch you, but keeping his hands on his side, just like he was told.
“that’s right.” you go down and crawl between his thighs slowly. he feels hot wherever you touch him. “i’m so good to you…” you concede as you reach out with confident fingers and grab the waist of his pants and start drawing them down. you pause halfway, though. a teasing smirk playing on your lips. "but, do you deserve it, beomie?" you ask, your tone laced with mock concern.
beomgyu's breath escapes him in rapid bursts, too stunned to speak, but he knows better than not to answer you.
“no..” he chockes out “i don’t deserve it, don’t deserve you.”
“you’re right, you don’t deserve any of it,” you remind him, “good thing i’m so wonderful and sweet right?” you mock as you shove the rest of his pants and underwear down in a quick motion. 
his cock comes up against his stomach, twitchy and veiny and your mouth is watering at the sight in front of you, wanting nothing more than for him to cum down your throat. but today is not the day.
beomgyu chews down hard on his lip and closes his eyes at the feeling of you liberating his length. he’s always been too sensitive, but with you he feels like it’s always the first time.
“open your eyes, beomie,” you tell him. “i want you to see and remember what you have to be grateful for.”
he opens his eyes in an instant just for him to watch you slowly wrap your mouth around his tip. he sucks in a a hiss and let’s out a groan when you draw your lips with a light pressure down his cock until he hits the back of your throat, only to come back up and leave a trail of saliva along the way.
“fuuck,” he lets out with a trembling breath. “oh my god”
you put him on your mouth again and swirl your tongue around him, he hits the start of your throat once again and slide up and down, up and down. you wrapped your lips around his tip one more time before running the flat of your tongue up his cock slowly and you stare directly into his eyes,
beomgyu is a mess of flushed skin and teary eyes and can’t stop whimpering at the feeling and sight of you using your mouth on him, he swallows, throat dry and bites his bottom lip to prevent him from spluttering nonsense.
“i don- don’t know if i can- fuuuck- i- i can’t.. can’t hold it, fuck y/n , you’re so- so good to me-“ 
with his hands on your hair loosing himself to the feeling of your mouth on him, you can’t help but moan on his cock as you can already taste his pre-cum on your tongue, threatening to spill past your lips. you take you mouth off of him. “beomie, don’t cum yet-“ you say between licks, before spitting on him, lubricating and using your hand instead “- baby, hold it in, not yet.”
“i- i can’t, i can’t” he cries and you stop, his chest going up and down aggressively before lifting his face to look up at you. lips red and shinny from biting hard and cheeks rosy from all the pleasure. you think he has never look this pretty.
he sits up trembling, looking at you you slide your drenched panties off. then you straddle his lap, looking at his red erection up and proud, tip right at your entrance, and without any warning, you take his cock in your hand go down on him inch by inch, his arms coming around your torso in desperation as you hold yourself up wrapping yours around his neck, holding each other so close you could feel echother’s heartbeat.
you completely sink down on him and you both gasp, automatically making you clench around him.
“fuuck, baby” beomgyu hissed. his hands coming down to your waist to keep you in place, he’s afraid he would cum in a second if you moved an inch. “don’t move, please”
so, you raised your hips and you both let out a breathy moan as you sat back down again. he whines.
“you can do it beomie, hold it baby” you purr in his mouth. repeating the action again and again. “don’t you want me to fuck you?” 
“ye- yes please,- fuuuck yes” he cries, holding you close. always eager to please, he lets you do as you want. obeying you just in time for him to become a whimpering mess.
it was embarrassing, really, how affected he got in literal seconds. and you, with the sensation of having his cock filling you up, couldn’t help but use him like a toy.
“good boy,” you sing softly, breath hitching. “good, good boy. i knew you would let me use you like this. kne- knew you would like to make me happy. right beomie? because you love me? you want to- oh my god” you whine, bouncing up and down on him with urgency, felling him thus up to meet you halfway. “you want to make me feel good”
beomgyu feels like fire inside you, feeling you squeezing him so tight he feels himself closer and closer. he takes his hand from your waist to massage your breasts, knowing how sensitive your nipples are, making you sigh, earning him a kiss so lewd he’ll dream about it. “yes, thank you, please,” he cries, “i want- i want-“
“you can’t even talk beomie!” you chuckle dryly, “wh-what would your friends say if they saw you like this? huh?” you whispered on his mouth, the feeling so good its sending your blood rushing to your head as you keep fucking him stupid.
“their proud, confident beomgyu is just- fuck” you gasp at the feeling of his lips closing around your nipple, ”just a dirty slut? huh” you throw your head back to give him more access as you continue to bounce on his cock “ a begging little whore is what you are beomie”
he feels himself closer and closer, your dirty talking sending him over the edges he pleads, “just for you, i swear is just for you, i love you”
“good boy” you panted on his mouth again, feeling the sensation of your orgasm looming over your body and beomgyu was hit with the staggering force of his release as he came inside you, calling out your name in pleading gasps.
you blinked almost sleepily, looking down at your boyfriend and his post-fuck look, a small smile on his face as you leaned down to place a little kiss on his nose.
“love you too, pup.” you sighed.
not matcha, but not taro, either.
beomgyu feels like trying something new as he looks at the menu. the scent of sweet tapioca and freshly brewed tea surrounds you two and he thinks this is exactly what dreams are made of, yet deciding on just the right drink feels like an impossible task right this second.
so he scans the menu, his eyes flickering between the various options. yeonjun said their new horchata drink was good, but he doesn’t trust yeonjun’s taste.
“do you know what you’re ordering?” he asks you with big, round eyes. 
you can't help but notice how his eyes resemble tapioca pearls – "just iced coffee," you reply with a hint of amusement.
“right,” beomgyu chuckles, realizing he should have guessed as much.
suddenly, the girl behind the counter approaches you, her bright smile matching the cheery vibe of the boba shop. "hi there! can i help you?" she chirps.
beomgyu's attention shifts to her, “oh! yes yes, just a second” he responds, his eyes scanning the menu once more.
"well, our special today is the pina colada boba blast," the girl continues with a playful tone "it's sweet, refreshing, and i guarantee you it will leave you wanting more!”
beomgyu looks up, and before he could respond, you step forward, "we'll figure it out ourselves, thanks," you say curtly.
the girl's smile falters slightly. "o-okay, let me know if you need any help," she mumbles, retreating to the safety of the register.
"come on, babe, she was just doing her job," beomgyu says, chuckling a little and reaching for your hand. "but i think is time for me to finally admit… there's something kind of hot about you being mean."
you rolled your r eyes, but a small smirk tugged at the corners of your lips. you figured that much way before he did “i’m not being mean, beomie,” you still say, feigning ignorance “i truly don’t know what you’re talking about.”
beomgyu grins, feeling a surge of affection for the girl by his side. as they placed their order and settled into a cozy corner of the boba shop, he couldn't help but think how happy he was to have you, even if you did have a bit of a mean streak.
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Andrew Scott, Vogue: April 2024.
by Zing Tsjeng, Photos by Annie Leibovitz
Ripley, in other words, is the hero of the tale. “That’s why he fascinates so many,” says Scott. “There’s been so many iterations of him. I think it’s because people root for him.” Actors like Alain Delon and Dennis Hopper have tried the role; Matt Damon played him as an obsequious, lower-class naïf; John Malkovich, as a slimy, camp killer. Scott’s Ripley is different; a watchful loner escaping rodent-infested poverty, more at home among art than he is around people. Musician and actor Johnny Flynn plays his first victim—the monied Dickie Greenleaf—and Dakota Fanning is Dickie’s suspicious ex-girlfriend. “I find Tom quite vulnerable,” Scott tells me. “I don’t think he’s necessarily lonely, but I certainly think he’s solitary…. He seems to me by his nature that he just can’t fit in. He’s trying to survive.”
In Ripley, Zaillian extracts maximum Hitchcockian dread from every creaky footstep. But most sinister of all is Scott’s face, which exhibits a sharklike steeliness throughout. It’s a performance that exudes queasy force. Is Ripley a scammer, a psychopath, or both? “There’s so many things lurking beneath him that I’ve been very reluctant to diagnose him with anything. I never thought of him as a sociopath or murderous,” Scott declares. “It’s up to everybody else to characterize him or call him whatever they want.”
