#he was literally forced into doing those things
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YAWN
pairing : jungkook x sanrio girl!oc
genre : fluff
warnings : mentions of sex
request : Sleepy Drabble of Sanrio! Oc and JK!!!! PLEASE🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽
"hmm? you're so needy when you're sleepy." jungkook hums, caressing the heel of your foot. you had your body laying horizontally on your bed, legs thrown over jungkook's torso while he massaged your feet through your cozy socks. cozy cinnamonroll socks, they were so cute.
you whine, body lazily turning to the other side and hugging one of your plushies. you yawn in the process with your eyes closed, causing your boyfriend to chuckle a little. but a sharp slap on your asscheek causes you to shriek and open them.
"ow, ow! did it hurt, my baby? want me to kiss it better? yeah?" you just whine in return, but rather in a 'get away from me, you're annoying' way. jungkook clearly gets your little signal, hence why he laughs. your boyfriend pulls you closer to him by grabbing the back of your thigh, then gently rubs your butt while cooing.
"liar. you just wanted to touch my butt."
"what! no wayy. why, hm? i just wanted to soothe your pain, my love." and then he proceeds to grab the hem of your shorts and pull them up, revealing your bare asscheeks. he lets go of the material then, watching the flesh bounce back.
"pervert."
your boyfriend hums, laying his cheek on your ass. "i could fall asleep like this."
"you just like my shorts. so much that you had to jerk off to it— what the fuck jungkook!" jungkook giggles at your little yell, nose buried in between your cheeks. "i'm gonna eat you."
"ew, no, no, no!" you squirm in your spot, wiggling your body while trying to get your man off of you. in the middle of it, you land into a pit of giggles. you were repeatedly slapping jungkook, literally anywhere you could reach. his shoulders, pecs, thighs, abs, face! jungkook was hurting, obviously, your slaps were never gentle. they were always brutal.
"ugh! ow, ow, hurts!" you push your boyfriend on the bed, climbing on top of him. you had a pillow on your hands, ready to punch the shit out of your boyfriend with it but all your plans get flushed down the toilet once jungkook starts tickling your waist. you arch your back, then bend your upper body in every single way. you were naturally so ticklish. ugh.
jungkook : 1 y/n : 0
"noooo! ahahaha! JUNGKOOOOK!" you don't even know how you ended up in this position. role reversal, jungkook was on top of you now and had your head in a headlock with your thighs. you have to opportunity to say the funniest thing right now.
"i'm gonna suck your dick."
jungkook bursts out laughing, then calms himself right away while repeatedly nodding. he begins to take his sweats off, clearly as a joke though. you immediately push him away while screaming ew, face completely melting off. you're joking. you'd suck his dick right now if he seriously told you to.
he just giggles it off, letting you do whatever to him. jungkook was lying opposite to you now, his feet near your face and yours near his.
"yuck, get those stinky feet away from me or i'm gonna make you smell mine." you scrunch your nose.
"yeah? do it." so you do. with all your force, you push your feet onto jungkook's face, giving him a taste of his own medicine. he throws his head back, that high pitched laugh you love filling the room. there's butterflies all over your stomach, your heart's fluttering. his laugh is like honey. it makes you feel like a blooming flower.
suddenly he grabs your feet, giving your heel a little kiss. "i like these nails. french tips. cute." you thank him and press your foot more into his face as a thank you (joke). but your boyfriend decides to loll his tongue out and lick your heel, causing you let out a loud loud screech.
"ack! ew, ew, ew, jungkook! do you have a foot fetish?!"
"hmm, i might." your face drops.
"whattttt? ew."
"heh, i'm joking, baby. but i'd be into anything as long as it's you. i love you." that sounded oddly romantic. you like it.
you smile sweetly, the kind that gets you all giddy and flustered. in that moment, jungkook felt like a 12 year old boy seeing his crush smile for the first time. he felt sooooooooo giddy.
"man i have the fattest crush on you."
"what? i thought you were in love with me?" you raise your eyebrow, throwing one of your plushies at him. he effortlessly catches the kuromi plushie, hugging her closer to his chest and burying his face in it. you scoot closer to him, tugging on his hair and pulling his head back.
"i'm gonna kiss you."
༺♡༻
only god knows for how long you've been kissing by now. you're giving eachother gentle pecks and kisses repeatedly and giggling in between. it was so therapeutic in a way. all you wanted was to claw his heart out and protect it forever. don't know if that was a really intense way to put it though but mmkayy >.< .
jungkook pulls away for a moment to admire your face, hair messy and lip gloss messed up really bad. he wipes away a few strands of your bangs and kisses your forehead gently. stop. you're so giddy. jungkook proceeds to trace your lips while humming in satisfaction. your lips were puffy and glossy from all the kissing, covered in his spit. he pulls on your lower lip, then watches it bounce back with a giggle.
you let out a long sleepy hum, batting your eyelashes as you hugged your boyfriend. your body laying on his chest, inhaling in the sweet scent of his body odor. "hmm?" he hums. you turn your head to the side, cheek resting against his pec as you yawned. "eepy."
jungkook cracks out a laugh once again, "eepy? you're eepy?". you nod your head in verification, snuggling in closer. your hand sneaks under his shirt, touching his hardened abs. jungkook shivers at the feeling of your nails scratching against his skin. you glide your fingers upwards and finally land on his pec (tit) and groping it afterwards. jungkook didn't utter a word about this, just a small snort. he was used to this. he doesn't know why you always resort to holding his tits pecs at the randomest moments.
"mmh, i need you."
"yeah? want me to fuck you?"
you slap his chest, shaking your head in disapproval. "not...," you yawn, "...right now. tomorrow morning you can fuck me really good, mkay?"
"shit, how could you just say that so innocently?" jungkook groans, fingers massaging your scalp gently. you smile sleepy, cooing, body fully relaxed under your boyfriend's touch. "i want to crawl inside your skin. i want to be inside you. i wannttt you. mhm, kook, i love you so much."
jungkook swore he fell in love for the second time again when you said that. your voice was so drownsy and your words came out almost incoherent and inaudible. he just wanted to hold you close to his heart forever and keep you there. to jungkook, you were like a small flower. he's not sure whether he's mentioned this before but, you're like a small little flower who's petals could easily be blown off any moment so he has to protect you and keep you within the range of his sight at all costs so your petals won't get blown off. that's probably an exaggeration tho, hm. he just loved you sooo much.
"i love you more, baby. goodnight."
he kisses the top of your head and gives you more space to get more comfortable on his body. jungkook yawns, stretching both his arms out and then placing his left hand on your back, rubbing up and down. his free hand reaches over to your nightstand to turn down the my melody night lamp you had turned on earlier. he retreats his hand back to your body, placing it on your head, brushing through your hair strands because he knows it soothes you.
he couldn't get enough of you.
.
taglist : @fungie2332 @wintertxt @wheexine @hyunjinswifeee @ohsweetmimosa @canyon-txt @kooreo @rrosiitas @goldenjeonkoo @lil-cherry01 @diamondjeon
#jungkook#ask : kmm#jungkook fanfic#jungkook x oc#jungkook x reader#jungkook x y/n#bts#bts jk#bts smut#jungkook smut#sanrio girl#sanrio
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How would Dilf Izuku react if anything happened to reader when she is in labor? For example maybe she faints because she’s losing too much blood (sorry if this doesn’t make sense)
(Sorry for answering so late Anon)
Interesting thing about DILF Izuku is the fact that he is there for EVERY single birth. He is there. He gets the call from the hospital saying that you're in labour and he literally tells his PA that he's officially on leave and no one can say otherwise.
After the first two times, he's gotten the hang of what he's supposed to do and what his role is as your husband. He takes his job very seriously.
He's there to hold you whenever you want him to.
He's an errand boy and he picks up the articles of clothing that you end up throwing off yourself during labour.
He's the object to your verbal abuse while in labour. Yes, he knows it's his fault. Yes, he knows you want to kill him. Yes, he knows that this is another sprout you got to push out of your vajayjay. Yes, he still loves you. Yes, he's going to shut up now.
He supports you with loving words. He's right there by your side. He's scared shitless but he doesn't show it because he knows that you need him to be strong when you feel so helpless to the force of nature that his child birth.
Don't faint. Just sit there and look pretty.
Those are the jobs he has listed for himself among many others like make sure his mom is looking after the boys and have the baby bag ready and not to get a speeding ticket while doing so.
Your final pregnancy with Koda was a scary one. Mostly because you were high risk at the time and other than a small fainting scare, you were fine. Everything was fine. The labour was normal and you delivered the baby safe and sound.
A squealing and crying little baby boy that had deep forest green hair and a set of pipes to wake up the dead. He was beautiful and Izuku was so proud of you. He held you with gentle kiss to the top of your head, tears in his eyes at the sight of his new baby boy.
And for five minutes, everything was perfect. Your son was placed on your chest and the three of you were together. Father, mother and son.
Until suddenly, nothing was okay.
"Izuku..." Your voice was breathy as you raised your hand to hold his arm.
Izuku looked away from his son to you. "Yes?" It took less than a second and Izuku knew that nothing was okay. You weren't okay. You were fading, and you were fading fast. Your eyes were fluttering and suddenly your heart rate was declining. He stood up straight. "Y/N. Y/N! Y/N stay with me." He shouted as one of the nurses went running to check on your vitals.
One of the midwives took the baby out of your arms, the newborn's face twisting into a cry at the shouting.
You tried looking at your husband and you tried focusing on him but your breaths were too slow and far between and your eyes were too heavy to stay open. Izuku held your hand, frozen, trying to figure out what was happening. Why weren't you awake anymore?
Why were you still bleeding?
What did the doctor say? Why were you still here?
Why was he just standing there. Why did he let them position him away from you?
Why couldn't he hear a thing?
His wife was there! You were right there! Yet he was... helpless.
And that's when the sinking terror settled in. The reminder that as a father, Izuku could do nothing when it came to this process. He could do nothing. He wasn't a doctor, he wasn't a nurse, he wasn't God. He could do nothing but watch as his beautiful wife, his beautiful loving wife, mother to five of his children, lay there as they tried to stop the bleeding and wake you up.
Izuku moved to grab onto your hand again, and he prayed. He prayed so hard that his mother would probably be impressed right about now.
How a man who had everything, who had the money, got the fame, the influence, the wife, the kids, the family that he wanted, was reduced to nothing but tears and begging for you to not leave him.
Your eyes opened as you turned to look at your right hand. Holding your hand in a death grip was the hands of your husband. You could only see the head of his hair as he seemed to be kneeling at the side of your bed. You heard him muttering and saying something but you weren't exactly sure.
You raised an eyebrow. "Izuku?"
Your husband raised his head, and that's when you saw his beautiful green eyes were red with tears as they just fell from his eyes. He looked up at you as if you were a ghost for a moment before a sob came out of his mouth as he pulled your hand to his face. He cried and you didn't know why he was crying.
Didn't you just take a nap?
"Izu, are you okay?" You asked him gently. "Why are you crying? Where's the baby?" You asked looking around. Your body felt heavy but that was labour for you.
Izuku couldn't let go of you. "Oh thank God." He let out with a sigh. He kissed the back of your hand as he refused to look away from you.
-Glitch1d
#dilf midoriya#dilf deku#dilf izuku midoriya#dilf izuku x reader#izuku midoriya x reader#izuku x reader#mha x y/n#deku x reader#mha
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Alastor Headcannons
Fem cat demon reader in a relationship with the Radio Demon
SFW
Rosie introduced him to you. Maybe not necessarily with the idea that you two would be romantic, but she saw similarities between you two and knew you would eventually hit it off.
Once you stopped constantly arguing, that is.
The man had been an Overlord for so long and had sworn off attempting romance for an even longer period, that he genuinely did not recognize his feelings for you as romantic inclinations at first.
He knew he liked you. Admired you. And enjoyed your company. Could talk to you for hours about anything and everything. So obviously that meant he wanted to own your soul.
That blew up in his face – almost literally.
He quickly found out there was nothing he could offer you, or do to you, including putting you in harms way, to force you into making any kind of deal with him. He couldn’t make himself do a damn thing to you. And that scared him and made him avoid you for a long time after that.
But when you two did eventually reunite, it was a lightbulb moment for him, and he pretty much immediately started pursuing an actual relationship with you.
PDA isn’t really his thing, besides hand holding and possibly a hand on the small of your back if he’s feeling extra possessive or wanting to show you off.
The biggest exception to this rule is dancing. He loves to take you dancing.
Surprisingly, he really doesn’t mind others knowing you two are an item.
Some might think he’d want to hide it, worried that others would see you as a weakness to exploit but honestly? Who would dare go after something the Radio Demon held in such high regard. Let them try, my dear.
In private, if he’s in a good mood, he’s quite the sweety.
His love language is definitely acts of service and quality time.
He’ll want to start each day relaxing, enjoying coffee and breakfast with you. He cooks. And throughout the day he really enjoys just being the same room with you, even if you’re both absorbed in your own tasks.
In private, if he’s in a bad mood, he’s very distant.
Don’t touch him and try not to interrupt his work.
He’ll still unconsciously show his affection for you by letting his guard down in these moments.
He’ll let his mask slip a little, show you how upset he is when he would never let anyone else know what’s capable of actually getting under his skin.
He’ll be in some disheveled state. Have his jacket off, or bow tie undone, or hair tied back. He’ll have his microphone across the room. Little things to show he’s still comfortable being vulnerable with you but still . . . best not push it because then he’ll get a little mean.
If you’ve accidentally hurt his feelings in some way, then the insults will start. He’ll call you annoying or dramatic, but he won’t raise his voice unless you do first. He rarely swears so when he does, you know he’s completely at his wits end with you or with whatever else has upset him.
He would never ever lay a hand on you.
If he’s really pushed to the edge, his power might be harder to control. Lights may break, his shadow will go nuts on the wall around you, and he’ll even take on a more demonic, imposing form, but you’ll still feel completely safe in his presence.
Have I mentioned how rare these arguments are? There’s a reason why he’s comfortable enough to be in a relationship with you, because 99% of the time, you understand each other perfectly and can calm the other one down.
At the end of a “no touch day” he’ll usually come find you and initiate some type of cuddle. Usually once you’ve already gone to bed.
He’ll slip under the sheets behind you, probably still a little damp from a shower, and either be the big spoon or, if you’re awake, rest his head on your chest while you stroke his ears.
Those ears are mighty sensitive. Not in a sexual way, but it always sooths his exhausted nervous system when he allows you to touch them like that.
That, and your purrs. No lullaby in the world is as potent as the mesmerizing sensation of your purrs when his body is laid close against yours.
It took him a few months to admit it, but after the first time he told you he loved you; he says it all the time. His mother always told him you couldn’t overuse that phrase if you meant it, so you tend to hear it multiple times a day.
