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angelguk · 4 years

Text

→ bad behaviour 03 — a namjoon scenario

member: kim namjoon

word count: 7.5k

rating: 18+

genre: established relationship + smut + college!au

warnings: we’re ovulating!!! / introduction to the breeding kink that will plague this couple forever / was meant 2 be a drabble?? im incapable we know that / eh big joon!!!! / manhandling kink / pet names used a lot / joon thinks he’s gf is dumb and wants to breed her idk man / size kink / crying when cumming / oc shy for once / discussion of twitter porn / creampie / oc is on birth control (obvs dont do this if u dont want a kid but this is a fanfic u know) / mentions of fisting porn / cock warming!! / if u see a typo no u dont

soundtracks: more than enough + morroco, alina baraz

prompt: “don’t you think there is always something unspoken between two people?” (Something Unspoken, Tennessee Williams).

It’s a rather serene Thursday afternoon, the late autumn breeze sweeping through the campus air. The stillness was ideal for studying, alluding to assignment deadlines creeping round the corner. Which was why your butt is firmly parked in the mess of Kim Namjoon's sheets.

The man in question is hunched in the corner of his dorm room, one large hand idly tugging at the chestnut mane on his head and his neck curved with attentiveness. You wish you possessed the determinate focus that he had, but your thoughts have a mind of their own, spiralling further into the darkest depths of your mind as they gingerly coax forth memories that spark a searing heat deep inside of you. You feel tight, drawn like the bow of an arrow, a stark contrast to the tranquillity spilling around you. The fact that Namjoon is practically naked isn’t helping your consciousness. Your gaze lingers on the rows of muscles lining his broad back, the tension running through them emphasising the dips and curves in his golden skin. His eyes, however, are glued to the myriad of words before him, the pen grasped in his grip swift as he scribbles down notes you know you’ll never be able to decipher. Not that you needed too, it was intriguing that such a put-together man like Namjoon had handwriting that essentially resembled chicken scratch. It was atrocious — but still elegant, very much embodying the person to whom the writing belonged to. You can’t recall what assignment he intended to complete today — something about the presentation of nihilism in Russian literature or whatever — but he’s devoted all his attention to it, meticulous in the numerous sticky notes and page markers that line the novel perched on his desk. It’s bent with the remembrance of his fingers, sepia-toned dogged-ear pages staring at the ceiling of his dorm room. Something blooms within you the longer you look at him, faint but strong like a tide shifting towards the shores. You don’t even register the slip of your laptop from your lap, legs sprawling open unconsciously. It spurs so quick you can’t even clamp down on it, the desire you have for the burly man bent over his world of words just a few steps away. But you know how much Namjoon values his academics. It’s with a muffled groan that you roll over, burrowing your face into his pillows in hopes that the wave will subside. It doesn't — crawling beneath your skin begging you to give in.

It’s the click of Namjoon’s pen that gets you, a sharp note that cuts through the burning of your body. Your thighs seal together, the slick that collects between your legs sticking to your core. With a sigh that you shift again, reaching out for your laptop. It’s best to look for a distraction, give him the space he needs to concentrate. At yet, your gaze can’t help but drift. He’s not covering an inch of skin, burly arms and thick thighs on display like he wants to tempt you. There are no words to describe how much you hate him — nor how much you long to have him inside of you too.

You recall it with a jolt — the lave of his wide tongue against your folds, licking you apart with deft swift swipes that leave you weeping into his sheets more nights than you’d like to admit. You shuffle again, helpless to the yearnings of your mind. The heat on your inner thighs is a phantom. Namjoon likes to hold you down, press your hips into his sheets against the whims of your squirming. It’s the way he looks at you when you’re on the verge of tears, a wanton hunger in his eyes that unravels you fast. You can almost see it, thighs subconsciously nudging against each other. Then there’s the stretch of his fingers, larger than you own. He’s pushed you to the edge with just two of them before, persistent against that spot inside of you until he’s satisfied with the blissed slackness that descends upon your features. Then he’d add another, and another. There’s an undeclared thought between the two of you. You’ve noted the fisting porn in his Twitter bookmarks. Maybe one day you’ll have the guts to let him try.

