#We get it you were worshipped in kindergarten. Shut the fuck up
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I hate burnt-out gifted kids
#We get it you were worshipped in kindergarten. Shut the fuck up#It’s just ughhhhhhh#You were messed up from school and you look for anyone with a similar experience#And all you find is the same brats who were jeering at you for being an idiot#Only now they’re victims so you can’t hate them#And this is me being unfair. I don’t actually hate gifted kids and we’re all in the same boat etc etc don’t yell at me#But the constant “omg guys school was so hard for ME 🥺 do you have any idea how HARD it is to not be special anymore 🥺#Do you have any idea how much I SUFFERED from being treated like gods gift to earth when I was a kid 🥺”#While you can’t find anyone talking about your experiences is so fucking grating#Shut up. Shut up for five fucking seconds you insufferable idiots#YOU ARENT SPECIAL AND YOU NEVER WERE; DEAL WITH IT.#THE REST OF US WERE DEALING WITH IT FOR YEARS BEFORE YOU#rue rants#vent#academic trauma#idk if I have trauma but. This is the closest tag to what I feel#I’m in a mood
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Mikasa with glasses = hot librarian Mikasa
Eren has loved Mikasa for as long as he can remember, through hell or highwater he’s been there. Since they were kids, when she was the ugly duckling in elementary school, when she was still somehow the ugly duckling in high school, he’d loved her.
Although he’d always thought she was beautiful; in high school the other kids had sure made fun of her for being taller than most boys and stronger too. Combined with the acne and awkwardness of puberty, it really just hadn’t gone well.
But Eren had always been there, hadn’t cared what anyone else thought, he’d promised to marry her on the playground in kindergarten and he’d stuck to that promise like glue. The second he got the okay from his mom that he was old enough to have a girlfriend, he’d bought her flowers and asked.
She’d cried for ten minutes before saying yes and Eren had honestly been worried for a bit.
So now here they are, finally graduated, in university and living their best lives, Mikasa finally the lovely flower he always knew she would be, growing into herself more, more comfortable in her own skin and talkative with people that weren’t him.
And then, on the first day of the new semester they attend their GPA booster sociology lecture. And Mikasa makes him sit at the front of the lecture hall. Not the front middle, a few rows back, not the second row in, the first fucking row, so close to the projector he’s going to get a headache.
“Miks I know you’re a goody two shoes and all, but can we please sit a few rows back at least this is crazy.”
She gives him a puzzled look, “It’s blurry back there, why would we sit there?”
“Two rows back?”
“Yeah, it’s super blurry,” she tells him matter-of-factly before digging her notes out of her backpack and Eren sighs, because he can’t believe he never saw this. His dad is a fucking ophthalmologist.
“Miks I think you need glasses love,” he tells her gently and she looks at him like he’s nuts.
“No, it’s fine, I can see.”
“Baby, you shouldn’t have to sit at the front of the room to see the projector.”
"No, this is normal, everyone else just squints."
"No my love, I can see just fine two rows up."
"Fine, then we'll move two rows up and I'll prove I don't need glasses."
What follows is the most painful sociology lecture of his life.
Mikasa leans so far over her seat she almost falls into the next aisle several times, not to mention how hard she's squinting, he can't even see her eyes, she's going to cause wrinkles.
Not to mention how many times she leans over to ask him what a word is, blaming it on the prof's terrible handwriting.
Eren doesn't have the heart to tell her it's actually really neat, pretty looping cursive.
At the end of the lecture her notes are incomprehensible and as Mikasa looks down at them she's almost inconsolable, his beloved girlfriend almost bursting into tears on the spot. She goes into full meltdown mode and he has to distract her with the snacks he brought for lunch just so she won’t cry.
Three days later and a visit to his dad, Mikasa gets reading glasses for lecture, although she pouts about it the entire time and has a full crying session in his arms the night she gets the offending lenses.
“I just got pretty Eren, I finally don’t have acne, and don’t look like a twelve year old boy, what the fuck am I going to do? My boobs are great but they can’t make up for this!”
“Mikasa I’ve always thought your were beautiful you know that.”
“Shut up you’re my boyfriend, you’re supposed to say that and you know damn well I didn’t have boobs for the first sixteen years of my life, I looked like a pre-pubescent boy I don’t want to hear it. Now I'm going to look like revenge of the nerds.”
He shuts up, “Well just try them on, maybe they’ll look good.”
“No, I can’t let you see until you have to, I hate them, I look awful.”
Another meltdown promptly occurs and Eren makes sure to worship her very well for her troubles, letting her know exactly which body parts he admires the most, which is of course all of them.
Mikasa goes to sleep thoroughly fucked, and Eren thinks the problem is over.
Spoiler alert: it isn’t.
The next morning before their lecture he wakes up very much without his girlfriend in their bed and he freaks out for about an hour before finally reading the note she’d left.
She’s going to their class without him, and he’s not allowed to look for her.
Fuck that.
Eren ends up very late, and when he arrives to the lecture hall, it’s packed full and his girlfriend is nowhere in sight. He looks really hard too, her pretty head and cute black glasses nowhere to be found.
He finds her after lecture leaning against a pole and grinning at him, glasses gone.
“Mikasa what the fuck?”
“I told you, I’m not showing you until it’s absolutely necessary.”
“So you’re not going to sit with me the whole semester?”
She kisses his nose, “Yup.”
And so it begins, the great battle of trying to see Mikasa in her glasses.
Every morning they try to wake up earlier than the other, outpace whoever leaves first. But Mikasa is fast, and he can never arrive in time to catch where she sits, not to mention she thwarts him by shutting off his alarms, setting one only for when it’s too late for him to catch her.
Once, he sleeps over at Jean’s house, hoping he can catch her if he’s not at home. Eren arrives to the lecture hall two hours early and just sits and waits. Their lecture is the earliest class, so he has to get a janitor to let him in, but he waits patiently for his girlfriend. And when students finally begin to trickle in he expects to see her. Except he doesn’t.
He carefully watches almost every student arrive, and not one of them has the same dark hair and pale complexion as Mikasa.
Not one.
Yet, still after class his girlfriend awaits him asking how he liked todays material.
Eren explodes, how is she doing this?
“Mikasa what the fuck, I waited two hours.”
His girlfriend grins deviously, “I have a few different wigs.”
Eren wants to scream.
When he finally spots his girlfriend in glasses, it’s an accident.
After a month of the losing battle he’s given up at this point, he arrives a little too late to class and sleepily drags himself up to the third row down in the middle section.
Eren slides into the last available seat, next to a pretty girl with pink hair.
It’s clear she’s nervous next to him for some reason, dramatically moving all her items far away from him and keeping her body turned so he can’t really see her, but Eren doesn’t care, whatever.
He’s too tired for morning lecture.
He doesn’t care until the prof asks if they can all pull out paper and a pen to participate in a class activity and Eren realizes he forgot his pencil case.
He taps the girl on the shoulder a few times, “Hey, can I borrow a pencil?”
She ignores him at first, but Eren is in the last seat of the aisle, she’s the only one he can ask.
“Excuse me, I’ll just be a few minutes, after the activity you can have it back.”
Still no answer, Eren groans, trying one more time and finally the girl looks at him and green eyes meet slate grey encased in delicate dark frames and Eren’s brain short circuits.
“Miki?”
She lets out a long sigh, “Yeah it’s me.”
His eyes scan up and down her body quick and he utters out a quick, “Fuck,” and Mikasa glares at him over her glasses.
“I look ridiculous right, I knew it, I’m throwing them away when I get home.”
She looks the opposite of ridiculous. Eren physically can’t breathe looking at her because he’s never really thought he’d have a thing for glasses, but Mikasa in glasses… He now understands why there’s so many sexy librarian pornos.