He isn’t fluent in Louisiana Creole, but he knows a few phrases, and will slip into the native accent of his youth and whisper them in your ears when he’s trying to sooth you if you’re the one upset.
He took decades to propose. You never pestered him about it, but Rosie did – and that probably made him take even longer to get around to it than if she had just let it alone.
Neither of you were super into the idea of a big ceremony but then word got out and half of Cannibal Town was asking about Save the Dates so you two decided that while the vow exchange would be short and sweet, the reception would be a fucking party.
NSFW
Sex had not been a part of this man’s life for a very long time.
He’d only been in two brief relationships, once as a teen, and once later to appease his mother, and neither one exactly went well.
Even his rut, which makes most other demons sex-crazed, used to just make him more aggressive and territorial. The physical aspects of it were easy to take care of in private, so he never had to seek out other outlets.
But then you came along and while it still wasn’t as much of a priority for him as it was for you, he still found himself enjoying and even desiring that kind of intimacy with you.
For the first time in . . . well, ever . . . he found himself initiating sex with someone, rather than the other way around, and you found yourself pleasantly satisfied whenever he was in the mood.
Don’t get me wrong, he could still be - and was often - very touch adverse, especially after a difficult day.
But if he’s happy and relaxed and you’re around . . . you two are going to end up under the covers.
He used to hate his tail. He’d even cut it off more than once, but it always grew back. But you liked it and he liked anything that pleased you. And then you started touching it during intercourse and he really liked that.
If the guy has one cum button, it’s you stroking his tail while he’s inside you.
It also really helps that you are so comfortable with your tail and you constantly let him touch it.
He’s definitely a top. Sex is just not interesting to him unless he knows you’re getting off, so it’s either mutual pleasure or your pleasure, but he doesn’t care for anything that involves just his body.
You enjoy going down on him, and it’s okay for him, at least for starters, but he rarely lets you do it for very long. It’s just . . . boring, for him. He’ll compromise and 69 if you’re really in the mood for that kind of thing.
He gets very excited when you’re in heat.
It’s the only thing that can -almost- always override his touch aversion on a bad day.
The idea of you wanting him that much, to the point of it being a near constant physical need for him to be inside you, really gets him going.
He wears out faster than you do, but even after he can’t get it up anymore, he has a multitude of other appendages (fingers, tongue, tentacles) and even some toys that he thoroughly enjoys using on you until you are finally sated.
He’s not one for dirty talk. It makes him uncomfortable, and he finds it distracting. He stays pretty quiet himself during sex, but he loves the needy little moans and whines you make.
He does bite.
And slap your ass.
He’s not usually one for restraints or whips, but he does enjoy marking you with his teeth and claws. Again, this man wanted to own your soul, so he’s going to enjoy leaving physical reminders all over your body that you are his.
His rut is much harder to handle now that he’s sexually active.
And he’s very different in bed when he’s in a rut.
That’s when he dirty talks.
And that’s when he really gets rough.
You have on more than one occasion been face fucked to the point of choking and tears.
And those shadow tentacles really come out to play during that time of year.
They’ll be wrapped around your body, your neck, limbs, etc. They’ll fuck your mouth, your ass, any part of you that his cock isn’t in. He wants you completely controlled and filled up by him when he’s fucking you in his rut.
And he can go for a very long time. Multiple times. You learned after the first year to just plan on taking a vacation that time of year because really, other than eating and sleeping, he pretty much demands that’s all you two do.
He can sometimes lose control of his power and his bodily form during sex.
You’ll know when he’s close to climax because those antlers get massive and his eyes tend to go black. And if he’s in a rut, he can get a little . . . big.
Like, all of him. His entire body. But also yes, his dick gets larger then, too.
One time, you were just about to say you were getting stretched a little too much down there, and his weight was starting to crush you, when he literally broke the bed. That’s all hot and steamy in romance novels, but you just about broke your tail that night and ended up nearly impaled by the bed frame.
Another time, he got his antlers stuck in the backboard of the bed and that was even more embarrassing for him than breaking the actual bed had been because it took him so long to calm down enough to control the size of those things and meanwhile you had just been pinned beneath him and laughing hysterically at the very horny, very frustrated, very stuck husband of yours.
He’s a self-inflicted insomniac and doesn’t let himself sleep much, so after sex, he tends to pass out next to you and when he finally wakes up, he usually insists you join him in the bath or shower for some aftercare.
He’ll help clean any wounds that haven’t already healed, massage your overworked muscles, and verbally check in with you that he didn’t take things too far. Especially since after a rough rut-induced session, he gets awfully insecure about the things he did to you in the heat of the moment.
Of course, you’re always happy to ensure him that you really enjoy that side of him and you’ve never felt like he’d taken anything too far with you.
(P.S. These are some ideas I worked through on what this ace-spectrum Overlord man would be like in a committed relationship for my upcoming OC wife x Alastor fic. I’ve been working on it for weeks now and am just about ready to start posting. It’s been very difficult writing him truly in character while also navigating meeting my OC, coming to terms with his feelings for her, and how he would behave as a partner/husband. For this post - so that it can be its own standalone work - I’ve changed all the wording to Y/N, with the only specifics being that Y/N is a cat demon. But if you really enjoyed this, I hope you’ll stick around for The Fire in the Sin. It’s going to essentially be all of the above turned into a novel, that’s half prequel and half current events for Hazbin Hotel.)
#hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#alastor x reader#alastor x y/n#alastor x oc#hazbin hotel fandom#hazbin hotel fanfiction#alastor fanfiction#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor headcanons
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Sugar baby | Jey Uso
Part two
Synopsis: Sex is not a big deal. ...You can have a no-strings-attached arrangement with someone you don’t care about.
Pairing: Jey uso X Black Fem reader | word count: 4.2k | warning: smut, toxic behavior , protected sex | 18+ ONLY
Hey my babies this is part two to the series hope you all enjoy this one as well! If you haven’t read the first one then go check it out. Part one| say the word
Tag list
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@trashbin-nie
@blacst4r
@paigereeder
@whatdoeseverybodywant
@empressdede
@superpietom
@bebesobrielo
@solefae
@skyesthebomb
@reci1996
Lastly , Enjoy
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“Jeyyy— ugh, fuck me just like that daddy” She moaned letting out a loud exclamation before enveloping the Jey’s head, her fingers tangling in his hair.
As she felt the chill of Josh's Sliver chain against her skin, a sudden shiver ran down her spine, almost like a fine mist of tiny droplets suspended in the air. The sensation was so cold and sharp that it seemed to permeate her very being, filling her with a sense of awe and wonder.
"Mmm, quiet baby, my pussy's talkin' to me." he groaned in inside her ear as he inched his fingers deeper into her hole forcing his curved dick down deeper. He tightened his arms around her body with her leggings wrapping ever so tight around him.
He wanted her to feel him alllll the way and he was successful at it. The aggression and lust filled the air as thick as a paper cut.
“Yessss Joshua!”
“You love me?” Jey moaned hormonally in her ear before flicking his tongue alone her earlobe, leaving a few wet kisses on her exposed neck.
“Huh? I asked you a fucking question.” he repeated once more speeding up his pace a loud gasp escaped her mouth with her breath taken away by how hard he was going.
He was an animal in the sheet per say.
“Yes!” Chanel shrieked out, sending shivers of passion coursing through her body, leaving her utterly in rapture. Her eyes rolled back into the back of her head as she felt an overwhelming surge of ecstasy overwhelm every inch of her being. She screamed it again, reveling in the pleasure swarming her body, reveling in it all as she told him how much she loved him. Her voice was filled with pure emotion as she said those words.
It seemed that in this very moment all he thought about was Dakota, all he could see was her; her soft touch, her gentle embrace, the light and playful touches of her short, painted nails he had paid for. It was as if she was wrapped around him with a warm, inviting hug that made him forget all about his previous encounters with countless women.
“I love you too.” Josh grunted afterwards, as much as he didn’t mean it he just said it in the moment to satisfy her.
“Daddy I’m about to cum!”
“Fuck…Cum on my dick Dakota , cover my shit!” Jey harshly mumbled on cue, Chanel reacted quickly as Joshua attempted to make a nut on her, pushing him away before he could go any further. In the heat of the moment, she lashed out and smacked him hard across the face. "What the fuck, Jey?!" she exclaimed, feeling a mix of anger and confusion at the mention of someone else’s name. Dakotas name at that.
“What?”Jey's eyes widened in confusion as he held his face, staring back at Chanel as if she had gone mad. He wondered if he had been too rough with her, or if he had accidentally caused her some pain. Before he could even open his mouth to ask her, she quickly replied with a response of her own.
Chanel shot a fierce glare at Josh as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "You just called me another bitch's name, Josh," she said, her voice dripping with anger and hurt.
“No I didn’t.” he denied.
“Yes you did.” She throw back at him quickly “you literally said Dakota, Do I look like a fucking Dakota to you? No so don’t call me that bitch name.”Chanel warned before wrapping the cover around her bare naked body grabbing her things off the floor.
“Aye, don’t call her a b!tch!”, Jey warned, his eyes filled with dominance and authority as he glared at the woman. Though he didn’t care who Chanel was to him, he wasn’t going to let her disrespect Dakota in his presence. He made his point loud and clear, his tone firm and unmistaken as he commanded her not to call her by those words.
“You know what, fuck you Jey,” Chanel shot back, angrily grabbing her white tank top shirt and throwing it over her head, storming towards the hotel door. She took one last look at him before storming out, shooting him a disgusted look as she left.
“Fuck.” Josh sighed before picking up the cover from the floor along with his black Versace boxers putting them back on he grabbed his phone from the night stand trying to reach Dakota with a call.
“Come on pick up ko.” He pleaded watching as the phone went to voicemail once again he threw his phone against the carpet floor taking a seat on the edge bed kneeling his head down rubbing against his beard mixed with grey hairs.
He had hoped she wasn’t mad about what he had said a few day ago, because if she was he didn’t understand why when they both knew the consequences of the situation. She couldn’t fall in love with him and neither could he.
He knew that he wasn’t ready for another relationship due to the recent divorce he went through a year before. The idea of falling into another serious relationship and having it go wrong was something he couldn’t bear to go through again. The difference was, though, that Dakota wasn’t that type of woman , but yet he knew he was falling for her. He knew he was falling deep for her, but he couldn’t admit it to himself.
A loud thud could be heard coming from the room as the door slammed closed, and his twin brother Jimmy walked inside, asking, "Yo uce, was that Chanel I just saw?"
Sighing, he lifted his head up and looked at his twin brother, stating, "Yeah, man."
His eyes widening and lips curling with an utter look of dissatisfaction and disgust on his face, he spoke, “I thought you were done with her, Josh. Man, where the hell is Koko at?”
“Don’t tell me you fucked up Joshua?” Jimmy stopped in his tracks staring at his brother, when he didn’t answer he knew he had fucked up.
Sitting beside him on the bed he asked “So what you do this time?”
“Uce she got mad because I said I didn’t think we could ever be a couple outside of what we do together. I mean I don’t see myself with her she just sex to me.” Josh confessed, even though it was slightly true he was also lying through his teeth.
“Look.” Jonathan forewarned “Steve wonder could see you like that Girl and is falling hard for her so just admit that shit man.”
“I know you aren’t ready for another serious relationship after what happened with Ashley and you last year, but Josh,” Jonathan said to his brother, “I know you, and I can tell when you’re in love with someone, and I can tell you’re in love with Dakota.” Jonathan went on to explain, even though it seemed like everything he was saying was going in one ear and out the other. He had hoped his brother would listen to what he had to say.
“I can list so many things of how I know you failing for this girl Josh.”
“Go ahead because I promise you I’m not in love with Dakota she just sex to me I don’t know why you can’t get that through your big ass head.” He joked but was serious as well he didn’t understand why his brother didn’t get he wasn’t in love with her as much as he tried to tell himself that.
“Okay, first off, you never take any of your clients to shows, especially live or non live televised ones. You spoil her rotten, you get mad when another man is in her presence, but you so-called don’t like her. She’s all you talk about at work, “Oh, I wonder what Dakota’s doing,” or “I wonder will Dakota like this necklace I bought her.” I mean, I could go on.”
“Two, You buy her expensive gifts and constantly check up on her to see if she needs anything. You stay up all night to talk to her when you should be resting before a show. You check your phone constantly to see if she has texted or called you, and you get upset if she doesn’t respond immediately. You’re always thinking about her, and you go out of your way to make her happy.”
“Three, You check on her both mentally and emotionally, constantly being there for her when she needs someone to talk to. You reassure her when she’s feeling down or stressed-out, and you make sure she’s okay emotionally.”
As he took in everything his brother was saying, Josh realized that he was right. He indeed did everything that was listed, because he loved Dakota, but he was scared. He was scared that the relationship wouldn’t work, but more so, he feared that it would, which is why he had been fighting his deep feelings of love for her all this time. The more he thought about it, the more his fear grew, but the more the feeling of love grew in his heart as well.
Josh loved Dakota more than anything, but for reasons unknown even to himself, he couldn’t admit it. He couldn’t even fathom the possibility of loving someone so deeply. It was as if his heart was locked up in a cage, and only Dakota had the key to his heart's release. The fear in him, the fear of love, was as great as the love he felt for Dakota. The love that he couldn’t admit to himself. The love that he was desperately trying to ignore.
“Alright, alright, I get it, Jimmy” Jey dismissed his brother, waving him off completely as he ignored what he was saying.
“Man whatever hurry and get ready with your hot dick ass.” Jimmy got up from the bed and headed towards the door, saying, “You better be down there in five minutes, Josh, ‘cause I’m the big brother!” He shouted as he walked out of the hotel room.
“Man, shut up! You’re only nine minutes older than me,” Jey shouted back, rolling his eyes, “and you act like it’s nine years!”
As Josh sat in bed thinking back to what his brother said he started to wonder did he actually love Dakota?
Was he also in love?
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Dakota.Valentine : A women irreplaceable
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“Dakota, you better be freaking ready by the time me and David get there!” Jasmine yelled into the phone during their FaceTime call with the two of them, her expression of annoyance clear on her face.
Dakota decided to go out with Jasmine and her boyfriend to a new club that had just opened up in Atlanta about a week ago called Club Pierce. It was now around 11:00 pm, but she was looking forward to the night out with her friends. She just needed to get ready, but the thought of the new club and what the night might hold filled her stomach with butterflies.
Dakota hadn't talked to Josh in a few days now, and honestly, she didn't really care to at all. Her feelings were completely bruised and broken, and she didn't know if they would ever have a chance together. As he had said, they were only having sex and nothing more, so she could do whatever she wanted. And she would, she told herself as she got ready to head to the new club.
