#WHAT IF IT ACTUALLY IS THE TIME TRAVEL AU? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

textmel8r · 2 days

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[ SMAU + DRABBLE ] 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ! ( eighth installment ) in which you find toji fushiguro’s number off a sugar baby site .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight.

୨୧˚ incl; toji fushiguro

୨୧˚ cw; sugarmommy! reader , sugarbaby! toji , smut , submissive toji , finger sucking , masturbation , oral sex (f!receiving) , profanity

୨୧˚ an; so not happy with my writing in this one, probs will rewrite it one day but here, have a couple thousand words of smut🗣️ this is lowkey another filler but lowkey not at the same time? i wanted to fit in another intimate moment before shit goes south awooooooo

You were not fibbing when you said you knew your way around the kitchen. “Holy fuck,” Toji all but moans, tearing into another piece of tender meat with his canines. It was juicy and seasoned almost too much, just the way he likes it. He squints across the table, where you eat in tandem with much better manners than he could ever hope to have. “Who taught you how to cook like this?”

You shrug bashfully under his gawking, wiping your mouth with a dainty stroke of the napkin you had placed in your lap. “I traveled a lot in between semesters at college. Italy, France, Denmark…” You list a few more places that Toji wouldn’t be able to point out on a map. “Those European countries do food so good, I guess it inspired me to give my best shot at it as well.” Self taught, huh? Yeah, you seem like the type to succeed in everything you try.

The man nods, ultimately wishing he had more to add. He wishes he had just an ounce in common with you, a smidgen of relatability to offer. But he doesn’t. Toji didn’t finish school. He’s never left Japan. He’s never cooked a damn thing from scratch in his life. You must’ve caught on to his struggle and decided to show mercy by adding, “actually, right now we’re eating steak au poivre.”

“Steak au po–” He cut himself off before inevitably butchering the name. “What is that? French?”

You’re nodding enthusiastically. “That’s right. I happened upon this dish when I was staying in Bordeaux with a few college mates.” There’s a sweet smile tugging sheepishly at your lips as you recall the memory. “I fell in love with it the second I tried it, and asked the manager right then and there for the recipe.”

Toji shakes his head with disbelief, talking with his mouth full of food. “You’re just full of stories, aren’t you?”

“Some would call me experienced, yes.”

His brow raises. Experienced? Was that a come on? Toji gives way to his own quaint smile, jutting his chin toward you. “Say it again.”

“Say what again?”

“Steak au whatever.”

You oblige his request, repeating the name back slowly so he could attempt to grasp it. “Steak au poivre. Now you give it a go.”

Toji finishes chewing the mouthful of peppercorn-laced meat, swallowing it down with a swig of the Château Cheval Blanc you’d poured at the start of the meal. Some fancy French imported wine is what he gathered from the long winded description you waxed as you topped off an extravagant glass for him. Wine never really appealed to the man—he usually went for the harder shit. The type that you knock back from lowball glasses. The type to get you piss drunk after three rounds—but it was all you ever drank. It was safe to say he was becoming accustomed to your tastes. Maybe the sweetness wasn’t so terrible. He clears his throat, putting embarrassingly too much effort into his “steak au poivre.” It doesn’t sound pretty the way it did leaving your mouth, and he grimaces. “Can’t fucking do it.”

“I thought you sounded good.” He scoffs at that, but you click your tongue. “I’m serious.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll just leave the French speaking to you.” The plate before him sits scraped clean. You’re still working on your dinner. Fuck, you’re a slow eater. “You know any more?”

“Any more French, you mean?”

He nods along with a gruff hum, swishing his tongue around his teeth, collecting anything left over of that smokiness from the peppered steak.

“Hm. Tu m'as manqué, Toji.” You hide your grin behind the rim of your glass.

Thick forearms crossed over chest, he croons a deep, barely-there chuckle. “I heard my name. Tell me what you said.”

“No way,” you chortle.

“Ah, c’mon. You’re all blushy.” He licks over the chappedness of his lower lip, knowing gaze latched onto your lips. It was hypnotic, your smile. “You say somethin’ dirty about me, ma’am?”

The way in which your eyes widened coquettishly at the accusation had Toji’s heart beating just a bit more erratically. Like a fawn, he thinks. All that was missing on you was a white, cottony tail.

“If I said something dirty, It would have been in a language you could understand.” Finally, you take the last bite off your dish as well. Hopefully that means dinner is officially over; Toji has been craving dessert since he stepped foot in your house and got showered in ‘welcome back’ gifts. “I’m not the type of woman easily embarrassed by my sexuality. I thought you would have picked that up by now.”

He persists. “What are you embarrassed by?”

“Toji.” His name is spoken sharply, a verbal warning that he was tiptoeing the line. Threatening to shatter that layer of thin ice he stood upon. This is what he’s been needing. This is what he’s been fucking needing.

“I’ve been thinking about you, ma’am.” Any semblance of a filter is long gone, melted by the sheer heat of his desire. His limbs feel heavy, hands tumbling into his lap. They rest on the wide surface area of sweatpant-clad thighs, just sitting there. Feeling himself. “This entire week, I’ve been thinking.”

You seem to get the implications of his confession. “In a sexual way?”