He’s silent for a second and his girlfriend squirms under her ridiculous pink wig, and Eren knows he has to clear up her assumption.
“Can I still borrow that pencil?”
Her brow furrows and for a moment she looks so unbelievably upset, but hands him hers and Eren wastes no time, writing down in explicit detail while their teach talks, exactly what he wants to do with his girlfriend.
She looks amazing, her eyes magnified a little by the frames, big, grey and expressive, eyelashes long and dark. It’s just the way they sit on her face too, the cute little scrunch of her brows every time they slide down the delicate arch of her nose, how she pouts when she has to push them back up.
How she looks like she should be wearing heels and asking him where his library card is, fuck does he love Mikasa in glasses. She’s sexy as hell.
Eren chooses an optimal moment to hand Mikasa his note, when the teacher is explaining the example and he watches her eyes scan the scrap of paper with his literal paragraph of dirty thoughts and she almost chokes.
He leans down to her ear, “Love the glasses, in case you couldn’t tell, you’d better be wearing them when I fuck you later.”
He lays a kiss to her temple before concentrating on class.
Mikasa doesn’t concentrate at all, he thinks he broke her, and he has to do their activity for both of them.
But oh well, as long as she knows she’s cute with glasses, he doesn’t really care.
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Socialite AU, last part! I finished a thing! Also posted on AO3 now that it’s done.
Shen Yuan had expected that the beginning of the school year would have kept Luo Binghe too busy for them to see each other more than, oh, about once a month, but it doesn’t seem to be the case. Luo Binghe is obviously very smart, so maybe that’s why he can keep up so easily. His studies sure don’t seem to stop him from having Shen Yuan over at least once a week.
Luo Binghe says it’s because he cannot trust Shen Yuan to feed himself properly, something Shen Yuan himself has profusely denied. First, he’s a fully grown adult, he can cook! Second, if he doesn’t feel like it, he can order in, or pay someone to cook for him. There are no issues there! He doesn’t need to be minded.
Not that he minds being minded. Shen Yuan has eaten more than his share of delicious food, and Luo Binghe’s stands above the rest. There are worst things than travelling to Luo Binghe’s apartment and eating a freshly cooked meal.
They don’t talk about novels as much though. This is an area where Luo Binghe had to step back in favor of reading assigned manuals. Shen Yuan has spent more than one evening reading trash by himself while Luo Binghe sat nearby, throwing the occasional question his way as he studied. Not that it seemed like he needed the help.
When does he see his college friends, Shen Yuan has no idea. Luo Binghe always waves away any concern of his on this matter. Seriously, Shen Yuan is a bit worried. Does he not fit in? It seems impossible that someone as charming, not to mention as affluent, as him would be ostracised. Even Shen Yuan had managed to gather a small group of friends during his college years. Luo Binghe must have done the same, no?
If he hasn’t, his fellow students are missing out.
In that case, Shen Yuan will take him out it their place. It wouldn’t do for Binghe to be lonely.
Not that that’s likely, considering how popular he is in their circle. As far as his female compatriots are concerned, Luo Binghe is now Beijing’s most eligible bachelor.
It’s a role that suits Luo Binghe’s public persona to a tee. He flutters between ladies as if he were born into in, flirting with one and laughing with another one with an ease Shen Yuan cannot help but envy, considering his own limited contacts with the other sex.
If those interactions often ended with a pretend fight between them, neither of them would complain about it. It was fun. Much better than insulting real people and wondering later if he’d gone too far, if he’d seriously hurt someone whose crime had only been to be born in a shitty family and raised in a similarly shitty fashion. He and Binghe sometimes rehearsed lines late into the night before a party, sentences that were meant to be biting insults turning into uncontrollable laughter.
Everything was going well. Shen Yuan’s reputation was becoming so toxic it had been weeks since the last time one of his fellow socialites had dared to speak to him, which is how Shen Yuan liked it. As for Luo Binghe, he was both admired for standing up to mean Shen Yuan, and pitied for always being the receptor of his ire. Binghe was more than talented enough to use all of it to his advantage.
All in all, everything was going perfectly.
Until now. “Excuse me?” says Shen Yuan with the coldest, most disparaging tone he has managed yet.
Sha Hualing, sadly, doesn’t seem impressed. “You can deny it all you want. It’s obvious. It must drive you crazy, seeing him with us and knowing you’ll never have a chance. He’s so good, too. Made me scream so loud I’m sure the neighbors heard. Not that you’ll ever find out yourself. Keep pulling his pigtails. He knows, he’s just too nice to tell how pathetic you are.”
Shen Yuan cannot convey to Sha Hualing how utterly from left field her theory is, and how completely baffled he is, without breaking his carefully maintained aura of disgusted condescension, but he really wishes he could. “You’re insane. How could I be attracted to… that.” He winces in his head. Too much? There are probably zero people that don’t feel at least a little attracted to Luo Binghe in this room.
But if there was one, it would be him. Luo Binghe is his cute disciple and friend, not his meal ticket. Leave that to Sha Hualing and her posse.
Her answering laugh is haughty. “Not even you believe that. Anyway, I just wanted to rub it in, but now that that’s done, I got better things to do than talking to you, like him. Fuck off.”
He flips her off as she leaves. Not his most elegant moment, but not the most elegant situation.
How the fuck did she get into her sick mind that he was into Luo Binghe. She should have thought they hated each other! That they wanted to tear each other’s throats open, not tear each other’s clothes off!
… Holy fuck their characters have ust, haven’t they? Danmei isn’t his playing field, but some things are universal across gender. There is an undeniable pull to seeing two hot people seeming like they’re two seconds away from punching each other when it also seems like they might be two seconds away from… something else.
It’s the only possible interpretation. They haven’t been careful enough, and now their roles are tainted by bad tropes!
Shen Yuan is going to have to adapt his persona a bit. Let himself run even colder. Less hate, more indifference, maybe? Or maybe he could just leave Luo Binghe alone for a few parties.
It wouldn’t work! It would seem like he chickened out after Sha Hualing confronted him! It would make it appear weak!
Could he make up a girlfriend?
Nah, no one would believe it.
Fuck, he’s going to need Luo Binghe’s help on this one.
_________________
“She what!?”
“Thinks I keep picking fights with you because I’m trying to get your attention and that I’d really like for you to bend me over something, probably.”
Luo Binghe blushes bright red.
Shen Yuan restrains his mirth. Nice to see he’s not the only one terribly embarrassed by the situation!
Yes, pinching those red cheeks would only make things worse, but he’s still very tempted.
Shen Yuan soldiers on. “Binghe shouldn’t worry about things too much. His reputation is safe. Considering how well he gets on with the fairer sex,” and yes, now Shen Yuan knows way more than he ever wanted to know about Sha Hualing’s sex life, but that’s life,” no one will doubt him. If he has no idea, I’ll think of something. It’s not his problem.”
“Shizun’s problems are my problems! He wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for me!”
Aww, Binghe, why is your indignation so cute!” Don’t blame yourself. We both agreed to the plan. It’s no one’s fault.”
Luo Binghe looks down, obviously still embarrassed. “I really have no idea where she got that. Shizun never appears to be attracted to me.”
“Who knows how Sha Hualing thinks. She probably watches too much porn.” He wouldn’t be surprised, considering how low-class she acted.
A second later, he catches his mistake. If Luo Binghe is… seeing her, he shouldn’t be that mean to her in his presence. “Sorry for insulting your… friend.” He doesn’t think they’re officially dating? Sha Hualing would never shut up about it, and anyway Luo Binghe wouldn’t have as much time for Shen Yuan if he was serious about someone. It’s probably just hormones raging.