“Girl fuck you and David I’m almost done.” Dakota rolled her eyes before she curled the last piece of her hair, sitting down and letting the flat irons cool off and unplugging them. She then threw the flat irons under the sink and grabbing her phone, grabbed her purse and headed for the door. She heard a faint knock at her door and stopped in her tracks. She wondered who was at the door.
“Who’s at your door, Kota?” Jasmine said worriedly with an expression, and Dakota responded, “I don’t know.”
"I’ll call you back, Jas," Dakota replied with a confused expression before she opened the door. Standing outside was Jey, holding flowers in his hands with pleading eyes.
Rolling her eyes, she tried to shut the door in Jey’s face, but he caught it with his foot, walking inside behind her. Taking one look back at her, he asked, “Ko, baby, please talk to me?”
Chuckling bitterly at the nickname he called her, Dakota quickly turned around with a frown on her face. “Baby?” She quickly fired back, “Last time I checked, I was your client, remember, or maybe you forgot because you were too busy fucking Chanel.”
Stunned by her new found attitude towards him Josh threw the flowers onto the ground shouting back “Dakota I ain’t fuck her!”
“Yes, you did, you ass hole. She sent me pictures of you asleep, Josh, and I know your big-ass head from anywhere!”
“Look ion even understand why you mad we’re just fucking , you’re my client just as much as she is Dakota.”
“Oh, you’re damn right, I am.” Dakota said, trying quickly to bust past Jey but he quickly pulled her back gently, turning her around to look into her eyes. “Ko, baby, why are you really mad at me?”
“Hmm? What did I do so bad? That hurt you because I apologize ma.” Josh confessed, caressing her cheek as her eyes filled with tears but she dared not let them fall and let him see her break.
“Nothing, don’t even worry about it, I have somewhere to be remember , I’m just a client.” She snarled, snatching her arm away from him, opening the door and walking out. “And lock my damn door!”
Club pierce
"Baby lemme rub, lemme rub on ya
Can I get a lil' love, lil' love from ya"
My body addictive it's driving him crazy
Think I got run from ya
The loud, catchy lyrics of Megan Thee Stallion’s song ‘Big Ole Freak’ blasted throughout the night club, the party atmosphere being illuminated by the bright, colorful lights flashing everywhere. Everything about the night club was dark but colorful, making the atmosphere exciting and dynamic.
Dakota was enjoying herself at the club, glad that she didn't have to deal with Jey for the moment since it had been two hours since she got there. The music and the party atmosphere was a good distraction from Jey, and she could just focus on enjoying herself and the club's environment.
And he wasn’t going to ruin her night.
Jasmine leaned over, shouting over the loud music to get Dakota's attention. “Koat! You want a drink?” Dakota nodded her head yes, and took the shot from Jasmine, downing it in one go. The shot burned down her throat, but she barely winced, seemingly used to the sensation.
To say the least she needed the drink to unwind tonight because it was simply fuck Jey.
Jasmine was shocked at how quickly Dakota took the shot down her throat. “Damn Kota, you okay?” she asked, her voice still having to be raised slightly to be heard over the loud music. Dakota didn't respond at first, seeming somewhat out of it. She then shook her head slightly, seemingly not quite ok but pretending she was fine.
“Come on let’s get up and dance on the floor! David get your ass up.” Dakota shocked excited grabbing jasmines hand leading her down to the dance floor.
The two of them danced together, having the time of their lives as they moved to the beat of the loud lyrics being played. Dakota twerked her ass on Jasmine as she cheered her on and snapped a video of them, having fun and making their own party. “Get it Kota! They ain’t fucking with you!” Jasmine cheered loudly over the music, seemingly having just as much fun as Dakota was.
After a while of dancing, the girls felt worn out and tired, so they decided to sit at the bar and take a few shots. Dakota noticed the bar tender looking at her and flirting with her, and she decided to flirt back a little, since she was single anyways."
“So this your first time here?” The bar tender asked Dakota, wiping up another drink for a customer.
Dakota sighed as she rested her hands on the bar, seeming a little tired from the whole dance session and the alcohol. She smiled as she spoke to the bar tender, “Yeah, very first time my bestie brought me and I’m glad she did because look who I met.” and was then met with his eyes seductively, which she then held. She liked the attention and the flirting, and was not even trying to be seductive. It just came naturally to her.
Dakota was naturally seductive without even trying. With her innocent eyes that were slightly lowered and her plump and big lips, she had the ability to rule guys without even thinking about it. Her seductive flirting came naturally to her, and it made her even more alluring to the bar tender.
Dakota was enjoying herself as she sat at the bar, seemingly having a nice conversation with the bar tender. However, Jasmine stepped up and tapped on her shoulder, pointing in the direction of a booth filled with a group of Samoan men. “Dakota isn’t that Jey?” One who Dakota recognized to be Jey. She turned around, and saw Jey and Chanel together in the flesh, and she immediately recognized Jey Fucking Uso. Her eyes then locked on his, and she stayed silent.
Dakota couldn't help but eye Jey from head to toe, taking in his fit in its entirety. He wore a gray, long-sleeved sweater that hugged his muscled arms tightly, and a gold chain also shining from the shirt. His white pants accompanied his white Air Forces, and he had one black cap on his head, turned slightly to the right side. His beard was also neatly groomed, and he just looked Sexy asf overall.
He looked damn good.
“Yeah that’s him, so.” Dakota spoke softly very unbothered turning back around to the bar tender continuing their conversation. “So what were you saying?”
The bar tender was seemingly puzzled at Dakota's nonchalance towards seeing Jey. 'Especially the fact he was his nephews favorite wrestler “You're not upset about seeing him here?' he questioned, since a lot of people would usually be upset about seeing an ex or just someone they knew. Dakota, however, seemed unbothered and just continued the conversation they had previously.
“Girl you and Jey need to talk like Frl. Jasmine sighed and rolled her eyes, seeming frustrated over the situation. She knew that Dakota would tend to be stubborn, and that they had this sort of status together. She also knew that they were just having casual sex, but she didn't really want to pick sides on the situation because she didn't want to put blame on either of them.
Jasmine walked away and went back to her date, David, shaking her head in disappointment. Meanwhile, she noticed that Jey was staring at Dakota, and she just rolled her eyes, knowing that the drama between them would continue. She then decided to walk up the stairs. “This gon be a long night.”
By now, it was 2 in the morning, but the group of people were still inside the club, not wanting to leave. It was clear that everyone was having a good time, and the music and drink kept everyone entertained for hours.
Jey watched Dakota closely as she danced with another man, grinding her ass back on him and throwing it all back. She did it all while she stared intently at him, like she was trying to get a reaction out of him. Jey knew that she was doing it on purpose to get a rise out of him, and it was working perfectly.
Nonetheless to say he was mad. Angry more like it.
Jeys' anger and jealousy burned through him as he saw Dakota dancing and grinding her ass back on that other man. He wanted to walk down there and punch him out for even looking her way and touching her, but he knew that there were too many eyes and ears inside the club that would get him fired and thrown on the shade room in seconds. So, he had to try and stay cool instead and try and contain his anger.
Jeys' drink tasted bitter as he looked at Dakota more, his eyes glued to her. Chanel kept attempting to get Jey's attention, but he paid her no mind on the floor and continued watching Dakota. The whole club seemed to be watching Dakota more than anything, so all attention was on her, rather than Chanel.
“I see you eyeing her , Damn she bad you know her?” His cousin Zilla asked sitting beside him drinking on a glass as well.
Jey spoke possessively and confidently about Dakota, like she was his girl and that there was no one else. "She's my girl, that's who she is.' he said in a cocky and confident voice, his bassy, low voice indicating the possessive dominance he had towards her. As well as not wanting to show much she meant to him he did.
Throwing his hands up in surrender he replied back “ oh my bad cous but go get your girl cause she dancing mighty hard on dude on the floor.” He joked while Jey glared at him. Jimmy then walked up to Jey and put his hand on his shoulder, signaling for him to look up. Jimmy's presence distracted Jey, and he glanced over at him. 'Yo man, what's good? Need something?" Jimmy asked, seemingly unaware of the tension between Jey and Dakota.
Jimmy looked over and realized where Jey's focus was, and the sight of Dakota dancing on another man. He let out a sigh and said 'Josh, if you don't take your ass down there and speak to that girl. You've been staring at her all night, uce, and she's probably wondering why.' He had a lighthearted tone when saying it, wanting to ease the tension and get Jey to go confront Dakota instead of stewing in his emotions.
Taking the initiative Jey got up from the seat without a word heading down to the dance floor he brushed past the crowd and a couple fans asking for pictures he pushed the man back harshly before gently grabbing Dakotas arm “Dakota come on we leaving.”
Dakota was caught off guard when she felt her arm being rudely grabbed by Jey without any warning whatsoever. She turned to look at him, her eyes narrowing slightly, feeling slightly frustrated by the way he grabbed her arm without taking into consideration how she felt.
Dakota had a pissed off look on her face as she yanked her arm back strongly, showing her disgust and frustration with what Jey did. She had had enough of his bullshit, and she was clearly done with him and all of his stupid games. "Jey, fuck you. I'm not going anywhere with you.” She shouted over the loud music, being loud enough for everyone around to hear her and stop talking, looking for the source of her yelling.
Jey had a look of dominance fall over his face as he glared back at Dakota, his gaze firm and full of conviction. He knew that he was able to overpower and get his way with her, and he showed no signs of relenting either. When he spoke to her, he did so with a firm and final tone, “Dakota if I repeat myself you gon make the shit you got coming worse then it already is.”
Dakota pouted as she let herself be dragged outside of the club, following behind him and following his lead despite the fact that she didn't want to. She was annoyed and angry at him, but she still followed him, likely because she knew he was stronger than her and that he could easily overpower her. When she got into the car, she didn't hold back. "You know what, Jey? Fuck you. I don't know what you're on, but take me the fuck home," she said harshly.
Sighing in frustration he closed the door and got inside the car ran to the other side he pulled off getting on the interstate.
Jey gripped the steering wheel with his left hand firmly while his right rested on Dakota’s ’inner thigh, squeezing here and there.
He could tell that he had her body feeling some kind of way because he felt her somewhat shivering under his touch. He licked his full lips before taking his eyes off of the road and glancing over at her. “Look ko, Im sorry aight? I ain’t m—.”
“Whatever Joshua .” She mumbled, cutting him off while leaning against the window. “It doesn’t even matter anymore.”
“It do though, cause now you mad at me and haven’t spoken to me.” Jey's tone suddenly became softer when he spoke about how she was obviously mad at him. He was still looking over at her, and his eyes seemed to be more gentle and caring than before. "I'm right, aren't I? You're mad at me, and you haven't spoken to me at all." He said softly and calmly, as though he wanted to have a civil conversation with her.
“I’m not mad.” She denied once more.
“So you ignorin’ my calls , texts, and missing my show twice is you not bein’ mad?”
“I just didn’t wanna talk to you Jey, damn!” She yelled and smacked his hand away from touching her, now irritated.
“Don’t be raisin’ yo gahdamn voice at me girl! I’m tryna tell yo ass what the fuck it was and you ain’t even tryna listen to what I gotta say!”
“Because I don’t care! Better yet, pull over and let me out! I’ll find my own way home, I’m not about to do this with you!”
She reached for the door handle but Jey had gripped the back of her neck tightly, forcing her back body to come back. “Yo ass ain’t goin’ no damn where!”
Dakota huffed and folded her arms across her chest for the rest of the ride. Minutes later, they were pulling up at what she she knew was Josh house. Just as she looked over at him to fuss about him not taking her home, he leaned over the middle console and smashed his lips on to hers.
She moaned softly into the kiss, placing her hands on either side of his face as he placed his right hand firmly around her neck. The kiss began to get heated once their tongues started having an all out war, causing Jey’s dick to stiffen in his jeans and Dakota’s pussy to become moist.
Their make out session was broken when Jey pulled away while still keeping his hand around her neck. “You gon’ let me fuck you Pretty mama?”
“J-Jeyyyy.” Dakota moaned as he pushed two of his fingers inside of her, curving them each he pulled them out.
She was laid out across the back seat of his red Rolls Royce, completely naked with her smooth legs wide open as josh gently flicked his tongue against it a few times before fully latching his mouth onto it, sucking feverishly while continuing to slide his fingers in and out of her.
Dakota gasped when she felt his fingers start move inside of her in a circular motion, pushing her closer to her orgasm.
Josh felt her walls tighten around his fingers and Dakota gripped onto his shoulder as she felt her stomach tightening up. “You cummin’ huh mama?”
“Oh my God, yesssss!” She shouted as she came hard, covering Jey’s handsome face with her sweet juices.
“You taste good as fuck.” Jey licked her completely clean before sitting up.
Seconds later, Dakota sat up as well and pulled Jey’s face to hers, starting up another kissing match, which Josh eventually took the lead in and won.
She climbed over onto his lap, placing her legs on either side of him as the kiss grew more and more intense. She reached under herself and started to unbuckle his pants to free his beyond hard curved dick, something that she had been yearning for.
Josh caught her drift and lifted his hips, sliding his pants down and kicking them off completely. He broke the kiss to get rid of his shirt as well, throwing it to the opposite side of them.
Dakota reached down and grabbed his thick length, placing him at her entrance then sliding down onto it slowly, causing them both to moan in unison from the newfound pleasure on both ends. He gripped her ass tightly, loving how her wet pussy felt around his dick.
She always fit around him, perfectly.
“Ohhh babbby.” She leaned her head back in ecstasy as he gripped her hips, massaging them as she rode him.
“It feel good ma?”
“Sooo good baby, fuck!” Dakota grabbed his face and kissed him hard. He slipped his tongue into her mouth and she sucked on it.
Jey cut the kiss and lifted her off of him, leaving only his tip in and slammed her back down on him hard.
“Waaait!” She screamed as he repeated his last action, obviously feeling too much pleasure.
“Ain’t no wait!” Josh began thrusting upwards at a faster pace, fucking her even harder.
Dakota felt yet another orgasm creeping up on her, causing her to grip onto his broad shoulders as he slapped her ass cheek. “Mhm, cum on this dick.”
And that’s exactly what she did, shaking violently as her juices began to flow out and down onto him.
Jey waiting a few seconds for her to come down from her high and then slid lifted her smaller frame off of him, placing her on the seat. “Turn around and get on all fours fa me baby.”
Dakota did as told and Jey then hovered over her, high key loving the view. He placed one of his large hands on her hips while using the other to stroke himself before finally pushing back into her deeply.
“Fuck man.” He grunted lowly, now finding a specific pace to stroke her.. slow.
She then started throwing it back a slightly faster than the pace he was going at, so he took the hint and sped up his strokes. He bit down on his bottom lip and closed his eyes, loving the way her pussy felt and the gushy sound it made as he repeatedly slammed into her.