For now, you swallow it down. Suffocate that longing until the embers burning within you smother to ashes. Your laptop returns to resting at an angle at your hip, gaze idling running through your readings. The words don’t sink in though, sitting on your skull before hastily floating away. There’s not much space for anything else but Namjoon at the moment, no matter how hard you try to reread the paragraphs or stare at your screen. You don’t even have to open the app on your phone to know what’s going on with your body. This is your first full ovulation with him. Usually, he’s preoccupied with assignments or TA responsibilities that cut your time together short, interrupting this part of your cycle and leaving you to your own devices. You hadn’t fully wormed your way into Namjoon’s life to demand all his attention just yet. This was still new, untested. Namjoon was independent and so sure of himself that telling your boyfriend that you needed him to stop focusing on his future to raw the crap out of you (multiple times) felt incredibly selfish.

You stare at the words in front of you until they swim, wishing you didn’t feel like this. Like you needed Namjoon to breathe. You can wait it out, maybe get what you’re dying for after post-studying cuddles and take-out. Even if it takes every ounce of your willpower to clasp your legs together and not jump the wonderfully large man that is your boyfriend.

Unbeknown to you, the same yearning that plagues you chips away at his resolve. A persistent want that wavers in the back of his mind, clamouring for attention, because even with his eyes stuck on the pages beneath him, he can sense your fidgeting.

Your attention span is incredibly short — Namjoon knows this. It ricochets off the walls even when you’re sitting still. It’s taken time, but Namjoon has gradually adjusted to it, muting the powerful waves of energy that radiate off of you when necessary. Today, however, is different. That energy he’s learnt to ignore eats him alive, sinking below his skin and leaving him buzzed as he scours his brain for any meaningful essay points. He keeps flipping through the pages of the novel, mind attempting and miserably failing to piece together a cohesive argument that correlates with the evidence he’s got highlighted in a loud neon yellow.

All because he can’t stop thinking about you.

He wants to blame it on the fact that he hasn’t seen you in a while (which is a blatant lie). Namjoon saw you two days ago. You were wearing that floral skirt that he loves, the fabric hiking up your thighs whenever you lined yourself against his side, snuggling deep into him like you never wanted to leave. He hates that skirt — hates it — because now he can’t think of anything but it, thoughts blurring at the memory of your bare skin. Skin that he loves to mark, latch onto until violets and blues blossom. His mind is running before he can catch it, falling into a dangerous reminiscence of images that sit heavy in his gut. That stupid skirt flipped up your waist and his head between your thighs. Nothing feels as good as you do on his tongue. He loves the way you taste, the sounds that drift from your lips, the way your thighs twitch and tremor as you unravel underneath him. You get so loud when your high hits you. He knows his roommates have heard you before, but he truly doesn’t care. He loves hearing you scream his name, drives him to the brink of insanity if he’s being honest. Yet, it’s the way you look at him afterwards, a deliriousness swimming in your eyes that makes Namjoon want to keep you in his bed forever. Fuck you until you can’t walk without feeling him deep inside of you. Paint your skin so that everyone knows who you belong to.

His head hits the table with a muted thud, a low sighing escaping into the air. The tent in his loose shorts hurts. There’s a part of him that’s mortified — how could he get hard just from the thought of you when you're sitting right there on his bed? Perhaps it’s proof that you’ve invaded everything he is. His space, his heart, his mind.

“Namjoon?” You question, tone tentative in the silence that consumes him whole. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he grunts. And then his brain settles, a tightness in his stomach that he can’t deny. “Actually, no I’m not.”

You don’t even have time to register it before he's moving towards you. It's as if he's flown from his desk, gliding through the space between you to firmly plant himself on top of you. Your laptop is knocked to the side, lost in the muss of his bed sheets as Namjoon moulds himself into you. You can't help the breathless giggle that hits the air. It's cut by the weight of Namjoon on you. He's heavy, all hard muscles and broad shoulders. Your fingertips slip against the fabric of his shirt — 100% pure cotton because he's fastidious like that — a lightness forming in your chest just from the feel of him in your hands. He sighs and you melt, losing yourself in him as he burrows his head into the hollow of your neck. The kiss he places there is soft, but it hits like a torrent of rain, drowning you harshly. Your body ignites like the flame you wanted to smother was never extinguished. You cling to him, the only thing keeping you afloat in the wave of adoration that crashes into you.