As we weave through tourists near the Tower of London, barely anybody notices Scott, save for a faint glimmer of recognition among mainly young women. He seems to draw reassurance from it. “I don’t like to think about it too much, if I’m honest,” he muses of fame. “I find it a little bit, er, frightening.” He is known but not blockbuster-recognizable, although he is in the upcoming Back in Action with Cameron Diaz and Jamie Foxx. What stunts did he do? “I can’t give that away, I’m afraid, or somebody from Netflix will come and shoot me in the head.”
What’s been on Scott’s mind the most hasn’t been acting at all, in fact, but art. As a 17-year-old, he was offered his first movie role on the same day he was given a scholarship to study painting. He chose acting, but has recently been thinking about Oliver Burkeman’s philosophical self-help tract from 2021, Four Thousand Weeks, which makes the case for focusing on the five things you truly want to accomplish. “For me at the moment, it’s like, What do you want to do? What do you want to say?”
He scrolls through his phone to show me his work. There’s a watercolor of a couple arguing in a restaurant in rich reds and greens, line drawings of friends and people on the beach, and two self-portraits. “It’s a bit weird,” he acknowledges of his depiction of himself, all bulbous forehead and Pan-like tufts of hair. His brisk, nervy lines are reminiscent of Egon Schiele or Francis Bacon, who turns out to be one of his favorite painters. “Well, God, I’ll take that,” he mutters at the comparison. He would like someday to go to art school. “I don’t ever regret it,” he says of acting. “But I suppose you just get to a stage where you think, What else? That’s one of the big painful things in life for me, where you can’t quite live all the lives.” As he gets older, he feels the tug toward revisiting old working relationships, including with Waller-Bridge: “We’ve definitely got things cooking,” he smiles. “I’d love to work with her again. She’s just a singular, wonderful person.” For her part, Waller-Bridge says: “I’d love to see him do a fully unhinged slapstick comedy character. Someone who is outraged at everything, all of the time.”
As we round the pavement and the Tate Modern looms back into sight, he recalls a poster he received in 2017—a monstrously large graphic that detailed every week in a human life span. “It’s your entire life if you live to 80—you have to fill in all the bits that you’ve already lived,” he remembers in awe, “a visually terrifying gift.” What did he do with it? “I didn’t hold on to it for too long.” Easy come, easy go: We finally finish our loop around the Thames and, as Scott disappears back into the throng, anonymous just the way he likes it, it occurs to me that the actor has many lives to live yet. ■
309 notes · View notes
disaster-writer · 3 months
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Tear You Apart (Deleted Scene)
Pairing: Dabi x Reader
Summary: This is a deleted scene from my fic Tear You Apart that I really liked but had to rewrite for the published fic. You can read the full fic on my blog
Word Count: 638
Warning: Dark fic, mentions of drugging, masochism, noncon, masturbation (male)
Rating: X 18+
Minors DNI
You had Dabi wrong this whole time. His aloof, cool guy act was all a fucking facade for the psychopath that lay beneath the surface.
His crazed eyes and sick grin told you which one you were talking to right now
The entitlement he felt towards your body made your skin crawl and your stomach nauseous. The way he thought and talked to you made you want to deeply hurt him like no one else before.
You still could.
Your entire identity surrounded the fact that you caused people pain— such excruciating pain that more than just that one man has killed himself because of you.
If he thought your drugged out body was an honest representation of the strength of your quirk…
He had another thing coming.
It was as if your hands had a mind of their own as you placed them against his bare chest. 
But the reaction you got wasn’t the one you expected.
You’ve seen and heard expressions of agony your entire life and this was not that.
Another deep groan ripped from his throat, much like before. But unlike earlier, you hadn’t been able to see the expression held on his face, but now you could see how his eyebrows pinched together and his mouth fell open as he cursed.
You knew this was nothing but unbridled pleasure.
You pushed harder, fingernails digging into the seams of his body, drawing blood.
He quickly grabbed onto your wrists as some sort of anchor, the sensations making his knees weak. “Fuck— fuck— that’s different.” He laughed. You watched in horror as he continued to grunt and groan, pressing you hands harder into his chest. “Why— why is it different?”
”Because,” you started, planting your foot onto his abdomen, “I’m not drugged you sick fuck,” you kicked him hard, and his previous instability had him laying on the floor now.
You gaped as you listened to him laugh, and stroke down his chest until he reached his cock, squeezing himself through his boxers.
He started to pull his cock out—
“What the fuck—“
“Don’t give me that look,” he grunted, now fisting his cock and stroking it, “You’ve seen it before, you just don’t remember.” He taunted. “Now come here,” he stuck his free hand out to you, “Ride me crybaby.”
This—this was not how you thought tonight was going to go.
You tugged at your hair, the roots screaming in pain as you tried to figure out what to fucking do.
”I already told you. Put that thing anywhere near me and I’ll tell the world who you are,” you said shakily, back hitting the wall, “You demented creep.”
He laughed again. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him laugh before tonight— you didn’t think he was capable.
You finally realized that while you thought you had Dabi figured out… you knew nothing about Todoroki Touya.
”I’ll let you call me Touya if you want~” he lilted, continuing to stroke himself.
You sunk to the floor, knees to your chest as you continued to pull on your hair. You just wanted him out— maybe you should call the others, you knew they’d help and get this madman off your bedroom floor-
“Don’t tell me you’re not even a little bit curious,” he gained more stability in his voice. You knew some of the pain was probably subsiding. “No other man can touch you— no other man would want to touch you.”
You peered at him from behind your knees.
”You’re insane.”
”What sane man would want you?”
His gaze held yours in the dim light, refusing to look away as he kept jerking himself off, each barbell of his piercings glinting in the moonlight.
”C’mon crybaby, I don’t wanna cum if it’s not in you.”
You buried your face into your knees, “You’re disgusting.”
-
Full Fic
Tear You Apart Prequel (Dabi x Reader x Shigaraki)
168 notes · View notes
storiesofsvu · 5 months
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Decadent Desires Ch 5
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Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, alcohol, sexually charged conversation, smut, oral, sex toys/strap ons, nothing too crazy this time, some minor kink talk
Over the course of the next week you noticed that Emily was slipping into her sugar mommy role quite well. An extra ten dollars in your Venmo for coffee and a pastry one day, a few good morning texts, wishing for you to have a good day, take out delivered to your office on the day you mentioned forgetting to grab your lunch. The meals or snacks seemed to be the biggest ones, she knew you worked insane hours and were likely working into the evenings most of the time as well, checking that you were still at the office before she would have something sent over.
You were in your office late Wednesday afternoon, finally finishing up the extra workload when there was a brief knock on your door.
“Yeah?” You called out, glancing up from your laptop to find Heather entering the office with a potted bouquet in her hands.
“Jaydyn dropped this off to my office this morning, I just got around to reading the card.” Placing it down on a side table she swiped the card, “and considering I’m the instigator, these are not for me.” She extended it out to you and you flipped it around.
‘St Regis. 8pm, Friday.                                E.’
“You better not be planning to keep me late Friday.” You commented, tucking the card into your agenda.
“What’re we going to do with her?” Heather asked with a huff, dropping into one of the chairs across from your desk and your brow furrowed.
“Emily?”
“No, Jaydyn.” She glanced toward you, “she’s messed up four times this week alone. Can you take care of her?”
“I’m not HR Heather…” you warned, “do it yourself.”
“If I sort it before Monday, you’re going to have to take on the press conference with Sharp.” She countered and you rolled your eyes, tossing an eraser in her direction.
“I’ll draw up the termination paperwork but that’s as far as I go.”
“Thank you.” She smiled, “I would certainly hate all the deliveries you’ve gotten to go to waste.”
You let out a soft sigh, glancing up to the flowers, “about that… I’m sorry. I’ll tell her not at work from now on.”
“Oh by all means don’t let me stop you. Just make sure to lock your door if you’re fucking in your office.”
“Heather!” You groaned, feeling your cheeks burning.
“Oh please.” She smirked, “so… how was it?”
“What?” You looked up from your laptop, turning your attention to the other woman.
“Sweetheart, you know I have a standing reservation at The Conrad.”
“Ohhh… that explains the bondage straps under the bed.” You teased, “and here I was thinking that was a progressive new amenity.”
“How was the date?”
“It was fine, good.”
“Fine? Come on, I’m trying to help you out here. What’s the issue? She’s got money, she’s gorgeous, I enjoy her company, and I don’t know why but there’s an air about her that says she’s fantastic in the bedroom and lord knows you’re pent up enough you need to get laid.”
“Gee… I wonder why that might be.” You replied dryly and she laughed.
“All I’m saying is I saw two of my friends struggling with the same issue and figured I should put them in contact.”