“Yeah.” That’s a white lie. To be truthful was to admit that the sexual thoughts Toji let himself think about you were the minority. Objectifying you in the depths of his mind wasn't enough. He thought about your breasts, sure. He thought about your curves, and your ass, and your mouth, and every other body part that would grant him pleasure. But that wasn’t enough for Toji. Fixations of his tended to lead him astray from fantasies, instead breaching carefully saved memories stored within his brain catalog. When he touched himself, it was more or less to remembrances of mundane tasks you’d dealt him in the past. All the times you had bestowed little gifts and knick knacks on a whim just because they reminded you of him. Or when you drag him to the outlets with you for a shopping spree and he’ll act miserable the entire time, but you both knew it was a horribly crafted facade. Or even, like now, when you’d treat him to dinner because you worry over him and his eating schedule. The little things really counted; a revelation that scared Toji shitless, so he opted to ignore those budding, foreign feelings and replace it with familiarity: lust.

“Toji, honey, are you alright?”

What? His breathing pattern was off kilter, and the muscles of his jaw flexed unconsciously. When had he started palming himself? His right hand had grown a mind of its own apparently, because when Toji stole a glance downward, there it was; kneading roughly at the bulge between his meaty thighs. How desperate was he? To go dormant like that, so consumed with the thought of you that he began to instinctually masturbate himself not even five feet away from where you sit. And why… Why wasn’t he stopping?

“Can we fuck now?”

“Oh.” You barely look shocked. Not the slightest bit appalled like he expected you to be. Instead, slide off a ring that took purchase wrapped around your middle finger. A sigh escapes you as you place the band on the table. “I still have more to ask you. I wanted to know how your work trip went.”

Toji shakes his head, something akin to a toddler trying to get fed vegetables. “No.”

“No?”

“I don’t wanna talk about work.”

“Why not?” You frown, leaning forward against the tabletop. “Was it bad?”

He knows what you’re doing. Trying to make him spill any details about his job. Well, he won’t give in.

A heavy sigh slithers out hoarsely from the deepest part of his lungs, and Toji presses his palms to the table, pushing himself up. He stands tall, much like the tent at his crotch, and slinks along the roundness of the dinner table, walking his fingertips across the top all the while. “I don’t want to talk,” he reiterates, breathy and abrasive.

Finally, Toji stands before you. Still, you are seated, unbothered by the towering man’s presence. No, you’re swirling your wine glass sophisticatedly, lips pursed into a narrow line. Like you’re the slightest bit irritated with his persistent defiance.

God, you won't even look at him.

Or maybe, you were never irritated at all. Toji cops a second glance to your lips, finding the faintest ghost of a frown. “You’ve been acting so… so removed. Ever since you left.” Now you’re looking at him; Toji shudders under the intense fire that billows behind your eyes, wide and wetted with worry. “I want you to feel like you can tell me things. I want your trust, Toji.”

You have his trust. Every last crumb of it resides in the palm of your soft hand.

“... And I know that it’s stupid—I’m stupid for wanting that from you. I know what this relationship is, and I know that there are these unspoken boundaries, but I—I can’t—”

It was the first time he’d ever heard you speak with such a volatile expression. There was a tremble of uncertainty in your vocal chords, carrying into the skittish dialogue that tumbled out in rambles. Something about such a show of pity from you, his Y/n, made his guts churn like butter. He can’t listen to this any more. With swiftness, Toji dives down to press his mouth against yours, swallowing the words that die on your tongue. One hand grips the back of your chair, the other holds the roundness of your cheek. He feels your gasp, feels the way your shoulders jolt in surprise, but he doesn’t release you.

This was really only his second instance of kissing you. The first had been in his bed, with his groin pressed to yours, tongue fighting its way to the back of your throat with greedy fervor. This second kiss was anything but greedy, though. Despite the ache that roiled at the base of his stomach, Toji didn’t serve you a kiss that reflected his desire. Tongues never met and spit was never swapped; just lips on glossed lips.

At last, Toji reluctantly peels away. Lipstick residue feels heavy on his mouth, and he knows he probably looks foolish donning remnants of your dark lip lacquer, but he doesn’t move to wipe his skin. The circular bottom of the wine glass clinks as you clumsily set it down, freeing your hands. They branch upwards, finding his face. A pair of thumbs rub the sensitive pads of flesh beneath his eyes, massaging out those ugly, darkened bags that have accumulated as a result of many sleepless nights. It feels orgasmic, the way you handle him.

“I trust you.” The words are out in the air before he has time to think.

You brighten, sunshine hiding in the crevices of your smile. “You mean that?” You ask him, hands petting down the sides of his neck.

He meant it wholeheartedly. The amount of trust left within Toji was scarce. Too many bad people fucked him for life; showed him the meaning of the phrase ‘trust is earned.’ So it really fucking freaked him out how quickly you came to earn it. A little over a year-–that’s how long he’s known you—you’ve have plenty of time to fuck him over. To batter him. And yet, you haven’t. All you’ve ever shown him was kindness and consideration and warmth and everything else Toji never knew how bad he was thirsty for.

“Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

“I trust you, too, Toji.”

He wonders if he deserves that. Because really, what has given you besides his annoyingly closed-off dickhead attitude? He provides fuck all, but you still stick around.

Toji doesn’t say anything. He swoops once more, capturing your lips in a hungrier kiss than before. All the playful innocence is tossed aside, forgotten in lieu of Toji’s devastatingly furious need to consume you. Tongues finally greet each other in a spittle-slicked tango; he dominates yours with ease, worming behind your teeth just to collect your sweet flavor. Wine, he thinks. You taste like your goddamn expensive ass wine.