"What are you doing? What's wrong?" You murmur, vibrating when he kisses you again. Namjoon hums in response, his wide hands shifting to settle on the back of your thighs, gently spreading your legs apart to nestle himself there. Your back jolts when you feel it — feel him. Hard and needy against your core, a heat radiating where you meet. The flutter in your eyes is automatic, brain shutting down when he rolls his hips. He nips your neck then, a light press of his teeth into the delicate skin. You stop breathing when he smothers the pain with a kiss, thoughts dissolving into the air as you stare at the ceiling of his dorm, thinking you're never going to let this man go.

"Namjoo—" His mouth is on you before you can even finish your sentence, swallowing the words with a gentle press of his lips until yours fall apart. Kissing him might be one of your favourite activities ever. He feels good against your lips, ginger but sure in how he works you open, drawing sighs from your throat like he was born to do so. It’s easy to give in, your hips moving against his and your fingers dragging through his hair. It’s with a soft gasp that you part, the air around you electric. His brown eyes are dark but they gaze at you with an adoration that makes your heart swell. There are moments where you feel it on the tip of your tongue, a proclamation that yearns to spill out. But it’s too early to say anything like that yet. So you draw him closer instead, the content laugh that floats from his throat caught in your mouth. This kiss is different, more desperate, a hope that he understands what you mean heavy in your chest. You think he does because he kisses you back with an intent that leaves you breathless, a heady thing that has you arching into him before it peters out into tender little pecks. Your heart is so full it could explode.

And it does a second later when he drops a light kiss on your forehead, his wide hands settling on the backs of your thighs as he presses himself further into you. You know he feels the slick drenching your underwear by the hitch in his breath.

“Study break?” He offers, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that ensnares you. A danger that glows like stars adorning a velvet sky.

“Namjoon,” you groan in response, legs wrapping around his waist. You can feel the length of him, hard and twitching against you. “You can’t just do that! It’s not fair.”

“Why? You don’t want me to fuck you?” There’s a nudge that coaxes another slip from your core. The whine that leaves your lips is instinctual.

“I do! It’s just that — um — just that I’m ovulating right now.”

The second the word leaves your mouth he freezes, broad body suspended over you and a distant look sweeping over his honey eyes. And then something clicks, his cock settling further into you, a twitch along his length that echoes in your nerves.

“Right now?” The words that leave his mouth are measured, his gaze locking on your own as if he’s weighing the consequences of his desires.

“Yes, right now. I don’t know if we—”

“Can I be honest with you? I haven’t been able to focus since you came over and the idea of you ovulating is doing nothing but making me extremely hard right now.”

“I — what? Really? Are you serious?”

He nods, unabashed as the blush rising beneath his golden skin. Your fingers dig further into his back, the want that sweeps through your system feral. It's so swift that you can’t control the rise of your hips nor the warmth that pools in your gut. Namjoon dissolves right back into you, the groan that slips from his mouth meeting the heat of your skin as he burrows himself back into the crook of your neck. You’re no longer thinking, your brain stuck on the feeling of his cock against you, direct with every drag of his hips. He wants this as much as you do, a realisation that you’re still trying to comprehend. You have to ask again, terrified of the teetering edge you’re on.

“You sure? Like really?”

He scoffs, shifting back to give you a look. “You’ve seen my NSFW twitter, baby. You know what’s there.”

“Yeah, a lot more fisting porn than I ever expected.” There’s a beat of silence, Namjoon’s gaze shifting into something you can’t decipher. “Not that I’m against fisting,” you quickly amend, “It was just surprising.”

“Fair enough, but that wasn’t the only thing there.”

You know what he's referring to but seeing other people commit the act and then doing it yourself were too completely different things. There are still some things you’re too ashamed to say out loud and that particular kink of one of them. While your ovulation had a rather stronghold over you, so did your inner mortification.