“You really should think about financing a sugar matchmaker.” You noted, “and the date was good. She got called into work, I think she’s out in Nevada right now chasing down some psychopath.”
“Shame.” She replied with a breath, standing from her chair, “I was hoping for the dirty details.” She shot you a wink before turning to head to the door.
“Couldn’t if I wanted to, signed an NDA.” You lied, though you were quickly caught in it as she called over her shoulder.
“I know for a fact you didn’t, who do you think drew up her paperwork?”
“Fuck.” You muttered, letting out a huff of a laugh and shaking your head as the other woman left the room and you were finally able to return back to your work.
When Friday finally rolled around Heather was quick to kick you out of the office well before your usual finishing time, once again suggesting a few specific clothing options for you to wear that night. After showering you were flicking through your closet and realized she was right, pulling out a tighter plum cocktail dress to slip into. You poured a glass of wine while you redid your make up to help calm any last minute nerves and called an Uber shortly before eight o’clock.
The St Regis had a stunningly gorgeous lobby and even though the room was rather busy considering it was Friday, you spotted Emily fairly quickly. She was settled into one of the couches, very fitted dress pants and a stylish navy top, her hair loose around her shoulders. As you made your way over to her she glanced up, catching your eye as a smile crept onto her lips.
“You weren’t kidding about your punctuality.” She greeted, standing from the couch and you chuckled.
“Last I heard, it was incredibly rude to keep a gorgeous woman waiting.” You replied, stepping forward to kiss her cheek as she did the same to you. Her hand lingered on your side, sweeping across to your lower back as she fell in step beside you, nudging you in the direction of the restaurant.
“I’m glad I was on time then.” Emily half teased and you let out a small laugh.
“Even if I tried I couldn’t have been late, I’ve been thinking about this dinner all day.”
“You’re telling me.” She nearly groaned, “I’ve been surviving off shitty hotel room service and small town take out all week.”
“I’m going to assume that’s all very limited.”
“Egg bagels for breakfast, bologna sandwiches at the precinct and burgers every night. I am more than ready for a change.”
“It sounds like you definitely deserve the treat then.”
Emily’s hand slipped off your back as you approached the check in stand at Alhambra, giving the host a friendly greeting before they led you to your table. A cozy little corner of the restaurant, settled up against the window was the perfect place, just far enough away from the bulk of the crowd you wouldn’t have to worry about eavesdroppers. It didn’t take long to decide on a bottle of red to share and you settled in, exploring the menu while you caught up with each other after the long week.
There was a slight sense of eagerness mixed with a hint of nerves floating around the table, the desire to skip the meal entirely and head directly upstairs sitting in the back of your minds. That desire was nearly too strong and partially won when Emily suggested skipping straight to the entrée course and you were quick to agree that nothing on the appetizer menu was really jumping out to you. When your server came back to check on the table and pour out wine for the two of you, dinner was ordered, menus taken away and after a few sips of wine you could finally start to focus on each other.
“Thank you, for the flowers by the way.” You smiled softly over the rim of your glass, “they’re gorgeous.”
“I should have asked about sending them to your work.” She replied, an apology written across her face, “I didn’t realize until it was too late that I didn’t have your home address.”
“It’s fine.” You replied with a shrug and a grin, “besides, gives the office something to gossip about, right?”
“I guess that’s right.” She laughed softly, “I’m a little surprised I managed to not get called out for being on my phone so much this week.”
“You’re the boss,” you offered, “you’re probably on your phone all the time already. Nothing new for a team of profilers.”
“I guess. And I’m not complaining, there is something exciting about having a secret.”
“There most certainly is.” You replied, a near hungry look in your eye that made Emily’s pulse pick up, heat beginning to build through her body, “even more so when it’s a dirty secret.”
She cocked a brow in your direction, her voice lowering, “that so? Are you a dirty girl?”
“You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” You replied with a smirk, taking another sip of wine, “I can assure you; I’ll be good no matter what.”
“I would hate to have to punish you.” She fired back and you felt a tingle shoot through your body.
“Hmm.. part of me thinks you’d rather enjoy that.”
She took the chance to turn your own words back on you, “you’ll just have to wait and see about that.”
“Good thing I’m patient then.”
While the sentiment was normally true, it certainly wasn’t tonight. Luckily, Emily’s patience was also wearing thinner by the moment, neither of you finishing your meals and very quickly turning down the chance to even see a dessert menu.
By the time you got into the elevator your heart was racing, sparks flying through your body at the feeling of Emily’s fingertips drawing patterns on your back as she stepped impossibly close to you. You could feel the heat from her body wafting onto yours and your breath caught in your throat. The doors slid open, letting the other couple out before they slid shut again, leaving you alone and you could feel her breath on the back of your neck before she spoke.
“You are going to be a good girl for me, right?”
“Mmhmm.” You nodded, gulping at the feeling of her fingers tracing higher on your back, now tickling at your bare skin.
“Good.” She murmured, her fingers squeezing softly at the back of your neck before they slid into your hair, her free hand grasping your hip as she turned you in her arms, swiftly backing you into the wall of the elevator and her lips captured yours in a kiss.
While she had been showing some signs of uncertainty when it came to navigating this particular type of situation, it was suddenly very clear that she knew exactly what she was doing when it came to the more intimate side of things. Only a second after her hands were on you, her lips gliding against yours and you were complete putty in her hands.
Your hands easily looped around her shoulders, pulling her tighter to you as your lips moved with grace against each other. Emily slotted a leg between yours, knee against the wall right as her tongue slid across your lips, urging them to part and you quickly obliged. Her tongue swept into your mouth and you couldn’t help but moan into the kiss, hips rocking toward her and she ground you down onto her thigh. You couldn’t help but let out a small whimper into the kiss, one that morphed into a needy whine as the elevator dinged and Emily suddenly stepped away from you, her hand grabbing yours to quickly lead you down the hallway.
“Thought you were patient.” She teased with a gleam in her eye and you only had enough time to let out a huff of a laugh before you were inside the suite. “Cause now you’re sounding like a needy girl.”
“Maybe if someone wasn’t such a tease.” You shot back and she chuckled darkly, stepping toward you, gently pinching your chin as she titled your face up towards her.
“For someone who wants to cut to the chase so badly, you certainly are overdressed.” Her fingers slipped into the straps of your dress, nudging them over your shoulders, “how about we get this off?”
Your hands reached behind your back, tugging the zipper down before pushing the dress down to your feet, stepping out of it along with your heels. You watched with hungry eyes as Emily’s fingers swiftly undid her blouse, dropping it behind her before she stepped back to you, her hands cascading across your skin.
“Such a pretty girl in pretty lace.” She husked, her fingers trailing over the waistband of your panties before surging upward and tracing the pattern of the lace covering the cups. Your breath caught in your throat when her fingers brushed over your nipples and her lips curved up into a grin, groping your chest and successfully pulling a moan from you. “Let me see these gorgeous tits.”
You reached behind you, unclasping your bra and letting it fall to the floor, heat prickling beneath your skin at the feeling of Emily’s gaze on you. Her hands returned to your body, caressing your exposed chest, fingers pinching gently at your nipples, eagerly watching your reactions. She stepped forward, lips meeting yours in a lazy kiss while your hands wrapped around her, un doing her bra so you could mimic her movements. She let out a soft moan into the kiss and your hands sunk south, groping at her ass, rolling her hips toward you as you slotted a leg between hers.
Emily barely pulled away from the kiss to scold you, “uh-uh princess. Or did you forget that tonight was about me fucking you into next week?”
“Fuck…” you muttered and she laughed softly, nudging you backwards toward the bed.
“Now get rid of those panties and lie back.”
While you dropped onto the bed, fingertips slipping into the waistband of your underwear to tug them down your legs, Emily took the time to rid herself of her pants and slid the hair tie off her wrist, loosely pulling her hair back before she crawled over you on the bed. She kissed you again, her tongue surging into your mouth as you let out a soft groan at the feel of her hands back playing with your tits. Your back arched off the bed when she pinched your nipples, harder than the first time.
“Oh god..” Your head dropped back into the pillows, eyes fluttering shut and she took advantage of your exposed neck.
Her lips trailed down it, pausing briefly to nip at your sensitive skin, wondering if she should mark you or not. Instead she licked across your collarbone before sucking a nipple into her mouth and you moaned, your fingers weaving into her hair the best they could. This time her teeth did scrape across your skin and you whimpered, heat tingling from where her mouth was on your body down all the way between your legs. It didn’t take long before Emily’s lips had traced their way down your body and her hands were on your thighs, spreading them wide to make room for herself. Her thumb swept through your folds, briefly pressing on your clit and you moaned, pussy fluttering around nothing.