Luo Binghe shakes his head. “Shizun shouldn’t apologise! She’s the one who was this rude! Implying Shizun doesn’t know how to court someone, or that he’d need such a ridiculous approach when a few words would be enough for him to have anyone! What a stupid woman.”
It’s Shen Yuan’s turn to be embarrassed. Luo Binghe is pushing the hero worship a little too far here. He’s got way more experience in that department than Shen Yuan will ever get, probably. “Well, if you don’t like her, maybe choose someone better as a partner? You could have anyone. I know it’s none of my business, and I guess she’s attractive, but really, so are many others who don’t share her… fiery temperament.”
If he were honest, he’d just tell Binghe he deserves better.
Much, much better. Didn’t he see her chatting with Liu Mingyan the other day? Now that’s a woman worthy of his Binghe, almost his equal in all fields.
Not that he needs to find someone just yet. He should take his time, and find someone he likes.
Luo Binghe snorts. “I would never choose her.”
Shen Yuan blinks. “Didn’t you?”
Luo Binghe looks wounded. “Why would you think that? I would never be with someone this cruel to Shizun!”
“But she said… oh.” Shen Yuan is an idiot. Why, why did he, even for a second, believe what that snake said? “Binghe must let me apologise. I’ve been stupid and have believed her when she said you and her were… involved.”
“Shizun mustn’t believe her! She lies!”
Shen Yuan pats Luo Binghe’s back gently. “I don’t! I don’t. She lied. I don’t believe her anymore. Of course Binghe has better tastes than this. I should have known.”
Luo Binghe raises his chin. “I do. I have the best tastes.”
Shen Yuan lets a smile appears on his face. “You do. After all, you have chosen me to guide you.”
Luo Binghe nods with almost comical vigour. “Yes!”
So! Cute! Shen Yuan wants to give him a hug!
He won’t, because he’s the dignified older friend.
Who reads bad online novels, but let’s not linger on that. “So, what do we do about her imagination? Because she cannot keep a secret to save her life, so I expect people will talk about it the next time we attend the same event.”
“…Does Shizun want… a girlfriend?”
What does that have to do with anything. “If I meet the right person, sure. Why?”
“Does it matter what they think? They never cared about Shizun to begin with. Who cares if they think he’s attracted to me. It doesn’t change a thing.”
Well, yes, but. “It makes me look pretty pathetic. It’s not exactly a fun reputation to have.”
“What does?”
“That I want someone and the best thing I can do about it is insulting them? It does make me look like a kindergartener.”
An unholy light appears in Luo Binghe’s eyes. “So what if that wasn’t the best thing you had done?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Shizun feels pathetic because he doesn’t like the idea that people think he wants someone and he doesn’t know how to get them, right? But what if he did?”
Shen Yuan is very confused right now. “Binghe?”
“We knew each other before that first party, right? So I let them know that. We could be bitter exes!”
Shen Yuan looks at him, completely frozen. “Binghe, no.” That is 100% a terrible idea.
“Why not? It would explain everything! Why we’re so mean to each other while I’m nice to everyone else, why you’re worst to me, and why there’s tension between us!”
There is no tension between them! They’re playing characters! “People would think you’re gay!”
“I’ve been flirting with women all the time. People would think I’m bi.”
“You’ve just told me you haven’t been dating! What if they think you’re hung up on me, who, by the way, is a man!”
“Is it that bad? I wouldn’t mind. Shizun is someone I would certainly be hung on if he had left me.”
“So I’m the one who left you now? That makes even less sense! Why would someone like me leave someone like you! Of course Binghe is the one who left!”
“If I were dating Shizun, I would never leave him! He has to be the one who left me!”
Shen Yuan rubs his temples. He knew the conversation wouldn’t be simple, but it has reached unprecedented levels of nonsense. “Let’s forget who left who. We’re not doing that. Binghe would ruin his reputation to only slightly better mine. That makes no sense.”
Luo Binghe pouts. “It would have worked. I would have made a very good ex-boyfriend.”
Shen Yuan pats his back again. “I’m sure you would have. I, on the other hand, would probably have been terrible at it.”
“Why?”
“How could I have pretended to not only have dated Binghe, but to have separated from him? No one would believe it. My talents aren’t up to the task. I can’t make myself look like a plausible boyfriend to Binghe.”
Luo Binghe sighs. “That’s stupid. Shizun might as well have been my boyfriend lately.”
Shen Yuan feels a headache coming. He can barely follow the logic of this conversation. “Binghe, I don’t understand.”
“Shen Yuan spends most of his evenings with me. I cook for him. He takes me out. We’ve been writing to each other for months. He’s been carefully curating my reading lists for most of those months. He has plenty of reasons why I would be dating him.”
Okay, let’s just ignore most of that. “Nothing you listed has anything to do with the character we play for those society functions? High society Shen Yuan probably only reads classic literature, when he’s not working his high-power job and, I don’t know, checking stocks or playing the guqin. Nothing appealing there. How would we have even met?”
“Via work? Maybe you had a meeting with some executive of my father. Considering my reputation, we probably just had sex and ended up dating later on.”
Shen Yuan tries to imagine being the kind of person who would see Luo Binghe and think he could just hit that.
Impossible. Does not compute. “Look, I’m just going to ignore it. It’s always worked before. We probably shouldn’t change it.”
“But things always staying the same is bad! They must evolve!”
Shen Yuan shrugs. “Not necessarily. My life has mostly remained the same since I’ve graduated, and it’s perfectly fine.”
Luo Binghe flinches like a kicked puppy. “Is my arrival so unimportant to Shizun?”
Fuck. “No! That’s not what I meant! I mostly meant my romantic life!” Not really, he meant his life his general, but it is quite insulting to Binghe to imply he had no impact on his life, not to mention just an outright lie.
“That, too, should change.”
“It sure won’t if everyone thinks I’m gay.”
Under Luo Binghe’s breath, barely audible to Shen Yuan, “It’s not exactly an impediment.” Then, louder. “Let’s tell them the truth, then.”
Shen Yuan instantly panics. “Binghe, they can’t know the truth, it’ll fuck everythin-“
And that’s when Luo Binghe’s tongue finds its way into Shen Yuan’s mouth.
Shen Yuan’s mind freezes completely.
Luo Binghe keeps on kissing him.
Shen Yuan’s mind keeps trying to reboot.
Luo Binghe pushes back and sighs. “Does Shizun understand now?”
Nope. “…We can’t be exes if we’re kissing?”
“Forget the exes. Let’s just tell them we’re having sex. That’ll be the true part. We’ll just tell them it’s hate sex. I’ll tell them you’re just that good and I can’t resist you. That way, you won’t be pathetic, right?”
Shen Yuan’s slowly rebooting mind cannot decide if the “reputation for being gay” part would outweigh the “reputation for having seduced Luo Binghe” part.
Wait. “We’re having sex?”
Luo Binghe falters. “If you want to? Because I want to. A lot. But we’re pretty much dating and Shen Yuan didn’t seem to realise, so I thought maybe he’s not attracted to me, but you keep acting like I’m the best thing that ever happened to you when really, the reverse is true, and can we date already? Please?”
Shen Yuan opens his mouth.
Shen Yuan closes his mouth.
Shen Yuan tries to understand that, apparently, Luo Binghe has been trying to date him? Him? Luo Binghe? And him? As a couple? That is a thing that is apparently on the table?
Wait, Shen Yuan actually is a person who could have looked and Luo Binghe and have hit that!?
Woah.
“I…”
Luo Binghe’s eyes grow even wider as he waits for Shen Yuan’s response.