He feels feverish. One-track minded, hyper fixated on you. On your crossed legs underneath the table. “Fuck,” Toji breathes into your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip.

Your hand clashes against the hard wall of his chest, patting it softly. A wordless signal that you need some air, so he retracts. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

The plea goes in one ear and falls right out the other. Toji leeches against your neck, dragging the flat of his wet tongue over that little throbbing pulse point. His teeth grate against your flawless skin, completely none the wiser that you’re even talking to him. You thwack the back of his head, and he lurches into the crook of your shoulder, muffling a groan.

“No marks, I’ve got work.”

His eyes roll, face still burrowed against you. He couldn’t give less of a shit about your job right now.

“Come on, let’s go to my room.” “Gimme a sec.” He’s still licking below your jaw, making his way down. This stupidly lavish house had been cursed with three levels, your bedroom holed up at the very top floor. Like hell Toji was going to part ways with your glorious body so you two could safely make it up the two ridiculous staircases. Fuck that.

“Toji, I’m… serious…” Your raucous pants of anticipation suggest otherwise. Toji has sunken to his knees, crawling beneath the table and finding a home on the floor before your seat. His kneecaps scream in discomfort as they pin heavily to the wooden floorboards, but Toji bears the pain well ( he’d always been somewhat of a masochist ). Your legs are still crossed, one knee hinging over the other.

“Open these.” Two calloused hands cuff around the thinnest parts of either ankle. Your legs were conspicuously smooth; did you shave for him? There is an attempt at delicacy when Toji pries your legs apart, and it makes you giggle.

“Here?” You laugh more. Toji suspects you’re patronizing him in a way. “I haven’t even cleared the table. Are you really so impatient?”

And here Toji thought he exercised his patience well. He didn’t jump your bones the second of his arrival. No, he waited like a good boy until after dinner. “I’ve waited for this the whole week.” Restless hands walk up those porcelain calves, strong and lean from working in high heels. They wander up, hooking beneath the junctures of your knees; Toji uses his celestial strength to his advantage, maneuvering both legs with ease until he’s got them resting comfortably over his broad shoulders. Toji turns, cocks his head to give a serpentine lick to the inside of your thigh. Then a bite. “Don’t make me wait any longer. I’ll fucking die.”

You peer down at him. “Don’t talk like that.” You feel yourself. Small hands groping your chest, sliding lower and lower. “You’re not going to die.”

His mouth feels sticky, like there’s a spoonful of honey under his tongue. “I might.”

Your heel drives into his upper back, an impish little warning that makes him throb all over. “Don’t talk like that, I said.” Those manicured hands have garnered Toji’s full attention. They descend all the way to the hem of your luxurious dress, wrenching into its hem. It’s the sexiest sight Toji had ever seen: you pulling your dress up with the quickness of a sloth, inching the fabric up until it scrunches around the dip of your waistline.

“These are hot,” he murmurs, thumbing the waistband of the scarlet panties. They were tight, sinking into the ample pudge of your hips and soft tummy. So fucking beautiful, he thinks, the contrast between deep red lace and the flesh of which it lays upon. The perfect, little present gift wrapped in a low-rise lace thong. “Bet they cost a pretty penny.”

You spare a breathy exhale through your nostrils. “I don’t look at price tags when I buy things for you.”

You bought these just for him? “You spoil me.”

“You deserve to get spoiled, baby.”

He is so mind numbingly turned on. Sickening tendrils of appetence bleed into his vision, his lust coils around his limbs and guide his movements like a marionette. Toji thumbs your—his—panties to the side, soaking in the sight of that pretty pussy he’s longed to be back inside of since the moment he pulled out. His face is close, so fucking close that he can feel warmth radiate off your core and deepen his flush.

Perhaps this is how he begins his journey of repayment. Ever indebted to you, despite your odd relationship being a mutually agreed upon situation, Toji fears you’ve truly altered him. For the better or worse he isn’t sure yet; all he knows is that you make him feel good. Better than he’s felt in fucking ages. You said he deserves to get spoiled? Well so do you, too.

Toji eats you with erotic vigor, delving into the deepest parts of your cunt with his lascivious tongue. He’ll be the first to admit that he doesn’t possess many skills. He isn’t terribly smart, nor is he gifted with great conversational skills like you. He isn't good at holding a real job. Isn’t very good at expressing himself. Not good at abiding by the law, or staying sober, either. But if ever there was an artistry in which Toji had full confidence he had mastered, it was oral sex.

“Oh, Toji,” you gasped, forcing his face deeper with a hand on the back of his skull. “Right there.”

Toji dug you out, excavating your hole with expertise. One hand slipped up beneath your dress, under your bra, pawing at your breast whilst the other busied itself in his pants. He stroked himself to the heady taste of pussy, fanning your clit with hot puffs of breath. You writhe against his open mouth, hips dancing, hands grabbing.

It’s more enjoyable like this, Toji thinks briefly. To not expect a wad of bills afterward in exchange for his velvet tongue. He eats you for leisure, because he wants to, and because you want him, and no other reason. It’s enough that you both need each other.