“Such a pretty girl.” She cooed before shifting forward, repeating the motion but this time using her tongue and you couldn’t help but let out a gasp.
“Fuck!”
Her lips wrapped around your lower ones, tongue drawing patterns across your cunt as she began to eat you out. She eagerly accepted your hand tangled in her hair, urging her closer to your pussy, her tongue slipping in as far as she could, lapping at the juices that were starting to leak out. She groaned over your taste, grinding down against the mattress as her fingers dug into the skin of your thighs. The taste of you on her tongue and the way your thighs were already trembling under her touch was enough to drive her wild and she was certain she would never get over it. Knowing that you were this turned on already and that she had this effect on you had her pussy throbbing, dampening her panties as she continued to lick at your cunt. Her nose bumped against your clit and you whined, your hips rocking up towards her,
“More…” you begged and she smirked, her tongue lapping through your folds before it flicked at your clit and you whimpered.
“You like that?” She asked, her tongue flicking your clit again and you shuddered, nodding. “you want your pretty clit sucked?” She flattened her tongue, slowly dragging it across your swollen nub and you groaned, your fingers tightening in her hair.
“Yes! Please!”
“Such a good girl.” She praised, “I guess good girls do get rewarded.”
Her lips wrapped around your clit, sucking it into her mouth and you let out a very satisfied moan, eyes scrunching shut as her tongue traced patterns around it. Emily brought her hand up, two finger tips sliding up and down your folds, teasing you, coating them in your wetness before she slid them into your pussy.
“Fuck… Emily…” Your pussy fluttered around her fingers, pleasure surging through you as the fire prickled just under your skin.
She had an expertise at what she was doing, you could tell, and it never took long for her to follow her instincts, read your body language and reactions. It felt like she had barely started touching you and you were already panting, a shimmer of sweat glistening over your body as her fingers began to pump inside your cunt. She popped off your clit, blowing cool air on it and you shivered, your hand clawing at the bedspread as your pussy pulsed around her fingers. With her mouth back on you her fingers began to curl to find that extra sensitive spot within you and she found it faster than she expected. You could feel the smirk of her lips as you cried out.
“Oh god… yes!” You whined when her finger tips hit it again, “right there.”
Emily sucked harder on your clit as her fingers brushed your g-spot again, pressing harder and longer with each thrust of her hand. Feeling the way your thighs were squeezing around her, the way your hips jolted up off the bed with each pump of her fingers she knew you had to be close, your pussy clenching down around her as she picked up the speed. It didn’t take long at all before you were moaning loudly, pleasure shooting through your veins, bursting from your body and your juices were dribbling down her hand. Your body shook, a whine escaping your lips and she pulled away from you slightly, her fingers slowing as they fucked you through your orgasm.
Once you had mostly come back down to earth her fingers slipped from you and she sucked them clean before crawling up your body, kissing you breathless. Your hand wrapped around the back of her neck, pulling her closer to you as your tongue danced with hers, groaning over the taste of you in her mouth.
“Roll over.” She murmured, lips brushing against yours as she swatted at your hip.
You eagerly rolled to your stomach, the bed dipping as she slid off it and you watched her wander to a chair, digging through a small duffle until she pulled out the strap and a bottle of lube. Your eyes darkened as she stepped into it, adjusting the toy and you popped up to your hands and knees, presenting yourself to her.
She sauntered back over to the bed, climbing on behind you and her hands ghosted up your thighs, spreading your cheeks so she could get a look at your cunt, glistening in the low light of the room, smeared with your juices.
“Such a pretty pussy.” She praised, her hand gently slapping against it and you let out a breathy whine, your eyes fluttering shut as your rocked back towards the touch. “Oh?” She raised a brow, “you like that, hm? Like being spanked?” This time her hand swatted at your ass and you let out a low moan.
“Yes..”
“I’ll have to remember that.” She cracked open the bottle of lube, smearing it across the dildo, “but for now… do you want my cock?” She nudged the head of it against your pussy and you whined, “want me to stretch out this pretty pussy?”
“Please!” You cried out, hands grasping at the bedspread as you felt yourself pulse over nothing.
Emily chuckled softly, her hands coming to rest on your hips as her cock sunk inch by inch into your pussy and you let out a satisfied groan when her hips collided with yours, cock deep in your cunt. She pulled out until just the tip was left inside you and thrusted her hips sharply, pulling a throaty gasp from you. Pausing for a moment while she was buried deep she circled her hips and you let out a satisfied sigh, your body rocking back toward her and she knew she was in the clear, you had no issue being fucked that hard.
“Take me so well princess.” She murmured, a hand rubbing up your back before she thrust deeply back into you and you groaned again.
Emily then set a steady pace, her cock plunging into you with each thrust, your body rocking forward and following her movement back, eager for more. Each pump of her hips you could feel the ridges of the toy dragging through your walls, hitting every spot you needed them to, your pussy fluttering harder and harder around it. Emily’s lips curved up into a grin at the sight of her cock coated in more of your juices each time she pulled it out, that you had gone from moaning to only being able to whimper and whine as she fucked you harder. Her hand slid up your back, leaving goosebumps in its path before she tangled into your hair, tugging at the roots and you let out a gasp, your pussy clenching down around her cock.
“Fuck…” You managed out between moans, fire burning through your entire body as she fucked deeper into you.
The hand Emily had in your hair pulled harder, yanking you up flush to her and your breath struggled through your throat before coming out as a gasping moan, feeling her mouth in the crook of your neck again.  Her free hand wrapped around your body, easily finding your clit, beginning to rub at it in time with her thrusts.
“Such a good girl.” She husked into your ear, “such pretty sounds.” Her teeth nipped at your earlobe, “come for me princess, I know you’re close.”
Her fingers pressed harder on your clit, rubbing faster as she continued to fuck you, your bodies slick with sweat, the room filled with a cacophony of your moans, wetness and skin meeting skin. Emily’s cock hit a spot inside you and you cried out, your hand wrapping around her wrist in an attempt to ground yourself as she fucked you even harder, pulling you over the ledge for you to come tumbling down as your orgasm flooded over you. Your juices coated her cock, dripping down your thighs as your body trembled in her arms before she let you collapse down onto the mattress and she slowed her thrusts.
“Jesus Christ.” You whimpered, voice muffled by the sheets as your body shook, pleasure shooting all the way from the tips of your fingers down to your toes as a second wind waved over your body.
Behind you Emily chuckled darkly, slowing her thrusts until she was completely stilled, still inside you and she leant over your body, leaving a trail of soft kisses down your spine before she slipped out of you. You let out a small whine at the loss of feeling so full, the ache already setting in between your legs as she shifted off the bed to slip out of the strap, leaving it to be dealt with later.
“You okay?” She asked softly, her hand ghosting up your back as she crawled back onto the bed and you let out a happy hum.
“Absolutely perfect.” You shifted slightly, shoving the mussed up blankets so you could at least slip half beneath them as Emily settled on the bed, her arm winding around you, urging you to curl into her side.
Her hand continued to rub soothing patterns into your back as you finally managed to catch your breath, a dopey smile on your cheeks as you rested on her chest. She wordlessly reached out to the remote, turning on the television and flicking through the channels until something caught her interest and you let out a hum to convey your interest. It wasn’t much longer past that point that your stomach let out a low grumble and she laughed quietly.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Maybe we shouldn’t have rushed through dinner so fast.” You laughed, shifting to prop yourself up on your elbow, “they have a room service menu?”
She leaned over, shuffling through the nightstand before returning with one, flipping it open and passing it to you, “pick whatever you want. I’ve got a bottle of wine in the fridge.”
It didn’t take long for you to call down to place an order in while Emily disappeared into the bathroom before grabbing the wine and some plastic cups, returning to the bed before you did the same. Fifteen minutes later you had an order of spinach dip, potstickers, and a very self indulgent plate of chicken strips for yourself spread out across the bed along with glasses of wine. You were mainly paying attention to the television, but the conversation was still peppered through as time went by, laughing over jokes and getting to know each other on a different level. Once the food was finished, Emily encouraged you to get cozy, that you were obviously welcome to stay the night and you took full advantage of that, stretching out in the luxury bed. She did mention it was likely she would have to take off before she wanted to the next morning, but she wouldn’t wake you, that she wanted you to stay as long as you wanted.