As if Shen Yuan ever had the capacity to tell Binghe no.
As if he ever wanted to. “Okay. Let’s try it.”
A second later, he gets an armful of overenthusiastic Binghe trying to choke him with too much tongue.
“But we’re not playing bitter exes.” Shen Yuan really has no belief in his ability to pretend he left Luo Binghe.
That he had him and is devastated he doesn’t anymore, sure. But that he’d manage to be cruel to Luo Binghe about it? There’s no way.
“That’s fine. I like the one with the hate sex much better anyway.”
To be honest, so does Shen Yuan.
_________________
Shen Yuan positions himself in such a way that he can track Luo Binghe’s movements across the room without looking like he’s doing more than reading on his phone.
He can tell from Sha Hualing’s particularly vicious grin that she’s about to deliver what she considers to be a crippling blow to his reputation.
He thrills when the expression melts, replaced by horror as Luo Binghe’s face turn sheepish. He can almost hear his embarrassed tone as he admits to the moral failing that is sleeping with Shen Yuan, universal pariah.
He can distinctly hear the cries of dismay and what he knows are roars of utter jealousy.
None of it shows on his face, but Shen Yuan grins.
#The Scum Villain Self Serving System#Scum Villain#BingQiu#the AU where SY and LBH are both online friends and fellow socialites
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Parental Advisory [18+]
K!nktober 2020 Kink Bingo!: Ass Worship
Summary: You bring Frederick Chilton to meet your parents over a weekend. Chilton is rude them. You do him in the ass at your parents’ house.
This oneshot stands on its own, but it’s also a side-story from the A Punchable Face That I Want to Kiss universe, which has a gender-neutral reader. So this is either pegging or penis depending on how you’re interpreting the reader! (And since even I am not sure, it’s going for the Ass Worship square in @thatesqcrush’s Kink Bingo instead of pegging or anal)
*There is no weird parent voyeurism or whatever, the walls are thick in this house OK? They’re just there for the awkward social interaction of bringing home a pompous douchebag XD
5,059 words
“That went quite well,” said Dr. Chilton, voice smooth and velvety with confidence as you settled into the guest bedroom upstairs.
You grimaced, and quietly shut the door behind you. When you didn’t answer, he looked over to see a teeth-gritting expression plastered on your face. He raised an eyebrow. You tried to coax your face into a genuine smile, but only succeeded in stretching the corners of your mouth more tightly until you looked like some kind of face-eating killer-clown monster.
“Did it not go well?”
“Ummmm...” you stretched a long vowel and scratched the side of your neck to fill the pause as you made up your mind on exactly how to explain this to him.
His velvety confidence broke and he closed the distance between you in a quick stride, taking your shoulders and searching your eyes with worry etched into his brow.
“Tell me.”
“Frederick, you can’t just tell people it’s obvious they come from dirt because of the length of stitches in their hem!”
“That is not what I said—I observed the indications of working-class design popularized by the—”
“Frederick!”
“I was showing interest in their cultural heritage.”
“And you thought that was the way to do it?!”
He quieted. “They were not fond of me, then?”
“As first impressions go, it was pretty bad.”
“Shit.” He sank down onto the edge of the bed—a floral lavender comforter matching the rest of the room, tucked crisply around the sides as if it had never been slept in before, which it hadn’t. Frederick rested his elbows on his knees and let his forehead sink into his hands.
He was worried. He had only been dating you for a year, but you were different than his usual flings. For one thing, you had stayed with him for an entire year. You were affectionate and honest. You didn’t care about money. If he made a snipe about you being a hot mess, you would mock him right back for caring too much about appearances. It was, he eventually discerned, because you hadn’t come from a wealthy family, and never envied those who did. You were actually happy with who you were and scorned the idea of status symbols—like his car, his watches, his house, his Montblanc pens—whose only purpose was to display wealth. It annoyed him at first, but then he wondered, if you were not after him because he was a wealthy doctor, what did you see in him?
He was still figuring that out. If possible, he would like to spend a lifetime figuring it out—he even planned to ask you to move in with him—but he may have just ruined that.
***
Dr. Chilton’s poor impression began hours before he even met your parents. Since you were just going home to family, you wore a plain t-shirt and jeans. Despite your specific instruction to dress casually, he wore a suit. And so, the first thing your parents saw when they opened the front door was a pair so mismatched, it looked like an illicit student-professor affair.
He then handed them a very expensive bottle of wine as a gift—but, as was Frederick’s habit, it was too opulently out of your parents’ price range to be interpreted as anything other than boasting. Your father grumbled, “Thanks,” in a way that Frederick seemed blithely unaware meant “fuck you.”
After that, Chilton began observing things like bargain-bin Sherlock Holmes, and generally being Chilton. He mentioned that their entire house could fit inside his garage. After a few minutes of stilted conversation he said, in not a flattering way, that he could “see where you got it from now.”
You hadn’t expected the first meeting between your elitist doctor boyfriend and your down-home parents to go well, but you had hoped he might lean more toward the charming side of his charming asshole spectrum, just for today. He had a way of getting under everyone’s skin at first, including yours. But he was sweet, underneath his WASPy upbringing, and you were sure they would see that.
When Frederick excused himself to the bathroom, your father immediately let out the complaints he had been barely containing for the last hour. “So that’s not going to last much longer, is it?” he snorted, leaning forward in his La-Z-Boy recliner. “How do you stand it? Did you hear him correct me about searing steak? As if that dandy would know the first thing about grilling.”
“He’s right, you know,” you said. “Searing doesn’t lock in juices, it just adds flavor. I Googled it.”
“Now he’s corrupting my own child!” your dad shouted, throwing his hands in the air. “You gonna be a know-it-all now, too?”
“As if I wasn’t already,” you challenged, hand on your hip. Your dad wasn’t wrong, though, so you laughed it off and shook your head. “I know, I know. That’s just how he is. Once we got into a disagreement about how ‘pajamas’ is pronounced, and he wouldn’t let it go until... Well, I just started using the word sleepwear.”
“And he wears double-breasted suits,” your mother chimed in behind her hand.
“Oh? What about it?”
“They’re so sleazy!” she cried.
“They are?” If this was some sort of well-known fashion knowledge, your parents never passed it down to you. You always thought Frederick looked good in whatever he wore.
“I don’t know what you see in that pompous little twerp,” your dad sighed heavily, then grinned. “I bet I could pick him up with one hand and toss him out the window.”
“Dad!”
“Bet he screams like a girl,” your father roared with laughter, slapping his knee.
“Oh, he does,” you said with a cold, tight smile. “And if you lay a hand on him, you’ll be singing like a girl, you get me?”
The laughter stopped, and you found yourself in the most intense familial staredown since Thanksgiving 2008. Your father’s eyes silently growled, “You would threaten your own father?!” and yours narrowed and hissed, “I will if you threaten my boyfriend!”
Your mother broke the silence with a patient, pleading voice. “I get it. He’s rich, and he’s not bad looking. But you know you don’t have to marry for money. Your father and I have enough, and I thought you were doing well for yourself working with the FBI.”
“You really think I’d be with someone for money?” you said, mouth agape with bewilderment. Sometimes you wondered if these people knew you at all. “He’ll grow on you, trust me. Just… try to ignore the condescending shit that comes out of his mouth. It becomes endearing eventually.” Footsteps creaked on the second floor, announcing Frederick’s imminent return. You put on your sternest kindergarten-teacher face and pointed across the living room at your parents. “Both of you, behave!”
***
You stood beside him and tenderly ran your fingers through his thick brown hair—a gesture he adored, reserved for evenings at home and mornings before grooming so as not to ruin his perfect coif. He closed his eyes and leaned into the comforting sensation, grateful that you were, at least for the moment, not upset with him.