Toji groans loosely when you yank his hair, getting off on the way you move his head to your liking. “Suck my clit,” you instruct quietly, and he obliges with upmost obedience, nose nuzzling against the tuft of hair at your pubic bone.

Toji opens his eyes for the first time in a while, then thanks God he did. You look something like a goddess, celestial and righteous in the way your body works against his face. Using him to cure an insatiable desperation, with your lids screwed shut and head tossed back on your shoulders. “Are you gonna cum?” He sits up on his haunches a little taller, a little more alert now to fully experience your orgasm. “Cum in my mouth.”

He begs for it. Begs like a little bitch. Over and over again, mumbling the mantra between rough suctions to your swollen clit. Begging wasn’t like him. His father beat the beggar out of him many years ago, said it was weak to yearn for things so badly. The old man was right, Toji has never felt weaker than he does right now, knelt under the table with his head between your thighs.

“Oh my God.” Your voice is strained thin, each syllable pulled taught. The vice grip on his roots start to sting, follicles ripping from the scalp, but doesn’t tell you to stop. “Toji, fuck you’re so good.”

He’s good.

“You’re so good.”

“Mmn.” He squeezes himself, chokes his dick hard. Toji feels it when you cum. Warmth floods the cavern of his slack mouth, gushing and creamy. You fall silent, stunned by the force of your orgasm he presumes. Toji licks you through your high, guzzling down every drop of wetness that seeps from your spasming slit. It’s hot and gushy and messy; cum dribbles past his lips, collecting in beads that roll down his tensing neck.

Only when you blindly push at his face does Toji part ways with your center, leaning past your trembling hand to nuzzle into your stomach. It’s concave with an ongoing exhale; he nips at your navel. “Breathe.”

“Toji,” you whisper. On the come down, you’re a lot nicer; those needy, grabbing hands of yours now stroked down the tangled mess of his damp shag. He presses a handful of sloppy smooches above your belly button.

The erection trapped in the confines of his pants twitch at the dreadfully angelic drawl of his name. “Good?” His question is gruff and pointless as ever; anyone with eyes could tell you just had the most Earth-shattering orgasm of your life.

Your head lolls forward, rolling down to face him. Fingertips brush his chin, collecting the sticky residuals that dampened his stubble. You take your lower lip in between teeth when you bring those same soaked digits to Toji’s open mouth. He doesn’t resist you. Fingers are welcomed; he unhinges his jaw, baring the same holy tongue that just drove you to Heaven. You wipe cum-ridden fingers against the muscle, and Toji clamps around them in a vacuum-esque suction, looking up at you through dark lashes all the while. Your thumb traces the raised flesh on his upper lip. That ugly, jagged scar.

He catches your wrist when you move to flee his mouth, holding you in place. Sucking on you, touching himself along the way. Lapping between fingers, tonguing the thin web of skin there.

“So good, baby boy.” There’s the praise he craved, the praise he played oblivious to get. You claw deeper, jutting towards the back of his throat, pulling a scratchy gag from the man. What kind of fetish was this? You made everything sexy, even whatever this humiliation ritual was; watching him choke down slippery fingers with fat tears bleeding at his waterline. “You are so beautiful, Toji.”

“—oh en nah,” or no I’m not had there not been a barrier blocking his teeth from touching. Toji knows he’s an aged man, one riddled with scars and wounds and bruises and gauges and what have you. His skin is nowhere near perfect, baring disgusting reminders of what he does—who he is. Beautiful is what he’d call someone like you. Someone calm and serene, humble and kind. You’re a beautiful sight, and you’re also the complete and utter opposite of him.

“You are.” He wanted to be inside you for this. Toji had been daydreaming this scenario over and out in his head over the long haul of the week, going through the motions of his plan to fuck you. He’d give you everything tenfold, a barbaric fucking unlike your first time together. He imagined finally showing you his version of things, bending you over the couch first thing and blowing his load deep into your cunt.

Toji choked again, and a single thick tear fell from his lashes. You whispered sweet prayers, holding his face, wiping his eyes, fucking his mouth with fingers that tasted of your cum. It was a damn mystery how you rendered him so fucking pitiful, to be nutting on his knees into his boxers like this. A damn mystery.

His breaths are ragged when he explodes, hand and cock obscured by the sweatpants that sat low around his hips. Toji doesn’t stop pumping, tugging the shaft with long, hard strokes, wringing himself dry. Dark eyes weld shut, and he collapses against your thigh with a quake of exhaustion. Toji doesn’t know when you withdrew your fingers; the only tell that gave it away was the string of saliva that slapped coldly against his chin in the wake of your removal. He mewls, a graveling sound that sounds as if his voice box had been dragged through a sea of razor blades.

“You alright?”

A flowery hand slithers beneath his damp cheek, and suddenly his heavy head is being lifted. Toji is forced to meet your soft gaze; adoration brims in your eyes, as though you’re proud of him for creaming in his briefs like some flimsy virgin.

“Answer me, please.”

Toji smacks his mouth, preparing for his voice to project broken and fragmented. “I’m fine.” He could do without the pity; you were cautious to a fault. He wasn’t made of glass.

“You’re filthy.”

He grumbles, feigning grumpiness and averting his eyes off to the side. “I just had your pussy in my mouth.”

You bend at the waist, leaning down to meet him for a kiss. Toji melts against you, cradling your face with his semen-stained hand. You don’t seem to mind the wetness. He’s pouting against your mouth, childlike. “I wanted to cum inside you.”