“This my pussy Dakota ?” Jey asked before gripping her hair and bringing her head up.
“Yes Daddy, it’s yours!”
“Yeah?”
“Yesssss! Ohhh my fu— baby, I’m cumming!” Dakota moaned loudly, triggering Jey’s own nut that was now approaching.
“Hold that shit baby. I’ma cum with you, aight?” Jey told her and at that moment Dakota felt his dick throbbing inside of her.
“I— fuck josh!” She came and squirted, causing her juices to spray all over his lower half and push him completely out of her.
After needing a few seconds to calm down, Dakota pushed Jey back down onto the seat. She used her small hands to grip his dick that was covered in her juices and wrapped her lips around it. He held her hair as she rolled her tongue around on his tip a few times before swallowing him down completely, without gagging.
Jey’s head flew back against the headrest as he enjoying the feeling of her throating his whole length.
“Shit princess.”
“You a slut ass bitch huh?” He cheered on holding her hair gripping it with force. “Mmhm gimme that shit Dakota.”
Dakota came up for air and started massaging his balls with one hand and stroked him with the other, trying to milk him.
“Hold on Dakota, fuck!” josh growled out once he felt his dick twitching.
She placed her lips back on his throbbing tip and started sucking, which was all that was needed for his hips to start jerking and his warm load to shoot down her throat.
Dakota made sure that she sucked every last drop completely out of him before pulling back, claiming the spot on the opposite side of him.
Maybe they both were in love?
To be continued.
I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as well!
It was a roll coaster but it’s more to come but I promise next chapter will be better mostly romantic.
Comment any opinions on any of the characters or the overall of the chapter.
Till next time. Love you all thank you for tuning in!🎀
#Jey uso#wwe jey uso#wweedit#wwe smackdown#wwe raw#main event jey uso#jey uso smut#jey uso x reader#jey uso imagine#jey uso fanfiction#the usos#roman reigns#jimmy uso#the bloodline#original photographers#fashion#foryou#makeup#black beauty#natural hair#35mm#black girl magic#black girl moodboard#90s aesthetic
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Jungkook with a chubby girlfriend Pt.2 !
Pairing : Idol!Jungkook x Chubby!Fem!Reader
Warnings : Nsfw headcanons after the sfw, I will include a cut and another warning though.
Mona’s notes : Edited & proofread by my wife. Minors dni! I’m not responsible for what you consume on the internet. Part one here! Reblogs are very much appreciated <3
SFW !
• He’s the type to take your insta pictures for you and hype the fuck out of you, I’m talking “Yes mama!”+ “mhmmm look at those hips”+ “those curves my god” + “that’s my sexy lady” and so much more.
• Literally lives for your stomach pudge and your fupa?? Yup, he’s crazy for it.
• He knows you so fucking well that it’d take him just one single look to know how you’re feeling. If he catches you double checking yourself in the mirror with your hand slyly pulling down your shirt to cover yourself, he’d be up on his feet immediately and listing all the beautiful things about you, aka everything.
• We all know he’s basically a gym rat, and what’s a better trope than gym rat bf x chubby gf?? Absolutely nothing. He’d look so big and buff beside you it’d make you feel tiny and protected.
• When you’re out with him and get some looks from both men and women, he’d just stare at them and make them uncomfortable with a hand wrapped around your waist, holding your tummy (that’s how big his hands are).
• He adores it when he sees you cooking in the kitchen wearing a tank top, shorts, and no bra. You’d be minding your own business, and he’d just come up behind you and grab a boob or both and fiddle with it, other times he’d grab your tummy and squish it while whispering good morning and sweet nothings in your ear.
• During his late night lives, he’d go on and on about you, talking about a very simple feature of you in such beautiful detail; it could be a dimple or a specific stretch mark, he’s smitten.
• Imagine him sleepily blabbing about you;
• “my girlfriend is the best”
• “I’m gonna marry her and make her my queen- she’s already my queen, but an upgrade-not that she needs an upgrade”
• lmao, you get it.
Nsfw below, do not proceed if it’s not to your liking
or if you’re a minor !
NSFW !
• A lil nsfw version of him taking your pics; “You’re making me so hard” + “What if I were to just bend you over right now?”.
• When your looking at yourself in the mirror, he’d come up behind you, hold your tum tum, and whisper dirty shit into ur ear all while he makes you hold eye contact with him.
• When he takes consensual pictures/videos of you riding him, his hand would either be holding your hip or grabbing a handful of your ass.
• Considering the proven fact that Namjoon loves thick girlies, Jungkook would - with your consent send him some of the videos of you riding him and throwing it back at him just to see Joon literally fall apart. He can look, but he can’t touch.
• On that note, when Jungkook has you over, he’d make sure to tap that ass extra hard so you’d be louder, and his bandmates would be forced to listen to you and suffer with their own boners…If only Jungkook would let them hit it…If only.
• This man is filthy rich, so prepare yourself to be spoiled to the max. New sets of lingerie every fucking day, if he can’t choose between two, he’ll buy you both… and an extra one.
• That hot portrait on his wall? That’s you and him; he’s shameless when it comes to you and doesn’t even bother hiding it when he’s on live. He’d simply do anything to show you off, even if it means getting in trouble with management.
#˚ ✧ mona !#ta3baee's work#jungkook imagine#jungkook x chubby female reader#jungkook x reader headcanons#x chubby reader#bts x fem chubby reader#bts x reader#jungkook x reader#jungkook x chubby reader#jungkook x female reader#jeon jungkook x reader#jungkook x reader smut#bts x female reader#bts x reader headcanons#bts x plus size reader#bts x fem!reader#bts x chubby reader#jungkook x plus size reader
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The Seven and The Boys with forced supe reader(like Billy’s little sister as revenge for billy and the boys constantly causing problems)
Rouge powers reader————powers turn on and off randomly
can absorb life forces and powers(which they can steal(albeit accidentally))
Very stubborn and sarcastic just like her brother
Home lander is probably extra yandere for tons of reasons and keeps the reader in a glass room(enclosure or whatever)(think a zoo exhibit or big aquarium tank without water—— that one room from You or the glass apartment In Supernova for the kid with the same sort of powers)so that he can see his pet/prize/whatever tf he plans to do with them
-🌑
I keep seeing this as a full blown fic in my mind but I don’t have the skills to pull it off so I’d like to see other people’s takes on the idea!
ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The Boys x Rogue!Reader
ᯓ★ I read your req and I'm intrigued so this is my attempt on it, hope it meets your expectations. This is like a full on story lol (angst, gore, death, killing, looooots of cursing like I'm not even exaggerating, homelander being homelander, some fluff at the end?)
With your brother's reputation, it's hard to ever live your whole life without the constant need to look over the shoulder. You always liked to tell yourself that after cutting ties with him, it will ensure you your safety, but those words were nothing more than just lies.
Losing Becca changed him completely. You could still recall the last time you spoke to him, the talk regarding your concern escalating into a heated argument.
"I'm telling you! You have no chance against a literal superpowered person! You'll get yourself killed!" You raised your voice, standing on the other side of the kitchen counter.
"Yeah, but this ain't a life worth livin' for anyways" He brushed your words off like he usually does. You watch in disbelief as he pours himself alcohol.
"Fuck you. You're such an asshole..." You said and he nods at you as he lifts his glass up.
"I'll drink to that" You scoff when he actually drank from his cup, the sound of him sipping ticking you off.
"Okay, fine, get yourself killed! But I won't stand to be here when it happens. I want you out of my life. I never wanna see you. I never even want to hear from you again! You're... you're..." You gasp as you start to sob. He turns to you, nothing but a blank expression on his face.
"Hey... take it easy—"
"No! Don't you fucking tell me to take this shit easy when you just admit to me that you're willing to throw away your life for some blonde american supe! You are a shitty brother! You're just like dad!"
"Don't you fuckin' compare me to that cunt!"
"I fucking said what I said!"
"Fuck you!"
"FUCK YOU!!"
The sound of your heavy breathing filled the kitchen. You could feel your chest rising and falling, your face burning from the overwhelming anger. Butcher sighs at the sight of you as he looks away with his eyes closed.
"You don't know half the things I know sis... you have to understand..."
"No... don't bother telling me. I already know that you'll never change..." You grabbed your things and before he could stop you, you left the house, slamming the door while you were at it.
For the next 8 years, you would find yourself living somehow a happier life. Making friends, going through relationships and heartbreaks, getting multiple jobs to pay for your apartment. It was like an ocean wave since it was never steady but you couldn't deny you've never felt more alive.
However, even on these good days, there were nights you'd find yourself waking up to nightmares. Nightmares of your brother dying. Nightmares of being abandoned. It always left you covered in cold sweats and sometimes you couldn't go back to sleep so you'd just sit by the window or watch some videos online to keep your mind off it.
Even though you convince yourself you were happier.
You never felt secure.
You always felt like something was out to get you.
Especially after you saw the news of him theorised to have killed the senior vice president working at Vought. You couldn't bother to remember her name cause the image of your brother was hauntingly enough. That's when you realised, if they were after him, what if they were also after you?
You stood at the counter of the restaurant you worked at. The job was new as you interviewed for the role of the cashier. Though all these days of dealing with rude customers and having to force a smile is making you want to rethink a different job. Just then, the door to the restaurant opens.
"Welcome!" You said as cheerfully as you can. Instead of searching for a table to sit, the customer approaches you.
"I'm sorry but where's the restroom? I really need to go" The customer spoke, he was wearing an awfully lots of layers, even shades indoors.
"It's just at the back to the right, there's a huge sign, it's hard to miss it" You smiled and the customer stares at you for a while before nodding.
"Thank you"
Finally, he leaves and you couldn't help but be relieved. Why were you holding your breath in the first place? After a couple more hours of standing around and smiling, your shift was done. You did your daily duties and cleaned up the place, making sure it was clean before you leave.
"Bye (Y/N)! Don't forget about our hangout this Friday night!" Your friend spoke as she leaves first.
"Trust me I'm looking forward to it!" You replied before heading to the back of the building to throw the trash away.
You were on your way to the huge bins until you felt the trash bag become lighter. You stare down and was annoyed the second you saw that the bag had tore. It's settled, you're getting a new job after you get your salary. You crouched down and tried to think of ways to solve the issue.
Once you stood up, you felt a sharp pain on your neck. Before you could even do anything to find the source of the pain, you collapsed. The last thing you could feel before becoming unconscious was the touch of someone catching you.
....
"Will it work?"
........
"We've only tested on rats. We're not sure sir"
...........
"Do I have to rephrase? If she dies, you fucking die with her, you understand?"
...............
"Yes sir"
.....................
"Good. Now do what you're only good for, you fucking worthless piece of shit"
...............................
Lights... knives... syringes... you slowly awoke on the floor as faint images of what you would recall as a memory began flashing in your head. Did that happen? It felt real. You opened your eyes and blinked a couple of time to register the room you were in.
You were... in a cage?
You looked around, the walls and floors made of white marbles which made it cold when your skin made contact with it. Now that you realised, you were no longer in your uniform, you seemed to be wearing some kind of gown patients would wear for surgery.
"Morning sunshine!" Your body jumped when you heard a familiar voice, a voice you only heard on the tv or radio shows. You stare at him as he walks to the center, a few feet from your cage.
It was Homelander. You never thought the day would come where you would be face to face to the person behind the reasons of your brother's rampage.
"Did you rest well?" He asks, an eary grin on his face. You looked around the inside of your glass cage.
"Couldn't you have given me a mattress?" You said. Your concern catching him a bit off guard but he didn't show it.
"Well, we tried to give you something more comfortable to sleep on but it seems like anyone who tried to even touch you ended up well... what's the word for it... withered. Dead. Nothing but a corpse suck dry of it's life" He said but you had no idea what any of his words meant.
"Is this some joke?" He chuckles.
"No. No joke (Y/N). I'm simply just giving my hypothesis on your new powers"
Powers? You have to be high right?
Did whatever pain that you felt was the mark of your death?
Is this some sick twisted illusion of yours created in hell?
"Yeah right... and I'm fucking Beyonce. Would you like to see my collection of Grammys?" You said sarcastically, clearly not taking anything seriously.
Homelander doesn't say anything but just laugh, since you were clearly convinced this was hell and that you were dead, you laughed along with him. He trembles his shoulders as if he's cold, that devilish grin still on his face.
"Wooo! You're a jokester aren't you (Y/N)? I know I'm just gonna love you. How about I bring you a gift as a symbol of our blossoming friendship?" He asked but he had already left the room. Your answer never even needed at all.
As your laughter died down, you were left alone in the room. You felt high. Too realistically high. Were you pumped with drugs? Shit... you grabbed your head as you tried to process the feeling until you heard the sound of a high pitched scream. You turn your head to find it to be your friend from work. She was shoved into the room and right when she stood up to leave, the door was shut.
"Let me the fuck out! You fucking bitch! You promised me weed!" She slammed on the door a couple of times after attempting to twist the doorknob open.
"Cleo?" She turns to you, her masacra ruined from her tears.
"(Y/N)? Holy shit what happened to your hair?" She said and you were confused until you checked to see the front strands of your hair now dyed white.
Okay now what in the actual fuck is happening...
"I don't know...? Why are you here?" You questioned.
"Some fucker promised me weed for some cash. I should have known better when I saw how cheap it was" She sighs as she sits against the door.
Suddenly the glass door on your cage sprung open. The two of you exchanged confused expressions. Is this some kind of trick? You wondered but either way you stepped out from your cage and began to approach your friend. She sighs as she curls up into a ball.
"What the fuck even is this place...?" She asks after you finally sat down beside her. You rubbed her arm to provide some comfort.
"I don't know... this feels real and fake at the same time. Hey, if by any chance we were in a puzzle just like in Saw, how much do you wanna bet who'd win—?" You nudged her playfully but instead of getting a response. She falls over.
Her face was pale white. Eyes dilated. The veins on her body growing visibly purple. The sight left you in shock and you quickly grabbed her by the shoulder to jerk her a few times. No words left her mouth except sounds of gasping, as if the air was getting sucked out of her lungs.
"Cleo! What the fuck! Holy fucking shit!" You cursed and it didn't take long until her body grows limp. Like a skeleton with a thin layer of skin left.
Afraid the same would happen to you, you quickly ran into your cage. You sat at the corner, trying your hardest not to look at your friend. That was real. This isn't some stupid trick set up by Satan. This is fucking real.
But why is this happening?
Why you?
The glass door slammed shut and the noise made your body jump. The door to the room opened but got stuck at the weight of your friend's corpse. You could hear the sound of disgust come from Homelander as he ends up kicking body aside to be able to open the door fully.
"So... did you like my gift?"