“I was trying to be friendly,” Frederick explained, his voice sounding as much like a whining child justifying why he had tracked dirt into the house as it did like a man.
Your gentle fingers clenched tightly in his hair and tugged down on the back of his head with enough force to make him look up at you, eyes opening wide with surprise. You narrowed yours.
“You weren’t trying to get them to like you, you were trying to prove that you were superior to them. It’s what you always do,” you growled.
He stared back at you for a few beats, trying to decide whether to be offended, chastised, or turned on. With your fingers curled roughly in his hair, controlling his head with a firm grip, he knew you were not truly angry. You were slipping into character, playing a game at ‘punishing’ him, which he could stop in a word if he wanted to. But the evening would be more fun if he gave you more to punish him over.
“I did no such thing,” he huffed. “If your parents confuse intelligence and culture with condescension, that is hardly my fault!”
Your lips crashed down on his with a snarl, shutting him up as your tongue invaded his mouth to stop his from wagging. The kiss was bruising at first, an act of dominance, but his loud, muffled moans into your mouth and his soft, yielding lips coaxed you to slow down and enjoy it. Your grip in his hair grew softer again, turned into gentle caresses, and your kiss grew deeper and more passionate. Fuck if you didn’t love it when he was bratty. When you finally broke away, his face was flushed and there were stars in your eyes. You slowly sucked the mingled saliva off your lower lip while you appraised him.
“You are a very rude boy, Frederick,” you said, a long, predatory smile slowly slanting over your lips. “Aren’t you?”
He swallowed, obediently staying seated but leaning forward with anticipation. “Yes.”
You threw a leg across his lap, straddling him, and pushed the center of his chest until he was lying flat on the bed. You followed him halfway down, caging him in with your arms and staring down at him with mock anger. His cock was already twitching under your thigh, and a wave of arousal washed over you, making it hard to keep up your performance. But you wanted to see him squirm.
“Rude boys need to learn their place.” You lowered your mouth to his, but stopped an inch before kissing him. He tried to tip his head to meet your lips, but you sat up, grinning with the feeling of power over him as he whimpered with disappointment. “Nope. You were a bad boy today, Frederick. You haven’t earned another kiss yet.”
“What can I do to make it up to you?” he asked, his voice already heavy with lust.
You thought about it, stroking your chin. “You always act like you’re so much better than everyone,” you observed, reaching between your legs to idly stroke his growing bulge through his pants. His hips jerked, pushing his cock into your palm. “What would your high-society friends think if they saw you with your ass in the air, begging for a lowly commoner to fuck you?”
His adam’s apple bobbed sharply. He liked the idea. He liked it a lot.
“I want you to strip for me,” you ordered in a calm, matter-of-fact tone. “Then I want you on all fours.”
Normally he wouldn’t have hesitated, so when you looked down and saw tension, not arousal, in his eyes, you were concerned.
“Will your parents hear us?” he asked, a blush creeping up the sides of his neck. “I was hoping to walk away with at least a neutral review from your family, and I assume being overheard in the throes of passion will not result in favorable points.”
You smirked devilishly. “Then you’d better be quiet.”
***
After a few minutes for each of you to shower and prepare, you had Frederick just as you’d asked. Naked and on his knees. “That’s my good little slut,” you praised, running your hand over his ass and giving it a light smack—not enough to make much noise, but the light contact was enough to make Frederick whimper softly with need. “Such a beautiful ass.”
“Touch me more,” he breathed.
“Good boy, telling me what you want, but you have to be more specific. Where do you want me to touch you?”
“Anywhere,” he whispered with such honesty it was heartbreaking. He really didn’t care, so long as you were touching him. It made you want to forget everything else, hold him as tight as you could, and never let him go… but this was punishment.
“I see,” you tutted. “First you’re rude and arrogant, and now you can’t make up your mind.” You let your hand trail off, and he whimpered louder the moment you broke contact. You stalked a circle around the bed, taking your time to just enjoy the sight. It was only a double size bed, so unlike the monstrosity Frederick owned, you could easily prowl around the entire thing as you appraised his form like he was displayed on a pedestal. “You really are handsome,” you purred, eyes gliding over his broad shoulders and muscular arms, bulging with thick veins bulging all the way down to the backs of his hands. He wasn’t especially tall and seemed so bookish in his suits, but those biceps could crack your head like a walnut, and you’d let him. But he glanced up and met your eyes with a pathetic, questioning look that told you he didn’t really believe you. You could tell him over and over again how perfect he was, but for someone with such a big ego, he was remarkably insecure. Then again, maybe the two went hand in hand.
You finished your circuit and finally stepped up to the edge of the bed behind him, welcomed by the sight of his shapely ass with his tight hole eagerly waiting for you, his weighty balls hanging below, cock already standing in rigid defiance of gravity.
“Now that’s a pretty picture,” you let out a throaty growl of appreciation, and couldn’t resist running your hands down the rounded curve of his ass cheeks. “I can’t wait to fuck this perfect ass,” you moaned.
He breathed deeply, shuddering as you climbed onto the bed behind him, the front of your thighs pressed against the back of his. “Thank you. Thank you,” he whispered as your hands roamed over his back and sides. You dipped one down his soft stomach, smoothing over the raised scar and fine hairs that grew coarser beneath his belly button until you found his cock. It was already rock hard. You took its velvety skin in your hand and gave a few lazy strokes just to hear him choking on his breath, to feel his body tense and go slack at the same time. You brought your fingers to your mouth and tasted his salty precum, closing your eyes as it sent blood surging between your thighs. You licked each finger with a loud wet noise, and hummed as you savored it to be sure he knew what you were doing. When his hips shifted, trying to grind against you, and he whimpered a lusty, “Please,” you knew it had worked.
“Do you want me to fuck you?” you asked, voice thick with arousal.
“Y-yes,” he stammered, shifting back to grind his hips against yours.
“Say it then, Doctor Chilton. I want you to tell me what you want me to do. Tell me what will make you feel good. I want to hear you beg for it, remember?”
“Please?” he whined more desperately. You didn’t give an inch.
“Please what?”
He groaned miserably, and didn’t answer. As strong as his need was, he hated being vulnerable enough to ask for what he wanted out loud, and it didn’t help that you had goaded him earlier about begging. Now he was going to deliberately be stubborn. But you were patient. Before the night was over, he would beg.
“You know,” you pondered aloud, spreading and kneading his thick cheeks, “if you have one thing to feel superior about, it’s this ass.” You gave it another light smack, and he jumped. “It’s so big, and I love—” you cut yourself off, ducking down and kissing the inside of his thigh. You kissed all the way down to his knee, and all the way up until you were moving his balls aside, gently toying with them in one hand so you could press your lips to the juncture of his leg and hip. His breathing was coming out harder, more erratic, but he was still managing to control his voice until you switched legs and gave a sharp nip to his thigh that made him yelp and clap a hand to his mouth. You teased and marked his thighs until they were shaking, then dragged your teeth up his buttocks and gave him a firm nip. Now you really got into it, moaning as you sucked on his flesh, leaving stinging red marks all over his pale ass cheeks. He groaned with pleasure, but stubbornly kept his hand over his mouth, denying you what you wanted—hearing him beg for more. It was a battle of wills he could only win for so long.
“Too bad,” you pouted, dragging your fingers slowly up the sensitive flesh between his balls and his ass. You licked a broad swathe along the same path, and his muffled whimpering and the writhing of his hips was like music, spurring you on. “I really want to finger that perfect ass of yours, but if you can’t tell me that’s what you want...” The tips of your fingers found his tight entrance and circled it slowly.
