#ive always wanted all the pictures from this shoot

[icbmil]

May 15, 2020

[iznsfw]

Reputation, Or Whatever That Is

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 12 - Jang Wonyoung

IVE's Jang Wonyoung x Male Reader Smut

7,063 words

Categories | daddy kink, brat!Wonyoung, squirting, blowjob, please appreciate Wonyoung's power bottom capabilities

Sorry, Yena is coming out sometime but I wanted to finally write something timely. JANG WONYOUNG WHAT THE FUCKKKKK.

Please bear with the religious metaphors, I have Catholic guilt and Wonyoung reignites it. I'm not sorry for all the other fucked up shit here I'm just ooga boogaing because what the FUCK

It’s a little brighter today than usual. The sun surely knows what's about to happen upon its rising. It has no plans of telling you beforehand, so you’re forced to find out yourself. 

You open Instagram, which is insane because you never bother to look at pictures—much less edited, filtered ones made for meaningless impressions. Your blissful ignorance of online concepts is what would make your fans hate you if they had space in their deluded hearts to. Or maybe that’s your age talking.

But today, clicking on that app is what you do, and that already should have been a sign that something’s not right. The usual run of your universe has gone off course. Who could have made that so?

Coffee. The black stillness that’s pure of sweetness and sugar. That’s supposed to keep everything normal. You sip on it as you scroll through clickbait, fan accounts, edits—

Then you wish you never took that hot gulp at all.

Wonyoung. 

It’s all because of her. 

She stands there from behind your screen, silky hair tangled in those lithe long fingers. She’s looking at the camera like she wants whoever took the time to click on her profile to come over and fuck her right now. Man or woman, poor or rich—it doesn’t matter. What ought to matter though is the fact that she doesn’t have someone’s hands slipped around her waist and pulling her close.

You shouldn’t even be thinking about it.

Usually, she’s dressed in knitted pink coats and miniskirts; looking fashionable but modest, modest but unplain. That’s what everyone loves about Jang Wonyoung: she’s prim, sweet, and the daughter of the nation. 

Now, she’s the ideal girl to take right home and have your wicked way with. Yes, you’d feel guilty since she’s so young, just the little age of nineteen. Still, that doesn’t mean you’d have any regrets. She’s the kind of girl you can’t get away from. You’ll always come back for more.

You’d hate to be so upfront, but there’s no other way to interpret it. 

There’s that fucking denim bra hugging her tiny chest, stitched up so high that her abs are on full display. That little pinch of a waist curves so perfectly right up to her wide hips that invite and invite and invite—

Remember to exhale.

So, yeah. That’s how Wonyoung ruined your day, and you barely had your morning coffee.

A text message from your boss appears. You nearly miss it because of how you’re staring all ogle-eyed at the tempting girl on your screen. Before you even click it, you already know what you ought to do. 

hey, it reads, you need to—

-

—go to Wonyoung, and for such a scandalous photo, she’s chosen a remote but classy hotel only the biggest stars know of to shoot it. 

There’s no going back when you drive like you’re running from the law when you’ll break one if you pull the wrong stunt with her. Your throat’s coiled with an unreleased breath that won’t go away unless you see her. It’s like traveling with the promise of meeting a goddess, and although you’re not religious anymore, you wear very, very close to rediscovering faith.

The hotel is grand—clear marble floors and shining chandeliers—and it’s no surprise. Wonyoung wouldn’t have things any other way. You know that when she’s come to your office to complain about her outfits and brands. 

You go up to the desk with prepared evidence for what you’re going to say. “I’m an associate of your client miss Jang Wonyoung,” you say to the lady tapping away behind her computer, “and I’ve come to visit her.”

Associate? It’s more like mentor. You’re a veteran idol whose efforts inspire the rookies, therefore getting you the responsibility of looking out for Wonyoung. So, father figure, maybe? You wince at that.

She makes a polite sad look, still not removing her eyes from the screen. “I’m sorry, miss Jang doesn’t have—”

Slide your ID card on the counter.

She glances at it, stiffens, then looks up at you. There’s only one of you in the entire South Korea, and although the 1x1 traces back to when you were a bit more youthful, it’s not hard to put two and two together. 

She apologizes quickly and offers you an elevator ride exclusive for VVIPs. Smile. It’s been a while since your last return to music, but everyone knows you here. Everyone knows your power.

Wonyoung’s place is the first room on the twelfth floor, a flinching irony.

Knock. You rap your knuckles three times for good luck and charm, because you’ll need it with her. Jang Wonyoung is everything save an easy girl. You remember the many times she refused to give up a debate on how she’s managed, how she’s styled, how she’s treated. She wants things to go her way only.

“Wonyoung,” you call out. Fidget with the handle of the door that refuses to budge. “It’s me.”

Knock a little more. There’s no eye behind the peekhole or a soft “come in.” You receive only the unlocking of the furnished knob and a welcome that makes you wish this could go the way your morals would want it to go.

The door opens you to a gorgeous suite that’s the supreme of all room tiers. This is the kind that only the richest of the rich are able to attain. Big as a house with a soft carpeted ground, there’s a queen-sized bed before a wide window of the city. Picture frames commissioned by the wealthy hang from the painted walls. All for the fucking aesthetic.

Even you, a star who paved the way for the Korean entertainment industry itself, aren’t used to this type of wealth. 

Find her sitting on the ledge of the window frame. Wonyoung has her hands resting on the sides of the window frame. She doesn’t try at least a stance at nonchalance—no admiring stare at the beautiful view, no worried gaze at her clean fingernails. Her interest is you standing before her like you’re afraid to touch her. She might be right, but it’s not like you’d ever have it in you to admit that.

Even you, a man lusted over by girls and women all over the world, aren’t used to this kind of woman—the kind that eats away at you.

“Wonyoung.” Inside, you feel like the weakest man in the world.

She has this smarmy, confident smile on her perfect lips that tells you that it’s no surprise that you’ve come all the way here for her. No surprise at all. She expected it. Anticipated it, if you will.

Don’t mistake the coquettish float of her lashes for theatrics. No, Jang Wonyoung’s just naturally someone you’d want to fuck, no matter the politics of it. “Yes?”

Her voice is also just that pretty. That’s a large part of why it’s so hard to act professional in front of her when she’s your mentee. Even more so by the fact you’re someone she’s looked up to for the majority of her trainee years, which is already something that would make people’s brows lift.

“Wonyoung.” You let your shoulders rest. “Why are you still dressed like that?”

You know all the dialogue that passes around the general public. Oh, Jang Wonyoung’s so gorgeous! Jang Wonyoung’s even more beautiful in real life! You hate to say you can’t disagree. She’s deadlier in person; her body’s there before the glass like she’s waiting for someone to give in to temptation. That coy simper can ruin careers. It can ruin yours. 

To think it all could be gone because of a nineteen-year-old celebrity with a tiny waist and legs you’d love to have around your head.

“Why are you still dressed like someone from the eighties?” Wonyoung taps her chin, then grins. She’s figured it all out. “Oh wait, you are.”

You’re not taking insults from someone who’s below you in experienced years and power. Unluckily, she’s not taking advice from someone above her or below her.

The step you take towards her, towards the little star seated comfortably waiting for you, feels like a sin. 

“You’re incredibly unprofessional for a girl who’s worked her way up here,” you note. Cross your arms and give her a reprimanding look. 

Wonyoung’s immune to nasty looks, too. She’s been doing this since she was a child. If someone gave her a glare that read all too well of a career assassination, she’d wink the bullet away sweetly. “Hm,” she says contemplatively, “I don’t think you get to say that, honestly.”

Your laugh is blunt and sarcastic. Unbelievable. Wonyoung’s the kindest girl according to the people who work for her, so why is she a rebel in your hands? It doesn’t make sense.

“Look here, we—”

You take three steps closer to her. You’ll keep your little rituals and superstitions to keep yourself grounded. Without them, you’d go insane. 

Then without her having to do anything, she comes nearer, like a doomsday foretold by a ticking clock. Who knows? That clock could be a bomb, and that bomb would set off if you dare to touch her with a trembling fingertip. You’d leave the scene injured. And eventually, you’d die the moment they try to help you, because the deed’s been done.

“Oh, I’m looking, alright,” she chirps. She’s doing what you’ve held yourself back from doing: letting her eyes wander. “And I really, really like what I see.”

You’re someone several awards her senior, and you’re still quite intimidated by her at this moment. She’s so sweet yet so honest—she won’t make up a lie to make you feel better and she won’t hide the truth to make you comfortable. Refuse the truth her eyes locked on your crotch tell. You won’t accept it. It’s not right.

“I’m serious.” Approaching her makes you want to go on your knees and beg the lord for a little saving. Do it anyway. No one will rescue you. That’s what the industry taught you. “You’ve made it all the way up here. All by yourself. There’s gotta be something. What are you throwing it all away for?”

She laughs. Funniest thing she’s ever heard. “I’m not. How am I throwing it all away?” 

“Those posts,” you hiss. Doesn’t she get it?

Before she could ask you what you’re talking about, you whip out your phone. Click on the app icon. It instantly shows you the opened tab containing Wonyoung’s recent Instagram posts. Look at her, wrapped in nothing, not even those curtains—giving the camera bedroom eyes when girls her age shouldn’t be shooting them at anyone or be aware of how to. 

It’s already massed a million likes in under an hour. But you know what people who turn on anyone easily will say, and what they say could blot Wonyoung’s bright future by a lot. A million people around the world have caught sight of the abs she’s worked hard for, her toned back, and just about everything. A loud minority with frisky influences can sabotage her whole reputation.

“These posts,” you continue, shoving the screen into the poor girl’s face, “can take away everything you’ve worked for. All that fame, all that money, you can’t brag about them after this.”

Wonyoung looks on innocently. She stares at the screen with uninterested eyes, then switches them back on you. She looks like such a good girl in that second, with her hands seated beside her and that face so full of sparkling perfection. 

Deception can’t lead you away. 

“So, what’s it gonna be, Wonyoung?” 

Long silence that builds up your frustration. Finally, she clicks her tongue. Gives you a shrug of her thin shoulders.

“You liked it.”

“What?”

She points to your phone. “You liked my post,” she repeats. “It says so right there.”

What the hell is she talking about?

You look at the device you’re brandishing. For a while, you can’t find out what she’s referring to. You can never take a liking to her posts, although if they switch on something you didn’t know you can feel. You’d die before—

The heart. 

Wait.

The heart button below her set of pictures is filled with red.

Your heart pumps faster, a button pushed and played.

Fuck.

You turn to her and open your mouth. No sensible words come out. You swear you didn’t tap twice on her update or take it to a private setting. How did it happen? Worse, even if you say that to her, she’d take it as a pathetic lie.

Wonyoung giggles. It’s a tinkly sound that’s adorable, but you’ve long realized that being cute is not all there is to her. She rises slowly, sets her palms over your blazer-clad arms, and gives you an empathetic face. It’s so condescending that you want to dissolve. 

“I know what men like you are all about,” she tells you. She speaks with a sultriness that makes you feel warm and has bumps appearing in masses across your skin.

She smiles. Her eyes disappear into crescent moons and the dimple appears on her cheek. You’re done for. 

“Come on,” Wonyoung continues, squeezing your forearms. “Here you are, a big old man known for being a good singer or whatever. You’re so popular that the first thing that pops up on Naver is your face. Everything goes right for you, doesn’t it?”

You have no idea where she’s going with this. You’re afraid to even ask. Your teeth grit as her massages grow stronger, harder. 

Something else is, too.

“Then, of course, you see me.” 

Her hand. It’s curling around your wrist and bringing your fingers right around that flawless waist. She closes them there tightly.

It’s so bad that it’s good. You want to keep touching her, maybe slip your gliding fingers down her jeans. Oh, you shouldn’t. You can’t.

“You see me, and you get all hot and bothered. And what’s so funny is I’m not even doing anything. I’m just being myself, you know. Being young and rich… a beautiful girl…” Wonyoung is unbuttoning your shirt and you don’t realize it. “You can’t understand how I’m allowed to be this hot when you can’t even fuck me with a normal conscience.”

It’s all so wrong. You want to shake her by the shoulders and tell her to shut up. But if Medusa has her eyes, Wonyoung has her lips to turn you to stone. They keep opening elegantly to speak the filthiest, most fucked up shit, and you can’t deny anything.

Her eyes are creased with knowing pride. Her youth doesn’t rescue her from being so messed in the head already. Those thoughts don’t go along with such a pretty face.

“That’s why you like to get rough with me. You tell me to watch how I speak, watch how I act. You tell me to stop talking to you like you’re no one. You tell me that I’m such a little brat. But you only do that so you can get to control me. That’s your most fucked up dream, right?”

Her mouth is the tiniest space away from your chin. 

You’re another word away from saving yourself a spot in damnation.

Her finger that scratches a flaw on your blazer beckons you to the fire. “You’re not breaking the law or anything,” says Wonyoung, “so why not break me instead, daddy?”

That’s a deal sealed with a rough kiss.

You grab her cruelly and cover her lips with yours. They’re more amazing than you imagined, soft and competent with how she pushes in deeper, depriving herself of the air she needs the most just to get what she needs just a bit more:

You. 

Your tongues collide and clash, striving to get the most taste. She pulls your blazer off (because fuck professionalism, right?) while she kisses you with a hunger that’s equally mental and physical. It’s not like she’d bruise up if you didn’t get your hands on her yet it’s close to that. 

And, in your case, it’s not like you’re breaking any law. She’s nineteen, not anywhere under the limits you’d kill others and yourself for touching. Nonetheless, you’re much older—by age, she could be your daughter; by career, she’s your junior; by power, you’re much stronger. 