"What the fuck did you do? Did you poison her?" You said which he seemed offended at.
"Me? Oh please, I can shoot fucking lasers out of my eyes and I choose to poison some fucking nobody? I mean look at her" He chuckles, his eyes staring at the corpse of what was your friend.
His tone and words growing a small wave of anger within your chest.
"What do you want from me?"
"You know what I want" He said, the smile on his face gone. He was now serious. His gaze cold enough to send shivers down your body.
"(Y/N) Butcher. Butcher. I didn't know he had a little sister" He took a step closer, then another, until he was face to face to the glass, staring down at your figure hiding away in the corner.
"He really doesn't get scared huh? Not afraid of death, to take a life, not even me. And well... since he fucking hates supes so much, then I might as well make his beloved sister one. If I can't strike fear in him, you will" Homelander spoke, the corner of his lips twisting into a grin. As if all of this was bringing him some sick enjoyment.
"Everyone will be the pawn and you'll be the queen... so save your strength. You're gonna need it sweetheart" He turned around and as he leaves, he stares at the corpse for a quick moment. Even from inside the cage you could hear him shout for the people working to clean the body.
Fuck... this cannot be your life now...
You're now an animal kept in a cage.
Hours progressed to days then months. The only thing keeping you entertained was... the toilet? Aside from that was the visits Homelander would pay you every now and then to make sure you were alive. It almost seemed like he had expected you to be dead by now but you weren't, which he's impressed about.
You laid on the ground, staring at the ceiling. You were bored so you decided to try to count from 1 to 10000 this time. Just as you got to 482, the door opened and you turned to see it wasn't Homelander but rather a worker. Assuming he's just here to clean, you turned back to the ceiling to continue counting.
"Pssh, ma dame, do you hear me?" He knocks on the glass, his french accent caught your attention.
"I don't care. I'm not gonna strip for you"
"Nono! That's not why I'm here, your brother, Billy Butcher? He sent me here" His name striking something in you. You got up as your eyes are slightly widened.
"He knows I'm here?"
"Yes... he's here as well. He's gonna try to get you out of here"
Just as he finishes talking, the glass door sprung open. He gets in the cage and reaches for you but right as you reach for his hand, you remembered you weren't the same anymore, you were cursed, so you quickly pull your hand away. Your action causes the man to tilt his head in confusion.
"Do not worry, I'm not here to hurt you" He tries to take a few steps closer but you quickly stepped back.
"No.... no stop! That's enough!" You raised your hands gesturing him to stand where he's at.
"Don't touch me..." You added and he stares at you for a moment before taking a few steps back until he's out of the cage.
"Okay... but you must follow me. We don't have much time left" He said, walking out of the room and you hesitated for a while before following after him.
When walking down the hallway, you couldn't help but look around the area. This was your first time seeing the place you've been trapped inside for supposedly months. As you followed the strange man who saved you, you noticed that he seemed to be talking to someone over his earpiece. Was it Butcher?
After managing to sneak past several guards and having a few close calls, you two finally made it out from one of the back doors. You hurried as you followed the man somewhere. You couldn't believe it. The feel of the wind and the smell of the grass was making you wish you appreciated the outdoor more.
"Were you noticed?" His friend who's been on the look out asked. He shakes his head.
"No" After hearing his reponse, his friend turns to look at you.
"I'm M.M.... C'mon, your brother put in a lot to save you" He began walking away and the two of you simply went along.
He did?
"I haven't introduced myself. I'm Frenchie. It's nice to meet you" The man who saved you earlier said with a smile and you weakly smile back.
The moment the three of you reached a van parked in a safe area. The door slide open and your eyes widened once you were locked eyes with someone familiar. Yet he looked so much different now. He grew a beard. You had to admit, it made him look less ugly.
"(Y/N)..." He got out of the van and was ready to embrace you but you quickly avoided his grasp. This causes him to stand there with his arms hanging there awkwardly.
"Ooookay.... get in" M.M told Frenchie and they did just that, sliding the door close to give you both the privacy.
"All these years and you still hate your ol' brother" He jokes as he drops his hands down to his sides, but it was clear that he was upset at your actions and trying to hide it.
"Don't touch me"
"I got it"
The two of you stood there and you were staring at him a little too hard. Thoughts racing in your head like a racetrack. What the fuck has he been up to these years and how did he even find you?
"So... are we jus' gonna stand here and wait for 'em to realise you're missin'?" He nods at the facility nearby and you sigh.
"You're taking me home" You walked over to the passenger seat but the sound of Butcher clicking his tongue made you stop halfway in your tracks. Now you were standing in front of the van.
"Not gonna happen. Is your head loose of screws sis? They know who you are now, which means they know where you live. You're gonna be stayin' with me" He said.
Shit... there's really no chance of a normal life now. You really are cursed.
"Stay with you? With these guys?" You point at the van and from the front of the vehicle, you could see his friends all huddled in the back, the whole time they've been secretly listening to the conversation but once you pointed at them, they tried to act as though they haven't been doing so.
"They can protect you"
"I don't need protecting. The last thing I need is someone doing that"
"Oh really? Then mind sharing your experience in there? Was it a luxury? How much longer do you think you could have lasted if I hadn't found you" He took a few steps closer and you gave him a warning look.
"You're my sister... you think a few fights is gonna change that?" He tried reaching for your shoulder and you quickly dodged it. Failing to notice, tears were beginning to well up in your eyes because deep inside, you were desperately in need of comfort, a hug, anything physical but you couldn't even have that.
"You can't touch me... nobody can.... f-fuck... I killed my friend just by touching her..." You began to sob, your hands grabbing onto your face in an attempt to hide your expression. A frown appears on his face.
"What the fuck did they do to you...?"
"They made me a freak! They gave me these fucked up powers!! I don't want this...!" You cried, wishing this was another of your nightmares and that none of this was real.
"It's okay... come here..." He began to step closer to you but you were too numb from the feeling to even react.
Taking off his coat, he puts it securely around you before wrapping you in his arms. For the first time in months, you finally felt the presence of another person's embrace. The warmth felt so good. It was like you were melting from it. Your sobs grew weak as you nuzzle onto his chest, the fabric separating the contact of your skin with his. This was everything you needed right now.
"We'll get through this... these powers of yours ain't gonna scare me away" He said, rubbing your back gently.
"Thank you..." You muttered.
After you escaped and made it safely away from your prison. Homelander was alerted of your escape a few hours later. He arrives at the facility, walking down the hallway as the doctors walking by were scared to see him and trying their best to avoid his sight. Once he walks in the office of the head security, the man sprung up almost instinctly.
"Sir" He greets him. Homelander doesn't say anything but stare at him... before breaking into a smile.
"Great job, at least you're good at failing at your job. Now show me" He walks over to the guard's side who's hurrying to click a few things on his computer to show him what he came here for.
"The tracker we planted in her is working well and fine. She's currently in a vehicle heading somewhere"
"Good... it's like sending a cat to a bunch of rats" Homelander then gave the man a strong pat on the shoulder.
"Do we go after them sir?"
"No, keep an eye on her for now. I'll tell you when the time is ready" Without any further discussion, he left the office. A plan already set in his mind.
(I might make a part 2 but I'm not sure if anyone would be interested, it'll be sort of fluff where the boys figure out her powers, some angst? Idk, tell me if you think I should)
#Homelander: haha got your nose 🤪#can i get some fries and a big mac#the boys amazon#the boys#the boys frenchie#the boys butcher#the boys mothers milk#the boys kimiko#the boys billy butcher#the boys hughie#the boys x you#the boys x y/n#the boys x reader#the boys x female reader#butcher x reader#homelander x reader#x reader#angst#the boys angst#frenchie x reader#hughie x reader#mm x reader#kimiko x reader#the boys homelander#homelander#fluff
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do the girls deal with any specific bouts of cruelty BECAUSE of period weeks? Like guards being especially malicious or things like that?
Female Complaints
Me instead of just answering, takes weeks and ends up writing you a blurb, which rather deviates from the original ask. Ugh sorry. The long and short of it is yes! If, and that’s a strong if, they are caught during it. But they would endeavor not to be with everything in them. And as shown here, many of the boys try to help with that
Warnings: mentions of periods, internalized Misogyny, some gender dissatisfaction (we’ve all been there when curled in a ball and no Advil on hand) and some hinted sexual threats
Lieutenant Sanchez would have rather licked that guard’s boot than admit to her ailment, but the longer his all too observant heckling went on, the more conscious she was of symptoms she’d otherwise surmount by a supreme and long perfected method of productive disassociation.
Keeping her eyes down on her literal cabbage patch, Sanchez tried to pay attention to the rub of her blisters on the rough hewn handle of the garden hoe, anything to forget about the tear pricking pain gnawing at her pelvis. It was an old trick to withstand the forces of hurtling her fighter jet into the blue yonder, to focus on another discomfort, the bite of your tongue, the curl of your toe in your boot, anything over the crucial and foremost discomfort that might throw off your performance. She wasn’t weak, she knew that, but it was impossible not to hold oneself up next to others. Her time in enlistment had only been possible on certain days of the month by crucially provided medications. Now those medication weren’t available and she was half crippled one week out of the month, and there was talk. Talk about how she ever managed to do her job.
She’d done it magnificently.
That’s how she’d done it.
And she’d seen it through until her bird was a fireball in the sky, driven down into her target along with her bombs, one last salvo of equipment, a final “fuck you” to her enemies as they plucked her from the sky. Now she was hoeing sandy earth between cabbage rows with a swimming head and knees that buckled from the intensity of her menstrual cramps.
Lieutenant Sanchez wasn’t very fond of considering herself a woman; it hadn’t gotten her much beyond unwanted restrictions and unasked for attentions. She could not relate to Maureen Kendeigh’s delight in her sex, the way she held court over discomforts and reveled in girlish peculiarities while in camp. Maybe Kendeigh was more confident, stronger, or maybe she’d had a kinder go of life so far, but Sanchez would rather lick that guard’s boot than admit even to her fellow prisoners that she was suffering from female complaints again.
Last time had been complete with a migraine, and there was nothing for it but to lay with her coat sleeve tied around her eyes and blindly grope for the bucket to puke on occasion. Someone had emptied the bucket twice, brought a washcloth and gently told her to “let me” while she’d futilely batted the kindness away.
Sanchez wasn’t looking to recognize her benefactor. Even though she suspected him, he wasn’t getting shit from her. Not even thanks.
She refused to belive that anyone had seen her like that. Just as this guard was never going to get the satisfaction of an admittance of the same. There was no tell-tale blood on her trousers, she was doing her job, the weeds were being churned up by her furious whacks -the Krout Fucker could go pound sand for all she cared. But then again, were it an option, she’d do anything to pause, to straighten, to brace her hands on her hips for a brief respite.
-A posture that had earned her the guard’s first jape.
If she’d mistaken his German jokes about blood and female dogs, she did not misunderstand his gesticulations to his crotch and then her own. The laughter that followed from his fellows haunted her, that little crowd of four standing at a little distance, smoking and mocking, the way her fellow prisoners gave her uneasy looks, the way Ida Brady hauled the water buckets about a few rows down as if she hadn’t bled a child out of herself a little over a month ago.
The woman was ghost-like in her frailty and thinness, but she was strong. Sanchez loathed her for it, for the way she’d managed to be so very discreet about the ultimate female humiliation, the way she seemed so impervious to all the taunts and laughter of the guards about her erstwhile misfortune. The way she could haul buckets and hoe crops without a wince, the way she was respected by the men in spite of it.
“Here, let me.” a large, warm hand folded over Sanchez own white knuckles on the wooden handle, making to take her prop from her.
Same words, same voice, if there was anyone she liked to avoid more than Ida Brady herself, it was her caregiving fairy of a brother. Washcloths over throats or help in Sector B’s shit excuse for a garden, Sanchez didn’t like owing John Brady anything. She gripped her garden implement harder, half to wrestle it back from his presumptuous aid, half because now he was taking it away, she realized how crucial the support was to her remaining upright.
“Think you’ll find this is mine.” she snapped.
“Think maybe you should take a breather.” he leveled back, fingers still curled over hers and for a woman who’d not allowed a single touch all winter, to feel a hand on a hand in springtime was more electric than perhaps it should have been. Or maybe it was those watchfully wise eyes pleading with her through a greasy fringe of brown hair. His eyes were green in the sunlight, or maybe that was his undershirt reflecting.
“I’m fine.” she jerked at it; unnervingly the wood didn’t even budge from his grip -he was strong for a scrawny little fuck with pretty clavicles and no need for a razor.
“These are for you.” Brady’s other hand extended a very quaint little bag in front of her face, domestic and familiar, its label touted seeds for a variety of squash. “To be sewn in between the cabbages, apparently their vines will help block out the weeds. And we can eat them.”
Sanchez took the bag with one hand, her other still trapped beneath his own on the hoe’s handle. “And you’re not smart enough to put seeds in dirt?”
“Sit down and plant them before I make you.” Brady’s tone was the sort Sanchez supposed her father was going for when belligerently ordering her about in her younger, dependant days, -it weakened her knuckles in reflex and suddenly the hoe was out of reach and Brady’s other hand extended as if to help her into some goddamn carriage. “Come on, no one will notice if you stop makin’ a fucking scene.”
Gingerly she put her hand in his and knelt down, winded from the agony of the descending movement despite his supportive grip, but once seated on her knees, she had to admit -to herself, never him- it was better this way.
“There.” he muttered, like he himself had been the one relieved, “You don’t have to be so stubborn. Everybody helps everybody in here.”
Sanchez pondered that, knowing that the bomber girls certainly had a pack of protectors that she had denied herself due to belligerence and not a little annoyance at being blamed for Cleven’s scars. Stubborn, he dared call her stubborn! It made her venomous even as she carefully undid the bag and poured a small quantity of the precious seeds in her palm, “Oh?” she taunted him “Does your harpy of a sister even have female complaints?”
John Brady’s form was excellent even when hoeing a cabbage row and he certainly was making an annoyingly more significant amount of progress compared to Sanchez’s weak limbed efforts of before. “Wanna keep your teeth?” he grunted as his hoe blade blurred near her foot, “Then don’t talk shit about my sister.”
Sanchez found the warm earth and the posture on her knees too comforting to retain her vitriol; she ought to hurl another barb at him but it all seemed a little unimpressive as she realized this was the first spring day she’d really enjoyed: sat here on her knees between cabbage rows with John Brady whacking the earth beside her.
“Huh.” she uttered after a while, having kept pace with his work down the rows, shuffling on her knees and repeating the motions of dig and plant and cover. The crowd of guards had not yet dispersed but the heckles had stopped.
“What?” Her companion grunted.
“Staring at asses seems to be a staple for them, no matter whose ass.”