You latch onto his nose, nibbling the point. “Let’s go clean up.” There’s a telling smile etched onto your lips, and your mouth finds his ear. Whispering ever so sensually, “I have a big shower in my bedroom.”

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hwanchaesong · 2 days

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↗🏢 Entering 3rd floor: One more and two more. Losing and winning. Bets and money thrown away like rags but nothing matters when the prize is on his lap. 🌌

🎧: Chase Atlantic - Obsessive

wc: 1.3k

genre & warnings: fluff, angst, suggestive, chaebol au, cursing, a game of poker (inaccurate representation), themes of luxury and higher society, a steamy kiss, mentions of marriage etc etc

a/n: this is a part of The Paradise Hotel series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

Heart racing faster every time a second ticks away in the vintage wooden clock displayed in the corner of the luxurious room.

The smoke that some bystanders blow somehow makes it harder for you to breathe, and maybe, you should’ve cut off the wine while you had the chance because it is now making your head dizzy.

Your eyes traveled to the dashing, well-dressed man seated in front of you, a hand on his chin like he’s thinking of something deep. His own orbs are focused on the table, more precisely, at the laid flop cards.

You can’t help but roll your eyes at his feigned contemplation, rationality is not a trait of his, but rather his enemy. Impulsivity and arrogance are his friends, which is about to show themselves when the male makes eye contact with you, a devilish smirk on his glossy lips.

“To make this dull game interesting,” he mutters confidently, his hands going over the plethora of purple and yellow chips, “let's raise the stakes.”

Multiple gasps were heard, the people who are watching the ongoing match of poker are in awe at the bold move. Surely, gambling a whopping 10,000 dollars is not a joke. You’re either crazy or poised, no in-between.

The thing is, Beomgyu still has more money to bet, but the amount that he waged is all that you have.

You squint your eyes at him when he motioned for you to make your move. Oh, he’s playing a damning game, but you are a lioness yourself. Backing down from a challenge is not the right way to end your night.

“I’ll take you on that.” you said, sliding your remaining chips in the middle of the table, "Call. All in."

The tension is palpable which can only be cut off with a saw, and you can’t help but regret meeting this vexing man in such a place.

It was supposed to be your getaway from the busy training life that you live in, being an heir for one of the largest corporations of the country isn’t exactly ideal, like what everyone says.

“You are one lucky child!”

“I wish I’m living the life you have.”

Fuck all that. Where’s the luck? And how dare they think that being born in an extravagant family equates to a happy one.

You are nothing but a tool for them to make their company larger, bigger, and be the number one. A trophy that they can show around. Intelligent, beautiful, and manners as elegant as a swan, the perfect daughter that can make anyone swoon.

But you despise the mask that you have to put on every time you face the crowd, you hate the attention from the onlookers who did nothing but to judge and gossip.

You wanted freedom, true happiness, a flash of dopamine.. those things you get in a thrilling match of poker.

You learned the game when you were 13. Out of your mind and going crazy from learning how to play the damn violin, then your music teacher suggested a fun activity that he'll let you enjoy during your free time.

That was when you discovered your hidden talent in.. well, gambling.

That was also when you discovered Choi fucking Beomgyu.

You've actually heard about him. Another one of those fortunate heirs but unlike you, he's rather conceited and selfish; that is according to the gossip.

And hell, he's good at playing poker. The only person who has defeated you, and you hated that with passion.

He looks like an idiot, handsome yes, but still an idiot in your eyes, and it annoys you to no end that this dimwit actually has enough brains to do mind games and do math.

So, here you are, provoked to actually accept a round of poker after he went and spouted how scared you were of him.

Instead of enjoying champagne and steak in the large yacht, you are sitting with your pride and a camouflaged bet on the line, praying to the gods out there to let you win this time.

Beomgyu checked his whole cards, clapping his hands afterwards and relaxing his figure on the sofa. Legs crossed and arms draped over the sofa back.

"Not too late to fold, darling." he utters, eyeing you like a hawk.

You scoffed, returning his sentiments, "No thanks, but you are free to do so."

He shrugged your comments, kind of telling you to 'suit yourself', opting to focus on the game when the dealer began to drop the turn and the river.

Your hand is shaky, staring at the pot while you recheck your cards at hand. It's good. Amazingly excellent. Luck and statistics are on your side.

Beomgyu must be bluffing that confident countenance.

"Miss and sir, it's time to show your hands." the dealer says, and you did the honor of showing yours first.

"Straight flush." you smirk at Beomgyu's surprised expression, but then your joy plummeted when he revealed his hand.

"Royal flush, baby."

The crowd roared, a seismic thrill from the close match of poker.

You close your eyes, gritting your teeth in anger, stopping yourself from cursing or doing anything remotely ungraceful. You just lost a game, you're not going to humiliate yourself further.

"I am getting all this... later." Beomgyu smiles wickedly, ushering the guards to make everyone in the room to leave and give you two privacy.

It is a public space, but his family's power and influence are not to be messed with. Thus, he must be obeyed at all costs.

Rushing footsteps are heard, then silence follows after the door has been shut.

You now opened your eyes, meeting his in a heated stare before asking for his demands, "What do you want? I'm telling you though, I'm not giving you any of my games anymore. Spare that."

"You are getting engaged, right?"