Both of you wanted to stay up later, but the six a.m. wake up that morning was catching up with you by the time midnight rolled around, yawns being passed back and fourth before you were snuggling into the pillows and Emily finally flicked off the tv.
The sound of your phone pinging woke you up in the morning, sun streaming across the warm bed and you let out a yawn, stretching out your deliciously sore body as you did so. Glancing around the suite you assumed Emily had left earlier and that thought was confirmed when you glanced to the bedside table, an envelope propped up against the lamp. You picked it up, finding her writing scrawled across the back of it.
‘Clear your schedule for next Saturday. I’ll text you more info later, but for now, take this and buy yourself something nice.’
Holding the envelope up to the window you could tell she had left you a credit card to do some shopping with and a happy smile broke out on your lips. When you picked up your phone you discovered that it was a Venmo notification that had woken you up, two hundred dollars sent from Emily.
Letting out a happy sigh you dropped back into the plush pillows, you certainly weren’t going to complain about spending your weekends like this from now on.
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can you make a little fanfic about andrew being a fucking yandere? or hc's? i beg youu
Well since you begged <3
TW: Kidnapping, Starvation, Forced kiss, also- Yandere shit so be weary y’all
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Yandere!Andrew Graves x Reader
Truly, you don’t know how things got like this
Your stomach churned with hunger, so much you feared it would start eating itself if you didn’t eat anything soon
Though you didn’t trust what he would bring you
The cold chains digging into the skin of your wrists was a good reminder of what trusting him brought you
If you had the energy, you would chew through the piece of cloth he gagged you with. Spit it out and scream for help
But- that wouldn’t end well for you
He made that clear last time…
“Relax beloved…” his voice was so calm as he circled you, the only indication of his anger being how white his knuckles were from clenching his cleaver, “I’m not gonna kill you..”
You wished he would. You wished he would slit your throat with that fucking thing and finally release you from this torture you’d endure for a week now. But no…you were his beloved. He would never harm his beloved, not unless they deserved it.
Harm, but never kill. Fucking psychopath.
Your attempt had been utterly futile, having managed to wiggle the Christmas lights tying you to the pole- leaving you to slink away like a slug in an attempt to get away. Andrew had come down to investigate the noise, where he found your pathetic slug ass on the floor, crying with fear.
He knelt down beside you, taking your chin in his hand.
“Awww…sweetie…” his voice was sickeningly sweet, like he was trying to provide you with comfort. If you weren’t gagged, you would’ve bit him. He helped you sit up, you flinched under his touch, “Why do you resist me? I’m helping you..”
He wiped your tears with his sweater sleeve, though your eyes were fixated on his cleaver- prepared to duck if he used it. Andrew wouldn’t use it if you didn’t give him a reason to, he’s exclaimed multiple times your first few days here.
He cupped your cheek in his right hand, you tilted your head into it instinctively. He had done this so many times before…
Before he showed you what he was like..
Andrew leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. His lips felt cold, sharp- taking away any tenderness he could provide to you.
“I’ll let you off either a warning this time…but if you try this again…” he roughly grabbed his chin, pulling your face close to his. He glared at you, his green eyes filling you with nothing but fear as his true intentions were clear behind them, “I won’t be so nice..”
You nodded the best you could with how he was holding you. He was satisfied with that, his expression changing on a dime to that of adoration.
“That’s it.” Andrew kissed your forehead again, releasing your chin, “Come on…let’s get you back to your spot, I’ve picked up something that’s a bit….heftier to prevent something like this from happening again.”
You lost track of how long you’d been here now
Realistically, it was probably a couple of weeks
But it felt more like years
You perked up, hearing footsteps at the top of the stairs- and then the faint sound of a lock clicking
Fear coursed through you. The pole you were tied to was just far back enough that the railing blocked the top of the staircase- but you knew the footsteps anywhere
In your time living in the basement of the Graves house, you’d memorize the two sets of footsteps that visited you: Andrew, and his little sister, Ashley.
More often than not, Andrew would visit you- Ashley only did once a day to feed you- so it was a safe bet to assume it was him before you memorized Ashley’s somehow heavier steps.
Andrew’s were light, like he’d have practice not drawing attention to himself while walking
He maneuvered down the stairs slowly, his frame slowly coming into your view. He carried two plates in his hands, each with a fork set upon the conglomerate of spaghetti noodles piled on top of it.
His eyes met yours, and he gave you a smile. A warm smile.
You hated that smile
“Evening beloved.” He greeted you, striding over to your bounded self. He set a plate down in front of you, “Dinner time! Tonight’s meal is pasta, I thought I’d eat with you.”
He seated himself across from you, leaning forward- his hands going behind your head. Fear flashed through your eyes, but his poisoned touch left as he removed your gag.
You could scream. You wanted to scream. So, so badly. But he was right there. Scrawny as he was, he had the energy and upper hand against you to silence you…permanently.
So you clamped your mouth shut, which made Andrew frowned.
“Aww, come on sweetie..” he twirled some of your pasta on to the fork, “You need to eat.”
His face went dark as his sickly green eyes stared holes through your wide, teary eyes.
“I know you haven’t been eating what Ashley brings you.”
Your muscles tensed, and you did the foolish thing of opening your mouth a little with surprise for him noticing. He took that moment to thrust the fork into your mouth. You gagged on it, the prongs poking the back of your throat. You didn’t want to eat this, but Andrew retracted the fork and took your jaw in his hand. He manually made you chew, the noodles felt heavy in your mouth. Before you knew it, the cursed nutrients flowed down your throat and into your empty stomach. Andrew gave you a satisfied smile.
“There we go..” he released your jaw, picking up the fork again, “Come on, I want this plate cleaned.”
Each time he forced the food into your mouth, you wanted to vomit. You didn’t trust any of this. You have no idea what he laced this with, but the paranoia was already making your stomach ache. The plate was soon cleaned, and the feeding stopped.
Thank god, you would’ve said if you were coughing on pasta. You inhaled sharply, suddenly you were silence again- although not by the usual cloth you’d grown used to.
Andrew’s lips crashed into yours, his hands cupping your face to stop your squirming to try and get away. You screamed into his mouth, demanding to be released. Your teeth met his, saliva shared between you as he opened his own- then..
“OW!”
Andrew hissed, moving away and bringing a hand to his mouth. You had bitten his tongue…hard.
What were you thinking?
Cold terror filled your body as you struggled against the chains- and suddenly your mouth felt the familiar taste of the cloth gag. Andrew tied it tight around you, his eyes flashing with fury.
“Well…someone’s in a mood..” he grumbled, standing up and taking his plate with him. He glared down at you, “Look at all I’ve done for you? I’m protecting you!”
He clenched his plate- you could tell he wanted to throw it at you.
“You know how many people out there want to hurt you? Want to mistreat you?” His words felt like daggers, “You may not understand it…but I love you. And I’m doing this because I love you..”
Andrew turned on his heel, heading over to the stairs. He placed his free hand on the railing, glaring back at you.
“Happy 1 month beloved…” was all he left you with as he stormed up the stairs- the singular lightbulb in the basement being turned off, covering you in darkness.
You didn’t sleep that night
You sobbed into your gag until it felt gross in your mouth
A month ago, you had met a sweet boy in the library
He was browsing the poetry section, rambling to you about the underrated works of Edgar Allen Poe
He was so sweet
He was so caring
….maybe in a twisted way he still was.
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slothkittfunsies · 7 months
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Deep Dive into the issues on Alastor.
CONTENT WARNING: Racism, Aphobia.
Now that I created a blog specifically for stuff like this, It's time for the dive.
Alastor is a character that resonates with me, because this guy is supposed to represent me and my people (aspec/aroace community) and I liked his pilot personality. (That went to shit)
This man got so many issues, that i have to take the pen myself and scribble what Vivzie has wrote. So, Let's start, shall we?
THE DESIGN
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The first time I saw the Hazbin pilot, I got confused about what Alastor was supposed to be. I thought he was just a grey human wearing some kind of animal ears until the fandom said he is a deer.
A deer. Let that sink in.
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(Images for comparsion)
As someone passionate about the arts, this upset me. Sure, I haven't been to art school, but even I know you need to put the backstory and features in mind when designing a character.
Character design is NOT throwing things at the wall and seeing which sticks. It needs actual critical thinking. If your audience is confused about your character's species, it's time to go back to the drawing table (unless you have a reason for making it mysterious.)
Second, the overabundance of red is awful in terms of color theory. This guy is in Hell, which is also red, causing an eyesore. I got a headache when trying to focus on him on a red background. And also, colors have meaning. People associate red with danger, so the fact he even managed to get victims to kill makes me puzzled.