Brady’s hoe thudded into the earth and stayed there for a beat too long as he met her eyes, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Is it the one with the blonde scruff?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.” Brady’s hoe went back to work, its wielder not seemingly perturbed.
“Used to that?” she asked him, suddenly discomforted at the realization, which was a new sensation for her -concern for somebody else in this hell hole.
“Yeah.”
“That’s shit.” was all she had to offer, but she eyed the guard in question, and something showing on her face seemed to bother him enough he turned away and began his route through the compound again, cigarette crushed into the earth and dog trailing at his leash.
“Yeah.” Brady assented beside her, unaware of the change. “Lotta things are shit right now.”
“Yeah.” she agreed.
“S’why we need to let each other help.” he sermonized and she was reminded why she found the young captain so aggravating. She also felt an odd impulse to follow him around like those damn guard dogs and snarl at anyone who had shitty intentions.
“Yeah.” She agreed, “Anytime you need to hide a body, I’ll help.”
He turned her a lopsided grin, surprising in its width and brightness, how easily it cracked across his sober face despite the context, “Knew I’d find your currency one day, Sanchez.” he about preened and then they began on another row.
#masters of the air#mota#mota fanfic#integrated AU#Brady x Sanchez#it was about time the other girls got a little love
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best picture
For the first time in a long time, I watched all of the movies nominated for Best Picture at the Oscars this year. Partly on a whim, partly for a piece I’ve been working on for a while about what is going wrong in contemporary artmarking. I cannot say that the experience made me feel any better or worse about contemporary movies than I already felt, which was pretty bad. But sometimes to write about a hot stove, you gotta put your hand on one. So. The nominees for coldest stove are:
Poor Things. Did not like enough to finish. I always want to like something that is making an effort at originality, strangeness, or style. Unfortunately, the execution of those things in this movie felt somehow dull and thin. Hard to explain how. Maybe the movie’s motif of things mashed together (baby-woman, duck-dog, etc) is representative. People have been mashing things together since griffins, medleys, Avatar the Last Airbender’s animals, Nickelodeon’s Catdog, etc. Thing + thing is elementary-level weird. And while there’s nothing wrong with a simple, or well-worn premise, there is a greater burden on an artist to do something interesting with it, if they go that route. And Poor Things does not. Its themes are obvious and belabored (the difficulty of self-actualization in a world that violently infantilizes you) and do not elevate the premise. There’s a fine line between the archetypal and the hackish, and this movie falls on the wrong side of it. It made me miss Crimes of the Future (2022), a recent Cronenberg that was authentically original and strange, with the execution to match.
Anatomy of a Fall. Solid, but not stunning. The baseline level of what a ‘good’ movie should be. It was written coherently and economically, despite its length. It told a story that drew you along. I wanted to know what happened, which is the least you can ask from storytelling. It had some compelling scenes that required a command of character and drama to write—particularly the big argument scene. The cinematography was not interesting, but it was not annoying either. It did its job. This was not, however, a transcendent movie.
Oppenheimer. Did not like enough to finish. But later forced myself to, just so no one could accuse me of not knowing what I was talking about when I said I disliked it. I felt like I was being pranked. The Marvel idea of what a prestige biopic should be. Like Poor Things, it telegraphed its artsiness and themes and has raked in accolades for its trouble. But obviousness is not the same as goodness and this movie is not good. The imagery is painfully literal. A character mentions something? Cut to a shot of it! No irony or nuance added by such images—just the artistry of a book report. The dialogue pathologically tells instead of shows. It constantly, cutely references things you might have heard of, the kind of desperate audience fellation you see in soulless franchise movies. Which is a particularly jarring choice given the movie’s subject matter. ‘Why didn’t you get Einstein for the Manhattan project’ Strauss asks, as if he’s saying ‘Why didn’t you get Superman for the Avengers?’ If any of this referentiality was an attempt to say something about mythologization, it failed—badly. The movie is stuffed with famous and talented actors, but it might as well not have been, given how fake every word out of their mouths sounded. Every scene felt like it had been written to sound good in a trailer, rather than to tell a damn story. All climax and no cattle.
Barbie. Did not like enough to finish. It had slightly more solidity in its execution than I was afraid it would have, so I will give it that. If people want this to be their entertainment I will let them have it. But if they want this to be their high cinema I will have to kill myself. Barbie being on this list reminds me of the midcentury decades of annual movie musical nominations for Best Picture. Sometimes deservingly. Other times, less so. The Music Man is great, but it’s not better than 8 1/2 or The Great Escape, neither of which were nominated in 1963. Musicals tend to appeal to more popular emotions, which ticket-buyers and award-givers tend to like, and critics tend to dislike. I remember how much Pauline Kael and Joan Didion hated The Sound of Music (which won in 1966), and have to ask myself if in twenty years I’ll think of my reaction to Barbie the same way that I think of those reviews: justified, but perhaps beside the point of other merits. Thing is. Say what you want about musicals, but that genre was alive back then. It was vital. Bursting with creativity. For all Kael’s bile, even she acknowledged that The Sound of Music was “well done for what it is.” [1] Contemporary cinema lacks such vitality, and Barbie is laden with symptoms of the malaise. It repeatedly falls back on references to past aesthetic successes (2001: A Space Odyssey, Singin’ in the Rain, etc) in order to have aesthetic heft. It has a car commercial in the middle. It’s about a toy from 60 years ago and politics from 10 years ago. It tries to wring some energy and meaning from all of that but not enough to cover the stench of death. I’d prefer an old musical any day.
American Fiction. Was okay. It tried to be clever about politics, but ended up being clomping about politics. At the end of the day, it just wasn’t any more interesting than any other ‘intellectual has a mid-life crisis’ story, even with the ‘twist’ of it being from a black American perspective. Even with it being somewhat self-aware of this. But it could have been a worse mid-life crisis story. The cinematography was terrible. It was shot like a sitcom. Much of the dialogue was sitcom-y too. I liked the soundtrack, what I could hear of it. The attempts at style and meta (the characters coming to life, the multiple endings) felt underdeveloped. Mostly because they were only used a couple times. In all, it felt like a first draft of a potentially more interesting movie.
The Zone of Interest.Wanted to like it more than I did. Unfortunately, you get the point within about five minutes. If you’ve seen the promotional image of the people in the garden, backgrounded by the walls of Auschwitz, then you’ve already seen the movie. Which means that all the rest of the movie ends up feeling like pretentious excess instead of moving elaboration. It seemed very aware of itself as an Important Movie and rested on those laurels, cinematically speaking, in a frustrating way. It reminded me of video art. I felt like I had stepped through a black velvet drape into the side room of a gallery, wondering at what point the video started over. And video art has its place, but it is a different medium. Moreover video art at its best, like a movie at its best, takes only the time it needs to say what it needs to say.
Past Lives. I’m a human being, and I respond to romance. I appreciate the pathos of sweet yearning and missed chances. And I understand how the romance in this movie is a synecdoche for ambivalent feelings about many kinds of life choices, particularly the choice to be an immigrant and choose one culture over another. The immigrant experience framing literalizes the way any choice can make one foreign to a past version of oneself, or the people one used to know, even if in another sense one is still the same person. So, I appreciate the emotional core of what (I believe) this movie was going for, and do think it succeeded in some respects. And yet…I was very irritated by most of its artistic choices. I found the three principal characters bland and therefore difficult to care about, sketched with only basic traits besides things like Striving and Being In Love. Why care who they’d be in another life if they have no personalities in this one? It’s fine to make characters symbols instead of humans if the symbolic tapestry of a movie is interesting and rich, but the symbolic tapestry of this movie was quite simple and straightforward. Not that that last sentence even matters much, since the movie clearly wanted you to feel for the characters as human beings, not just symbols. Visually, the cinematography was dull and diffuse, with composition that was either boring or as subtle as a hammer to the head.
Maestro. Did not like enough to finish. Something strange and wrong about this movie. It attempts to perform aesthetic mimicry with impressive precision—age makeup, accents, period cinematography—but this does not make the movie a better movie. At most it creates spectacle, at worst it creates uncanny valleys. It puts one on the lookout for irregularities, instead of allowing one to disappear into whatever the movie is doing. Something amateurishly pretentious in the execution. And not in the fun, respectable way, like a good student film. (My go-to example for a movie that has an art-school vibe in a pleasant way is The Reflecting Skin). There’s something desperate about it instead. It has the same disease as Oppenheimer, of attempting to do a biopic in a ‘stylish’ way without working on the basics first. Fat Man and Little Boy is a less overtly stylish rendition of the same subject as Oppenheimer, but far more cinematically successful to me, because it understands those basics. I would prefer to see the Fat Man and Little Boy of Leonard Bernstein’s life unless a filmmaker proves that they can do something with style beyond mimicry and flash.
The Holdovers. Did not like enough to finish. It tries to be vintage, but outside of a few moments, it does not succeed either at capturing what was good about the aesthetic it references, or at using the aesthetic in some other interesting way. The cinematography apes the tropes of movies and TV from the story’s time period, but doesn't have interesting composition in its own right. It lacks the solidity that comes from original seeing. (Contrast with something like Planet Terror, in which joyous pastiche complements the original elements.) The acting is badly directed. Too much actorliness is permitted. Much fakeness in general between the acting, writing, and visual language. If a movie with this same premise was made in the UK in the 60’s or 70's it would probably be good. As-is the movie just serves to make me sad that the ability to make such movies is apparently lost and can only be hollowly gestured at. That said, the woman who won best supporting actress did a good job. She was the only one who seemed to be actually acting.
Killers of the Flower Moon. The only possible winner. It is not my favorite of Scorsese’s movies, but compared to the rest of the lineup it wins simply by virtue of being a movie at all. How to define ‘being a movie’? Lots of things I could say that Killers of the Flower Moon has and does would also be superficially true of other movies in this cohort. Things like: it tells a story, with developed characters who drive that story. Or: it uses its medium (visuals, sound) to support its story and its themes. The difference comes down to richness, specificity, control, and a je ne sais quois that is beyond me to describe at the moment. Compare the way Killers of the Flower Moon uses a bygone cinematic style (the silent movie) to the way that Maestro and The Holdovers do. Killers of the Flower Moon uses a newsreel in its opening briefly and specifically. The sequence sets the scene historically, and gives you the necessary background with the added panache of confident cuts and music. It’s useful to the story and it’s satisfying to watch. Basics. But the movie doesn’t limit itself to that, because it’s a good movie. The sequence also sets up ideas that will be continuously developed over the course of the movie.* And here’s the kicker—the movie doesn’t linger on this sequence. You get the idea, and it moves on to even more ideas. Also compare this kind of ideating to American Fiction’s. When I said that American Fiction’s moments of style felt underdeveloped, I was thinking of movies like Killers of the Flower Moon, which weave and evolve their stylistic ideas throughout the entire runtime.
*(Visually, it places the Osage within a historical medium that the audience probably does not associate with Native Americans, or the Osage in particular. Which has a couple of different effects. First, it acts as a continuation of the gushing oil from the previous scene. It’s an interruption. A false promise. Seeming belonging and power, but framed all the while by a foreign culture. Meanwhile potentially from the perspective of that culture, it’s an intrusion on ‘their’ medium. And of course, this promise quickly decays into tragedy and death. The energy of the sequence isn’t just for its own sake—it sets up a contrast. But on a second, meta level it establishes the movie’s complicated relationship to media and storytelling. Newsreels, photos, myths, histories, police interviews, and a radio play all occur over the course of the movie. And there’s the movie Killers of the Flower Moon itself. Other people’s frames are contrasted with Mollie’s narration. There’s a repeated tension between communication as a method of knowing others and a method of controlling them—or the narrative of them—which plays out in both history and personal relationships.)
Or here’s another example: When Mollie and Ernest meet and he drives her home for the first time, we see their conversation via the car’s rearview mirrors. This is a bit of cinematic language that has its origins in mystery and paranoia. You see it in things like Hitchcock or The X-Files or film noir. By framing the scene with this convention, the movie turns what is superficially a romantic meet-cute (to quote a friend) into something bubbling with uneasiness and dread. This is not nostalgia—this is just using visuals to create effects. It doesn’t matter if you’ve seen anything that uses the convention before, although knowing the pedigree might add to your enjoyment. The watchfulness suggested by the mirrors and Ernest’s cut-off face will still add an ominous effect. It works for the same reason it works in those other things. Like the newsreel, it is a specific and concise stylistic choice, and it results in a scene that is doing more than just one thing.
In general, the common thread I noticed as I watched these nominees, was the tendency to have the ‘idea’ of theme or style, and then stop there. It’s not that the movies had nothing in them. There were ideas, there was use of the medium, there was meaning to extract. There were lots of individually good moments. But they tended to feel singular, or repetitive, or tacked on. Meanwhile contemporary viewers are apparently so impressed by the mere existence of theme or style, that being able to identify it in a movie is enough to convince many that the movie is also good at those things. The problem with this tendency—in both artists and audiences—is that theme and style are not actually some extra, remarkable, inherently rarifying property of art. Theme emerges naturally from a story with any kind of coherence or perspective. And style emerges naturally from any kind of artistic attitude. They are as native as script, or narrative, or character. A movie’s theme and style might not be interesting, just like its story or dialogue might not be interesting, but if the movie is at all decent, they should exist. What makes a movie good or bad, then, is how it executes its component parts—including theme and style—in service of the whole. When theme is well-executed it is well-developed. Contemporary movies, unfortunately, seem to have confused ‘well-developed’ with ‘screamingly obvious.’ A theme does not become well-developed by repetition. It becomes well-developed by iterationand integration. Theme is like a melody. Simply repeating a single melody over and over does not result in the song becoming more interesting or entertaining. It becomes tedious. However, if you modify the melody each time you play it, or diverge from the melody and then return to it, that can get exciting. It results in different angles on the same idea, such that the idea becomes more complex over time, instead of simply louder.
Oppenheimer wasprobably the worst offender in this regard. Just repeat your water drops, crescendoing noise, or a line about ‘destroying the world’, and that’s the same as nuance, right? Split scenes into color and black and white and that’s the same as structure, right? That’s the same as actually conveying a difference between objectivity and interiority (or another dichotomy) via the drama or visual composition contained in the scenes, right? When I watched many of these movies, I kept thinking of a behind-the-scenes story from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The story goes that Joss Whedon was directing Sarah Michelle Gellar in some scene, and when the take was over he told her how great she was, and that he could see right where the music would come in. And Gellar replied that if he was thinking about the music, he clearly wasn’t getting enough from her acting alone. This conversation then supposedly informed Whedon’s approach to “The Body,” a depiction of the immediate aftermath of death that is considered one of the best episodes of television ever made, and which has no non-diegetic music whatsoever. Not to imply that music is necessarily a crutch, or to pretend that “The Body” is lacking in other forms of stylization (it is a very style-ish episode). But more to illustrate the way that it is easy to forget to make the most of all aspects of a medium, particularly the most fundamental ones, once one has gotten used to what a final product is supposed to feel like.