Namjoon, on the other hand, cannot be bothered to beat around the bush. “You’ve seen what’s there right?" He repeats. "Creampies? Cum play? Breeding—”

“Don’t say that!”

He pauses, a playful grin tugging at his lips.”Is that what you want? Because you’re ovulating? What me to stuff—”

“Namjoon, stop it!”

He laughs then, a low sound dangerous that fills the room and swallows the embarrassment that eats away at you alive. “How can I? My pretty girl wants me to breed her, stuff her full of cum until it’s leaking from her cunt. You want that right? Want my cock so deep you feel it tomorrow? Am I right, baby? Hmm?”

You’re not looking at him, cheeks burning with every word parting his lips, but your cunt agrees wholeheartedly, leaking against your panties at the thought of Namjoon fucking you full. He doesn’t take your silence well though, a firm hand clasping around your jaw and tugging your focus right back into him. There's a glint in his eyes, a sharp dark wild thing.

“Baby.” He says it slowly, the word tumbling from his lips and right into the heat forming in your core. “Is that what you want?”

“Maybe,” you retort, feeling the twitch that tremors through his jaw deep inside of you. Namjoon scoffs, hand dropping from your chin. The absence of his touch has you scrambling after it, the movement occurring before you can bite back your desperation.

“Maybe? Then you don’t want it enough do you? I should leave you to study, don’t you think?”

“Namjoon.” Your fingers grip into his shirt before he can shift away, a pounding in your chest that terrifies you. “Maybe I do want it — a lot — I just can't say it.”

“You can’t say it?” He cocks an eyebrow. “But you know how to use your words when you’re arguing with me.”

He’s infuriating and he’s doing it on purpose from the telltale gleam in his eyes. You don’t know what to despise more; Namjoon and his provocations or your inability to vocalise your desires. But that anger withers into wanting the second he settles back between your thighs, cock hard and heavy where you need him most. Yet, still, saying it out loud isn’t possible for you just yet. But you do want it, a great deal more than you’d ever admit.

“That’s different,” you say instead. “That’s when you’re being stupid.”

The eye-roll you're granted is brimming with exasperation. “Of course, you would say that.”

“And I’m correct.”

“Sure, you are,” Namjoon returns, nuzzling into your chest. He’s saying it to complacent you and it ticks you off

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You ask, a warning in your voice.

Namjoon sighs, perfect face burrowed between your boobs. “I’m not arguing with you right now. You look cute when you get mad and I’m hard enough as it. Besides, that’s not the point.”

That should not have you buzzing, the word cute sticking out from the rest of his horrid statement like a neon light in the dark. But you let it rest, preoccupied with the fact that:

a. Namjoon is horny

b. So are you

“So,” you say. “What was the point?”

“The point is that you’re too shy to say you want me to stuff you—”

Point B no longer exists. You are no longer horny even when he’s looking at you like that with that stupid lopsided grin of his.

“I get it,” you retort, “I get the point. And I’m not saying that. Not today, not ever.”

“Oh? Are you sure about that?” There’s a challenge there, and like an idiot you fall for it, raising an indignant eyebrow in response.

“Yes, I will not—”

He’s got the band of your sweatpants down in a second, wiggling the fabric down your hips and past your butt faster than you can blink. You don’t object, a muffled giggle drifting from your throat when he finally gets them off, tossing the pants somewhere in the corner of his room, something to be searched for later, not now. That giggle shifts to a moan the second his face dives between your thighs, the deep breath he takes in kindling a flame in your gut. There’s the faint press of his tongue through the cotton of your underwear, the low groan he lets out when he feels the wetness seeping through your panties setting something off within you.

“Oh — oh — N-Namjoon!”

“Yes, baby?” Another lick, tongue quick and firm against your drenched core.

“Don’t play with me. I can’t handle that right now.”

“I’m not playing,” he remarks. “Just giving you a reason to say you want me to stuff you full of my cum. I know you want to say it anyway.”