Also, the fact he's supposed to be mixed/black makes this design even worse. Why is he grey instead of brown, perhaps? Vivzie has a pattern of making POCs grey-skinned, which is, again, awful.
I think Vivzie only made him a POC due to the voodoo issue. I mean, just remove the symbols and you are done. But nah the symbols are too "aesthetic" to remove. So gotta change his race.
She could have used another symbols, like THIS for example:
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Since, you know, he's the "Radio Demon"?
THE BACKSTORY
Ok, this where I'm very confused.
Alastor is a radio host, and also a serial killer. He was born in the USA, got killed by a deer hunter by mistake, and lived in the 1920's.
This is what I gathered from being a superfan back then, and it sounds unorganised/cluttered. And the years he lived in make his design even worse. (Again! His clothing doesn't speak the 1920s!)
The fact he's from an old era, and yet speaks in modern slang is weird. He's supposed to hate anything modern, and yet he does it anyway? His saying "fuck" multiple times is so out of character for him. I guess the "If made by Vivziepop" memes have some truth.
Putting the fact he's mixed, makes the backstory more confusing. How did he manage to be a popular radio host at the time before the civil rights movement became a thing? He will have been put down like the rest of the POCs in America. Either that he's white-passing, or it's VERY difficult. Adding the fact he's a serial killer makes me think how the cops didn't get to him (the mere fact he's black should have got him questioned in 1920s America)
Now, for his identity. I'm mad he's the only aroace character in the sea of gays and bisexuals. (I'm not saying gay men and bisexual people should not have representation. I have to say that due to tumblr's piss poor reading comprehersion)
which made me go through on why Vivzie made him aroace in the first place. I don't know if this is true, but I heard she made him aroace because "he only loves himself"
Um. Here we go again with allos assuming we are non-empathic psychopaths for our lack of sexual or/and romantic attraction. I hope that's not true at all, but knowing Vivzie's past, I wouldn't be surprised.
Alastor would have been a great character if another person took care of it instead of Vivziepop. What I'm gonna say is, wasted potential.
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eddiezpaghetti · 8 months
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Okay, so my experience with Stranger Things is a weird one.
I didn't care when it first came out, started to watch it out of "might as well" in 2020, wasn't interested in it enough to make it past S2, forgot about it outside of going "oh, hey, cool, there's a lesbian in it now, I guess," in S3, got really annoyed when "Running Up That Hill" got popular from it because it was a song I listened to on fucking loop after one of my best friends died in high school and I fully expected its appearance in the show to ignore the whole survivor's guilt theme of the song (and was very happy to learn later that it did the exact opposite of ignoring the lyrics), saw people drawing Eddie, suddenly got a lot more interested, watched just the fourth season like a fucking psychopath because I was seriously only there for Eddie, then got interested enough to start the show over properly, having mostly forgotten what I did watch of the show before.
And let me tell you something from the perspective of someone who started with the complete fourth season, who wasn't there from the start, who wasn't tainted by ship goggles or this internal battle of hope and despair, who wasn't theorizing about what the painting could be or expecting Mike and Will to kiss when Volume 2 happened or rooting for Mike and Eleven's relationship to go down in flames or whatever the fuck. Just someone who went blind into Season 4.
It's really fucking obvious that Will and Mike are gonna be endgame.
Like holy fuck. It's so fucking blatant I don't even know why people are nervous.
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No sane fucking person would shoot this scene this way if they wanted the audience to care about El and Mike as a couple. Despite being all blurry in the background, Will's reaction to what's happening here is smackdab in the fucking middle, clearly showing that the important part is what's going through his head here. What he's feeling. It's like the opposite of that scene from Kingdom Hearts II where Sora and Riku reunite and Kairi just fucking vanishes into the aether while it's happening because, despite the fact that she was standing between them when the scene began, she doesn't matter to the scene, so she's just kind of gone when the camera angle changes. Will could have been behind one of their heads, or so far in the distance he blends in with the background, but he's not. He's so obvious that despite being massively blurred out, he's still the first goddamn thing you look at. What, you think that's an accident? You think he's in the middle of this dramatic fucking scene because of a mistake? He basically has a big flashing neon arrow pointing at him with "THIS IS THE POINT" being screamed through a megaphone.
And then this?
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They're paired up like they're taking fucking prom pictures. Each one of these pairs is so fucking close to one another and so fucking far from everyone else. It's not, "Oh, they're standing vaguely near each other in a group shot," it's fucking Noah's Ark out here. Again, there's no way to take this as an accident. It's not just a framing issue. If they wanted to make the shot look balanced while still not hiding anyone else behind El, they would have scattered people around much more naturally. Even if they wanted to keep Nancy with Jonathan and Hopper with Joyce, there's so much room on that hill for three people to stand on El's left and three on her right. But they didn't do that. They put Mike and Will together on purpose in the most obvious way possible.
Like I get that coming up with crackpot theories is fun in and of itself and I'm not blaming anyone for having fun. I totally get the appeal of arguing a point and reaching for every stupid little thing to pull into it because it's like a game, okay? I've done that. But if you're trying to actually convince someone (whether it's someone who wants to believe or someone who's pissed at the very idea that Mike and Will could be in love), stay away from blue and yellow lights, stay away from costume design, stay away from the existence of closets in backgrounds. And don't worry about whether Mike's gay or bi when he's in love with Will either way. I'll give you a little tip about persuasion: You're only as strong as your weakest argument. Even if you've got strong stuff in there, too, the person you're trying to convince is going to dismiss anything you say as complete insanity the second you start going on an entire tangent about the shape of a character's fucking pocket.
Sometimes, clothes are just clothes. Sometimes, there's a closet in the background because it helps establish that a character is in a bedroom. Sometimes, blue and yellow are just a couple of colors that look nice together. And sure, it might be set designers and costume designers and cinematographers smirking and winking at the audience from behind the camera. But if the show was just those things, instead of those things in the context of everything else, they wouldn't be saying anything of note.
But this?
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This tells a story all on its own. Someone with no context can look at this and automatically assume that each paired person is standing with someone they care about deeply, seeking comfort as they watch some sort of disaster unfold. And yeah, romantic couples usually come in twos, and we live in an amatonormative society, so that's going to be the first association anyone makes seeing a bunch of people paired off.
It's the same reason you look at this
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And go, "Oh..."
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"Those two are probably a couple."
And I genuinely don't understand how people could have watched S4 Vol. 2 and gotten scared. Because as someone who went in with no investment whatsoever, I just looked at these two--
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--and went, "Oh, those two are a couple. Good for them." And I moved on. Shut up about the trees for five seconds and just see the forest for what it is.
Oh, and if you're still nervous? Little thing from a storyteller here: You don't leave a hanging thread like "Will confessed his romantic feelings for Mike by projecting them onto El, but Mike either didn't understand or at least didn't say he understood," without coming back to that later. That's Chekov's gun hanging on the wall, babes. It's gonna fire at some point. If Mike was going to reject Will's feelings, if they weren't relevant, they would have had that discussion in Argyle's van. There'd be no reason to leave you in suspense.
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toomanythoughts2 · 3 months
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After thinking about fan artists drawing Murderface with curly hair, I've decided to also thank all of the fan artists that do the following (YOU ARE ALL RECIEVING KISSES IN THE MAIL, PLEASE BE PATIENT!):
People who draw Skwisgaar, Toki, or Nathan with their hair up in a claw clip or a ponytail. Especially Skwisgaar. You understand your power and you use it for love.
People who draw Toki and Nathan with fat, juicy tits pecs. You are doing the lords work and I love you.
People who draw Pickles with freckles. If the heavens saw the beauty that you bestowed onto our little midwestern Irish-American drummer, they would weep in joy.
People who draw the boys with detail eyelashes. I know what you are.
People who draw the boys with their HC-ed ethnics/races. (i.e. Nathan having Yaneemango features, Latino/Hispanic Murderface, Sámi Skwisgaar & Toki, very Irish Pickles.) The work that yall do is outstanding and I love to see it
SCARS! S.H. SCARS, TOP SURGERY SCARS, POSSESSION SCARS, POST-DSR & AOTD SCARS, TOKI'S CHILDHOOD SCARS! I'M FUCKING COMING FOR YOU! I LOVE YOU!
People who draw Murderface with distinctive clues that he is from the American South/Appalachians. I LOVE these HCs so much and I love the idea of him being from a very poor, southern town in America, it just fits him SO FUCKING WELL!