And that’s why most of these movies don’t feel like movies. They create the gestalt of a movie or a ‘cinematic’ moment—often literally through direct vintage imitation—without a sense of the first principles. Or demonstrating a sense of them, anyway. Who needs AI when the supposedly highest level of human filmmakers are already cannibalistically cargo-culting the medium just fine.
[1] “The Sound of Money (The Sound of Music and The Singing Nun).” The Pauline Kael Reader. (This book contains the full text of the original review, rather than the abbreviated review that I linked earlier.)
#posts: art#movies#am rusty at blogging and don't have all the virtuous nuance i would like in this but we will go with it
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You know, something something Arthur desperately wanted to see the good in magic at any opportunity he was given.
When Gwen was first accused, when he first met Morgause, when he wanted to save Uther using magic, when he saved the woman from being burnt in that small village, when he was given a choice by the Disir, when he was determined to save Gwen from Morgana's dark magic...
(Honourable mentions include when he saved Mordred and argued with Uther about the Druids being peaceful (they are magic adjacent after all) - and well, given the second honourable mention being his remorse for the raid on the Druid camp when he was young, it's understandable that it comes from some sort of trauma. And of course, the result of that remorse was the promise that he would do everything to prevent it ever happening again, and that he would treat the Druids with respect. Hell, even with Kara he was respectful, even though she committed actual literal treason in the form of an attempted assassination of Camelot's king)
Of course, at every opportunity, Arthur's view that there is good in magic, that not all sorcerers are evil, that perhaps his father was wrong, or that his father had lied, ends up being proven wrong, at least in his eyes.
Time and time again Arthur is shown to consider magic as a more neutral force, like almost as if he's desperate for it to be true. It isn't even necessarily his fault that the opinions about magic and sorcerers that Uther taught him becomes reinforced once again.
The fact that he can even think critically about magic at all is a miracle alone. Like this man who has only ever known sorcerers to use magic for evil purposes, to destroy Camelot, attempt to assassinate him, attempt to assassinate his father, to harm those he cares about - and yet he still he still falls back on, what if magic can be good, what if we're wrong, what if, what if, what if--
And it's only when magic itself reveals himself to Arthur that he can finally see that yes, magic can be good.
Because if Merlin is good, if Merlin is the same person even with magic, then magic is neutral, and sorcerers aren't inherently evil.
Arthur was always going to accept magic, that's the thing, that's hardcoded into his character, he just needed the right push, and that push was always going to be Merlin.
Because as Arthur dies in Merlin's arms, blanketed by magic itself, he accepts that even with all of Merlin's magic, his life cannot be saved, magic cannot save him.
But he accepts it, and accepts Merlin, and he dies having brought about all that Merlin ever dreamt of, truly dreamt of, that Arthur would see him for him, and accept him and his magic. And more than that, what Arthur truly ends up doing is embracing it.
Arthur for whatever reason, perhaps because he was born of magic, perhaps because his soulmate is magic itself, perhaps because he has a heart of gold, wanted to see the good in magic at any given opportunity that presented itself, even though with all that Uther taught him, he never should have seen it that way.
It's just, it's so fascinating, and it's so heartbreaking that when he finally knew, he died. But he'll return, and I'm sure then he can build something better with Merlin, really bring magic back to a time that needs it :)
#bbc merlin#merlin#arthur pendragon#merthur#i tried so hard to make this into a short post#but essay mode activated and i tried to stop it i swear :P#i try not to make every post about Arthur a straight up character study but i fail every time#just be glad this post is this short#i had to stop myself about halfway through from going to far into analysis mode#anyway i was thinking about writing this while trying to sleep last night#and i just had to get it down i love Arthur so much and i feel like he deserves more credit for thinking so critically despite there being#no evidence or reason for him to ever do that with magic#i love him the man fascinates me#and I really just wanna wrap him in a blanket - especially as like idk once he returns and finally gets to process all that he did#believing in his father's lies
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Some thoughts about Nordic Bunny. I apologize in advance for the disorganized thoughts I bunched up on the fly
It's easy to infer that he's been fighting the rockers for years and years. Potentially centuries. Perhaps even since the beginning.
However, it's not impossible that he was once part of the rock gods himself, cast out and turned into what he is now.
But I think it's more likely he's just been a guitar alien thing and they've just been passing down the torch of beating his ass.
He seems to have a personal hatred for not just Shred Force, but earth itself. World domination is a classic villain thing, but why does he want the world? Does he intend to bring about apocalypse, or does he just want to say he rules the planet and not much changes. Would he be a true evil villain? Or really does he just wanna hang out on the planet and chill?
And more importantly, what would he do with Shred Force if he got the planet?
He is relentless in his attempts for beating Shred Force and taking over. In the pilot, we can tell they're all familiar with each other and their fights are a common occurrence.
Shred Force clearly doesn't see him as much of a threat, as they don't actively try to capture him, just repel. To them, he's nothing but another silly villain in over his head; just go deal with him and he'll be back tomorrow or next week. Rinse and repeat.
He uses minions and machines to do his bidding, never directly engaging in combat himself. When the crab is about to be destroyed, he attempts to flee the scene immediately.
When Shred Force has him alone, they don't make any move to do anything else to him, they just zap him away after the famous "I'LL GET YOU NEXT TIME!"
Hank especially doesn't take his duty seriously. To him, it's all about awesome rock songs and beating up bad guys. Ron however is much more mature and aware of what he's doing. Cautious to not level the city, and take care of threats first and foremost.
Going back to NB's desire for world dominance, why is he so hellbent on it?
If some teenagers were part of a higher power and beating my ass all the time, I'd be stubborn enough to keep trying to rule the world too, but his methods do not work, and likely never have nor will. He's managed to create rock-resistant enemies, yet even that fails.
So why doesn't he just fight fire with fire? Why won't he use rock against them? Hes literally a guitar.
For one, I like the irony of him being a guitar and not utilizing it. Maybe he physically cannot play for whatever reason, be it curse of Shred Force or personal inability. Or maybe he *refuses* to. The whole spite and stubbornness thing y'know.
And what if he doesn't truly wish to have earth and shred force beaten? What if he just says that to convince himself, and in actuality just wants an excuse to socialize with people in the only way he knows how
He's surrounded by those minion clones, which could possibly even be a hivemind, showing no regard for their health or safety. So what's the deal with them anyway?
Did he build that entire planet himself, being immortal, or was the torch of conquering planets passed to him? Is it like an invader Zim thing where he's gotta prove his worth by owning a planet before he can return home? Is it a personal reason?
Does he truly hate Shred Force and have it out for them, or does he have an ulterior motive?
Whether he's serious about taking earth or not, he doesn't do a good job at it. He's so pathetic I love him.
Can I have your number what's the area code
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hello!!do you have skk fic recs?
Introduction
Yes, I do. I’m sorry it took so long to give you a reply, but I wanted to give you a comprehensive list and was busy preparing for my last day in high school, and then I got a job 12 hours later, and then I traveled to New York for a couple Broadway workshops. But now that today’s been dealt with, I have my wonderful notes.
So here’s the gist of it. I have three focused reviews on some of my favorite Soukoku fanfics ever, but I felt like copy pasting it would kill you a little, so I’m going to use a simplified format that echoes what I once did for two other ships years ago.
Canon Space
Here I compiled four fanfics that take place in main canon spaces (so not BEAST). While I encourage you to read, I also ask you to make sure to check the tags of the actual work for any possible triggers. Furthermore, the styles these characters are written in, and the way they are portrayed, vary from writer to writer. Some are more “canon” based than others, but they all carry the essence of this ship. And if they don’t in your eyes, then you’re just reading a great novel with Japanese names.
i'll bleed out for you by StarshipDancer
Synopsis: After getting impaled together, basically dying in each others arms in a joint mission with the Port Mafia and the ADA, and getting brought back by Yosano, this shattered Soukoku is asked to go into hiding. In this time, things seem to start healing. But the impending call asking them to return to their positions in their groups haunts them, and when it arrives, things fall apart all over again.
Tags: Caretaking, PTSD, A Singularly Important Rat Is Present, Canon-Divergence, Post-Port Mafia Days, Love Confession, Pet Co-Parenting, Angst
Word Count: 71,848
Notes: Rattata is the best character. You cannot negate AbsoluteNegation’s incredible skill. I remember reading this fanfic between the airport and my flight, and when chapter four ended, I had to board the plane, with my shaking hands and quiet sniffles. Please read this one.
If you kiss me (I might let it happen) by encsiimomo
Synopsis: Chuuya’s done watching this. Dazai’s literally dating a new girl every week. He dates based on who asks him first that Monday, he breaks up with them that Sunday, and it goes on again. And again. And again. It’s driving him insane. So he does the only thing he can think of to earn himself a break – He asks to date him for that week’s cycle. Dazai’s surprised. Chuuya’s exhausted. But once the sparks fly, they’re unable to be put out.
Tags: Canon Divergent & Kind of Canon Compliant, Dark Era, Smut, Mutual Pining, Light Angst, Silly
Word Count: 52,127
Notes: I loved this fic because it encapsulates a pretty carefree tone that isn’t associated with Dark Era. It’s pretty smutty, but it’s really lovely to read them. It’s not a reflection of what these characters canonically represent. And while it definitely stays as a loose interpretation of these characters, it keeps the essence that makes this ship so sharp and wonderful. I loved Oda’s appearances too, they made me laugh.
A Doll's House by Abyss_In_WonderLand_likes_sexy_cannibals
Summary: After coming to contact with an ability-powered artifact, Dazai and Chuuya are forced to work together to overcome the ability’s trials, and face the bubbling sentiments they keep trying so hard to ignore.
Tags: Teamwork, Ability Loss, Poisoning, Denial of Feelings, Confessions, Light Angst
Word Count: 45,288
Notes: While definitely not a character study, this fic goes and shows how wonderfully warm a Double Black fanfic can be. You’ll giggle in some moments, be entranced in others, and it’s just fun. This is for those that aren’t scouring for the angst. This was the first fic that sunk me into a skk fanfiction hunt all throughout the winter holidays.
On Deathless Feet by AbsoluteNegation
Synopsis: Chuuya always knows the monster can get out of control, but it doesn’t get any less surprising when Arahabaki powers through him. For a while though, it’d been comforting to know Dazai could always reign it in, make it go quiet. Because he did when they recently met, when they rose through the ranks, and at the brink of their end. But after years of disconnection, and the consistent waves of betrayal, is Chuuya capable of trusting him? And is Dazai capable of letting him?
Tags: Caretaking, Controlling Arahabaki, Port Mafia, Post-Port Mafia, Mistrust, Non-Linear Storytelling
Word Count: 71,848
Notes: This story is just breathtaking. The writing style is incredibly vast and detailed, which may seem scary when described, but it flows so easily when you read it. The story takes place in an event where Chuuya loses control of Arahabaki in a Post-Port Mafia Soukoku time. But because of its non-linear style, one gets to understand their past experiences with each other in a manner that contextualizes and weighs in the events of their reunion.
Fanon Spaces
Before I begin, I’d like to note that there are so many AUs in this fandom, that I had to really search for the canon ones in my list. So understand that if you want more of these, I DEFINITELY have more of these. Also, again, while I encourage you to read, I also ask you to make sure to check the tags of the actual work for any possible triggers.
I’ll crown your inner child with laurel by acuteguwu
Synopsis: Chuuya has worked in a Michelin Star restaurant. So he really has no place in losing this cooking competition. But a sudden newcomer, who seemingly has no previous experience in the field, seems to want to tell him his bechamel sauce isn’t ready. And really, who does he think he is?
Tags: Chef Competition AU, Character Study, Slow Burn, Chuuya Is A Blunt Perfectionist, Dazai Is A Culinary Genius
Words: 197,090
Notes: I read this in two days, and I finished by waking up at four in the morning to finish up before going to a drag queen brunch. So really, my experience was incredible. You get to really know these characters, who are very themselves, and it’s lovely. Please read, it’s so worth it.
music for our funeral by itotypes
Synopsis: Dazai has always been lost on what exactly he wants to be. Chuuya knows exactly what he wants. Working with such incredible differences proves to be a difficult challenge, ending in at least a little bit of violence multiple times, but they make it work. Because their music sounds beautiful. Because they’re better geniuses beside the other. And maybe because once it started, they can’t seem to process this journey can ever end.
Tags: No Smut, Angst, 70s, Musicians!AU, Drug Abuse, References to Child Neglect, Lowkey Pretty Violent, Emotional Cheating (w/ Main Ship)
Word Count: 67,723
Notes: Look, there’s a whole genre of Soukoku music AUs. And I could tell you to read the famous “still, still, still” by icedlightroast, or the even more famous “I Was Screaming Your Name Through The Radio” by ElectricSplatter. Which really, they’re both INCREDIBLE fics that I think you should read (IWSYNTTR literally inspired me to try and write music, which led me to do an album for a school project, so I’m not kidding when I say they’re life changing), but I also know that these are famous fanfics that you can find in almost any big skk reader thread. So disregarding the following recommendation, I try to give you fanfics I found through a long scrolling process.
Everything or Nothing by Wellthathappened (Cataclysmic_Calamity)
Synopsis: Chuuya has never been able to experience much. So when he meets Dazai on the night of orientation, he lets himself explore. And as lips sink into his, and he lets himself be free, Dazai lets him know how unimportant he is by walking away when kids walk in on them. Cut to a month later, they’re paired as roommates, Chuuya’s gotten what Dazai insists is a douchey boyfriend, and Dazai Osamu has to recognize it wasn’t true. It wasn’t a night’s fluke. He really, definitely isn’t straight.
Tags: College AU, Pinning, Chronic Illness, Creation & References Of Illegal Panini Rings, Confessions, Miscommunication, Past Sexual Abuse, Bad Parenting, Cute Dates, Dazai’s Really Rich
Word Count: 264,937
Notes: I recognize I just put in my notes that there’s no major point in recommending these big fanfics, but I just read this because the person that introduced me into the fandom in the first place really loves this one. And it’s incredible. Worth every moment. I laughed a lot, and cried a lot. It’s those pieces of work that resound with you that keep you engaged. This one builds off of that.
Inseparable by milwritescausewhynot
Synopsis: Dazai and Chuuya have been joined to the hip since day one. But they’re not best friends. Or enemies. Or, worst of all, lovers. They are, however, great at pranking each other. Until one goes close to dangerous, and things begin getting complicated afterwards.