So, it’s still so wrong.

Can’t be when Wonyoung’s fist, firm around your cock, feels so right. 

Can’t be when she lands on the edge of the bed with her lips parted in delight as she watches your dick stiffen under her service. 

“There you go, daddy,” she coos, smirking. “Just get all hard for me, then you can stuff that big thing up in my pussy.”

Her thumb toys with your cockhead. You purse your lips to hold back a groan. Let go of it anyway when her smooth, closed palm rubs your sensitive flesh. She cups your balls lovingly before gliding her teasing fingertips under your length, right up to your tip. The girl knows how to do this; she’s good at more things other than MCing and performing.

Wonyoung hones this skill with firmer pumps, giving you the handjob of a lifetime. Her long fingers are just made to handle dick. Each stroke is perfection that holds and pulls and slides. You’re leaking so much already. 

So you turn into the driver of the hate train, the press that loves getting her bad angles and the articles that slash up her name:

Blame it all on her. 

Because you have here a girl, young and pretty and confident, so of course you have to scrape off your sins and nail them all on her, like a quivering hand to wood.

“You think you’re getting it that easily?” you say. Your moan is squeezed in your throat. “Baby, you’re not even close to it.”

Wonyoung smirks. It’s that self-assured, elegant smile that tells you that won’t work on her. She might be a rookie, but she knows how to play the game. 

She tightens her grip painfully. That’s what you get for trying to one her up. Do that to anyone, just not Jang Wonyoung. Your cry goes unheard as she yanks you rather than jerks you off. Spits on your head for good measure. Wonyoung’s eyes make a connection with your soul and says, Yep, that’s what I’d do if you weren’t my senior. In fact, I’d do it regardless. I’d choke and spit and leave you to die, because a pretty Samaritan is better than a good one.

“You’re really out of touch, daddy.” 

With Wonyoung slathering her drool all over you, you’re forced to teeter on the line between heaven and hell. It burns yet the offer of pleasure leaves you sated.

“You think I’m like the pretty girls out there? Other girls might have broken down and begged you to come back.” 

Your rod is subjected to a brief torrid kiss, then a smile as the wicked girl looks up at you.

She laughs, gives you this smile full of haught and womanly power. “Too bad I’m Jang Wonyoung,” she says, her last words before taking you in.

Yes, it’s too bad she’s Jang Wonyoung. It’s too bad she’s not the other girls who’d kneel for a burning touch of stars like you. She wouldn’t be holding control over you with the power of her lips if she had sanity in that pretty head.

Her plump tiers wrap around you and seize everything, encasing it in softness and wetness. Her tongue, the one she uses as a killer expression for her selfies and Instagram updates, kills you all the same with how it swirls around your skin and tastes you. Trying to pretend the girl wasn’t a pro at this like she is with everything else is useless. She’ll keep proving you wrong and overpowering you.

The whole of your shaft is sucked in, then, when her cute nose is pressed directly to your stomach, she lets out a hummed laugh. You shudder—as much as it makes you feel good, fear grips your muscles and makes them limp. She’s loving how wrong everything is, and you’re not sure if you like it.

Her jaw slacks, and then Wonyoung’s swallowing you like you’re water. Can’t be water when you’re this solid in her throat. You let out a shivering groan. You can picture the bulge in Wonyoung’s neck and it’s the last thing you’d count on turning you on, but they did tell you to expect the unexpected. 

Her saliva becomes excessive, resulting in some dribbles down her chin that help her work her mouth on you. Wonyoung’s drool sheens you entirely and she keeps adding more. On the occasion she pushes her face into your stomach, your cock gets wetter. She does, too. 

“Fuck.” Cussing won’t help deter the onslaught of pleasure. You’re unsalvageable. Say it anyway. You babble meaningless, slurred words and not one gets to Wonyoung. All she can hear is the sound of your quivering moans and her mouth taking you all in.

She becomes less of an idol, less of the elegant princess for the cameras, and instead a fleshlight. However, she reminds you that it isn’t that way with a fierce sneer that stays on at all times. She’s not your girl—she’s Jang Wonyoung, and you’re already incredibly lucky that she chose to go down on you.

All that beautiful hair isn’t of any purpose if you don’t get to touch it, to gather it in a ponytail, to pull on it. Your fingers creep into her brown locks not only to give it a little meaning but also for sanity. 

That isn’t a thing in Wonyoung’s world. She pulls your hand off and slaps it on your side. “No,” she says with a shake of her head. “Daddy can’t touch me, not when he’s pretending that he’s hot shit.”

Her nails bury themselves in your hips. Oh, the manicured talons of a gorgeous monster. Oh, the pain that runs through your sides. Should you run before she devours you? Too late for that.

“Wonyoung,” you breathe, and then ask, genuinely: “What the hell is wrong with you?”

She’s so proper and serene on her shows that not even her most desperate fan would think she’s a terror. They don’t know she’s a girl who likes older, weaker men who’d ruin her if she hasn’t the pretty face and attractively black heart to do them the favor instead. 

“What’s wrong with you?” 

You’d respond if you knew the answer.

Wonyoung rubs her thumb under your dick, sending little sparks aflying. “Why’d you kiss me earlier?” Her lipstick decorates it as a kinder girl would to your face. “Why didn’t you grab my hair and tell me to be a good girl? Why didn’t you leave? It’s not my fault you want to fuck me.”

All these words of destruction and your cock remains standing. It’s a staunch reminder to her that you can say whatever you want and the hard evidence remains. You want to fuck Wonyoung. You want to do it to a rookie who’d turn the story around on you if it ever came out. You want to fuck her so bad it’s borderline pitiable.

“I’m just giving you what you want, daddy.” Her fingers caress your sides. “Trust me, I could be a very good girl if I wanted to.”

You almost didn’t believe that until Wonyoung started to suck you off again. 

Her lips stroke you effortlessly as if this were her pastime. That’s your most accurate guess, because this seamless performance—the one of her mouth working on you with the impression that this whole thing is nothing to her—can’t be a natural gift. The combination of dripping saliva and her soft lips is lethal.

It’s unbelievable how she manages to find all your tender spots. She preys on them, licking and licking until you’re very sure you were going to blow all over her. But you can’t give her that satisfaction. 

You’re very close to doing so though. She’s perfectly sloppy and rough. You glare at her when she lightly teases her teeth on your girth. She winks at you in response. She leaves you breathless in so many ways. 

“Wonyoung, Wonyoung, god—” you whine. It’s so hard to adapt to the girl sitting there with that innocent face and wild mouth that doesn’t dare give up on you. 

Her expressions on camera are always poised. Off camera, there’s this one she flashes you as she shoves her face into your stomach that looks downright evil. Although she’s already fucking you with her throat, Wonyoung partners it with strong suction that’s sure to drain you. 

“Yes, daddy?” She doesn’t pant when she goes up for air, replacing her sucking with her long fingers. 

“I’m really close,” you admit. It’s obvious from your shaking legs. 

Sounds of returned wet suction start to increase. Criticism and compliments prod Wonyoung on. How else would she improve in her idol life? In blowing you? In devouring you?

You realize you’re fitting the cliché. There’s you, an idol whose name is uttered on the daily by both young and old fans, igniting a scandal in the making by fucking a girl beneath you in everything. There’s this expensive suite where stars go for a little precious privacy to do what they want. There’s the two of you doing exactly what you desire: fucking each other. There’s the classic maneater trope with how it’s more like Wonyoung fucking you—she fucks you with her face, fucks you in the head, fucks with your righteousness. Well, fuck.

Wonyoung drools so much that you’re invited to a sea the moment your head pushes past her tongue again. It’s slicker, sloppier, and so much sexier because she’s so completely devoted to your cock. Her hypnotizing eyes trap you and so does her body, tight and tiny—that tummy is flatter than a board and only thin panties hide what her long legs lead to from the bottom.

The only time she stops sucking you is when she darts her tongue side to side with an unhinged pace on your sensitive tip. “Good. Cum in my throat.”

“Shit, god, I can’t—”

Wonyoung attacks you again, and there, in her warm orifice, your plentiful orgasm spends itself. Her throat welcomes you tightly every time. Her hot restricted breaths fan your groin and evokes more semen that spills with no care. 

Your hands ball into fists. Although you’re hot and shaking, you can’t touch her. Why are you following her rules when it should be the other way around? It’s a reversal of roles, a Stockholm’s Syndrome of some sorts whose victim is your cock never wanting to leave from the predatory embrace of Wonyoung’s puckered kiss.

Of course, after she gathers all of your cum in the pool of her mouth, she swallows.

She really could be a good girl.

“Awh.” Wonyoung pouts mockingly. “Daddy, are you crying?”

Touch your face. To your horror, she’s right. The electricity and shock of her continuous blowjob results in a few tears on your cheeks. You haven’t done that in years. Wonyoung is the first one to make you cry like this.

You flush. What more to hide your weakness than anger? “Wonyoung,” you start, then you realize you don’t know what to say, “I—you—”

She smiles. You aren’t going anywhere.

She shoves you to the bed. You’ve reached rock bottom in spite of the softness of the quality pillows. You’ll scrape your way out if not for Wonyoung finishing the job by keeping you there assisted by her legs. They close around you with not even a courtesy false promise of an escape. No negotiation, no coaxes. 

Wonyoung is sitting on your crotch but not on your dick, which is a problem. Which is a solution. Her hands are pinned to your chest while you try not to meet her eyes. It’s a losing game when your runaway glances are met by her grinding hips, silky thighs, and the hard, flexing abs of a perfection of a midriff. 

Her fingers tug on the waistband of her panties before slowly slipping them off. Her pink pussy clear of blemish or hair comes in contact with your length. Up and down she goes, her dancing hips always seeking for more friction. You understand their need because you share the same—Wonyoung’s splayed lips on your member feel heavenly. It’s kind of disappointing that she might as well have climbed her way out of hell.

If she did, she’s the prettiest little devil you’ve ever seen.

“Ohhh, don’t you get it?” Wonyoung asks. She moves so smoothly, you nearly forget she’s humping you rather than dancing. Her soft moan brings you back. It’s the first time you’ve heard it, and you’re melting; it sounds so seductive and innocent in the same breath.

You know her. She knows you. So it’s clear: Jang Wonyoung can be anything—supermodel, actress, dancer—but she cannot ever be innocent. 

Her gorgeous voice is silky when it twists into moans and gasps. Looking down at your crotches meeting and swaying is a better show than end-of-the-year performances. The blowjob and commanding you around must have turned her on by a lot—her flesh is hot and wanton with juices as it slides up and down you.

“You’re not going anywhere, daddy!” Wonyoung giggles. She kisses your nose, then your chest until her lipstick marks you. You burn up with feverish lust after each peck. “Daddy is only Wonyoung’s. And I knew your perfect cock would be mine when I posted those pics. I know men like daddy would do anything for me.”

“Wonyoung.” Breathe again, because you’ll need to after this, so why not do it now? “Why are you doing this?”

You thought her flirtatiousness in your office was just her coyness coming out to play. She’d rest her chin on your desk, suck a red lollipop on some days, maybe run her fingertips over your knuckles. Day in and out, she plays the same game. You didn’t know it would reach this level.

“Because I want to mess you up, daddy,” Wonyoung says. Her tongue swipes at the cavern of your mouth right until she nibbles at your lower lip. Her lipstick peppers your face. “I want to fuck my daddy up so bad he’ll never go a day without thinking of me.”

Swallow. The friction of your sexes is driving you crazy and close to the edge. All the same, you don’t want to make a fool of yourself cumming early for Wonyoung. 

What happened to your dynamics? Your relationship? There wasn’t a romantic one, but it was always you holding the reins professionally and her just being an insistent passenger. Now she’s wrapping that rein around your neck and claiming you for her own. Looks like you have control everywhere excluding the bed.

“That’s it?” you ask. Shut your eyes—just seeing her grind on you with her utterly wet cunt can make you bust. “Your career doesn’t matter to you?”

“I could say the same thing to you.” Wonyoung lifts herself up and flashes that wicked smile again. “But I want to feel this in me before you wimp out.”

You and Wonyoung fall down a bottomless hole of consequence and wrongs but Wonyoung makes sure to bottom out the first time she sits on your dick. She engulfs you whole and traps you there with her soaked, grippy walls that slide all the way down. 

You’d say her pussy has a vise grip, holding onto you like all goes wrong if it didn’t, except you think it has the grip of a vice. Need for her juices that coat you replaces the need for alcohol. Even if you get out of this suite alive, (which is a low possibility), you can see yourself always coming back for more. You could be addicted to anything—smoking, eating, cheating—but it just so happened your vice is Wonyoung.

“Daddy!” she yelps, and from there you can’t count the times she slams her cute butt down your thighs. “Oh my god, daddy!”

Her dainty, cute yells make you throb inside her. Perhaps it’s the kittenish quality of it that turns you on so much. She sounds so appealing, so fucking ruinable that it’s surprising to see that she’s doing the ruining here. Her expression in bed is more animated than the ones she makes onstage—her nearly closed eyes look upwards while her mouth falls open. 

The squeeze of her tight, wet cunt renders your knees weak. It’s a good thing you’re lying down. Wonyoung makes sure you stay that way by penetrating herself with you over and over again. Her being barely a weight on you doesn’t stop you from lying there uselessly. You know better by now not to challenge her, not when each time you enter her vagina is better than the last. Her pussy is slippery and tight, proving to be the smallest and the best fit for your shaft simultaneously. Her hole is too tight and too good. 