A long whine came from deep in the back of Frederick’s throat, and finally he panted out, “I… would like you to—please.”
“To what?” you asked, feigning innocence.
He snarled with frustration, squeezing his eyes closed as he answered, “F-fingers!”
“That’s not a very polite way of asking, but it will do for now.” You poured lube over his ass and worked it in until everything was nicely slippery and circled his entrance again, teasing circles that slowly spiraled toward the center, finally pressing a fingertip inside him.
“More… please…” he whimpered. You complied, building up slowly, sinking one finger into him, then once he was babbling frustrated demands for more, stretching him open with two. Pumping your fingers, you curled them down toward his stomach to stroke that tender bundle of nerves that made him cry out with pleasure, toes curling, when you found it.
“Quiet now,” you warned, pressing a chaste kiss to one of the hickeys you’d left, “You don’t want anyone to hear.” The strangled sounds he made into the mattress as he struggled to keep quiet were almost enough to send you right over the edge. Even though you were focusing entirely on his pleasure, it was a turn-on for you, too. “You feel so good, taking me like this,” you cooed, your voice only cracking a little. “So tight.” Wet noises filled the room, and the huffing of his breath came harder. You reached between his legs and barely touched his burning hot cock when his will broke.
“Please—please fuck me,” he panted, ragged and hoarse like he would die if you didn’t. “I want you to fuck me. Oh, god, oh, god. Please!”
“What a good boy, begging so pretty for me.” You slowly removed your slick fingers from his core, and he looked back at you, eyes pleading for you to fill him again. You raised your eyebrows at him expectantly, almost stern, on the cusp of complete victory and he knew it, but was too lost to care anymore. The urgent flames of his arousal burned every muscle in his body, and he would say everything he knew you wanted to hear if it meant he could come.
“Please, please fuck my ass. I am sorry for being rude. I was bad. I know I am rotten and do not deserve you, but please, I am begging you to fuck me.”
An aching pang twisted your heart and took you out of the moment and any desire to torment him. You bent low, pressing your body over the length of Frederick’s back, grasped him by the chin, and twisted his face to lock eyes with you. “You deserve me, Frederick,” you said, voice steady and serious. “You are not bad. You are wonderful, and I love you. I wasn’t trying to… I wanted you to feel humble, not undeserving. You deserve to be loved. Do you understand?”
He nodded, and leaned all his weight onto one arm so he could draw your head down closer and kiss you, fervent and warm. It was a little quick and desperate, all wet tongues and sliding lips, but with a loving softness to it that melted you. “Please,” he urged, “if you make me repeat positive affirmations now before you will fuck me, I swear—” He glowered petulantly, though it was a thin performance. It didn’t escape your notice that he cut his sentence short, as there was no actual threat to fill in the blank of what he swore. He would patiently endure any torture you threw at him, and you both knew it.
You chuckled at his adorable defiance, kissed him lightly on the nose, then ruthlessly pushed his shoulders down into the mattress. He fell with a satisfied moan of anticipation. “Look at this,” you pronounced, as if you’d just walked in on the scandalous scene. “The great Doctor Chilton with his ass in the air, begging to be taken by some nobody. How shocking, simply shocking,” you teased, elongating each syllable the way Frederick did when he was being particularly snobby.
“Please, please fuck me,” he pleaded, voice pitifully small and helpless, half-smothered against the mattress, playing his part as if his depravity were on display to his peers.
Your voice dropped a quarter octave and took on a hungry edge. “I could never turn down such a desperate request from such an esteemed gentleman.”
Frederick had been waiting a long time, and moaned loudly as you finally pushed inside of him, not bothering or not aware enough to control his volume. The pace you set was deep and steady, not punishingly hard, but not languid and easy, either. Sliding in and out of his tightness, you gripped his hips, and angled yours to hit the sweet spot inside him. You knew the moment you’d found it—suddenly, he could barely contain his whimpering and moaning, babbling nonsense as he began to fall apart.
“You were trying to prove you were better than everyone today, weren’t you?” you leaned over him and hissed in his ear as you thrust.
“Yes,” he admitted, his voice strained and panting, so close to his release. He was drooling onto the blanket.
“What have I told you about being humble?”
“To… try it?” he struggled to answer, voice jostling as you thrust into him harder, his hips rocking to push against your thrusts, deepening the penetration.
“That’s right. Because you’re not better than anyone else, are you?”
“…No,” the answer tore from his throat in a shameful gasp.
You sank your teeth into his shoulder, and he cried out with pain and pleasure. “You’re a dirty slut who likes to be dominated, aren’t you?”
“Y-yes.”
“And you’re perfect just as you are and don’t need to prove anything to anyone, aren’t you?”
“Ye—” he almost answered, but then his hips stuttered in their movement and stopped.
“I love you. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” he breathed. His hips began to move again as his confusion cleared, meeting yours as they crashed against his muscular ass.
“I think you’re perfect,” you smiled, feeling his muscles tense as his climax neared. “And you would never contradict me, would you?”
“Never.”
“Good.” You sat higher again to get a better angle on his prostate and took his dripping cock in your palm, stroking in time with your thrusts, overwhelming him with sensation. His whole body convulsed beneath you. He shoved a pillow into his mouth just in time to keep the entire house from hearing his lung-shattering wail, his back arching as he painted his seed over the pristine lavender blankets, coming so hard he nearly came on his own face. You slumped down over him, and he reached for your hand, his fingers laced with yours.
His back rose and fell with each panting breath as he slowly came down from the high, both of you exhausted and sweating and pleasantly sleepy. You rolled over into a more comfortable position to spoon him. The hairs on the back of his neck were soft and ticklish against your nose as you nuzzled him, pressing gentle kisses all along his neck and under his jaw, feeling his pulse surging hot beneath your lips. He groaned softly in the aftermath, melting in your arms. Longing to have more of you to hold onto, he flipped over so he was facing you, wrapping his powerful arms around you snugly, burying his face under your chin. His hair was a mess, partly stuck to his forehead with sweat with one giant cowlick on the side he had pressed against the mattress, and you couldn’t resist running your fingers through it to muss it up more. More happy noises came forth, and a few wet, sucking kisses clung to your throat.
“I love you,” he murmured, and the sound vibrated up your neck.
“Fuck, I love you so much,” you whispered back, wrapping a leg around him to pull him even closer, his spent erection pressing into you. You could feel the stickiness of his release smearing over your leg, but at this point, you were both going to need a shower anyway. “I love you.”
For several minutes you just lay there recovering, warm in each other’s embrace, softly whispering praises. Finally, he pulled back, an ocean of green eyes gazing back into yours with a question in them. He pondered it for a long while, and finally, instead of asking, declared, “Tomorrow, I shall correct my mistakes. I run an entire hospital of psychopaths; I can manage to make your parents like me.”
“Why are you so worried about what they think?”
“I do not care what they think. I worry about what they think and tell you. They… are important to you. If they disapprove, it may sway your feelings. Not right away, perhaps, but that familial bond will gnaw at you day by day, like a rat chewing through bone, until you share their negative opinion, and…” he shrugged, his eyes glassy, “…I will lose you.”
You caressed the side of his jaw and neck, thumb stroking his cheek, and peppered his face with kisses. Smoothing your palm down his shoulder, you pulled yourself close until your forehead knocked against his. “Nothing is going to change the way I feel about you, Frederick. Nothing. I love you. I don’t care what they think. It’s not like I’m just now discovering that you rub people the wrong way,” you chuckled. “That’s part of what makes me love you. You can be… officious. It takes time to get to know you. But I have never regretted a single minute of it. They’ll come around.”