Tags: High School AU, Pranks, Light Angst, Denial, Pining, Confessions, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Crazy Kouyou, Childhood Friends, No Smut
Word Count: 107,804
Notes: I hadn’t saved this one in my compilation, but I couldn’t not find it. This fic is so charming, and I most enjoy how the characters move through the story. Definitely recommend.
In Conclusion
Again, I’m sorry for such a late response. I’m literally falling asleep right now but I felt too guilty leaving this for tomorrow morning. If you have any questions, notes, or looking for something specific for your reading, we cna talk about it.
Anyways, thanks for asking! Hope you love them, and sorry for any mistakes
#soukoku fanfiction#skk#dazai osamu#nakahara chuuya#soukoku#bsd#bungou stray dogs#fanfic recommendations#skk fanfiction#double black#bsd chuuya#bsd dazai
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A Love Long Forgotten|𖦹๋࣭ ⭑ᡣ𐭩⊹ 𖦹๋࣭ ⭑
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Wordcount:1,021|readerx:Allstudents|Style:Oneshot
WARNINGS: Angst!|Disociation|Hanahaki
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Everything was hazy, even as you attempted to reveal your previous memories, the ones that always left a warm feeling in the pit of your stomach and made your heart squeeze in the best possible way. Though the memories that previously left you feeling all warm and fuzzy now left you with a sense of dread, or rather their lack of presence did. Leaving you with a looming dark cloud as if prophesying what was to come. Why weren't they there? Why couldn't you recall those.....wait were they happy times? Who were you with? All the figures were...not blurry but vague as if you couldn't recall what they looked like anymore, imagining different ethnicities, clothes, hair, skin, eyes, face shapes, noses, but nothing seemed to click. As if the very essence of your loved ones were slipping away, and with the memories of past experiences and people slipping away so was your spirit and will.
Who were you anymore? Were you still the same? Scratch that you obviously weren't the same. Were you even a person anymore? Looking down at your hands they didn't look like yours anymore.....hell nothing truly looked like you anymore. This world had changed you so much....too much. Body, mind, and soul it had ripped into the very fiber of your being torn apart and then flippantly tried to piece you together like a broken puzzle.....You couldn't even dress the way you used to or wanted to, forced to live in the few uniforms and whatever you could find in the lost and found. How long had it been since you arrived in this twisted wonderland? Six? Seven? Maybe eight months? Hell it could have even been a year. It had been April when your shit show of a life began...well your “life” in wonderland at least......why were you here? What was the point?
Not everything had been bad though. The people you had met had been wonderful…at times…some of them had at least, some more....challenging than others but all beautiful and talented in their own right that was the one thing you could confidently state you didn't regret.
Though with even the most wonderful people came scars, mother the time it's in a metaphorical sense but unfortunately for you it had been quite literal as soon as you were thrust into this world. Fighting for your life metaphorically and physically as you barely scrounged by. Becoming a friend, therapist, reliable constant in your friends lif-…no. In the schools. Slowly reassuring, validating and guiding all the mentally crippled students into a slightly better mentality bit by bit while ironically your mental health eroded away…
Not minding because they were friends. I mean they would do the same in return right? They appreciated your efforts, right? Even if they didn't understand your references or jokes at times they still cared.
.
.
.
.
“I'm so glad we're friends.”
The pause in his actions hurt more than any slap across the face or outright rejection ever could have. Maybe it was wrong. You shouldn't have blurted it out. Just being stupidly sentimental while rolling cookie dough into balls, maybe that was the reason, maybe the small action made you feel like a kid again. Less damaged, less broken, lifting your heart in a way that it hadn't in a long long time. It may have been wrong to blurt something so sentimental out, but it just felt so right as you helped him bake a plethora of deserts for the upcoming birthday party. Though the apologetic smile he gave you afterwards taking a brief moment to let his eyes linger on you before he pushed up his glasses and turned back his gaze down to the counter, working wordlessly made it so much worse.
One by one your casual small acts of service, gifts, and company were being rejected so casually by everyone you offered them to. As the memories seemed to flood you squeezing at your heart as a reminder of how little your so called "friends" truly cared as you leaned over the toilet bowl hacking and coughing into it the petals and blood that seemed to form in your throat and get thicker at like a unwanted metallic sludge clogging your throat. It was a massacre with how many differing types of flowers, succulents, and even a form of mushroom species you had clogging your throat, shaking around painfully in your lungs, hitting the walls with painful thuds while you coughed. A painful and bitter reminder of your predicament: Getting out as much as you could before flushing the toilet.
Using the edges and what little strength remained to push yourself up from your kneeling position. Wobbly staggering over to sink to wash off the blood and petals that suck to you from around you mouth and dripping onto your chin with the freezing water that snapped you out of your dazed.
No one had even taken notice to your wobbly steps or how you covered your mouth to cough into your hands at least twenty times an hour as the Hanahaki got worse with each passing day. Though you would have thought that Vil, Riddle, Rook, or even Malleus's astute eyes should have noticed…The thick but now familiar feeling of something gathering in your throat started once again, signaling once more that another coughing or rather choking fit was near. Covering your mouth once more as the petals filled your hands. Though unlike the last few times, it didn't stop. The build-up becoming worse as the attempt of getting the pesky beings out of your airway failed. Your vision darkened suddenly as a wave of nausea and dizziness hit worse than it ever had before. The cold feeling of the tile making contact with your knees causing the thud to ripple throughout the empty halls as the flowers blocked your airway and filled your lungs.
Unrequited love really hurt, but it would be fine. You'd love them all even if it killed you. After all, wasn't it fitting you put your life on the line for them one last time.
#disney twst#twst#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#twst angst#Twisted wonderland angst#angst#hanahaki#riddle rosehearts#trey clover#cater diamond#ace trappola#deuce spade#Leona Kingscholar#ruggie bucchi#Jack Howl#Azul Ashengrotto#Jade Leech#Floyd Leech#kalim al asim#jamil viper#vil schoenheit#rook hunt#epel felmier#Idia shroud#ortho shroud#malleus draconia#lilia vanrouge#twst silver
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I don’t have like a ton to say about this but I have mixed feelings- also spoilers ✨
I like Crystal I really do but at times her dialogue bothered me and some of her behavior was kind of obnoxious to me- like at times when she started aggressively inserting herself into situations and just kind of made it about her? Like in episode seven (though this happened many other times too) where she was having a total fit about not going to hell when it’s clearly for her own good and not about her no matter how much she cares? and I totally understand that this is her being written as an immature teenager who hasn’t been dead or a teen for 30-100 years but as a teenager this sort of selfish immature writing kind of gives me icky feelings because I know so many people who are mostly emotionally intelligent not just raging all the time.- and I mean that for a lot of teenagers and teen girls in writing, to make them tough and likable they are made volitile and annoying which to me is not likable (my opinion, I just don’t like the trope that’s not what I’m talking about right now anyway-) I do think she had good development and I liked her a lot better by the end, some people on other forums were saying that her actress was weaker than the rest of the cast and I don’t really know about that? I think maybe she was artificial at times but I’m blaming that on the writing.
I also didn’t like her dialogue about her “crazy demon ex” either, it felt very forced? -Not her emotions about the whole mind cage thing I get that but just all of the “UGH WHY ARE THEY SO FUCKING NOSY IM JUST TRYING TO GET OVER MY STUPID STUPID CRAZY ABUSIVE STALKER DEMON EX BOYFRIEND UGHHH ILL DOUBLE KILL THOSE BOYS IF ITS TGE LAST THING I DO” that felt out of place to me- Lastly I get that this is also an aspect of her teenager-ness but I didn’t like the amount she cursed? I have no qualms with cursing but it felt to me like when little kids and middle schoolers start cursing where they just explosively yell fuck when like literally nothing warranting that kind of expletive has happened? She curses too often it makes her sound really stupid? Like the ep 7 “take me to hell I won’t die” thing, she was screaming at Charles who was being pretty reasonable like “fuck that I’m going he’s my fucking friend too fine then fuck it- fuck you ill find another way to get to hell” like yes she was emotional but that isn’t what teenagers sound like guys?
idk- I’d love to hear what other people think and to be clear I do like her I just focused on the negative- I guess it’s a human thing. She had lots of strong points just I ending up not liking how much she was on screen, this isn’t really about you? It’s about the dead boy detective? Give me more ghosts or Edwin or Charles or Jenny or Niko or Mr walrus please? They were fun I like them? I just felt like there were times where she was over shadowing Edwin and Charles and they are what’s actually important to the show? I think I’d like her more in smaller doses- I felt like I spent too much time having to stop and be like “girl step back this is not about you, you are not the star right now”
and to the argument of her actress being inexperienced or over acting or just not great- I have no specific feelings on this but like the other main cast had for the most part very little screen acting experience and were Fantastic so i don’t know what to feel in that area?
so yes, i think crystal is an interesting character and i think she grew on me and developed in the season but i also definitely think that she’s annoying and I’m conflicted because i don’t want to not like her-..
what are your thoughts? Id love to hear different perspectives but please be nice to me because I’ll probably delete this and cry (unless that was your goal, then carry on)
that was all like super ramble-y sorry- but I hope I communicated semi accurately! Thank you
#neil gaiman#dead boy detectives#dead boy detective agency#george rexstrew#kassius nelson#jayden revri#good omens#spoilers#crystal palace
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astarion, the man who was dying and offered eternal life, but had no idea that it meant becoming a slave to a sadistic master.
astarion, the man who had his freedom and bodily autonomy ripped away from him.
astarion, the man who was forced to befriend, seduce and sleep with people to lure them back to his master, resulting in severe sexual trauma and the struggle to form any sort of intimate relationship.
astarion, the man who was horribly punished whenever he refused his master’s orders (one punishment being sealed away in a dusty tomb, starving, for an entire year. he scratched his hands raw trying to carve his way out).
astarion, the man who was forced to eat rats.
astarion, the man who hasn’t even been able to see his own face since he turned.
astarion, the man who had his body mutilated as cazador carved scars onto his back, which he later found out was to bind him to a ritual.
astarion, the man who is so severely traumatised that he admitted he doesn’t know how to say “no” or ask for help (and he feels guilty when he does).
astarion, the man who waited two centuries to be helped and freed from torture, but no one came.
astarion, the man who was always treated like a monster when all he wanted was to be treated like a person.
astarion, the man who came up to you in the middle of the night just to thank you for defending him and allowing him to make his own decisions.
astarion, the man who said that no one ever looked out for him or showed him kindness, and that you’re the only one. “other people don’t have a heart like you. you’re you. no one is like that.”
astarion, the man who broke the cycle of power and terror that started centuries ago thanks to the love, care and compassion that you showed him when no one else did.
astarion, the man who confessed that he loves you and feels safe with you; something he has never felt with anyone before.
#my darling boy :(#astarion#baldur’s gate 3#bg3#bg3 spoilers#his backstory and character development make me want to bawl my eyes out#this is why i get so angry when people don’t even try to understand him#and when they reduce him to things he’s not#like do you pay ANY attention to anything he says??#or do you just stare at him and drool and then continue to sexualise him#sorry if that sounds dramatic but ughhhhhh man#it’s just incredibly annoying#like i don’t know why some people choose to pick up an intense game with really deep characters if they’re not gonna try to understand them#like they weren’t just made for you to treat them like they’re objects#and what gets me is the fact that astarion would HATE how people talk about him#and yes yes i know he’s not real i’m not dumb i am aware!!!!!#but he would absolutely hate it#that flirty sexy vampire image you have of him isn’t even real#it was a mask he wore#he was literally forced into doing those things#even in the game he has a reputation for flirting and sleeping around but that’s not even who he is or what he wants#it’s all an act#and it’s just so sad how everyone reduces him to that when it traumatises him every day#and apparently there’s a scene with raphael where if you haven’t seen astarion’s scars yet ->#raphael basically says he’s surprised astarion has kept his clothes on for this long and then he strips him naked in front of everyone#it’s so horrible and unfair#i just want to hold his hand and hug him tight. he deserves so much better in the game AND in this fandom#tw abuse#tw sa#my posts
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How would bill feel if dipper reincarnated as an incubus?
Thrilled. Delighted. Tickled pink!
Partly because hey! That's a great look for him! Inhuman and demonic and oh-so-cute. Another part because of all the demonic subtypes he could end up as, this one has to be the most ironic, a bit of him thrilled just because it's good to see him again -
And of course, a Big Ol' Chunk of delight for the other obvious reason.
#answers#Not thursday but vaguely thirst scented#Dipper is very very bad at being an incubus#That nerdy awkward affectation is cute and all until you realize it's REAL#Not playing a role just literally that awkward#The minute Bill gets a whiff of where Dipper's at this lifetime he's doing his hair and polishing up. Freshing up his breath. Strutting out#Well well welll look who happens to be a demon that feasts upon life force to survive! With a very *interesting* method!#What's that? Feel weird about draining people's lives out through their- ahem. Well no problem; Bill has the solution right here!#Don't wanna accidentally kill someone? Easy! Turns out Bill's magical reserves are downright inexhaustible!#A LOT of things about Bill are inexhaustible#Who wants a big ol' bite of Bill Cipher himself? That's right Dipper does now get over here#Dragging him off to Dipper's sheer confusion and mild terror#Bill has a Reputation and it's not always a good idea to get his attention#Don't worry DIpper; it all works out VERY well for you#I had a brief mental image of - well. You know those nude sushi things#Where someone naked acts as a table for the food#Yeah. Bill doing that except the sushi's not the main dish there; just for decoration#Dipper says raw fish kills the mood but he has no respect for aesthetic and drama
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There’s something about duality of fandoms, on one hand there’s so many cool metas and gorgeous arts and you meet your friends… and at the same time so many shitty opinions and the fandom literally giving you creeps at certain points - to the point that you’re starting hating some ideas and they’re ruining your mood and you realise you need to step away because soon you won’t even be able to look at that tv show anymore.
#fandoms are the best and the worst things at the same time#anytime someone reduces Crowley’s character to nothing and insists they must be a B not T is driving me insane#it’s literally the opposite in the show#you MADE that up in fandom and decided it’s canon and now insists for the author to make it real#it’s insane#absolutely insane#and telling D to tell NG to make Crowley a B is just way too much#I hope he shows absolutely nothing#I hope he doesn’t ruin Crowley’s character for the sake of the fandom#I have such beef with the fandom who decided to take a character whoas whole thing is freedom#and insisting he needs to be on his knees for A and be pathetic and told what to do#by a character who’s actually the one who want to be told what to do#but no let’s switch the roles#let’s take a character who would hate being treated like a dog and force him into those situations#it’s getting sick now#and I’m done with it#Crowley I hope your author treats you better because this fandom just wants you to get the worst#aziraphale you deserve better than the fandom insisting you’d be such a piece of shit too#I literally don’t want anything in S3#I don’t even want them to kiss anymore
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