“Is this all for me, daddy? Huh?” Wonyoung circles her hips, making you moan, then continues her up-and-down movements. “You’re so hard, you naughty daddy. I know you got a b-boner when you looked at my posts. Now I’m giving you another one.”

You always thought of Wonyoung as justifiably confident yet arrogant. She told you once at your desk that she doesn’t deserve a stylist who only has a four-star rating. She lamented about the lack of competence of her staff preparing her comeback stage. All those you turned down to give the topics of her complaints the benefit of the doubt, but you know she’s right. She doesn’t deserve less when she’s better than the best. She doesn’t deserve less when she knows her place: a royal throne. So you can’t deny that she’s too hot to handle, undiscriminating to you whose connections always have impossibly beautiful women somewhere in there.

She’s so hot that her small breasts bouncing from behind that denim bra and tube top looks appealing. She’s so hot that the heat between her legs grows wetter. She’s so hot that when her soft ass crashes down on you again, you don’t find it a repetitive bore. 

She’s so hot that you’d let the slim, tall girl use you until dusk turns to dawn, even if the curtains behind her are drawn apart and the secret cameras get to snap a photo.

“Shit, Wonyoung,” you say, your core squeezing. “You’re so fucking tight.”

“I bet you’ve thought about this, daddy. You thought that one night, I’ll be so bad that you could book us a whole hotel and fuck me in all the rooms, just like this one. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Yes, fuck yes.”

“You wanted to open my legs and use my little pussy all day long, huh? Until I’m yours to throw around and do whatever?”

“Y-yes.” Nod. Your face twists—she shouldn’t speak when she’s fucking you because all the filth she says makes you want to blow inside her already. It’s the kind of truth that arouses rather than hurts.

Wonyoung’s riding switches to a rapid intensity that makes you yell. She lets you in so deep to the point that her butt cheeks touch your heavy balls. She’ll drain them for sure; the pace she sets is terrifyingly quick. It seems that she becomes tighter after each bounce, and it’s not helping you hold out at all.

Watch the wildness in Wonyoung’s eyes become animalistic. It makes you all the more certain now of one solid fact: there is something seriously wrong with Jang Wonyoung.

She smirks. “Well, you got it wrong. I’m not all yours, daddy.” She leans down, resting her palms on your shoulders. “You are all mine.”

Her hands might as well be a chained collar waiting to close around your neck. Her devilish simper is supposed to scare you, not turn you on. Somehow, it does both. 

She flicks back her hair as she sits up again. Through it all, her riding doesn’t stop. “This cock?” she asks before slamming her pussy down it with a different kind of ferociousness. Cry out but she shuts you up with a furious kiss. “It’s gonna be my dirty secret. I’ll always go to daddy after my schedules so I can make him cum—over and over again.”

To think that a young girl like her has you at her beck and call is laughable, but there’s no laughing now. As you stare at Wonyoung’s fluid body and her hair bouncing beautifully, you realize she actually can have you for herself. It only took one Instagram post to lure you to her. She sees you’re falling deeper and deeper for her.

She didn’t exactly tell you how to escape.

“You gonna cum, daddy? Is my perfect pussy milking you?” 

You can do nothing except nod.

“Of course, I can feel you throbbing, i-it’s making me lose it,” gasps Wonyoung. Her whines are making you lose it yourself. “Let’s cum together, okay? You can only cum when you feel Wonyoung squirt all over your massive cock.”

She squeezes tighter on top of you when she reaches down to rub her clit. She’s in search of any kind of stimulation: the slap of her ass on your thighs, the upward shoves of your erection, the pulse of her clit. Her moans increase in their whiny girlishness. Their tender vulnerability makes you think she should be the one underneath your body though you’re aware that’s never going to happen. Wonyoung belongs on top, just the same with her name in first place in the list of brand reputation rankings, browser searches, followers.

Once upon a time, you took charge over her. You managed her lessons, her videos, her behind-the-scenes duties. Funny how it’s the opposite now, wherein she jounces on you freely with the domineering message of caution: don’t cum until she does.

And god, is she making that hard. Everything about her is so attractive, from the bounce of her hair to her midriff showing your entering cock to her pretty pink pussy clutching you. What gets you, however, is her face—everyone loves looking at that face. Today, you’re under an aphrodisiac for it: you’re in love with the roll of her eyes as she rides you, the pink on her cheeks, the part of her lips. 

“Fuck yes! Ugh, daddy, you feel so good inside me…” Wonyoung’s core clenches and slides your penis along its textured, sensitive walls. Her gasp is straight out of fantasies. “You’re balls deep, see? Look how your meat’s filling me. My pussy’s going to be so sore after this.” She chuckles. “Wait, who says we’re stopping?”

You shudder. You’re getting very close. Your earlier orgasm still has its effects on you. You’re afraid you’re going to do something you shouldn’t under her bedroom law. She’ll imprison you with her thighs and waterboard you with all the girl cum she promised until you confess that she’s the best fuck you ever had. 

“Daddy’s going to cum so hard he’s probably going to breed me. Then I’ll, oh, I’ll feel it inside my tummy and it’s going to be a scandal. Wouldn’t you like that? Getting to knock up Jang Wonyoung? I can hear you moaning. I think you really like that. I think that’s why you’re thrusting up in me. You want to be a real daddy and make your baby girl a mommy. That’s so fucked up, you know that, right? You shouldn’t be having sex with me, let alone breeding me. But you’re a fucking weak old man, so of course you like that.”

You’re burning up. They’re the signs of what’s to come. If her confident words inspire her young fans, her monologues of lust make you feel like you’re the worst person in the world. Of course, the boner is part of the effect. 

You groan. “Wonyoung, baby girl, please—”

“Oh god, daddy, I’m going to cum!” she squeals. Her emotions control her and tell her to go harder, bounce harder, squeeze harder. She’s pushing past her limits. “Agh, agh, you’re cumming, too, right? Cum for me. You’ll be—fuck, my daddy’s going to make me cum! I’m squirting all over his cock!”

She slams herself down roughly and repeatedly till your lower body’s flooded with her cum. You can’t take it anymore. It feels like dying because you swear you can see stars in the ceiling, stars of lust in her eyes. La petite mort. How poetic, since Wonyoung’s screaming still sounds as beautiful as her singing and speaking. 

Her shouts are close to breaking the windows’ glass. Anyone can figure out what’s happening without the destruction of the pane—the curtains are wide open, letting the world see the youngest icon of the new generation pumping herself onto her co-worker. 

You wonder if there’s actually poor watchers out there seeing you cream Wonyoung’s princess pussy, grab her ass to guide her, and kiss her when she leans down.

Wonyoung tastes the best when she’s squirting.

-

Consequences always catch up no matter what. You can hide under a cloak, in another country, underneath the earth in a secluded bunker and all that won’t help. You’ll be stuck dealing with the outcome, thorns from a rose you thought was too pretty to have some. 

That’s the first thing you remember when you wake up, wrapped in the bed sheets and by Wonyoung’s arms. Someone’s calling you. Bad news: it’s your boss—the ringtone itself sounds angry, too. 

“Hello?” you ask. You can’t help the grogginess of your morning voice, try as you may. If your boss didn’t know what happened, he can perfectly guess from the exhaustion riddling your greeting. 

“You dumb little shit.” You can feel the spittle of your boss’ insult from miles away, cities away, screens away. “You’re lucky I’m friends with the fucking CEO.”

“What happened?”

“Don’t give me that. Some janitor saw you from the wing. I needed to hear it from you: did you fuck Jang Wonyoung?”

Unexpectedly, a veiny hand you remember holding something else grabs your phone. Wonyoung leans against your shoulder wearing nothing as she holds the phone to her ear.

“Why?” she quips, loud and clear. “Wouldn’t you?”

[the-summ0ning]

Obsessive/Possessive!Bestfriend!Vessel HC :(

content warnings: swearing, oblivious ves :/, aware reader, poor editing, rambling, two idiots in love

a/n: I personally have beef with this one bc my Tumblr kept crashing as I wrote this on multiple occasions through the week, and I got fed up oops (so sorry if this is a bit eh). Pt 2 perhaps when I'm less ready to throw my phone and laptop against a wall maybe a more NSFW edition?

Bsf Ves who thought it was normal to feel intense emotions towards you. He was always intense and profound about his feelings in general, so why would that exclude his best friend?

He was protective, but he was protective of all the people he cared about?!

So of course it was so normal for him to always walk you home after hanging out even if your place was a breezy block away. It was only a bonus to keep the hang out going for fifteen extra minutes with one of his, if not, his most favorite person!!!

Especially during cold nights, and you’d grab his hand intertwining your chilled fingers with his. Always telling him how he was so warm and inviting, leaning into his touch. That flush on his cheeks? Psh from the brisk weather, nothing else, why’d you ask?

Ignoring the annoying feeling of butterflies in his stomach whenever he was in your presence

and you ignored the fact you weren't down bad for him

he was the first person you showed your shopping hauls to.

His personal favorites were when you'd send pictures in the dressing rooms asking for his opinion. Not caring if there nearly 20 attachments to go through

he was simply no help, he was but a guy, and thought you looked good in everything hehe

close best friends just always were overly affectionate with one another, right?

Like cuddling casually, legs entwined, his rough fingertips slipping underneath your shirt tracing patterns on your tummy :( not bc he liked how soft your skin felt, but bc it calmed you and made you less restless

or or or when he'd be writing lyrics or gaming, he'd be sitting on the floor, and you on the couch running fingers through his hair. All solely to help him focus. You couldn't help how he'd stop what he was doing to crane his neck upwards to stare dreamily at you with a dopey smile

When you knew you'd be spending the night at his house, you'd lotion extra, and spritz a couple more pumps of fragrance on you and your things. Not bc you had hopes it'd linger on his sheets, and you wanted to get his on and off situationship you weren't fond of secretly to get the hint to buzz off finally BUT bc you just liked to smell nice and clean to rot in bed with Vessel

And he totally didn't use boys night as an excuse to stay up and occasionally glance at your location, while you went out with pals, awaiting your “just got home” text. Finally feeling tired enough coincidentally once he got the notification and kicking everyone out or going home to bed.

Or pushing past his social anxiety, to go out and make his rounds with IV or Sam to the pubs for a pint or to watch a match. He was /totally/ a big sports guy like his two friends so why wouldn’t he enjoy a loud rowdy overstimulating environment to watch a game?

He, in fact, did not care for sports like Ivy and Sam did and only knew enough to keep up with conversations.

And he definitely did not subject himself to these nights only bc he knew you liked to end nights at these specific pubs or occasionally came out to meet your mutual friends for drinks. And certainly not to see you in real time in your going out outfit, even though he looked at the picture you sent him before leaving your place frequently throughout the night

“Oh hey! I didn’t know you’d be here? Let me buy your next drink darling!”

You knew Vessel too well, knowing his disdain for these social settings. So every time you saw him at your favorite pub, you’d shoot him a look and he’d only sheepishly smile.

“The guys dragged me out of the house. So annoying.” He’d groan, and rub the back of his neck in annoyance

Yeah he was so normal about you.

Like a normal best friend would disregard every person you dated right? You only deserved the best and dating that person is settling in Vessel’s eyes?

Scowling immediately when he’d meet them, grilling the fuck out of your date. Watching how their hands lingered on you throughout the night, and how his chest tightened, knowing that should be him beside you, touching you like that

It wasn’t jealousy, never that. Just that protectiveness he felt for you—and all his friends ofc (can’t forget his other friends)

After a series of failed dates, tonight taking the cake, you showed up to Vessel’s house, disappointed needing the comfort of your best friend. You came right from the date to his place still in your pretty outfit you wore.

His chest tight and aching seeing how upset you were curled up on his couch, in his hoodie and sweats, blundering on everything you could have done wrong rather than accessing what your date did wrong

Seething about it actually, how could the person that brought him so much joy think they could have royally screwed things up?! He’s met a handful of the people you dated, they were all so wrong for you!

If they were wrong, who was right then?

That is when it smacked him in the face rather aggressively, feeling agitated hearing you ramble how you must have been unworthy and so broken for someone to love you. But he had loved you so effortlessly, it was one of the easiest feats he has done in his lifetime. Your imperfections and all were laid bare to him, and he still hadn’t recoiled because of it.

“But I love you.” It tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

A half hearted smile on your face, sniffling, wiping your stray tears with the floppy oversized sleeve of his hoodie. “You’re my best friend, Ves. It’s different.”

What he didn’t know was your miserable effort to date was to distract and repress what you knew was love that blurred that bordered more than platonic would be unreciprocated. Realizing months ago, it was always more, but rather staying friends, keeping it locked away, in fear he'd reject you. That most of the conversations on your dates involved stories with him, only tonight, realizing that was your flaw so blatantly.

He was the brightest star of your universe. An overbearing presence that made your dates uncomfortable, but you had considered him and you a package deal for anyone wanting to get to know you

And when you'd moan about your love life woes, it subtly included him as well.

“Would it be so horrible if I love you more than a best friend should?” It was a quiet confession that you thought you imagined if he wasn’t on the other side of the couch facing you. Leaving air caught in your throat, speechless. The air growing tense with the silence between you two

“It wouldn’t be horrible.” You finally willed the words out, but your nerves were clawing at you not at the realization that your feeling were reciprocated.

"So let me then." he willed, inching closer to you. "Let me show you how you deserved to be treated, and stop entertaining these lame fucks." His face now so close to yours, hand cupping your cheek

You searched his eyes for any chance he was messing with you. This had to be dream right?? The brush of his thumb on your cheekbone the only thing grounding you back to earth. Only nodding dazed at his words making him smile gently. "I need words, dove." his thumb trailed to your bottom lip, dragging it down a bit.