People who give Toki and Skwisgaar opposing eye shapes. I have seen them go both ways, and either one fits them so good. I am partial to downward turned eyes for Toki though, but either way, I eat it up every single time.
People who draw Murderface and Nathan as the fat men they are. Listen, it's a big girl winter every winter, but it's a big boy summer every summer. Ya gotta give the fat boys some love.
People who draw Skwisgaar in that damn speedo or in a bikini. He's got the confidence and you have the talent.
People who draw Toki in his roller skating outfit. Need I saw more?
People who draw one or more members of Dethklok as trans. I have yet to encounter a version of this HC/canon content that I do not love, adore, admire, respect, and obsess over.
People on tiktok that attempted to do a Metalocalypse version of the "Infected My Little Pony" trend. One of which where Nathan was the infected and the other where Toki was. Honestly, the artist that was doing the eldritch horror!Toki was fucking cooking. They had it where Murderface saw Toki in his true form and was terrorizing Murderface from keep him from revealing his secret.
People who draw Trindle. Listen, I understand Nathan. If I had a goth woman showing me her tits every second of every day, I too would look past the blatant psychopathic tendencies and mysterious disappearances.
People who are not afraid to make the boys look gross. You are all so fucking valid and your interpretations of the boys are so awesome to look at. Especially if it's a specific art style that is scratchy. LOVE!
People who draw Lady!Klok. Every single interpretation of what the boys would look like is so valid, whether they're cis or trans, their outfits and appearances are also so fucking spot on. And their HCs that are added on the side to explain how they're different from Dethklok is a fucking PLUS
People who draw Skwisgaar in lingerie. I want you to know, that I see you and I appreciate you in every single way.
People who draw Trans!Pickles content (NSFW & SFW) specifically. Yall were in the god damn trenches and you PREVAILED!
People who draw the boys with their interpretations of their nose shapes, ESPECIALLY MURDERFACE! HE'S GOT A BEAUTIFUL PUG NOSE, LET HIM HAVE IT! Double appreciate for Skwisgaar's beautifully crooked nose and Nathan's slanted nose. I love their faces so much and their noses and yall always know how to bring them to light.
People who draw Knubbler with no chin. Homeboy gave away his chin in order to accumulate all of the swagger he's got. He's a Mick Jagger type of guy.
People who draw Pickles dreads as independently floating tendrils like Medusas snakes. It is so perfect for him and it's so hard not to do it.
People who draw Pickles bald. Look...It's coming. He's just gonna have to own it.
People who draw Early!Klok ESPECIALLY TOKI! That fact that we don't have a lot of information about their past other than DSR is a SHAME! BUT ITS OK BECAUSE THE FANS KNOW WHAT TO DO AND THEY DO IT PREFECTLY EVERY TIME! Every time I see little DSR Toki with his short hair, I go fucking feral. I COULD BE A GOOD MOTHER!
People who draw the gore. The show would not exist without it, and some of yall are just cooking with the themes and context yall create. I am always so intrigued with what I will see next.
People who draw and make Dethklok lesbians. Of course Dethklok is lesbian. Why wouldn't they be?
People who draw the band in their "Dethfashion" clothes. WE NEEDED MORE TIME WITH THOSE OUTFITS! WE JUST DID!
People who have no clue how to draw a Fu Manchu. I had to look this up before I said anything but a Fu Manchu does not grow around the mouth, it's literally just hair from the top part of the mouth that continues to grow down. That's why in "Stare Down" Skwisgaar refers to Toki's mustache as an "extreme facial hairs". AND YET! I ADORE THE WAY SOME OF YALL DRAW IT, ITS VERY ATTRACTIVE AND CUTE!
People who draw the band members in their animal forms. YOU CAN TAKE THESE ANIMAL FORMS FROM MY COLD DEAD HANDS! PICKLES THE OCTOPUS IS SO SPECIAL TO ME, ESPECIALLY AFTER "Dethmom"! AND THE BUNNY/RABBIT SYMOLISM FOR TOKI AND WITH HIM BEING THE ANGEL OF DEATH, ITS SO GOD DAMN IMPORTANT!
People who draw Agere!Toki. Canon age regression is so rare and to have Toki being a canon and explicit example of an age regressor throughout the entire show is so special to me. JUST LET THE BOY REST!
People who draw Abigail. She's a girl boss. She's the moment. I will NOT tolerate hate on my woman, she did not deserve the shit she got.
People who draw Deaddy Bear. I want one so badly, it's not a joke.
People who draw Toki in skirts/dresses. One particular art work with Toki is in a long bohemian skirt and a band tee with a scarf is my all time favorite example of it.
The person who created Lasagna, Pickle's daughter, and then made her a bassist. I eat your shit up every single time I see new stuff from that AU.
People who draw the boys with more piercings. Especially the angel bites on Toki, the middle of the lip piercing for Murderface, and the gauges on Nathan and Skwisgaar.
People who draw Pickles during his Snakes N' Barrels era. THE HIGHER THE HAIR THE CLOSER TO GOD YOU ARE! AND PICKLES WAS CLIMBING THAT LADDER EVERY NIGHT!
People who draw Pickles pubes in the shape of his goatee like in "Rehabklok". That's one of the funniest visual gags in the entire show, I won't hear another word about it.
People who draw Charles. Every single one of you are invited to my Charles Offdensen themed birthday party.
People who give Toki the longest hair length but give Skwisgaar the most definition. Also, when they remember Nathan's little hair wisp in his face. Skwisgaar has the waves and Toki is afraid to getting a hair cut.
PEOPLE WHO DRAW GODKLOK! GOATED AS FUCK! THE COOLEST FUCKING PEOPLE EVER! I AM FOREVER IN YOUR DEBT! EVERY SINGLE ITERATION IS SO FUCKING GOOD!
People who draw Top/Dom!Toki. LISTEN HE'S A SADIST, HE JUST GETS NERVOUS! IF YOU GIVE HIM TIME, HE CAN PROVE TO BE GREAT!
People who draw Nathan as the bottom. You understand what this man needs and it's to get railed.
People who draw the boys in jeans. Listen. This one is really niche but for whatever reason, this fandom puts these boys in a pair or jeans and they are looking as fine a fucking WINE!
People who draw the cowboy Dethklok fan art. What is it like wielding the power that you have?
That's all that I think of at the moment, but I really do appreciate all of the different kinds of fan artists this fandom has. There is some absolutely beautiful pieces in this fandom.
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cario55555 · 3 months
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Gonna be taking a bit of a break from art and such and so, specifically cotl stuff mainly because i got abunch of wips in the backlog and others stuff to doodle but also i like this little freakshow im making too so have abunch of fun facts about the funny lamb universe i got goin on for now under the cut
⁍ The Lamb would canonically win in a fight against 4 Leshy's or 2 Heket's, but not 3 Shamura's or 2 Kallamar's. ⁍ The Goat literally just walked into the Cult and acted like he already knew everyone. This somehow worked for 3 years. ⁍ I have no idea if Narilamb is canon in this or not, but if it was then it would not end well for anyone ⁍ Plimbo is the best character, this is a fact and you cannot dispute it. I tried designing him like 8? times and I just couldn't get it in a satisfying way. this is because he is without flaw. ⁍ The Lamb was fully aware of the prophecy before the beheading. They were counting on it. There is blood on their hands. ⁍ Sozo is very dead. Whatever's walking around the Cult, that's not Dr. Sozonius. ⁍ Look at this thing I can do ☺ isn't that wild ⁍ It takes place in a permadeath save. This means that the Lamb's delusions of power definitely weren't helped by the fact that they BARELY even knew Narinder, and the fact they killed 5 gods without sleeping. ⁍ Also Lamb killed Narinder lol ⁍ Mystic Seller is named "That Which Takes" ⁍ Leshycat's canon but I'll never design them its just gonna be like in Tom and Jerry where they're just slightly offscreen at all times ⁍ Midas that rat fuck owes me 20$ ⁍ Surprisingly, Heket got the closest to killing The Lamb. She wears this as a badge of honor, or as a means to make fun of the other Bishops. I forget which. ⁍ I might make a fanfic one of these days based on cult of the sham but it'd literally just be an always sunny episode lol ⁍ Webber is literally the exact same as the one from Don't Starve. They had to put him down because he kept placing spider nests all over the Cult, and Pigs kept trying to throw down. ⁍ A little gnome just ran behind you when you weren't looking. ⁍ The Lamb is ambidextrous, this is because I keep forgetting which hand to have them hold stuff with. They also have no idea what this word means. ⁍ The gnome ran behind you again you gotta pay more attention to this stuff ⁍ ☺sorry i didn't mean to do it that time ⁍ Clauneck and Kudaai like switching clothes and acting like eachother to fuck with people, it works every time without fail. ⁍ Aym and Baal are hanging out with Forneus. The Lamb didn't let them do this, they literally just booked it as soon as they got the chance and Forneus totally could beat the shit out of The Lamb. ⁍ help its red now ⁍ nevermind we're good ⁍ Ratau was driven mad by the crown. He's had the knowledge of the gods ripped from his skull and delicately placed onto some psychopathic woolen beast. He's not all there. ⁍ Any time I'm working on COTL stuff I'm usually listening to King Gizzard and the Wizard Lizard. To get the general tone I try and set, listen to their album "I'm In Your Mind Fuzz". Good stuff. ⁍ The Industrial Meat Grinder incident was an inside job.
thank y'all for all the support, means the world that people actually like the delusional ramblings that come out of my brain at...