You huff. “You think I’ll give in that easi — hgnh.” He’s tearing your underwear off, tongue landing back onto your wet folds before you can register the fact that the fabric is gone. A few firm wet laves of that muscle against your cunt and you can see your resolve crumbling. He knows exactly where to lick and drag his tongue, nose buried into the apex of your cunt as if he wants to breathe you in. You can’t help the buck of your hips, a tremor running down your thighs when his tongue slips into your hole, pressing in with purpose and leaving you breathless in his sheets. But then he’s drawing away and you glance down to find him staring at your cunt in wonder, his rouge mouth glistening with your slick.

“How can I not,” Namjoon says, offering a kitten lick that spikes a shock in your spine, “Play with you when you’re so fun to play with, angel.” The smile on his lips is dangerous.

Your hand settles on his head and Namjoon curls into it. But instead of dragging your fingernails against his skull and pulling him closer like you know he loves, you shove him away, swiftly squeezing your thighs shut. If you’re going to play this game, you’re doing it on your terms.

“You’re not being fair,” you say. Namjoon blinks at you like you’re insane, obviously thinking with the dick in his pants rather than his head. “Go back to your Isaac Turganife or whatever.”

“It’s Ivan Turgenev, baby,” he replies, sighing slow. “And I don’t want to go? Do you really want me to?” He plants a tender kiss on your bare thigh and you burst with want, slick leaking out even though you didn’t intend it to.

“Not fair,” you say again. But you don’t want him to leave you like this, at the mercy of your hormones and the sudden remembrance of Namjoon’s thick cock stretching you open. “But no, I don’t want you to go. Just don’t play with me please.”

“Okay, that’s fine. But if we’re being honest here all I can think about is seeing my cum leak out of you. I just want you to want that as much as I do.” He says it in a rush like he’s afraid he won’t have the nerve to admit it if he doesn’t do it right now.

But I do, you think, walls fluttering just from the flash of that image in your mind. I do, Namjoon. And yet, you can’t say it.

“I’m ovulating, Namjoon,” you retort instead.

“And you’re also on birth control,” he rebuttals. “PEMDAS or whatever. It cancels out the baby option, right?”

“You are so dumb it hurts, Kim Namjoon,” you murmur, fighting the urge to kiss your stupid boyfriend. It’s a very odd conversation to be having when your cunt is on display and his dick is hard in his pants but you’re having it anyway.

“We’ve fucked raw before though?” He continues, still not piecing it together. “And so far, no baby. So no problem right?”

“When I’m not ovulating. Less risk, at least that’s what I like to believe.”

“Well I suggest you start believing that right now because I would very much like to see you stu—”

“Stop saying that you’re making me want to turn celibate!”

“Oh?” Namjoon remarks. “And yet you’re leaking all over my sheets every time I mention it.”

“I will cut you off from sex for a week if you say something like that again,” you retort.

Namjoon grins like he knows this is affecting you on a deeper level than your cunt being wet. “Fair enough, but I have to ask. Do you want that?”

“Want what?” Feigning ignorance is the safest bet until that shift in his eyes appears.

“Want my cum?” he says it so easily, unaffected while your face rushes with heat.“Inside of you, leaking out of you… All of it?”

And maybe you stop breathing at the thought of feeling full of everything Namjoon had to offer you, your walls clenching tight.

“Maybe. Maybe I do, I don’t know.” You do know and Namjoon knows that you do too. It’s with a defeated murmur that you admit it, voice soft in his room. “Okay, fine. I do. I want that.”

“You do?” There’s an edge in his voice. “You want me to bre—”

“Stop it before I change my mind.”

He laughs, a light warm thing that digs into your chest. “Okay, okay! Sorry, babe. Do you want me to prep you? My mouth? My fingers? You can decide.”

It’s settled so quick in your brain you realise it was never up for debate. “Neither. Just you. I just want you.”