"That's all I wanted to hear for months." You admitted shyly.

That was all it took for his lips to be pressed against yours in a soft kiss, all the tension dissolving and encrypted into the gesture. The love, frustration, and yearning melding between your mouths, his hand wrapping in the hair at the nape of your neck to bring you impossibly closer.

"We were never meant to be just friends." He mumbles against your lips.

"Never." you agreed, crawling into his lap.

[slasherbvnnie]

Until We Found You | Part VI

Part VI is finally here! I’m enjoying writing this mini series so much, I love my boys! Things might be going a bit slower now that spring break is up, but I promise to update as frequently as possible. Part VII is already half way written! I hope you enjoy, and as always, heed the tags.

Modern Day College Scream AU, Obsessed AFAB!Reader, Eventual Poly!Ghostface x reader, Eventual NSFW, All characters 18+

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VII Part VIII Part IX

Word Count: 1724

Your eyes narrowed at Stu, wondering why the usually laid back loud mouth was suddenly tensing from your surprise. “Yeah, he called me last night about it too, asked if he thought our professor would let him retake the exam,” he added in, pulling his gaze away from you before looking to Tatum. “Damn, I hope he feels better, tell him that for me, will you Sid?” She asked as Sidney nodded, “I will. Well, you should be heading to class, shouldn’t you?” She asked, looking to you and Stu, “Yeah, I don’t want the professor locking me out again,” Stu said as you gave a nod. “I’ll see you guys later,” you said to the girls before you and Stu headed off for class.

“What were you staring at me for earlier,” you questioned Stu, making him look down at you in surprise. “What do you mean?” He asked as you sighed, “you looked like I was gonna find out some big secret about Billy, like him cheating on Sid or that he’s ghostface,” you said half jokingly, making Stu chuckle. “Billy’s no killer, he may-“ “yeah yeah, may have crazy eyes but he’s no killer, you’ve said that already.” You said as he looked down, shaking his head. “Can we drop this until after the exam?” He asked, holding the door open for you.

Once you were sat down in your usual spot, you messaged Billy, shooting him a text about where he was. His response was that you sounded just like his dad, even sending you a picture of a paper with a doctors excuse for todays exam, telling you to just calm down and focus on your test. You felt better, feeling the stirring in your stomach calming down, but you had to admit Stu scared you for a second. You were crazy for thinking the killer was Billy, shaking your head at yourself for even thinking it. Not only would it be crazy, but that would also mean you unknowingly betrayed one of your best friends, Sidney. The thought made you feel guilty just for thinking it, sighing as you put your phone away to go over your notes before the test started. Whoever they were, you hoped they were safe and not dead in the woods somewhere.

After class you didn’t see Tatum or Sidney, wondering if they had another class that you had forgotten about today. You had left Stu behind, not forgetting about your promise to revisit the conversation from earlier but you just felt like you needed a moment to breathe before continuing it. You looked to your side, smiling as you saw one of the guys from your class. “Hey, hard test today, huh,” he said as you gave a little laugh and nodded. “Yeah, I think I did okay, but I’m probably a long ways away from a hundred,” you joked as he laughed. “If you ever need help, I’d be happy to have a study date with you,” he offered, flashing you a smile as you blushed. Your hand rubbed over your backpack strap, looking to him and humming, “a study date?” You asked as he stuttered, “well- not like a date date, just a study one…unless you would like the offer of a real date,” he said as you smiled. A few weeks ago you may have accepted, but you had two secret lovers now, two homicidal secret lovers. “Thanks but-“ you frowned when you felt an arm wrap around your shoulders, pulling down your turtle neck with their index finger. “She’s taken, Bailey, but we do appreciate your offer,” you heard Stu say as the other furrowed his brows. “Stuart? Aren’t you with Tatum?” He questioned as Stu laughed, “I am, but the little vixen here has a secret boyfriend, and we’re ninety percent sure they’re the killer so I would get to running if I were you,” he said, the other noticeably stiffening before walking off.

“Stu!” You yelled, pushing his shoulder to get him off of you. “What? I’m just telling the truth,” he said as you scoffed. “It is none of your business, and I wasn’t even going to accept! You didn’t have to scare him,” you huffed out at him, as he laughed. “You’re right, your ghostface boyfriend would’ve taken care of him instead,” he teased you, making a stabbing motion at you as you rolled your eyes. “Whatever, if I find him dead tomorrow my first suspect is you,” you joked as he smirked, “I’m honored,” he chuckled, putting his arm around your shoulder again. “I’m having a party tomorrow tonight, Tate is sending the troops to recruit, wanna come by?” He asked as you nodded, “good, her and Sid are out shopping for the food and stuff, wanna come with me and Billy for beers?” He hummed, you looking up to him, “isn’t Billy half dead?” You asked jokingly as Stu shook his head. “He was, said he’s better now,” he hummed as you nodded. “Drop me off at my house so I can change and drop my backpack off,” you said as he agreed.

You sighed as Stu once again turned up the stereo in the car, you sitting and praying that Billy would beat Macher up for ruining your eardrums at your young age as he walked to the car. “Stu, lower that shit down, half the town can hear it,” Billy said as he hopped in, Stu laughing and lowering it a little. “You two really sound alike, you know,” he said as he started off for the liquor store. “Feeling any better, Billy?” You asked as you turned his way, smiling a little when he answered yes. “You know I half thought you were the killer, Sid said one of Oliver’s friends got a stab at him yesterday,” you said jokingly, noticing the boys looking at each other before Stu burst into laughter. “He may have crazy eyes like one but Billy is no killer,” Stu said as Billy chuckled, “Yeah, just got food poisoning from shitty hall food is all. I’m going on a pure diet of frozen food now,” he said as he sat back and ran his hand over his face. “Maybe the beer will help you feel even better then, or at least make you forget you’re sick,” you joked.

The first stop was a bulk store to buy the beers, although Stu was loaded he didn’t enjoy spending the money on expensive stuff knowing other college kids were just most likely going to spill it on his floors. You pushed the cart as they boys walked on either side of you, Stu talking about the exam and giving Billy the answers he knew. “You know, Stu had me half believing you were the killer this morning,” you said jokingly, both boys heads whipping towards you. “Oh really, why is that?” Billy questioned you as he gave a glare to Stu. “I thought it was kinda weird to hear you were sick. I’ve known you for a year and you’ve never even gotten a cold, even fucking allergies. Then this one goes all bug eyed on me like I just found out a deep dark secret,” you said as Billy chuckled. “So why did that make you think it was me,” he hummed as he continued to walk, Stu stopping the basket as Billy held the freezer door open as Stu grabbed the beer cases.

“Didn’t Tate tell you guys? The killer was stabbed last night. I heard Weathers this morning reporting it, they managed to kill two of the guys but the other two fought back. One actually stabbed ghostface, I thought you were claiming to be out sick because you secretly got stabbed last night.” You admitted as Billy laughed. “Well you saw my doctors note, couldn’t have been me, the cops were out at all the hospitals last night and this morning,” he claimed as you nodded, “yeah.” You let the boys pile the beer cases into the cart, pointing to a case of hard lemonade. “What’s with you and spiked lemonade?” Stu asked as he grabbed a case and put it in with the others. “I like alcohol, I just don’t like tasting it,” “you sound like a kid,” Billy laughed as you pouted.

After you all made a stop at the liquor store to buy harder alcohol, you were sat in the backseat of the car as Billy and Stu fought over what song to play next. Billy eventually one, playing Romeo’s Distress over the speakers. “So, how are you feeling with the whole Oliver things? Pretty creepy since we were talking about him before he, you know, got gutted,” Stu said as Billy shot him a glare. “Um, sad I guess, I don’t know. It just feels…weird, you know?” You said as Stu asked you how, making you shrug. “I mean, it’s sad but…I guess cause he made my life hell for so long I just feel kinda…I don’t know,” you mumbled, recalling all the times Oliver had humiliated you.

A silence washed over the three of you, you fiddled around with the sleeves of your jacket, looking up when you saw Billy looking at you. “Hey well, at least he won’t hurt you anymore,” he said, gently touching your face. You paused for a moment, stunned by his touch. “Jesus, you’re a fucking corpse, Loomis,” you said as you brushed his hand off.

Stu drove you to your house, sighing when you saw news reporters waiting. “Probably want a statement from a survivor,” you grumbled, shaking your head. “Can I crash at one of yours for tonight?” “What, don’t want to be questioned about your boyfriend?” Stu joked as you let out a sarcastic laugh, “haha, very funny. No, I don’t want to do some janky interview about a killer they’re never going to find.” You huffed as Stu started to drive again.

“Why do you say that?” Billy asked as you shrugged, “five people dead and all they have to go off of is some footprint in a size half the town wears? They’re fucked,” you said with a huff. “Besides, ghostface is way too smart for that, they’re probably pinning it all on someone right now,” you mumbled as you sat back in your seat and relaxed.

[blackdollette]

THUNDER. - jack thurlow

✩♬.ᐟ now playing: thunder. - blue banisters

⊹₊⋆ synopsis: if you're on fire, just keep burning...

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @angelsanarchy @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @livingdead-materialgirl@romanroyapoligist @oliviah-25@si1nful-symph0ny @auggiethecreator @vanlisbon@livingdead-reilly

female!reader x jack

word count: 531

contents: angsty, toxic relationship, mentions of alcohol and cigarettes

lightning flickered through the windows of the ghastly eerie house, jack’s voice coming out as booming thunder as his explosive nature broke free once again. your eyes scanned the room as you sat in front of him on the bed, your heart sinking at the cruel words he spoke. 

there were broken picture frames, shattered bottles of alcohol, cigarette butts decorating the room, making it look like the worst storm hit it. 

but jack hadn’t been this stormy a few hours ago. you and him had been at the bar with a few of his friends. ones that you never liked much. you sat at the counter, fidgeting with your thumbs as you listened to him chat away with his buddies. you glanced over at him, seeing the way he beamed with joy as bright as the sun. but nobody knew of the rainy day that would arrive after the party.

you were counting down the days until he would finally strike a bolt through your weary heart. until the day he would roll to the next girl and rain on her parade instead.

his harsh words cut through your thoughts, making your blood curdle. “you just have to be all gloomy everytime we go out, huh?! i have no clue what to do to get a goddamn smile out of you!” you looked down sadly, knowing that he was right. you had left the bar at midnight to go smoke a cigarette in the parking lot, needing to get away from the buzz. 

he met you out there, a bottle of alcohol in his hand glinting from the moonbeams. and just like that, his sunshine was gone. you saw the rage flicker in his gaze, a storm brewing in his mind. 

every argument led to a breakup that lasted as long as a shooting star. he would send you back home, saying that he never wanted to see you again. then he’d show up at your front door in the middle of the night, dressed in a suit with a bouquet of roses in his hand as tears flowed down his hollow cheeks.

the night would end with you two cuddling in bed, his head on your shoulder and his arm wrapped around your waist as if losing you was the scariest thing in the world to him. and as much as you loved to see the rainbow after the storm, you could never manage to find the pot of gold at the end of it.

you could never tell what was going to be on the forecast. he had always been wild and unpredictable like that, but you love that about him.

he had a burning fire inside of him that made him unlike any man you’ve ever known. he kept you ablaze, but you couldn’t help but feel like you were the one that burnt him out. and that was the last thing you ever wanted to do. 

you and him both knew that the end of the relationship was inevitable, but you wanted to hold onto the warm of his flame for as long as you could before this wild candle of yours stopped burning for good...

author's note: this isnt the fic that I promised yall! its just a short little one that ive been meaning to get out :))

[daedalusdavinci]

"If we get caught kissing in a small, dark, kind of shady alleyway, it's on you." twomatch. or whatever. i never remeber that ship name

ive done this prompt before with these exact same characters, but i really like it, and its been a while, so im going to give a rewrite a swing. maybe my writings improved

"If we get caught kissing in a small, dark, kind of shady alleyway, it's on you," Matches says, but there's a smirk on his lips as he pulls Two Face back against the brickwork.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have sidetracked me," Two Face says, the same playfulness reflected back in how he lets the warmth of their bodies collide, lips almost touching, but not quite. It's a tease, knuckles brushing against Matches's cheek as his smile hovers close to the corner of his mouth, but doesn't close the distance- not yet.

Two Face loves the way Matches grins in moments like this, caught somewhere between that cocksure, sly amusement, and the more genuine fondness that burns underneath it. Calloused palms smooth across Two Face's chest, bold and burning, and then his fingers hook into Two Face's vest again, keeping him in close. He touches Two Face like he has ownership on it, always unfaltering and unapologetic in the way he draws him in. "Ain't it your job to keep me on track? You're the boss, aren't you?"

"Since when have you ever done what I've asked?"

"When you ask real pretty," he says, so smug and cocky that Two Face ought to shoot him, if he wasn't so fucking smitten. As it is, his fingers pull on Two Face's vest, and finally, Two Face gives, meeting him in a kiss.

It's the kiss that really betrays Two Face. It's so slow and filled with warmth, there's no mistaking the affection he hides so poorly, instantly marking him as one of those few villains stupid enough to allow himself love. He kisses Matches like he loves him, catching him in the little moments they manage to steal with the foolish, doting affection of a husband welcoming a partner home after some time away. It's one of the stupidest things he's ever done, especially with a henchman as difficult to tie down as Matches.

But Matches already knows. For his part, the way he touches Two Face is where all of his bluster falls apart, the hand that rises to cup the side of Two Face's neck too gentle for the careless attitude he puts on. He touches Two Face like something delicate, sometimes- like something he's already lost, and will spend the rest of his life putting back together. If Matches doesn't love Two Face, then it must be something like it, because he cares too much for anyone in their line of work.

