I’m sorry I haven’t been posting at all recently, I’m still really into Cky I just don’t have motivation to write! You can follow me on my insta and twt where I’m more active (both of them under the same username @hineygorerage1!!)
here’s jimmy juggling in his boxers (if you can even call them that).
The things I would do for this man. I want him to *redacted* his *redacted* so *redacted* far down my *redacted* that I *redacted* and *redacted* and *redacted*
Hello everyone. I will for a long period not be writing about deron miller. I was on his instagram live last night watching him in Poland with Malevolent creation, and he and the band were saying some very awful things about different races, calling their foods disgusting, mocking Kamala Harris, and ultimately at the end of the night he said the N word, hard R. He said years ago that he’d changed, went to a facility, and gotten better. It seems he is back on drinking, not taking any medications, and being old Deron again. Until he formally apologizes and takes blame or explains himself, I don’t want to write about him.
hiii!!! hope you’re doing good!! i saw you prefer to write headcannons over fics, do you think you can do one on dating dico? maybe him dating a sweet, sort of quiet girl 😸
Dico dating a quiet, shy girl.
Always talking for you when you’re nervous
You’re only ever loud around him
Helps you with fun projects
You usually help him film Cky stuff
Going to the store together to find action figures
Reading together
Watching masters of the universe together
You always argue over who gets the bigger blanket
Loves kissing your forehead
At first you had a crush on bam but he was too obnoxious and dico just felt right
You two started dating after high school
Been happily together for years
He’s promised to marry you
Is very gentle and passionate in bed with you
Lets you take the lead and show what your comfortable with
could you write something about being *in* a horror movie with Deron? like not acting like as in actually experiencing being in a slasher and being his gf 😁 i hope that makes sense
Right away, hun!
“𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖐𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖌𝖎𝖗𝖑”
(the killers girl)
Fandom: CKY
subject: Deron Miller
Tw for violent descriptions.
Plot: Deron has a violent snap of rage at a summer camp he and y/n had gotten, and decides to go on a murderous rampage. His girlfriend y/n comforts her new foujd murderous boyfriend.
Y/n: your name
H/c: hair color
E/c: eye color
B/t: body type
H/l: hair length
S/c: skin color
Deron had taken up a summer job to help pay for band equipment, simple, right? Wrong. The job was hell!! The kids were snot nosed little brats, and the food was awful. The only thing getting Deron through this all was his girlfriend, y/n, who’d tagged along to double his money. He would get stressed and find himself spiraling until he got trapped in her e/c eyes, her h/c, h/l hair, and that gorgeous s/c toned skin that he just adored brushing his fingers across. She was the only think keeping him sane. But.. not tonight.
—-Deron’s pov -—
“Another night in hell, and only three more months to go. Why did I take this job? Oh right, to buy equipment. It’s hell.”
As the last of the campers shuffled off to their cabins, I kicked a rock across the gravel path, my frustration bubbling like the murky lake waters in front of me. The sun had long dipped behind the trees, casting eerie shadows that danced like specters in the fading light. The crickets chirped their incessant tune, but all I could hear was the nagging voice in my head, reminding me of the stifling heat and the insipid chatter of children. the laughter of campers echoed around me, a mocking reminder of the joy I felt was so far out of reach. I glanced at their carefree faces, and a wave of resentment washed over me. I should have been their guide, their mentor, but all I felt was a suffocating weight pressing down on my chest.
I stormed toward the cabin, fists clenched at my sides. “Who the hell is making all that noise?” I shouted, my voice cutting through the laughter like a knife. As I stepped inside, the chaotic scene unfolded before me. A group of campers was huddled together, their faces pale and wide-eyed. In the corner, a broken lantern lay shattered on the floor, glass glinting ominously in the dim light.
“It… it was just the wind!” one of the kids stammered, but the tremor in his voice betrayed him. “Just the wind?” I snapped, my patience thinning. “You think I don’t know what wind sounds like? What the fuck did you morons break?!”. I stepped forward slowly, my heart racing with a mix of dread and anger. The darkness seemed to close in around me, amplifying each heartbeat as I moved closer to the source of the commotion. And then I saw it.
My guitar—something I slaved over a hot stove at a shitty pizza restaurant to afford, the one piece of solace I clung to in this hell—lay shattered on the floor, its wooden body splintered and the strings hanging limp like broken dreams. The sight of it sent a wave of nausea crashing over me, and I felt the ground shift beneath my feet.