His surrounding arms tightened around you possessively, quietly affirming that he understood.
Circling your hand idly over his back, still damp with sweat, you admitted something you hadn’t told him. “I was more nervous about what you would think of them,” you said, and he pulled back to pin you with a stare demanding an explanation. You squirmed under his gaze, cheeks heating up. “I didn’t want you realizing I’m complete born-and-bred trash.”
“I was already well aware of that, darling.”
A low growl stirred in your chest. “Still rude,” you snarled gleefully, rolling him onto his back, pinning his shoulders down, and biting his neck. He yelped and scrambled into a sitting position, taking you with him until you fell off his lap to the side.
“S-sorry!” you gasped, afraid you had bitten him too hard for him to balk so dramatically, when he was usually willing to play along with anything. A split second later, you realized it wasn’t pain on his face. His lips were curled as if he had stepped in something slimy. Or rather, rolled in it. Which he had.
“Eeuughh!” he shuddered.
“Since when are you so squeamish?” you asked with a sultry look to remind him of all the times he had licked himself off of your fingers.
“It was cold,” he shot back.
And kind of everywhere. He came a lot. And none of it had been intercepted by any orifices, so his full load was painted across the blanket like a Jackson Pollock.
You thanked your lucky stars that the guest bedroom had its own half bath stocked with washcloths, so you didn’t have to venture into the hall while sticky with sex. But after cleaning yourselves up and changing into sleepwear, you stared with dismay at the floral-patterned blanket you and Frederick had ruined.
“I do not accept responsibility for this,” Frederick said. “Having sex in your old bedroom was your idea—I cannot be held accountable for ruining your childhood memories.”
The speed at which Frederick shifted to weaseling out of blame overwhelmed your ability to keep a straight face—you smirked, snorted, and gave in completely to a belly-shaking laugh. He raised an eyebrow and glanced at you sideways.
“Frederick...” your shoulders bounced, “Does this look like a childhood bedroom? My parents moved after I graduated college.”
“Ah.” The tips of his ears turned red with embarrassment. You recalled how impersonal his own bedroom—and entire house—was, and your heart ached to think that he couldn’t even recognize that an ordinary childhood bedroom would be cluttered with forgotten toys and old posters. “That would explain the lack of baby pictures.”
“You can ask my parents to show you the photo albums,” you said offhandedly, and smiled at the way he perked up with genuine interest.
“I have been curious what species of gremlin you evolved from...” he smirked.
“My parents would love it if you let them show you the family albums. I will be mortified, but they’ll love you for it.”
“The key to their hearts, as it were?”
“You know, yeah. It might actually tip the scales. It might even make up for this,” you gestured at the blanket which the bodily fluid and lube stains were definitely never washing out of.
He sank down onto the edge of the bed and covered his face with his hands. “Fuck.”
• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •
Tags:
@beccabarba / @caked-crusader / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @da-po / @madamsnape921
#Frederick Chilton x reader#Frederick Chilton#Raúl Esparza#Hannibal#my writing#thatesqcrush kink bingo
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THe RFA as the Heathers musical????? (◕‿-)*･｡ﾟ I LOVE YOU SO MUCH THAT YOU KNWO WE BOTH NEED THIS.(ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc) PLease the love o f my life, the 7 to my 07, the Chandelier to my McNAmara the Viktor to my YUuuri! (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥
babe!! i love you!!( ˘ ³˘)❤ you right, we need this. SOOOOO~~
[ DISCLAIMER : i didn’t really match up personalities??? its hard. im smol. its 2am. you’re right next to me. ]
Cast
MC - Veronica
Zen - Heather Chandler
Yoosung - Heather Duke
Jaehee - Heather McNamara
Jumin - Kurt
707 / Luciel / Saeyoung - JD
V / Jihyun - Ram
Saeran - Martha
Rika - Mrs. Fleming
Vanderwood - Preppy Stud / Principal Gowan / general ensemble
Highlights
Beautiful
MC being all smol and hopeful - “Dear Diary, I believe I’m a good person” “We were kind before, we can be kind once more”
If Vanderwood is the general ensemble, its just them yelling out insults. “Freak! Shortbus! Bug-eyes! Lard ass!” etc.
MC about V: “smacking lunch trays and being a huge dick”
Saeran loving the Princess Bride???
MC about Jumin: “kind of like being the tallest dwarf”
Jumin: “you have a zit right there”
Jaehee being head cheerleader is amazing
also: “if i took a meat cleaver down the center of your skull, i’d have matching halves. thats very important”
Yoosung being Duke and being snarky to Zen
MC about Zen: “he is a mythic bitch.” which is me about him tbh
Rika not giving a fuck about Yoosung throwing up in the bathroom rip
Saeran watching MC get sold to the rfa smh
Candy Store
literally everything about this is iconic
Zen: “WHY NOW ARE YOU PULLING ON MY D I C K?”
the subtle gay between Veronica + Mac is now Jaehee x MC
Zen to Yoosung: “SHUT UP HEA THER”
Zen being a dramatic asshole with that long note
Jaehee hitting them harmonies hell yeah
i love this part of this stupid au listen
Fight For Me
MC to 707: “hey, Mr. No Name Kid”
707 literally beating up Jumin and V???????
where is this au going
7 is actually 3 cats in a trench coat
MC is #whipped
Vanderwood in the background: “holy shit! holy shit holy shit holy shiiiiiit”
MC in general: “Dᵃᵃᵃaamn”
MC knows CPR how handy
“You can punch real good”
Freeze Your Brain
ok but?? all of this song is 7??????
“who needs cocaineeeee?”
minus the dad rip
7 goes to 7-Eleven
god bless
“altar of slush” is something Seven would have ok
*sip noise*
Big Fun
idk its party song
Yoosung, Jaehee, and Zen going: “dang dang diggity dang a dang”
V hating freshman
Jumin going: “yOU NEED A JELLO SHOT”
disregard martha having feelings for ram rip i dont ship that
“LETS USE THEIR SHOWERS. THAT SOUNDS LIKE BIG FUN”
its a party idk what to tell you
Dead Girl Walking
do I have to explain this one?
MC in 7′s yard
MC about Zen: “the demon queen of high school”
“spend these 30 hours getting..fREAAKKYYYYYYYY YEA”
Seven: “how’d you find my address?” and “that works for me, hoop”
its a sex song
thats it
yall do the do
The Me Inside of Me
Zen is dead
Zen: “IM BIGGER THAN JOHN LENNON”
this is what Zen deserves in death
i cant believe mc and 707 poisoned zen
this is the song his fanclub sings
jaehee is in mourning
rika: “this is the loveliest suicide note I’ve ever read”
Blue
rip
Jumin and V, drunk and trying to get into MC’s pants?
seems legit
V: “Heyyy ‘ronia” ;)))))
MC: “you got a left hand, use it”
Yoosung and Jaehee just shaking their heads in the car and singing along
this song is a mess
Jumin and V had too much wine
Our Love is God
here w e goooo
707 being all cute at first
Jumin and V: “free pussy. and we dont even have to buy it a pizza”
Our love is god 7
“Ich Luge” bullets yeah sure saeyoung
“we’re what killed the dinosaurs”
707 kills V????????
Jumin to 7: “you killed my best friend”
nOW IM SAD ITS 2:30ISH AND IM GONNA CRY
My Dead Gay Son
Vanderwood can move over, I’ll sing this song
i mean…i love my dead gay sons
they’re bi, but….
anyway
now they’re dead
rip in pieces
Seventeen
this is where MC tries to convice 7 to be normal
and its cute
and they talk about prom and dancing and camping
cute couple moment
thats about it
Shine A Light
here’s rika trying to make light of a situation that shouldn’t be lightened on
and the start of Jaehee’s breakdown
“my husband left” the world, ye
Rika: “i’ve joined a cult”
also Rika: “so Steve, I’m ending our affair. And I faked it. every single time.”