When they part, Two Face can still feel Matches's smile, brushed into the corner of his mouth as their foreheads lean together. "Ask me something," Matches says. His thumb follows the divot of a thick patch of scarring on Two Face's neck, his shoulders against the brick, his back arched into Two Face just to press a little closer. The twist of his mouth is like a dare, sly and tempting, and Two Face has never been good at avoiding his traps.

Two Face steps into it: "Come home with me." He wants to put his hands in Matches's shirt and watch the way he unravels in his sheets. He can picture Matches with coffee in hand and the warm light of the kitchen on his face, and he wants it, wants to step away from the chaos and danger of being a villain for a night and fall into Matches for as long as he'll let him. Sometimes it makes him feel mad, the way he wants Matches- like a sailor following a siren call, irrational with a desire he didn't know he had. He never seems to get anything done with Matches around, and most maddening of all, he never really minds.

Matches's smile cracks into a grin. He kisses Two Face again, pushing away from the wall and into him this time, hands sliding into his jacket to his sides. "You gonna make that curry of yours?"

"Darling, I'll make you whatever you want, if you slow down enough to eat it," Two Face teases.

Matches hums, leaning into his hold as his arms go around him and nosing at his jaw. "Mm, I can think of something I wanna eat."

Two Face's laugh is rough and snorting. It's a terrible laugh, like a lifetime of smoking glass shards echoed in a harsh rasp, but Matches seems to adore it, pecking a kiss under his jawline. "Come on. Take me home."

"Now I'm just doing what you want," Two Face says, amused. Still, he steps back out of their embrace, his hand slipping to catch on Matches's. When they walk, they walk together, calloused fingers tangled tight in his own.

[notsogoodphotographer]

Hi i want to talk about my all time favorite camera 📸

pls ignore all my grammar mistakes, i’m not professional reviewer 😂 i just wanna talk about this camera.

This is the Sony RX1Rii, this is the third and “most recent” version of this camera. i put “most recent” in quotes because this camera is almost 10 years old. don’t like the old age fool you because this camera can keep up with the newest cameras in its niche.

This little point and shoot sports a 42mp full frame sensor. YES, F U L L F R A M E!! This tiny camera is actually smaller than all the x100 series (minus the lens on it). The camera has an incredibly sharp Zeiss Sonnar 35mm f2 glued to. This camera has 399 af points, with eye AF. The camera is incredibly fast and accurate!! the camera is pretty much a tiny packaged Sony A7Rii!

One of my favorite features of this camera is the pop-up EVF! This is a feature that was added to only this version of the camera and it’s a feature that i wish sony continued to incorporate into some of their other smaller cameras like the A7c or a6k series!

The camera does shoot video up to 1080 120fps, but does not have picture profiles such has S-log or HLG. This was a camera made strictly for photos, which is probably for the best because the battery life on this camera is terrible, any kind of prolong video shooting would absolutely burn through these batteries in minutes.

That brings me to my next point, my cons. There’s not many but i figured i’d point them out anyways for those who are interested in this camera. these aren’t make it or break it cons, these are just issues that hinder it from being the greatest camera ever released (IMO)

1) battery life, i believe it’s rated for like 220 shots. Ive definitely gotten it to last twice than that. That tiny body processing all that data on some of the tiniest batteries makes sense why it’s so bad. Luckily batteries are cheap and like i said they’re tiny, so they’re pretty easy to carry around!

2) no picture profiles in video. i know i touched on it briefly up above and this camera is mainly a photo camera AAAAAND hybrid cameras were just beginning to grow in popularity around the time this camera came out but it would’ve been amazing to have s-log in this camera for little snippets here and there. i know at the time IG and other photo sharing apps were mainly photo sharing apps, and a camera that was built strictly for photo has no business having usable picture profiles in video.

3) no crop mode in RAW. this one is weird to me because i know the A7Rii has an APS-C mode where you can shoot RAW photos with an inbody crop and there’s times that i’d love to shoot something at 50mm (35mm + sony’s 1.5x aps-c crop). there is a digital zoom option but that’s for jpg only.

4) PRICE!!!! why the fuck is this camera still being sold for $3200??!! this is a 10 year old camera with outdated tech. i bought mine used for $1900 (which is about the price of the fuji x100V at the time of purchase) and i still think that’s a little too much.

that’s really about it aside from minor complaints of not having tele/ wide converters. i’m also sure all of those cons stem from the small battery. I’d love to see all of these corrected in a Mk3 one day, but as of a couple weeks ago sony just discontinued the Rx1rii’s production. I’m being a little hopeful but maybe that means we’re getting a successor, i doubt it but a boy can dream.

I don’t really do reviews or anything but this camera has had my heart for the past 9 months so i had to show it off/ talk about it. this to me in the perfect everyday camera. it never leaves my side and comes with me to any and every trip! Im always blown away by the photos i create with this little camera and i know whenever a mk3 comes out im going to hop on the chance to buy on immediately!

[journalsouppe]

UNWOUND FUTURE RAAHHHHHHHH!!! What an AMAZING trilogy conclusion with such a perfect setup for future sequels. I cannot recommend playing Professor Layton enough.

All of the Professor Layton stickers are from @jordydrawsmerch which can be found here and here. Every other sticker is from Daiso!

All the writing is typed below!

Rating: 9.3 Played: Fa 2023 Port: HD mobile (iPad) Favorite? Y Replayable? Y Recommend? Y

Comments:

the way the PM walked T^T

LMFAO STACHENSCARFEN

Layton’s about to be beat up bc of his top hat (skull emoji)

Getting major DGS 2-3 vibes

FAMILY GOON

An arc arcade? You’re speaking my language

I LOVE THE BLOCK HAT PUZZLE PIECES SPELLING LAYTON IN JAPANESE!!!

FLORA STICKER

BABY LAYTON BLUSHING IM SCREAMING

I really love the picture book and its music

THE DEVIL IN THE TOP HAT NOO

Luke always takes the opportunity to roast the Laytonmobile (skull emoji)

THEYRE JUST SHOOTING AT EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING

THE ORIGINS OF LAYTONS HAT IM GONNA CRY T^T

I love that bi Luke has his own puzzle solving sequence

Where the fuck did you take us future Luke

The battle of wits was so fun omg

I cant get over evil Layton

BIG LUKE AND LITTLE LUKE

Omg Hershel in the background

Based p. Layton newspaper conversation

LMFAO Hershel trespassing and Luke stressed

The bee???? T^T

FLORA PUZZLE SOLVED SEQUENCE T^T!!!!

GO OFF FLORA!!!!

Ooo pretty Chinese arc

Hershel i swear

Hmmm young sir… who is big Luke?

NOT AVOGADRO

Did all the scientists piss their pants?

I have a lot of questions

Love the design and music of the pagoda

Where tf did Hershel go (skull emoji)

Omg Luke’s a Sherlock fan

I feel like Layton was replaced with evil Layton

I swear Dimitri had a mustache??

THE BARS

WHERE IS FLORA

DON PAOLO LMAO

THE LUKE MOBING SCENE MAKES ME WANT TO CRY

How many secret hideouts are there T_T

NOOO FLORA

The barkeep is v sketch

Chad laytonmobile

I can see how this game inspired dgs

THE KAZUMA AND CLIVE PARALLELS ARE DRIVING ME CRAZY

BEASLY AND PUZZLETTE HOLY SHIT

“That’s funny” :[

Ive been side eyeing some of these designs the past 2 games but yeah bostro’s design is def racist

DON PAOLO TURNIGN EVIL BC OF CLAIRE LOVING HERSHEL LMAO T-T and the running into the river omfg

Working with don paolo has been fun

I DIDNT THINK LAYTON WOULD ACTUALLY CUT THE ROPE

Where did Layton learn all this about Clive??

Summary:

WHAT A PHENOMENAL GAME!!! Truly what a great “conclusion” to the main trilogy. You learn so much about Layton, Luke, flora, and many other characters like don paolo. The ending reveal of Clive was CRAZY. It really reminded me of movies like howls moving castle/the iron giant. I also just love how complex Clive is. He was driven to violence because of how the government treated him and his family, but he never truly wanted to hurt people. He was without any hope and thought mass destruction would finally bring some change to the government, but he also made sure to include Layton in his plans because he so desperately wanted someone to stop him. It’s tragic and terrorism definitely wasn’t the way to go but at least this is a fictional story and that death machine looked kinda sick Ngl. The story of Layton and Claire was also so tragic yet so healing. Layton could finally take off his hat without feeling grief, you never would’ve known he was hurting that much. I loved Claire, she seemed like such an amazing person and I’m glad Layton wasn’t swayed to try to bring her back, although he did falter when he had to say goodbye again. Although I highly enjoyed the game, I am slightly disappointed there was no actual evil Layton. How fun would a game with evil Layton be omg. The whole game constantly caught me by surprise, even by small scenes like Beasly and PUZZLETTE. I’m still a littel confused about the lab experiments with Gumbo and subject 3, I’m not quire sure why they added that plot (and have no resolution) but I liked Gumbo fine. My favorite coin animal will always be hot dog though. I cannot recommend this series enough, I am having the time of my life. I can also see how DGS was heavily inspired by these games and im so glad about it bc dgs was game changing. I can’t believe there was a 26 year wait in between UF and NWOS but im glad to be a Layton fan :’) so fucking glad!!!!

[jaidens]

Just One Single Glimpse Of Relief To Make Some Sense Of What You've Seen [PT. 2]

pairing [s] : daniel larusso x reader

warning [s] : mentions of : pain, cuts, bruises, crying, cuddling | comforting part of the hurt | this was super quick I'm tired guys

a/n [s] : requests are open!! hi pooksters

Daniel wakes up with a painful throbbing in his head, reminding of too many bad highschool parties after football games. There's a loud beeping and bright lights as he attempts to recollect why he's here. The television is playing a random old movie, the commonahh track playing loudly. He looks around and looks down at his body to see that he is connected to wires and an IV. Suddenly, he realizes, why is he in a hospital room?

You emerge from an open door, carrying two plates of food and a cup of water. “Hey, Danny! You're finally awake.” Your voice is soft and relaxing and it's music to his throbbing head. “What am I doing here? What's happening? All I remember was Johnny.. then man— my head is really hurting.” Daniel rumbles out words, hand falling against the gauze patch above his eyebrow.

You sit down near his legs, hand falling against his arm as he looks at you with worry. “You passed out after what the Cobra’s did to you. You got a couple of cuts and bruises. It's around..10:00 so you've been sleeping for a while.” You inform Daniel and he nods, fingers playing with yours on your hand. He's zoned out and you hand him a pill and water. You direct him to take it, your voice soothing his mind.

He shoots the pill back with water and lays against your pillow. Daniel’s hair is messy and fluffy, and his eyes are closed. You're softly rubbing his arm, fingers laced through his. You're reminding him that you're there for him, and care. “Are you hungry? Did you want to eat?” You ask and Daniel nods, grabbing the plate from your hands and immediately digging into the warmed up dinner.

You chew yours as you watch him, savoring the picture in your mind of his soft look. His eyes are hung almost closed as he continues waking up from his long nap. He doesn't look great— the purple eye and cuts littering his face are prominent. The bruises against his arms from blocking hits make you sad, knowing how he had to use karate for protection, and not for what he had loved and cherished.

“Do you want the lights off? I wasn't sure what you wanted.” You ask and he nods, which makes you stand up and turn them off and turn the lamp on that lights up a small area but a candle look lets you eat in peace. You're watching him and you can't help but feel your eyelashes get wet from tears finally pushing through your strong surface. The sight of him makes you wanna take everything he's ever felt, and push it onto you, which would make him feel better. It kills you that it can't, however.

“The nurse said you had a concussion and a few stitches.” You tell Daniel and he lets his eyes fling open in surprise. “Johnny was so aggressive— I think he was drunk or something.” You nod and kiss his knuckles as he explains what happens while sniffling in tears. Daniel had been hurt in many ways— emotional and physical. It hurts you more to see someone you loved and cared about and have to look behind his back after karate championships.

“Thank you– for being here. I was so scared. As soon as I saw them all, I knew I wouldn't be going home with a couple bruises.” Daniel admits to you as he chews against his bottom lip. You had only seen him like this a couple of times during bad situations, he would quiet down and the bubbly personality would get locked away. “Of course, Daniel. I will always be here, always.”

The night ends with cuddling and talking about the school day before, everything that happened before. You're in his hospital bed and watch how calm he stays, messing with his curls by twirling them around your fingers. You're in love, and you're sure the next time you see Johnny's face, it isn't gonna be as cute as all the girls see it.

[hereforthefanficsandromance]

Til the Cals Come Home (Mini Series) Chapter IV: Blood

Masterlists

AO3 Blogger Tumblr Audio Versions

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Chapter Summary

You must work with the other women to plan an escape.  Rating: 18+ Words: 3.5K

Trigger Warnings:  Dead Dove: Don't Eat, Non-Con, Drugging, Lactation, Hucow, Kidnapping, Physical Violence, Physical Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Beating, Abuse, Murder

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It’s been a few days since Cal started visiting you nightly, his thick length repeatedly rutting into you. You’re on your hands and knees mewing from the feeling of the vibrator rubbing against your clit. 

Cal’s stubble brushes the shell of your ear. “Fuck, you’re so tight. You’re squeezing my cock just right, baby.” 

Your eyes roll back, his gravelly voice penetrates your fucked out mind. His tone is low and desperate. “Tell me it feels good, taking my seed.” 