“No… no, no, no!” I gasped, kneeling beside the wreckage. My fingers brushed against the splintered wood, and I could hardly breathe. “What the hell happened?” One of the campers stepped forward, his face pale with fear. “We were just playing around, and—” “Playing around?” I interrupted, my voice rising dangerously. “You were supposed to be in bed! You little idiots have no idea how much this meant to me!” My vision began to blur with rage, colors bleeding together like a warped painting, and suddenly the world around me dissolved into darkness. I felt a strange detachment, as if I was floating above my own body, watching the chaos unfold from a distance.
When I finally came back to myself, everything was different. The air was thick with a coppery smell, and shadows loomed ominously around me. My heart raced as I blinked, trying to piece together the fragments of my reality. But as the darkness receded, a horrifying sight met my eyes: the campers, their faces etched in terror, lay sprawled on the ground, their bodies twisted and lifeless.
Panic surged through me, a tidal wave of disbelief. What had happened? I staggered backward, my breath catching in my throat. My heart pounded as I caught sight of my hands—covered in blood, slick and warm. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. I had done this.
“No, no, no!” I cried out, my voice a hoarse whisper of horror. I stumbled, my hands shaking uncontrollably as I looked around, searching for a way to escape this nightmare. “What did I do?”
In the chaos of my mind, I felt a mix of shock and disgust, a churning pit of regret that threatened to swallow me whole. I couldn’t comprehend the magnitude of my actions. I had lost control, and now the weight of that loss bore down on me, suffocating and relentless. Desperation clawed at my throat. I wanted to scream, to cry out for help, but all that emerged was a strangled sob. I had become the monster! In panic, I quickly discarded the bodies and faked up a convincing story. I had to act, to create a story that would mask the nightmare. With trembling hands, I quickly discarded the bodies, shoving them into the shadows of the woods, hidden from prying eyes. They’d ditched camp! I could spin the tale; they were troublemakers anyway, right? Surely people would believe me.
Heart racing, I sprinted back to my cabin, the echoes of my own heartbeat drowning out the whispers of guilt that crept into my mind. I could already see the scene unfolding in my head, the worried faces of the camp directors, the frantic search for the missing kids. I would play the part of the concerned counselor, the one who tried to keep them safe. It was the only way to survive this.
The camp would wake up to the news of a midnight escape, a rebellion against authority, and I would be the one to lead the search. I would be the hero, the one who would bring them back. If only I could convince myself it was true.
—- y/n pov -—
I stepped outside, the cool morning air hitting me like a splash of cold water. The camp was alive with chaos—directors were shouting, counselors were running in all directions, and the distant sound of sirens grew louder. My heart raced as I approached a group of frantic counselors huddled together, their faces pale and drawn. Where was Deron?! Panic bubbled up inside me, and I bolted toward his cabin, my mind racing with worry.
When I burst through the door, I found him sitting on the edge of his bed, his hands gripping the mattress as if it were the only thing keeping him anchored. The moment he saw me, his eyes widened, and I could sense the tension radiating off him. “Deron, you okay?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady despite the whirlwind of anxiety swirling in my chest.
He looked at me, fear flickering in his eyes, and for a moment, I thought he might crumble under the weight of whatever he was hiding. “Yeah!! Some, uh... campers ran away!!” he blurted out, his voice too high-pitched, the words tumbling out like a poorly rehearsed line.
I studied him closely, trying to read the truth behind his facade, but the panic in his eyes made me second-guess everything. “Are you sure that’s all it is?” I pressed, my gut telling me there was more to the story.
“Of course! It happens sometimes, you know how kids can be,” he replied too quickly, an anxious laugh escaping his lips that felt wrong. I wanted to believe him, to take comfort in his words, but something about the way he shifted in his seat, the way his gaze darted to the window, told me he was lying through his teeth.
I stepped closer, crossing my arms as I narrowed my eyes at him. “Deron, if something’s wrong, you need to tell me. I’m not here to judge; I just want to help.”
He hesitated, glancing away as a flicker of guilt crossed his face. “Really, it's nothing. Just a couple of kids thinking they could sneak off. They’ll be back soon.” His voice was shaky, and I could hear the tremor in his words, but I was none the wiser. The fear in his eyes told a different story, one that made my stomach churn with unease. I pushed it down, sitting on my boyfriend’s lap and kissing his soft, trembling lips. Things would be alright, right?.. right.