His question astounded you. Does the news really spread that fast?

"Who are you getting engaged with?" he resumed his interrogation, not moving an inch in his manspreading position that he assumed in the process of his inquiries.

"Heeseung. Lee Heeseung. Well, that's what I heard." you answered, avoiding eye contact with him.

You were shocked when he laughed aloud, peering at him incredulously, "What is your problem?"

"Lee Heeseung, that's low." he snickers, amused at the thought of you marrying his mortal nemesis, "Yeah, no. You're marrying me instead."

His declaration is a bomb, dropped on you suddenly and you are not quite sure on how to react but laugh awkwardly.

He is a man of impulsive decisions and foolishness, but this is way too far. A sick prank that he's brewing in order to entertain himself in his playground.

"I- Beomgyu. Do you hear yourself? Have you finally gone mad?" you asked, standing up from your seat, not willing to humor his bullshit anymore.

He wasn't speaking and you took that as your cue to remove yourself in this.. uncomfortable discussion.

"It was nice playing with you, get some rest while you're at it. Yeah?" you gave him a tight-lipped smile, proceeding to step away from the room but as you passed by him, you were forcefully pulled towards him.

You didn't have the chance to process the situation. One moment you're on your feet, then the next you're seated on his lap, his lips on yours while he holds you close to your body.

What's weird though, is that you didn't resist the kiss, you enjoy it.

You liked the way his lips molded into yours, nibbling on your lower lip and biting it rather harshly before licking the incoming bruise away. Pulling away from you to mumble against your lips.

"That bambi boy sucks, you should know better that I am far superior than him. Besides," he laid you down the cushions of the sofa, his electrifying fingers trailing on your sides, "you lost to me. Don't you want to play more rounds of poker with me until you're able to win at least a round?"

You let out an offended wheeze, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, "Choi Beomgyu," you whisper his name, your digits playing with the hair on the back of his neck, "Less talk, more action."

taglist:

@hyunjinheartbreakprince @lun4kazumii @once27 @purrplegyuu @yawnzsof @baeksofty @shakalakaboomboo

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enden-agolor · 2 days

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can I just say that the forest deity au you have is amazing

I just love the dymanic between Lukas and Jesse!

With Jesse being casted out and having all of his joy taken away from him, leaving nothing but darkness in his poor soul. On top of that, he's being forced to isolate himself from society with only an Allay, mother nature and the animals to comfort him whilst he lives alone in the forest.

And Lukas, an author traveling the world who just thinks the town is misunderstanding Jesse and gives him a chance, wanting him to feel some love and light. He's is willing to share it and give him a chance, despite what the town says and how Jesse may appear.

It's just beautiful and I can't wait to see what's in store for it 🥹🥹🥹🥹

Dude I can't even begin to tell you how INSANE I am about this au. I'm so unbelievably thankful and relieved people like you and others actually like it. I almost didn't post about it because I thought it might be erm, let's say, cringe? But no seriously I'm very glad I did in the end.

Jesse in this au is so special to me, and I'm literally dying to begin writing the fic which I'm hoping to start next month actually 👀

For now I'll give you some lore about it to keep you guys fed until the first chapters come out.

I talked about it in a discord server a little bit earlier, but in this au, Jesse is very much reminiscent of the Warden of the Deep Dark. He's able to cause darkness to fluctuate throughout the forest whenever he's close by, both as a mechanism to scare people off or to confuse hunters of their surroundings to make them easier to corner. Another special thing about him is that his cloak is made of a dark moss that shimmers like skulk in darkness, but appears as a mossy pelt in the light. His godly essence keeps the forest dark and foggy, creating an atmosphere that looks somewhat like this:

(just found these images on google for reference)

He also carries a soul lantern with him from time to time. Typically at night time. It's one of the reasons a lot of people refer to him as a ghost or a demon haunting the forest, despite him being very much a living, breathing entity.

His allay is special. Lukas likes to call them Berry, because the bright blue of it's little body as well as it's bubbly and energetic nature reminds him of blueberries, being small and cute, and good for you of course.

I think that's all the info I'll give for now though 😁 Tysm for this ask! It made my day.

#ask #forest deity au

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shittygaypornmagazine · 2 years

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I think in these trying times it would be best for all of us to rehearse our official anthem so... the magnus archives is a podcast distributed by rusty quill and it is licenced under a creative commons non commercial attribution sharealike 4.0 international licence todays epidode was written and performed by jonathan sims and directed by alexander j newall for

#DO YOU KNOW WHAT'S HAPPENING?#I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S HAPPENING #MY BOY MARTIN FOUND A TAPE RECORDER???#IT FOLLOWED THEM???#IN WHAT UNIVERSE ARE THEY???#WHAT IF IT ACTUALLY IS THE TIME TRAVEL AU?#ALEX SAID THERE IS A UNIVERSE IN WHICH MARTIN CAME TO THE TUNNELS AND SOLVED EVERYTHING #I DON'T KNOW ANYMORE!!!#tma shitpost #tma podcast #tma headcanons #tma spoilers #tma martin #tma #the magnus pod #the magnus archives #the martin blackwood in me is being summoned #martin and jon #martin blackwood

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ruporas · 6 months

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feast (ID in alt)