Your moans turn to words. “Cal, yes, it feels so good. I’m yours.” 

He bites down at the junction of your neck and shoulder, causing your walls to clench tight around him, making his motion stutter. “Yeah baby, you are mine. I own you. I’m so lucky, getting to use you whenever I want. You’ll always let me use this cunt, right, baby?” 

You arch your back and meet his thrusts, clenching tight, wanting to feel each inch drag through you. “Yes, Cal.” 

“Yeah, that’s right. I get to use my girls anytime I want.” 

You ignore the implied ownership of his words, focusing instead on the burning pleasure shooting up your spine from the vibrator’s friction on your exposed clit. An orgasm crashes over you, Cal pays no mind, hips snapping to fuck you through it. You cry out, but Cal’s hand slips around your throat, a warning of your noise level at this ungodly hour. 

He allows minimal noise, the roaring ship engines disguising your nightly meetings, but he won’t allow you to wake the girls, tainting the quality of their milk. You bite back the sounds and allow him to fuck you through the first orgasm. He pulls the vibrator away, allowing your recovery, while still railing into your cunt. 

“Once you’re thoroughly fucked, I’ll have to start working on the next baby with Merrin.” 

You pant heavily, attempting to return your breathing to normal, but his forceful thrusts make the goal more difficult. His words register, but your post orgasm haze makes you less concerned. “You will?” 

Cal nibbles on your ear as his hand retreats from your neck to resume its iron grip on your hip. “Of course! Can’t resist the thought of seeing you both bred together, both carrying what’s mine.” 

Your stomach twists, picturing Merrin experiencing another pregnancy and loss. Cal presses the vibrator against your overly sensitive clit, causing your hips to buck and drawing your attention to the present. You whimper and he smirks against your skin before placing little kisses along the damp back of your neck. A fine mist of sweat causing some of your hair to stick. 

Cal brushes it away. “I like seeing my girls swollen because of me. Makes me wish I had more of you to fill.” 

You let out a moan, oddly turned on by how he makes pregnancy sound sexy. “Are you finding more?” 

“I’ve got my sights set on another at the moment. Hoping she’ll arrive after you and Merrin are showing. Then she can see how cute she’ll look when she joins you both.” 

The words don’t sit right; you’ve accepted being used by Cal, but the exploitation of another woman is dreadful. His attention is exciting; he makes you feel special, almost loved. Perhaps it’s not the act of hunting and kidnapping a woman that makes you uneasy, but it’s jealousy. Perhaps you are painfully selfish and like being the newest member of the herd. 

You push back the doubt; you need more information. “Why do you want us all pregnant?” 

Cal grunts. “To repopulate the galaxy with Jedi. Putting your babies in wealthy families guarantees their survival.” 

You don’t speak, and he doesn’t seem to care. Tomorrow, you’ll share the information, but tonight you want to enjoy his touch and the empty promise of his love. 

You angle your hips, recreating the pleasure from before, focusing on the vibrations teasing your sensitive bud. The feeling of Cal’s fingers digging almost painfully into your hip, demonstrating how desperate he is to possess you. His heavy breathing in your ear, grunting at the effort of fucking himself into your stretched hole. Each thrust slaps the head of his cock into your cervix, begging for entrance, for a place to deposit himself. You moan, returning his eagerness to cum. 

The focus on his thrusts allows the orgasm to build again. The rhythmic movements rubbing your aching clit perfectly over the device. Pulsing starts deep inside your body, moving outwards rhythmically so that you drop your head down, riding out each shock-wave of pleasure. 

Cal speaks to your orgasm this time. “Good gir- fuck. Good girl, good girl, good girl.” 

He chants the words in a whisper as he cums, pressed tight against your cervix, spewing forth bits of himself into your body. You feel each pulse of the semen leaving his body, stretching your walls further to accommodate the additional substance. 

Cal’s arm wraps tight around your waist as he finishes, ensuring your compliance in accepting every drop of him. You whine, the grip pressing on the bruises from days before. He does not relent until he has recovered, releasing you, shutting off the vibrator, dressing, and exiting your stall without another word. 

You collapse into the soft hay, allowing the exhaustion from the orgasm to bless you with a restful sleep. 

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Morning arrives, bringing a wave of shame that washes over you until pasture time. The enjoyment of Cal’s attention making you feel slimy; an invisible betrayal of the pain he has caused the other women. 

Pasture time arrives, and after mulling over what to say to Cere and Merrin, you are eager to speak with them. All is quiet, finding comfortable spots to rest in the soft grass while Cal lingers. He speaks with Merrin, a hand on her back while she resists slapping it away. 

You don’t dare look at them for too long, or move towards the open gate. Instead, moving towards the back of the pasture, laying within spitting distance of Cere. 

Cal finally leaves after whispering something to Merrin, her twisted expression telling you the nature of his words. The sound of the engines keeps a comfortable level of noise, only partly easing your anxieties. Merrin approaches, avoiding eye contact, clearly still lost in her thoughts over Cal’s threat. 

You shatter the silence. “You were right. He’s been trying to breed me for a few days now.” 

Merrin’s eyes snap to yours, rage brewing. Her muscles stay tense as she sits, as though sitting near you will somehow put her in danger. 

Cere lays back, watching the heat lamps high above. “I’m surprised you didn’t tell us sooner.” 

You bow your head. “I was ashamed for letting him do it.” 

She props on her elbows. “You didn’t let him do anything. Resisting would have earned you another beating.” 

You risk a nervous glance at Merrin. “You’re probably right. He told me some things last night that I think you should know.” 

“Heavens, it’s never good news with Cal.” 

“No, it’s not. He said that once I’m pregnant, he’s going to breed Merrin again.” 

Merrin’s taut muscles react, propelling her to her hands and knees. “No! He can’t do this again!” 

You match the pain on her face, wishing to hug her, to ease that fear. “I don’t want him to do that to you again, either. Maybe it’s time to fight back.” 

Cere lies back into the plush grass. “That won’t end well.” 

“Neither will our current situation.” 

Merrin’s expression hardens. “I’ll fight! I won’t let him do this again.” 

You acknowledge her before turning your attention to Cere. “There’s more…he is preparing to kidnap another woman once we’re both bred and breed her soon after. He said he’s trying to repopulate the Jedi, ensuring the baby’s survival by selling them to wealthy families.” 

Cere closes her eyes. Her expression neutralizing, but one crease between her brows gives away her true feelings. She speaks, saying aloud the obvious. “If he succeeds, that will be three more babies sold.” 

You feel frantic as you speak. “I don’t want to allow him to win, even at the expense of the Jedi not returning.” 

Cere’s tone is calm. “His plight to save the Jedi is undermined by his greed. I see no nobility in his efforts. It’s likely he is lying about those intentions.” 

Merrin chimes in. “I want to fight back, whatever the cost!” 

You look between the women in agreement. “I do as well.” 

“Then I am with you both.” 

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To your surprise, Greez delivers each typical meal with one notable difference: the meal tray has two tin cups instead of one. He gives you a knowing look, alerting that Cere has informed him of the plan. Part of you worries he will be the plan’s downfall, but his adjusted delivery reassures his loyalty. 

You gulp down the cup of water, grateful hydration will be available during this trying week. Cere tried to convince you to not partake in the plan, stating that your lack of connection to the Force protects you from suffering alongside them. But you will not let them suffer alone when you are the plan’s creator. You want to face the same trials as them; it solidifies your connection. Only the trials aren’t exactly the same, because each night, after dumping the cup of milk into the drain at the stall’s rear, Cal comes to you. 

The first night isn’t difficult, a repetition of your breeding routine. But by night two, frustration consumes you for having consumed nothing. His fingers irritatingly dig into your hips, rocking you sick while he unloads himself into you. 

The girls are equally miserable, laying close together in the grass during pasture time. It’s a dual purpose of conserving energy and keeping warm. The pain of freezing from a lack of regular nutrition is a surprising development that your naked bodies struggle against. The heat lamps help, but each consecutive day they lack the same warmth as the prior day. You’d gladly sleep on the surface of the sun to stop the incessant shivering. 

The tremble in your body worsens at night, when Cal fucks you eagerly from behind and your muscles shake in an effort to stay upright. The starvation in your body eliminates most of your conscious presence during each carnal visit. Evenings you used to enjoy have become a blur of aggressive physical movement and are barely pleasurable. 

It’s the last night of this hell, and it’s your job to perform despite a painful lack of food this last week. You put on your best act, though you can’t be sure it’s convincing. Telling Cal how grateful you are for his presence, not entirely a lie, since his body warms you temporarily in the dead of night. 

Cal smirks against your skin before speaking. “Tomorrow I’m going to milk you with the rest of the herd. I’m glad to see you’re getting along.” 

You stutter over your words as he pounds into your weak body. “Thank you Cal. I have a request.” 

His fingers bruise your hipbones. “A request?” 

You whine. “Yes, it’s gross, but it’s important to me.” 

He lets out a short laugh. “It’s gross? What do you mean?” 

“It’s just- I’ve really enjoyed all the special time you’ve given me since I’ve been here. I know we are getting close to the end of your nightly visits and I-” 

He cuts in. “You’re going to miss me?” 

You only nod, grateful to not have to say the cursed words. 

His pace picks up, his voice low. “Baby, I’ll breed you again in the future.” 

“I know, but it’ll be a long time and you’ll have a new girl and I just want the other girls to see that you like me…” 

He hesitates on the pullout, tip being hugged by your entrance. “You want them to see?” 

You wiggle your hips, asking for his return. “Yes, Cal, I want them to see what my body does to you.” 

He pulls you back onto his length, and you fight to not collapse against him. “Baby, that is quite a dirty thought.” 

“Please? Just one time? Maybe you can do it with all of us on the last day you breed us? It’d be fun to watch while we get off during our milking. Bet it makes all our milk extra sweet that day.” 

He fucks you slow, his thoughts elsewhere while he pleasures himself on your body. “I had no idea you were so adventurous. I suppose that would be good for everyone. I’ll consider it.” 

A wicked smile creeps over your face, but your tone stays sweet and innocent. “Thank you Cal, I love you.” 

Cal groans at your words, cumming unexpectedly at the stroke of his ego. He places a few kisses on the back of your head and neck as his heart pounds against your spine. You soak in the last joyous moments of his warmth before he pulls off and out, leaving you to collapse into the hay for one last night of hell. 

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You wake, surprised to find Greez outside your stall before your milking time. He says nothing, a sheepish look on his face. One of his hands reaching between the bars, fist closed, offering you something. You stumble towards him, opening your palm to accept the gift. 

He drops it into your hand and moves on to Cere and Merrin’s stalls before running off towards where he should be. You look over at the girls as they both consume the offering, chewing quickly in case Cal returns. You do the same, shoving the small piece of bread into your mouth and swallowing. It almost seems to make your stomach angrier, but there is relief in the food. Strength that will carry you through this final milking. 

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Cal arrives shortly after, taking Cere and Merrin to the milking room first. As promised, he returns to you, no rope in his hands. You realize he believes you are loyal to him, and choose to keep the illusion. Following him into the milking room, your stomach grumbling loudly, as it digests the morsel of food. 

It’s odd crawling into the milking room and seeing Cere and Merrin already attached to the milking machine. Part of you feels wrong for seeing them in this way, but they are about to see you in a much worse way. They are both leaned forward slightly, obviously keeping themselves away from the vibrators set up behind them. 

You wonder how often they accept the pleasure. The thought of orgasming alongside friends makes you cringe. Cal hooks you up: cleaning your nipples before placing the suction tubing on your breasts. He moves to the far side of the room, retrieving your assigned supply bucket. 

You lock eyes with the girls, giving them a nod, signaling that the plan is in motion after your conversation with Cal last night. They nod back, eyes then flicking to one another, checking in. 

Cal returns to you and you meet his eyes, against the rules, giving him your best begging expression. He doesn’t seem to mind the rule break, lips curling at your silent request. 

He kneels down behind you, unbuckling his pants. “Shall we give them a show?” 

Cere immediately looks away, but Merrin’s eyes widen before averting her gaze. You coo, sweet and submissive. “Yes, please. Show them how much I mean to you.” 

Your body is ready, now accustomed to what happens in this room. Cal releases himself, his pants sliding down, trapping his thighs, and he pushes into your heat. You don’t dare make a sound, painfully uncomfortable by the eyes now watching this lewd act. 

Your heart leaps at how close the plan is to completion, how close freedom is. The suffering is almost over. You’ll go home and apologize to Allory, take back your old life. 

Cal falls against your back, lost in his own pleasure, drunk on the power of breeding you in front of his other conquests. You can’t see his face, but you know the moment his eyes close by the movement of the women across from you. They silently unhook themselves from the milker, climbing carefully to their feet. They are unsteady, but they’ve spent this week practicing with their reclaimed legs. 

Your heart stops. No longer sure if this is the outcome you want, instantly rethinking the entire plan. He has been good to you most of the time. It was your fault when he wasn’t. 

Cal’s thrusts become sloppy, indicating his end, the end, is near. You feel frantic. Part of you wants to warn him. Cere steps near, holding an outstretched hand. You know what she’s about to do. 

You want it to stop. Cal doesn’t deserve to die for falling to the dark side. He can change. 

He thrusts a last time, releasing himself deep inside you. His lightsaber flies from his undone pants to Cere’s hand. Green light surrounds Merrin, her hands raised and poised to fight. 

Cal’s eyes snap open. He pulls out of you, reaching for his pants to cover himself. Upon seeing the threat, he abandons the effort. Instead, wrapping his fingers tight around your throat, hoisting you backwards to shield his body, the suction tubes disconnect. 