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yeah that tracks.
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also one more little mini preview for a drawing that might get finished one of these days idk
why is webber there i genuinely do not remember???
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seat-safety-switch · 1 year
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People ask me how I learned about so many different things. It's easy: I experiment a lot. Some folks are afraid to try pushing a new button in their word processor, or trying an alternative cooking time on their microwave. They know what works, and they fear that deviating from that golden path will lead them to horrible, confusing misery as the thing they rely on has broken, and it's all their fault.
Friends: everything I own breaks all the time. It is literally impossible to discern "my fault" from "it was just old." That's where my power comes from. I push whatever button I want, and then find out what it does. Sometimes it burns up a wiring harness, or ejects some part of the machine that I needed. Most of the time, though, I learn about a cool new feature I didn't know existed. For instance, did you know that the doors in my car can lock?
Now, I don't want to sound like I'm always trying out new things. For years, I'd been afraid of pushing different buttons on my washing machine. You see, it's very old, and a little finicky, and I had finally found a magic combination of options that got my clothes washed without turning them into microplastic dust. Then, one morning, I got a little froggy. Things hadn't been going well for me in the other projects, and I wanted to assert some control over my life. I pushed the "Custom Program" button.
Nothing seemed to happen. In fact, the screen went blank. And then I heard the helicopters. You see, I never got a manual with this clothes washer (because I found it floating in the river.) I had no idea what "Custom Program" would do, but secretly hoped it would unlock magic cleaning powers. What it actually did was cause the LG Corporation to mark me for death.
Just because I've been on the run from snipers and other heavily-armed mercenaries for the last sixteen months is no reason for you not to experiment. For instance, you could go push the "Custom Program" button on your own washing machine. That would probably draw away at least half of the highly trained assassins bearing down on me at this exact moment. Hell, maybe push it two or three times, really help me out. I would love to have a little more time to myself and less spent fleeing gun-toting psychopaths. Who knows what I'll discover next?
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fullstcp · 11 days
Text
Behind the Eyes Sentence Starters
( dialogue prompts from the ninth episode of the fifth season of fox's prison break. feel free to edit and change as you see fit )
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"Do you know that you're a psychopath?"
"Look, you want to screw something up?"
"Nobody wants to die to their old life."
"Kept telling myself this was gonna be my last lie."
"That is not your child."
"You son of a bitch."
"You didn't love me. Your ego's too big."
"Our love was real."
"I still love you."
"Got to give you credit."
"This place is gonna burn down in ten minutes."
"I didn't draw a map."
"We need to run."
"What are you doing up here?"
"I just want to make sure that we're getting the right guy."
"Maybe we should ask questions, damn it."
"We get this done the right way."
"I told you. We want to disappear, we disappear."
"Don't make me choose like this."
"Is it really even a choice?"
"Don't turn around. Run! Go!"
"Come back to me. Come back to me, sweetheart."
"We got to stay focused, alright?"
"This is not over. Not by a long shot."
"You didn't let me down. You couldn't have known."
"We're so close because of you."
"You got me home."
"There's nothing we can do."
"We've got to get you out of here right now."
"Is the blood freaking you out like it's freaking me out?"
"I'm gonna take you somewhere safe, where those people that are trying to hurt you can't reach you."
"Why would they try and hurt me?"
"It's because I love you. And they're trying to hurt me."
"There are some things I haven't told you about me."
"I sent that letter to you for a reason."
"We'll be safe here for now."
"I know this is gonna be hard to believe, but I'm basically a secret agent."
"We were just talking about you."
"I'm giving you one last chance to save your life."
"Are you threatening my life?"
"I want you free and clear, and if that's the only way to do it, then I got to be the one that does it."
"They don't got the killing gene."
"No one is getting caught."
"There's a very specific order to this."
"Do we work together, make a trade so we both get what we want?"
"You had me running there for a bit, thinking I'd done something wrong."
"You brought me all this way."
"You gave me family."
"Don't touch that, please."
"You're not holding the cards."
"You're better than I thought."
"The truth is whatever you tell people it is. You taught me that."
"I guess I would have one question for you."
"What's really strange is...things actually working out."
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yanderes-galore · 6 months
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Hi can I make a request for Yan!Jeff the killer creepypasta prompts 3, 8, & 15? I couldn’t find whereabouts which CP characters you do, if you’re not comfortable with doing that then it’s fine no worries! Love your writing <3
I have actually written for Jeff before! It's been a long time, however... so I am using the old concept I wrote to figure out how to write him in this.
Yandere! Jeff The Killer Concept
Yandere! Jeff The Killer Prompts 3, 8, 15
"You'll love me, even if we have to sit and wait for it to happen."
"I could look into those eyes forever...."
"Please smile for me... don't make me force you...."
Pairing: Romantic
Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Breaking and entering, Restraints, Sadism, Violence, Blood, Manipulation, Threats of murder, Horror themes, Forced "relationship".
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"You always look so anxious during my visits...!" Jeff teases, circling you like a shark. Your wrists are tied to a chair... rendering you immobile. You can only watch as the psychopath toys with you.
"Y'know... I always look forward to our little dates." He chuckles, causing your eyes to flick towards the crudely cut smirk on his lips. "You soothe me... I just do wish you'd stop trying to call for help."
"You're delusional... why haven't you just killed me? Why do you bother just coming back?" You stare at the killer with a fearful gaze.
"Oh...I could look into those eyes forever...." Jeff whispers, leaning closer. "Why wouldn't I keep coming back? Ever heard of love?"
"Love? You don't know love." You hiss, Jeff pretending to look hurt as he circles behind you. You feel his hands on your shoulders... the blade in his hands eerily close to your neck.
"Wow, my love is so cruel to me~" Jeff teases. "Maybe this isn't love for you..."
Jeff then turns your head to look at him, his grin in your peripheral vision.
"However... this is love to me. I haven't felt this way towards anyone." Jeff coos, removing his hands and circling back around to face you. "While you may not understand that now..."
His knife presses to your throat again.
"You'll love me, even if we have to sit and wait for it to happen." Jeff threats, enjoying the fear in your eyes. "I'll be patient for you... only if you remain silent about our late night dates."
Jeff notices you freeze, worrying for your family. It makes him want to giggle. Always caring for your family...
If only you cared that much for him.
"You wouldn't want anything to happen to them, would you? I could easily hunt them down... make it look like they died in a fire... all an unfortunate accident." Jeff whispers, his blade pressing just enough to draw a bit of blood from you. "All because you wanted to call for help and ignore your new boyfriend...."
Jeff notices tears run down your cheeks, he tsks and pulls the blade away. It seems he's gone too far. He sighs, leaning down before cupping your cheek.
"Sorry, baby... I got a bit too... excited I suppose." Jeff sighs, massaging your cheek with his thumb. "Didn't mean to make my love cry."
You merely stare with sobbing eyes. He didn't really enjoy you looking so sad. You look so much better happy...
A beautiful smile on your face would suit you more.
"Please smile for me..." Jeff encourages, seeing your shaking. When he doesn't see your smile, he looks unamused and brings his knife to the corner of your lips. "Don't make me force you...."
With a shaky breath, you tug your lips into a smile. Tears still stream down your cheeks but Jeff wipes them away, pulling the knife from your face. He then kisses your cheeks, bloodshot eyes never leaving your face.
"There you go..." Jeff coos, pressing his thumbs on the corners of your lips to keep your smile.
"You look so adorable with a smile on your face."
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