#vashwood #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #trigun #trigun maximum #tw blood #im posting this so late because october escaped me Suddenly.. hello....#i wanted to make it a photoset with this other vampire vw wip but i don't think i'm finishing it any time soon and the mood of it is #completely different anyway. also i don't think i ever shared anything about my vampire au on here !!! it's all old art by now so im shy lo #but maybe i'll do a photodump of it. long story short vash is a vampire since birth and ww is a human vampire hunter that turns during thei #travels together due to EoM experiments + getting vash to drink from him at some point.#humans turn once they get bitten but bc ww has been experimented on #& got bitten by a bunch of human turned vampires thruout his hunts he thought it wouldn't be a problem for vash to drink from him but alas.#theyre both ok though theyre traveling together definitely not hating themselves for what theyve become and feeling guilty for what theyve #done to each other. theyre completely normal about it. the biting part is really appealing to me in vampire aus so i draw it a lot but #in reality vash only drank from ww once and ww mightve done it twice under the realization he might actually die otherwise #since he wont drink from humans after being turned.... he's combatting the 5 stages of grief at all times #if this is all nonsense im sorry DMGKSDF I'M NOT good at explaining and this au came from nowhere in the depths of my mind its a mess #ruporas art

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hangingoffence · 1 year

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in which jedi master luke travels through time and meets his padawan father and gives him a speech. Unknowingly influencing the young jedi's future decisions.

also here what i would have wrote too if i had the energy to do two more pages:

Luke: I sense the same darkness in you. Your anger towards the Jedi order, the ones who hurt your mother. And most importantly towards yourself. But I also sense the light—that same conflict. Your compassion and your love. The force will always guide you. It will show you the right path. You just have to listen to it and more importantly trust it.

#i cross my fingers and hope that yall can actually read my handwriting #also they dont look at all like mark or hayden but it is what it is #i didn't really use much references so that might be the problem #also like obsessed with time travel aus they bring me so much comfort #luke skywalker #anakin skywalker #star wars #myart

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bonefall · 5 months

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maybe with the ending.. make it be like the link between Breezepelt's leaving to join Kin and his POV in AVOS? of course from Nightcloud's perspective but

like. she would be injured and recovering away from the clan. but they would be unaware that she is alive and like in canon assume she died and hold her a vigil. Breezepelt, who is already at low point, taking it very badly - yes he was pushing her away bc he was hurt and angry and started taking it out on her, but.. it's still his mom. his Mi. and she is dead? or is this stupid clan just going to believe this to make it easier? are they really giving up on looking for her, or her body??

i can see Nightcloud being the one of very few, if not THE Only one, things that kept Breezepelt in WindClan at this point. and without her, what's the point? it's not like anyone else likes him. the link is gone and they buried it in a bodyless vigil. so it's what pushes him to actuall take the step and leave.

not sure how well it would align with the timeline and events. and how soon Darktail was assembling cats from other clans like Breeze. but i think it would be interesting and heartbreaking if at the end of her SE, Nightcloud just arrived back to WindClan and asks where Breezepelt is and someone tells her.. he either was missing since this morning or just left the clan earlier the same day. like, just have them miss each other by a hair.

I'm thinking that the second-to-last chapter is her with Pickle, having a bit of a sabbatical to unpack everything that happens through the story. Mostly because I want to throw her into some kind of pretty garden as a nice setting for this lmaoo

A LOT of BB stuff is being added to Nightcloud's Pannage that wasn't in the main series; Hillrunner's abuse, her mentor Addersong, several expanded little background characters now complete with their own side conflicts. I think what I can bind all these things with is Nightcloud considering what a Clan means.

Because of her new reputation, I'm noticing I'm writing scenes where she's intentionally doing and saying things to try and sway them. While also grappling with her resentment towards them, and things she can't change.

There's a bit of a melancholy air so far, so I'm starting to feel like the best ending is just having a bit of space to herself to think. Ultimately, she decides that it's more than Breezepelt or Crowfeather that binds her to WindClan. It's the life and connections she COULD have.

WindClan cats are also quite religious next to other Clans, so I really do mean "sabbatical." I'm going to have Addersong die of old age shortly after they reconnect, so she's in Pickle's Garden talking to her new friend, choosing cats she's lost to pray to as patron spirits to give her the traits she feels she needs, and just recovering both physically from injury and spiritually from turmoil.

So all that to say; it works well that by the time she gets back, Breezepelt has joined The Kin. He was one of the first to join when he started calling for members anyway, so having Night be gone for about two or three weeks sounds appropriate.

#I'm still working out WHAT the injury was though #I just know for sure that Night was in some DEEP trouble. Possibly being attacked by a fox or dog #And she can't tell for sure if it was gratitude or hunger or the brief influence of StarClan shining through the sow's eyes #But Marge does an RKO OUTTA NOWHERE and kills what was attacking her #Before scuttling off with her three surviving humbugs into the mist #And when Nightcloud wakes up she's at The Pickle Jar #Too injured to travel and kinda understand she needs the time to unpack some stuff anyway #Wanting to get home desperately ofc to stand by Breeze #But also... StarClan has probably placed her here. Away from the Clan. For a reason.#Especially with Pickle in particular since she's grappling with how her reactionary xenophobia has affected people through her life #I have a LOT of little ideas for NcP #Which I'll need to trim and focus I think #As-is I think it's meandering BUT it's good to get EVERYTHING down in a first draft #Better bones au #I actually have a crowf ref finished and planned to post that with a summary lmaooooooo #Sorry Crow. I like ur wife too much #Nightcloud's Pannage

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flowercrowngods · 1 year

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When Eddie finds Steve lying on the living room floor, he’s not concerned at first. It’s what he does sometimes, and Eddie himself can appreciate a bit of floor time on occasion, too, but for Steve it’s sacred. So he smiles and sits down beside him, grabbing his hand to play with his fingers, a “Hey, pretty boy” already on his lips before he freezes.