He disguises his fear with anger. “What are you doing?” 

Merrin speaks, her words dripping with poison. “It is over for you, Cal Kestis! You are an evil man, and I will not allow you to pollute the galaxy with your hate.” 

He squeezes tight and you try to pry his fingers off your neck; gasping for air. He won’t actually kill you, since this is to protect himself. He loves you. He- 

Blackness dots the edges of your vision as he tightens his grip. You can feel his anger, his rage, his hate. Every memory of how he has betrayed you, been unfair to you, used you, comes flooding back. As consciousness slips away, you remind yourself of one final thought: he is a monster. 

“Oh, please Merrin! You’re being dramatic! I will make you pay for this insubordination. You won’t like the way I-” 

Cere tosses the lightsaber to Merrin. Cal releases your throat to pull the saber back to himself, but Merrin is faster. She wields the deadly weapon, casting the room in an unnatural orange light. Cere extends a hand towards Cal and he doesn’t move as she pulls you away from his grasp. 

You are sputtering, trying to remember how to breathe, but you look at Merrin’s face. She looks conflicted, tears welling in her eyes. You know what she is thinking: she thinks he could change. You wonder if this is the end, if you have lost the battle, if she will strike. 

Suddenly, her expression hardens, and she swings the blade in an arc, removing his head from his shoulders. His body collapses in a pile in your milking spot as the head hits the ground with a sickening thud. You all watch as blood pools around the detached dome from where the temple smashed into the floor. 

There is a long silence, and you know it’s time for you to do your part. You climb shakily to your feet with Cere’s help and move to Merrin. Pulling her into an embrace. At first, she is stiff, but she softens, her forehead resting on your shoulder, her arms wrapping around your naked body. Cere’s arms embrace you both, her head on Merrin’s back. 

You aren’t sure who cried first, but there is a sniff, a shudder, a ragged inhale. Tears stream down all your faces, leaving wet paths on one another’s skin as it drips. No words are needed, you all feel it, an insecurity. Worry that the wrong decision was made, fear that there may have been another path. 

Your legs burn, but no one dares to fall to the ground. You have all spent too much time there. 

The tears subside, and the hug breaks, looking first at one another, then at Cal’s decapitated body, now outlined in the seeping red blood. Cere turns off the milking machine and you all head towards the exit. 

Greez waits at the door, a stack of clothes in his arms. You dress as quick as your body will allow, and head towards the ladder at the back of the ship. Desperate to escape this lower level and never return. 

As you walk away, you hear Cere explaining to Greez what happened. You wrap your hand around the ladder rung, shakily stepping onto the bottom rung. You look back to see a clothed Cere embracing Greez, both crying. Merrin joins you at the ladder, offering her hands to spot your climb. You offer her a half smile and ascend; she follows once you are safe; you reach down, ready to grab her if she falls. 

Everyone makes it safely up. Your mind floods with memories of the first night when you see the upper part of the ship again. You want to destroy everything that reminds you of him. Merrin and Cere move towards the cockpit. 

Merrin looks to Cere. “Now what?” 

You answer, sure of your decision. “Now we go find your baby, Merrin.” 

Cere smiles, it’s beautiful. “I love that plan. I was thinking we may also want to take down this milking industry from the inside. If you’re both up for the fight.” 

Merrin’s eyes fill with tears, but they look different from the ones before. They look how you feel, hopeful.

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[solrika]

I know the GI is dead by the time "The Honorable Ones" happens, but what's fanfic for if not fudging canon? Inspired by this picture of vamp!Kallus after Bahryn.

~

The last thing Kallus remembered was blinking up at the too-bright operating lights, claws absently twitching against white sheets. Then–the briefest moment of quiet dark. Consciousness ebbed in like waves lapping against the Fortress Inquisitorious–sudden, jarring jerks, like cold water in your face. 

There were fingers in his hair.

Terror had him sitting up past tearing pain, twisting to look–and just as fast, calm swept through his mind, breaking like sunlight over the ocean. He sagged, caught himself against a narrow shoulder. Muttered, “Pedaari?”

“Hound.”

Kallus let himself be eased down against the pillows. Tonguing at his lip–his fangs had managed to draw blood–he glanced around. They were in a private room, with walls and a door, instead of the flimsy privacy of curtains that he’d come to expect from the medical bay. “What’s going on?”

“You gave the doctors quite a scare.” Pedaari pushed the hair back off his forehead, and this time, Kallus leant into the touch. 

“Oh?”

“You coded three times.” The corner of Pedaari’s lip curled up in the barest snarl. “Incompetents, unable to handle a basic surgery. You’re fortunate I brought Inquisitorious medics with me.” 

Kallus frowned, reflexively reaching up to rub at his chest. He found new bandages, sticky with bacta. A quick glance at his IV bag confirmed his guess. There were so many painkillers swimming in the solution, and even kolto; they must have cracked his ribcage open again.“I–my heart stopped? From a leg surgery?” 

“Like I said.” The snarl became more pronounced. “Incompetents.” 

Kallus hummed assent, vaguely upset that he’d essentially died three times and hadn’t noticed at all. Another glance around the room failed to turn up any clues as to where they were, and he asked, “Are we still on Konstantin’s ship?”

“Regrettably, yes.” Pedaari’s eyes glinted in a way that spelled trouble for the admiral. “I still have business with him.” 

Letting his eyes slip closed, Kallus muttered, “You’re not allowed to kill him.”

“He almost killed you,” Pedaari hissed. 

“Ah.” Allowing himself a grimace, Kallus said, “So you heard about Bahryn.” By now, he should have been used to the way the air thickened in response to Pedaari’s anger. It still made a nervous shiver shoot down his spine. Wanting to placate, and not entirely sure why, he added, “It turned out fine, Ped. A merchant ship picked me up.”

“Half-dead from the cold and with a ruined leg, yes.” 

“Half-alive.”

With a low growl, Pedaari retorted, “Until these butchers got their hands on you.” 

The pressure increased, and with it came a noticeable drop in temperature. Ribs tightening in sudden anxiety, Kallus managed a relatively calm, “Pedaari. If you keep this up, you’ll be the thing freezing me solid.” 

A beat of silence, in which Kallus refused to hold his breath. Then, grudgingly, “Apologies,” and the crushing pressure retreated. 

He felt Pedaari shift, and opened his eyes just in time to see the Inquisitor pick up a familiar folded pelt. Which meant– “You raided my room.” 

Pedaari simply blinked, as if the breach of privacy was nothing. Perhaps, to him, it was–he’d always seemed to treat Kallus and his property as an extension of his own belongings. Shaking out the pelt, the Inquisitor gave it an appraising look. “You’ve kept it well.”

Rolling his eyes, Kallus muttered, “Stop staring at the damn thing and cover me up.” 

“Impatient,” Pedaari scolded, but he leant back in, tucking the fur around Kallus’ body. 

Kallus let himself be moved, and then– “I’m still cold.”

“Such ingratitude.” Pedaari grinned, though, flicking up a corner of the blankets. And then waited, damn him. 

Usually, Kallus could have out-stubborned him, but today he was sore and still had tiredness dogging his mind. It wasn’t worth their usual dance. With a huff, he relented. “Oh, you–just get in.” 

It was a tricky fit, considering Kallus’ shoulders and Pedaari’s armor, but one they’d made before in much less agreeable places. He’d grown used to the way Pedaari’s belt jabbed him in the stomach. Pedaari, in turn, had grown used to the prick of claws between armor plates, and the jut of Kallus’ nose against his neck. 

They settled into place, Pedaari resettling the fur more securely around Kallus’ shoulders, carefully slipping a pillow behind his back. What had to be a touch of the Force kept his ruined ribcage a few breaths from crushing itself against the chestplate of Pedaari’s armor. Kallus squeezed his eyes shut against a sudden prick of tears. He had felt warmth since the ice moon, of course, had come back and turned the heater on high in his tiny room. Somehow, though, this felt–

Kallus pressed himself further into the strip of skin above Pedaari’s collar. 

Softly, stroking up his back, Pedaari asked, “Are you hungry?” 

Into his neck, “Usually you make me earn it.”

“Under the circumstances,” and Pedaari’s hand swept up to hold the nape of Kallus’ neck, giving it a gentle squeeze, “I think you’ve done enough.” 

Kallus opened his mouth, lapped against hot skin just to feel the twitch of fingers against his spine. Murmured, “How did you know?”

“Mm?” 

“That I was—” he swallowed around the idea of dying, unconscious and unable to stop it. Like the ice moon, but worse, because at least then he’d been awake. “That I needed help.”  “I told you, Hound.” Pedaari squeezed again, a little harder. Obeying the implicit command, Kallus bit, groaning softly as his mouth filled with blood. It was always so sweet. “I take care of what’s mine.”

[themaiden05]

Fate ( part 2)

pairing : kartik aaran x fem reader

part1 ; https://www.tumblr.com/themaiden05/714953202326437888/fate-part-1?source=share

kartik couldn't stop thinking about her. Y/n , Y/n , Y/n it was all he could think about. how could he love someone he doesnt even know so madly? he didnt have an answer for that . she was making him feel all kinds of emotions and not just love, she was making him anxious at time , what if she believes all the kriti x kartik shipping going around the internet? what if she ships them too? what if she has a boyfriend? what if she has a fiancee? no no that cant be ,she's can only be y/n aaryan tiwari ! he wouldnt let any duffer's surname even get close to her. what if she's already married ? what if she is out of his reach already? His thoughts were getting ahold of him. He even called his sister Y/n once , good thing she didnt pay attention . he searched her up on instagram , facebook , twitter but there were a million women with the name Y/n, Not knowing her surname made it worse. a lot of public profiles , and profiles with a Dp was out of the way , kartik knew what his y/n looked like, he didnt even need to look at the screenshot he took, her face was imprinted onto his heart . but then there were a lot of profiles with no profile pictures or random profile pictures . he wasnt even sure if her name was her account name so social media was a fail

"any lead?" kriti asked . she was as dedicated in finding kartik's dream girl as he was

"nope, nothing yet"

" what if we just ask the principal of the college for some info?"

"and what are we gonna say? hello sir! I am in love with one of your students , so can I get her instagram id and biodata. he would kick us both out"

"yeah! youre right. did you get anything else from the college website?"

"NO , what we found before was the only thing about her in the entire website"

" you know what Im hungary, lets go eat something . Ive heard there's a new chinese restaurant in town" kriti said standing up from her chair

"no yaar , Im not hungry!"

" I heard its near lourde college"

kartik jumped up from his seat

"what are we waiting for? lets go , Im so hungry!"

kriti laughed at his newfound excitement

"ya lets go"

kartik and kriti had done their best to disguise themselves. they dont want the pap to spread yet another rumour of them being heads over heel in love with each other. the huge glasses , beanie ,mask and hoodie were certainly doing there job . no one has recognised them yet. they find a table and sit facing each other.

"oh my god kartik"

"what is it kriti?" kartik asks .

"its-

kriti didnt even have to finish . kartik could sense the familiar scent . he could hear someone sitting on the chair behind them. he turned around. she was right there. His y/n . In a satin green dress, her hair opened and flying slightly in the wind. Her eyes are searching for someone. kartik's heart drops once he sees the guy walking towards her , smiling . he sees her smiling back . The smle he always imagined shed give him when he says how beautiful she is to him , The smile she'd give him when he gets her flowers and give her a pecks on her cheek before leaving for shooting. But he isnt the one getting that smile from her right now and it breaks his heart . He isnt some kabir singh to go out there to force her away from him. she looks happy and thats what he'd want the most , for her to be happy

"sorry , I'm late "

"its ok adi"

kartik hears them talk. kriti is ranting about something but kartik can focus only on what you are saying.

"ehh, youre wearing this green dress again?

"its my favourite dress adi "

"it looks shitty"

what kind of a man is he ? who talks to their girlfriend like that? if he doesnt like the dress why doesnt he just tell it to her nicely? why is she letting him talk to her like that? a million question runs over his head

'' Im gonna use the restroom real quick"

"ya ok but dont take ages. I have to go soon after this , i cant be stuck with you for too long"

stuck with her? where did she even find this douchebag from ? who can't even spend some time with her? Is she hurt from what he said ? has she gone to the restroom to cry?

"im gonna go check on her kriti"

"what!? kartik but-" kriti doesnt even finish before kartik jumps over the chair and walks over to the restroom.

as kartik walks in he sees y/n standing in front of the mirror. she doesnt look like she cried but what if she's really good at hiding emotions

"y/n" kartik calls out.

"who are you?" she looks terrified . thats when kartik remembered his glasses mask and beanie , he looks like a goddamn serial killer. he takes off his glasses and mask

"kartik aaryan?"

"you dont have to call my entire name like that! just call me kartik or koki"kartik ranted out . he could hear his heart beat out of his chest. he could see her blushing

"what are you doing here?"

"oh my friend wanted to try out this restaurant!"

"The restaurant or its women's restroom?"