….anyway
Lifeboat
my beautiful wife’s beautiful solo
she’s so sad
the people around her are dying
she’s kill this song it would sound so good
being salty about Yoosung being the new leader
“well who made her captain?!…still, the weakest must go”
save my wife
Shine A Light(Reprise)
aka Yandere Yoosung
or, in Jaehee’s thoughts
look, more subtext gay
honestly, just….
im sad, next song
Kindergarten Boyfriend
smh Saeran we don’t need anymore deaths
[ changes this song to some angsty twin situation because,,, ]
“Where naptime lasts for centuries”
someone spare him
Yo Girl
the return of all the dead people!
and 7 really starting to go crazy
Zen’s ominous: “he’s got your handwriting down cold~”
Vanderwood as MC’s parents.
The Dead Trio: “come join Heather in hell~”
MC’s desperate “get out of my house!”
707′s “knock, knock~~~”
i like this song tbh its short but ooooooh
Meant To Be Yours
this song is also just 707 in general
just *clenches fist* ooooooh
he’s this angsty
plot twist: this whole musical is just one of 7′s bad endings
sound effects for days
“bring marshmallows, we’ll make s’mores~”
and then it starts to get Really Angsty
“you were meant to be mine. i am all that you need. you carved open my heart. can’t just leave me to bleed. vERONICA- open the, open the door please”
and then mc does….the Thing
“STILL I WILL IF I MUUSSSSSST”
vanderwood as mc’s mom yelling when they see what happened
Dead Girl Walking (Reprise)
MC going all 180 here and now they wanna die with Seven
Rika back at it again: “I threw together a lovely tribute, especially under such short notice”
Just imagine Jaehee doing a cheer that goes “send you straight to hell!”
MC trying hard here, “I wish your dad was good, I wish grownups understood”
Seven going full psycho: “I wish I had more TNT”
*cue epic fight scene*
“Send you straight to-”
I Am Damaged
SADNESS
7: “I respectfully, disagree.”
he’s too damaged. far too damaged
im gonna cry;;
“I worship you…I’d trade my life for yours”
o H MY GOD
“And when I disappear..”
WA IT HOLD O N NOT THIS WAAAAY
“our love is god…”
B O O M
yoosung: “you look like hell” mc: “yeah. i just got back”
Seventeen (Reprise)
and we leave you with these questions:
will saeran ever get over kindergarten?
will jaehee and MC finally Be Gay as a true ending?
when will MC stop
find out more next time on: “Random Ass AUs: the Musical”
#honestly....wtf is this#a request!#pastel-nonbinary#babe!!!#the 7 to my 07#rfa+#mystic messenger#mysme#it its 3:30am#no one really needed it#but oh well#for you babe
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not everyone blindly loves fallout 4: get the fuck over it
All these post about the original Mass Effect on my dash are making me misty-eyed. God, I miss Liara. Anyway . . .
Why is it that straight dudes are the only ones who can't take it when someone has an opinion of a video game? It's my opinion. Not everyone is going to blindly worship your favorite games. Get the fuck over it.
And I can't even say "straight white dudes" because they aren't the only ones acting like frail pissbabies. It's just straight dudes in general, who seem to be the constant source of all the bigotry and insanity in the gaming community.
Why the FUCK do you care that I resent Fallout 4's reduced rpg elements?
Why the FUCK do you care that I'm annoyed my character is predefined and straight in the opening?
Why the FUCK do you care what I think?
Why come to my tumblr and read my posts if they bother you so much? So you have something to bitch about on gamefaqs and nma-fallout with your equally shitty and entitled friends???
I don't complain about video games to be trendy or get adored. If people respond to my posts here, I don't know and I don't care. I actually depise most people here, as most tumblr users are racist white opinionated feminists who are constantly talking down to me and "whitesplaining" my oppression. They've made tumblr a pretty shitty place for me, so I despise them as much as I depise you and the other male gamers who won't stop wetting their nappies everytime a person has the audacity to -- gasp! -- have an honest opinion about a fucking video game.
I complain about today's video games because I'm sincerely pissed the fuck off. I remember a time when I actually enjoyed some video games, despite all the sexist, racist bullshit I had to deal with in them.
I'm old enough to remember a time when game developers cared more about making games than making money. I'm old enough to remember a time when rpgs were actual rpgs. So I'm pissed off about everything. Even the new Zeldas piss me off -- yes, I hated Skyward Sword. It's the game that actually made me give up on Wii.
It's painful to look at Dragon Age Origins and see the MMORPG monstrosity that is Inquisition.
It's painful to look at Mass Effect 1 -- such a wonderful rpg -- and see what it became in Mass Effect 2 and 3. The sequels were arguably good games. But 2 was shallow and campy (and sexist and racist) and lost a lot of the maturity that originally attracted me to the series. And 3's ending . . . don't get me started.
It's painful to compare Fallout 4 to Fallout 3. Fallout 3 wasn't even a great fucking game -- shock! horror! -- but it was still better written than Fallout 4 and with way more effort on Bethesda's part. Now it's like Bethesda isn't even trying. They just don't give a fuck. Until Far Harbor came out, I had almost given up on them.
As a marginalized person who -- gasp! -- has been playing video games all her life, I'm also fucking sick of the way video games treat people like me. I want to be queer in a video game, actually queer -- not a tacked-on after thought. I want to be a woman in a video game, actually part of the original story and not fridged for the male lead -- not a tacked-on after thought.
This is disappointing in a franchise where our background was always UP TO US, and thus, we were allowed to make up whatever the fuck we wanted. That was the beauty of an rpg. That was the POINT. To make up a character and insert them in the lore to your pleasing.
If I'd had my way, my Nora would have been a queer kindergarten teacher who wore leather jackets and rode motorcycles, kinda like Mr. Turner on Boy Meets World (lol). Would have been so hilarious to have an ex-kindergarten teacher killing people. Instead, Nora is a lawyer -- and it never really comes into play. Not the way being a soldier does for Nate. You know why? Because Nora was added at the last minute, after the developers realized it would be a dick move to basically ignore their female audience.
But marginalized people have always been ignored in video games. That's part of what being marginalized means. It's nothing new to us. Doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt.
You don't know what it's like to be marginalized, so you need to shut the fuck up telling me what I'm allowed to complain about. As I said in an older post here, if straight male gamers were forced to be gay during the opening of Fallout 4, there would have been an uproar about how us horrible sjws -- aka DECENT HUMANS BEINGS -- were taking over the worlds!!!! But queer gamers are forced to be straight -- in a game franchise that NEVER forced our character be to anything before because Fallout used to be a fucking rpg -- and we're understandably annoyed by that. God forbid!
God forbid we should complain about something that bothers us -- in a place where you don't even fucking have to see. It's not like I'm coming to "your" precious boards and making complaints. I'm on MY BLOG, venting about the shit that annoys me. If people agree with me or remark that they feel the same way, it's comforting, but it's not my goal -- the same way it comforts you to sit on nma-fallout and nexusmods and gamefaqs and bitch and complain about "femnazis" like the racist, sexist, spoilt, entitled, asshole SHITS that you are.
I'm allowed to complain about video games all I fucking want. I will continue to do it all I fucking want. And I don't give a fuck if you agree with anything I have to say or not.
I DON’T GIVE A FUCK WHAT YOU THINK, STRAIGHT BOY.
I know it's hard to believe given that the world has filled you with your shitty sense of entitlement, but my blog is not for YOU.
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