Because Steve isn’t all relaxed like he usually is, with his mind just a few inches off to the side where everything is calm and fine and better. And when he finally meets Eddie’s eyes, they’re not glazed over but sharp. Sharp with something that cuts right through Eddie, because he’s seen this look before, and he knows just what to do.

“Stevie, baby, I’m right here. I’m gonna make a call, okay, I will be right back.” When Steve opens his mouth, Eddie just leans down to press a kiss to his forehead. He’s not sure how much invasion of space is allowed, but Steve is still holding his hand so that has to count for something, right? “Shh, don’t speak,” he whispers. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

He tries not to kiss Steve like he’s about to break, or talk to him like something’s wrong, because nothing is wrong. Steve is not wrong for getting like this sometimes, it’s not his fault; it’s not something Eddie can’t handle. Steve doesn’t deserve to feel like he’s somehow wrong for getting into that headspace where words just won’t come out of his mouth and he needs to lie down and hope that will help.

Which, today it didn’t, apparently.

Eddie gets up with one last kiss to Steve’s hand and a reassuring smile, and goes to make a phone call. There’s only one person who can help Steve get out of his head, and Eddie doesn’t really understand it, nobody does, but they all know it.

“Hey, Joyce,” he sighs in relief when she answers the phone. “Is El home?”

“Eddie! Yes, she’s there, what… Steve?”

“Steve.”

Joyce sighs and Eddie knows she’s worried and wants to tell her not to be, it’s not fair to be worried, Steve hates when they worry, but. He’d be a hypocrite.

“You know you don’t have to ask, honey. Get over here, I’ll make some cocoa.”

With a smile, Eddie hangs up and goes back to Steve, crouching down beside him to stroke the hair out of his face. “Hey there again, pretty boy. I’m gonna drive over to Joyce’s, wanna tag along?”

What he really wants to say is, I’ll take care of you. Everything is gonna be just fine. But Steve doesn’t like the fuss. That kind of discussion is for another day, though. When Steve can actually get a word in.

That is how they find themselves in the Hopper-Byers household, Eddie holding Steve’s hand as the boy tries to make himself smaller than he is — like every time. Joyce doesn’t fuss, and Eddie knows just how much that takes, knows that Joyce is so much stronger than him in moments like this.

“Steve,” comes a small voice from the door to Eleven’s room, and Eddie finds the girl approaching them slowly. Beside him, Steve sways and Eddie tightens his grip for a second, brushing a kiss to Steve’s cheek before letting him go.

Eleven wraps her arms around Steve’s middle and the two of them just hold each other. They have a bond that none of them truly understand, one that Eddie knows even Robin is jealous of. But it makes sense, he figures. On some kind of deeply existential level, it does make sense for Eleven to be the one who can help Steve when he’s nonverbal like this.

Maybe because she doesn’t talk much. Maybe because around her he doesn’t feel like he has to be anyone or anything because it’s all the same to her. Or maybe there’s a special kind of magic in the way she will pull him onto the floor, their backs against the couch, his head on her shoulder and her fingers running through Steve’s hair.

They’ve been through something together. Maybe they go through something together every time they talk each other down without words — because in return, Steve does the same for her. It shouldn’t work, but it does.

It’s calm and quiet in the living room and Eddie shares a glance with Joyce before they step outside to give Steve and El some privacy.

“I hate seeing him like this,” Eddie admits finally. It’s hardly more than a whisper, a treacherous little truth that cuts into his heart every time this happens.

“I know,” Joyce says. “Me too.”

“I hate that I can’t help him.”

Oh the truths just keep coming. It’s that kind of moment.

“You’re helping him, honey. You are. But sometimes we need different people for different hurts. And that boy has more than all of us combined. Or… Well, not all of us.” And she’s looking through the window, watching El and Steve still wrapped around each other.

And it’s true. Eddie knows. Maybe that’s why he hates it so much. Steve’s nonverbal episodes are a stark reminder for all the pain he had to take upon himself. Alone. For years.

“Just love him through it,” Joyce continues. “Not despite it, not because it it. Just through it.”

“I am. I do. Don’t think I could stop even if he asked me to.”

She smiles and squeezes his hand. “Good. Now, join me on a run to the bakery? I think they’ll need something sweet when they’re back with us.”

With one last glance through the window, seeing Steve calm and quiet, Eddie bows and offers his arm to Joyce. “I’d be delighted to join you, lady Byers.”

It’ll be fine, he tells himself. They’ll be fine.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve & eleven #stranger things fanfiction #nonverbal steve and nonverbal eleven do you catch my drift #maybe i should have written this from steve’s pov but it wouldn’t be a random dio vibe fic if it made sense huh?#nonverbal steve harrington #idk what this is but i’m probably projecting huh #oh yeah this might actually possibly be set post-time travel au since that’s my current brainrot but feel free to imagine whatever au #dio words #time travel au #time travel au ficlet

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