"oh shit ! this is the women's restroom? great here we go again . I swear im not a pervert , fate just brings me into women's restrooms sometimes"

"fate?" y/n starts laughing . she looks so pretty to him doing so

"this is yours i assume?" kartik takes out her badge from his pocket. good thing he takes it everywhere with him to remind him of her

"oh yeah ! i had lost it the day i met you at another women's restroom"

they both chuckle and walks out kartik puts his glasses and mask back on . he wants to say and ask a lot more but the fact that she has a boyfriend waiting for her stops him. he still muster up the courage to ask her full name but before he could finish they are interrupted by someone. its adi he is still looking down at his phone as he speaks

"i have to go now "

"but we didnt even order yet"

''oh come on man, we'll do this some other time and besides i promised riya from office a movie together"

kartik is on the verge of losing his shit . how can he talk to his girlfriend like that and choose another women over her? why isnt she saying anything?

adi takes his eyes of his phone and looks at the man in front of him

"who's this duffer?"

kartik loses his shit completely and punches him on his nose. adi stumbles back in pain

"thats what you get for treating youre girlfriend like that "

"bhaiyya!!!" y/n runs from kartik's behind to adi

"bhaiyya?oh fuck" kriti always told kartik he's dumb and now it was as if he has realised it

"what the fuck man? who's girlfriend? what girlfriend?" adi asks while covering his nose with his hand

kartik runs over to him

"im so sorry bhaiyya! there was a huuuge misunderstanding"

"whaaaat!? who the hell are you man and why the hell are you calling me bhaiyya"

"you are her bhaiyya , youre my bhaiyya why does it matter bhaiyya?"

y/n chuckles at kartik's remark and their eyes meet . kartik is so relieved that this man he just punched is no one other than his future brother in law but it really was kind of a bad first impression but he'll make up for it

"y/n ask this guy to leave" adi grunts in pain

"koki ! leave"

"koki? so no more kartik aaryan"

y/n blushed and looked down

"ill get going now bhaiyya do put some ice on it itll be alright"

"get outta here dickhead before i punch you back"

"ok ok" before he left he leaned closer to y/n

"you know where to find me" and he walked away from his y/n who was now a blushing mess and her brother a bloody mess.......

(bhaiyya: brother)

to be continued......

[gayerthanevertbh]

aw did you miss me baby?

even though i've been gone tasha bear hasn't left my mind, she really gets me so worked up.

there's this idea of another anon of Tasha being your brother's girlfriend just to get to you. Obviously tasha bear is such a perv and holy shit i love that so much about her, how much of a freak she is.

imagine Tasha staying over at your family's house to be with your brother, of course she is going to sleep in your brother's room .. or that's what you thought.

But tasha bear doesn't stay over to be with your brother, she just does it, so she can be around you and observe you in a more domestic environment, and you take advantage of that by wearing skimpy clothes, no bra so Tasha can see the outline of your nipples through your shirt, super short shorts and maybe sometimes you're wearing nothing underneath and in the perfect moment you let tasha see a peak of your wet pussy, always so ready for her.

So when the night comes and your brother falls asleep, Tasha sneaks to your room, sometimes she finds you ready for her, sometimes she finds you asleep. This time she finds you asleep, and you're wearing nothing but a little top, your pussy free. Nat gets hard instantly, only at the sight of you, pre-cum already leaking with the thought of taking you vulnerable like this.

She starts jerking off while lying next to you still asleep, but that isn't enough, she needs her cock to be wrapped by your pussy. So she hovers over you and gets in between your legs, slowly sliding in and whimpering by how good it feels, it always feels so good to feel your warm pussy around her cock, always wet and so tight for her, so the feeling always almost makes her cry (because we love that Tasha is a crier).

You start to stir awake and little moans start slipping off your mouth, and you meet Tasha's eyes. You love being awaken like this, you like your Tasha using you like this whenever she has the need.

"my little one, i'm sorry, but Mommy needed your pussy so bad. please let me use you like this, baby. F-fuck you feel so good, you're such a good little hole to use".

"i'm yours to use, Mommy" you say in a mix of a haze and your sleepy state.

"yes, baby, yes. This pussy is so mine to use, only mine, you hear that right? i'm the only one who can fuck you like this. Even if you tried my cock is the one you want, you're such a whore for my cock aren't you pretty thing? Look at how well you take me"

You just moan in response, about to cum because it's true, you only want your Mommy's dick, it's the only one who can stretch you out and make you feel as good as it's making you feel right now, you could never get enough of it, you want to feel Tasha's dick in all your holes forever, if you could, you would live with her cock filling you up every single second of the day. You were only hers, your pussy was only hers, you liked being her little slut and her little toy so much.

And you loved how needy Tasha was, she would fuck you and take you anytime she needed you, and you would gladly let her every time. She just cried for you sometimes, getting in between your legs with tears in her eyes, just because she needed your pussy so badly.

"f-fuck baby, Mommy's going to cum, you want my cum inside your pussy, don't you, little one? Want me to fill me up your pussy with my seed?" She pounded you faster and faster. "I want your pussy to be dripping with my cum, fuck I'd even like to see you covered in my milk"

She comes inside you, and you love how it feels, her shooting her milk on your pussy, making you cum as well in a scream of her name.

(this made me so horny while i wrote it, i'm dripping wet at my work)

-- ice bear anon 🐻‍❄️

I HAVE DEFINITELY MISSED YOUR TASHA BEAR TJOUGHTS AND I WILL CONTINUE TO CRAVE THEM FROM YOU!!!!

oh my god, just imagine her watching her cum dripping out of your pussy after finishing in you MANYBFUCKING TIMES. she’d take a picture and whisper close to you, “maybe this time, ive gotten you pregnant.” GSKCIWKDIEJEISIWJUWSI

[natasha-in-space]

So ive a small request (im the same anon who sent you the prompt of yoosung being in a relationship with a big man) can you please write a one shot about the dinner his family (yoosung's)has arranged for him and his new boyfriend.

Also ngl i keep on imagining the mc taking a selfie with yoosung and his family and its giving Gulliver in Liliput (cuz MC is already very tall and big and yoosung's family are all pretty short people)

Link to the first post!

"You don't have to be so shy, you know. They prepared this dinner for us. I know it's a bit nerve-wracking, but they mean well."

Yoosung was able to sense that MC was feeling rather anxious. It was clear as day to him, really. From his tensed up shoulders to the way that his eyes wouldn't leave his plate, unless he was being spoken to directly. And, Yoosung could relate. Hell, if it was another way around, he knew for sure that he would be a sweating nervous wreck himself. It's always nerve-racking to meet your partner's family. Especially so when your situation is not a conventional one.

But, that's the reason why they were together.

Yoosung was fully aware that his family would need some time to come to terms with and accept his new relationship with MC. Especially his parents and older relatives. His mother didn't have to throw a giant fit for him to understand that she had some very deep rooted reservations that she was simply trying to tiptoe around, but ultimately failing. It was an awkward learning process for them all. To be fair, throughout it all, his sister was a great help in particular. Although she may tease him occasionally, he knew that she was a significant factor in his parents ultimately accepting his love for MC.

Maybe she was the one who suggested arranging this family dinner for them in the first place. He wouldn't rule out the possibility of that happening. Regardless, he was grateful for her help.

MC has shifted slightly in his seat, shooting him an anxious but deeply thankful look. He sighed. "I know... I just don't want to mess this up."

"-You won't." Yoosung reassured him, reaching under the table to take hold of MC's hand and squeeze it confidently. He smiled, hoping to relieve some of his boyfriend's anxiety. He may have been broad and bulky in body, but his heart was as soft as you could get. Another lovely thing about MC that he couldn't wait for his family to see. "You're doing great. Besides, I'm right here. We got this. Together."

He was relieved to see the corners of MC's mouth twitch into a small smile, and he leaned in for a quick nuzzle that left his heart racing. Yoosung knew he was too shy to get too affectionate with each other in front of everybody like that, and he didn't mind it all that much. MC showcased his love and appreciation for him in small but meaningful ways that he has come to learn by heart now.

Despite the awkwardness the rest of the dinner was full of, it was still very sweet. His parents were clumsy, clearly very anxious about not making the wrong impression, and kind of overbearing. But, they were trying. And, it was obvious that they were eager to start things off rightfully this time around. Despite their occasional bizarre but amusing remarks. The good intention was present, and it was uplifting to witness. In a way, his parents were just as anxious as MC was. Something that Yoosung couldn't help but point out with a slight good-natured giggle.

This time around, his mother made sure to get to know MC as a person by asking questions about his life, family, hobbies, and even his favorite food. Yoosung could predict that that one was meant to be a surprise: a tasty gift from her in the future.

His mom wasn't very subtle, though.

Ut was while everyone was just getting ready to clean up the table, when MC suddenly perked up and spoke louder than usual.

"Oh, we should take a picture!"

A quick pause filled the dining room, as everyone was clearly quite surprised to hear a usually very soft-spoken and reserved MC exclaim something with such a booming frequency, even Yoosung included. As MC cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck in a sheepish manner, his face flushed bright red shortly after. "I mean... before we all clean up. If everyone agrees, of course."

His usual softer tone was back now, much to everyone's amusement.

Yoosung and his sister couldn't help but laugh at that, as she found it just as amusing and endearing as Yoosung did. Despite this, he wished to aid his partner before he would become a big embarrassed tomato. He got up from the table, clasping his hands together to redirect everyone's attention onto himself, a tactic he would use often whenever MC got a bit overwhelmed. "I bet my mom would have dragged us all for a family photo eventually, anyways! I'll go get the camera."

Of course, due to his mother's meticulousness in ensuring everyone looked good at the photo, they all had to spend an additional thirty minutes being manipulated by the older woman as if she were a professional director. Yoosung is familiar with the occurrence, but it is definitely more amusing when MC encounters his mom's quirks for the first time. Funnily enough, his mom has barely made any criticisms against him, mostly making Yoosung be the one to change his position a dozen times over.

It looks like MC has gotten into her good graces after all.

Once the long-suffered perfect picture was completed, everyone was left laughing good-naturedly over MC's broad build ending up above every family member at the table, including Yoosung's father. His mom even joked about inviting MC over to fix their broken closet for them, since his dad couldn't reach the top of it without a stool. Needless to say, his dad wasn't impressed, much to everyone's amusement.

Relaxing and enjoying the family banter without any reservations was a pleasant experience for them both. A positive beginning to a new life of experiences for all of them.

[fratboykate]

With the show well over and this whole Hailee/Cheeto supporter shitshow, do you have any tea about Dickinson bts?

Might help some of the more delulu stans remove their rose coloured glasses. I’ve always been on the boat the H has and was always cold towards E for some reason…

not today satan lol like that tweet said...im gonna let crazies have their parasocial delusions. i dont need her demons in my inbox today. while ive personally never worked with her, all my friends know that dickinson is my favorite show so they have passed all their show/hailee info to me along the years and...yeahhhhh...ill leave it at that lol.

ill reiterate another general reminder that i have given you before: y'all seem to think cast members on any show or movie are are all best friends. are you best friends with everyone in your office? at your job? being on set and doing press is their job. sure, absolutely true that there are some people who grow close while working together. it happens in every "office". but the vast majority of the time actors are simply coworkers who get along as well as normal coworkers do.

the whole concept is even more distorted when you're shooting on location because then you're with a certain group of people for months on end while away from home. of course a lot of pictures of you hanging out together will exist. you were literally stuck with each other during production, your regular friends/partners/family aren't there. it's almost inevitable that you'll end up spending time together with the fifty people you're working with for three months in louisiana or vancouver or whichever random place you're shooting at. stop translating that into people being best friends. stop equating the "they're the best!" answers actors give when journalists ask them "how was it like working with xyz?" into proof that 1) they're best friends and 2) the people they're talking about are actually nice. what do you want them to do? sit at a press junket for the show or movie they're promoting and be like "let me tell you...that dude is a dickkkkkk" lol. they have to be professional about it and obviously say they loved working together or throw general praises. why would you think they'd give a different answer? "but their cast members have never said anything bad about them!" what do you expect?! like...truly. y'all don't use your brains.

[bigpeepee]

ive just had. a weird uncomfortable conversation?? like. there's this dude, and I kinda liked him, so when we started talking I was hyped!! he's a photographer and he had asked me to help him with some photomontages in the future, and today he said he could take pictures of me and we could use those for the editing stuff. and I was so excited!!!! because he's a great photographer so having a cool ass professional shooting from him would be so cool!!!!!! and he said something about how I was an interesting person or smth and I was so happy

and then he said he had kinda stalked my Instagram and asked if I was bi. which like. it always rings an alarm bell in my brain when guys ask that but I thought hey maybe he's asking cause it could be an inspiration for the shooting? like idk maybe something pride related or something??? but then he asked which one I preferred which is like. a red flag as big as a ship sail.

and also there was a point in the conversation where CLEARLY we were talking about two different things???? like we were talking about being normal and serious but with a wild side and I thought we were still talking about just. in life. BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT WE WERE TALKING ABOUT BEFORE. BUT APPARENTLY IN HIS MIND WE WERE TALKING ABOUT SEX NOW?????? SORRY HOW DID WE GET THERE HOW DID THAT HAPPEN WITHOUT ME BEING INFORMED??????

and like. I was kind of confused and a bit wary but i still tried to be nice and keep talking but then he basically asked me about what freaky things I had done and what I wanted to do and I was like NOOOOOOPE WE'RE NOT GOING THERE BUDDY and then he tried to manipulate me into telling him, he was like "oooh come on don't tell me you're ashamed now" like what the fuck

and by the end he was like "okay I'll leave you alone now otherwise you'll get embarrassed and won't even do the shooting haha if you knew the things I've done you'd probably run away" and I was like MY BROTHER IN CHRIST IM ALREADY TRYING TO RUN AWAY

anyway it was so disappointing?? cause I thought he was cool and I had a bit of a crush on him but the way he acted tonight was so uncomfortable!! and I went from being super excited about this whole project to being kinda scared. and it all happened so fast I barely realised what was happening!!!! I was literally in shock the whole time!!!!! god im so sad and disappointed and mad!!!!!! why is it that every time I like somebody it goes to shit