He halts, honey eyes locked on yours for a moment, before springing to his feet and tugging his shirt over his head with speed. “We can do that,” he mumbles, his knees bumping against the foot of his bed. His pants come off next, plummeting to the ground where he kicks them off a moment later. It’s only then that you see the consequence of actions, straining painfully against his boxer briefs. He shifts to tug those off too but you cut the movement before it happens, shuffling forward until your hand is cupped around his length. Namjoon doesn’t protest, rolling into the tiny palm of your hand. You love the way he feels underneath your palm, thick and hard and heavy, a weight you long to feel inside of you. He sighs low when you grip him, watching your fingers wrap around the outline of his dick through the fabric. It’s only then that you realise, your gaze slipping down his body, subtly noting the sharp intake of breath when your lips mimic what he did to your underwear before he ripped it off, that Namjoon has been holding himself back.

He wants this, badly. It’s evident from the tightness in his voice when he speaks a moment later.

“Angel,” It’s said low, a warning. “I thought we said we wouldn’t play with each other.”

He’s right. With a small pout, you lean away and Namjoon wastes no time moving into your space, strong arms swapping your arm just to land you back at the head of his bed. You suddenly remember your laptop, lost in the mess of his sheets. Namjoon is kind enough to relocate it before climbing right back into your space, cock digging into your stomach when he kisses you again. It doesn’t take long before your top is gone, joining Namjoon’s pants on the floor, and then you’re digging the band of his underwear down, your lips still slotted together and a wetness rapidly forming between your thighs at the feel of his bare cock against you.

But he’s impatient, shuffling you around the second his length is freed. Your back is hard against his mattress, fingers grasping at the sheets when Namjoon knocks your knees apart. There’s a moment of bated breath, his large hands lingering against the bare skin of your exposed thigh, brown eyes locked on your wet folds. His gaze is so intense you instinctively want to clamp your legs shut, shy away from how seen you feel under his eyes. Yes, technically you were naked in his bed but there’s something else that he draws out just from looking at you. Something that makes you nervous because you like it so much.

“Don’t hide from me.” It’s whispered in the heat of the air, Namjoon picking up on how your legs drift together. He’s got them pressed apart a second later, grip firm but gentle, and your stomach does a swoop so dangerous you’re left violently reeling, the ceiling above you spinning. “Don’t do that, angel. Too pretty to hide from me. I want to see all of you.”

You can only hum in response, throat clogged with words that won’t form into coherent sounds. But Namjoon understands you regardless, kissing you senseless as his massive body descends on yours. His hands are on your ass a second later, gripping tight as his length nudges against your core. You just might cry, desperation bubbling in your chest. He draws away gently but you don’t want to let him leave, fingers taut on his broad back, gripping onto the very muscles that had you heady just earlier today. There’s a whine on your tongue that he swallows before you part once more. The laugh that slips from his lips at the sight of your pouted mouth is fond. He grants you another peck, soft and tender, before Namjoon rips himself away, determined this time.

His hips are lined against yours a moment later, cock stiff and dripping with precum. And yet your gaze doesn’t tear from the arms trapping you in his sheets. His biceps look huge, massive actually, all hard muscle and pure strength. It’s doing something to the base part of your brain because you can’t stop thinking about how large Namjoon is. Caving you in, your personal shelter from the world. Is it weird that you feel protected? Safe in the bed of this boy. You wouldn’t mind hiding here forever. A part of you wants to kiss him again, but Namjoon’s focused on other things, oblivious to the cave-woman looking for a mate thoughts running amok in your brain.

They dissipate the moment the head of his cock nudges at your entrance. Just a light tease, but he splits you open quick enough.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, angel. Didn’t need me to prep you at all.”

You mumble a noise that you’re not sure leaves your throat. He’s taking it slow on purpose, pushing in inch by inch so that you feel every part of him filling you up. It’s intoxicating, how the feeling of the slow drag of his cock overtakes everything in your brain. You’ll never get over how big Namjoon is, no matter how many times he fucks you. Each shift of his hips forward coaxing slick from your cunt. It pools at your entrance, dripping over his length until he’s glistening with your wetness.

“F-fuck,” He head drops down to the hollow of your neck the moment he’s sheathed inside, the velvet walls of your pussy gripping him hard. It’s too much for the both of you, bodies strung high on the want that threatened to consume you both. But he feels good like this, lodged in your cunt, stretching you wide and making a place for himself right between your legs. He gives you a moment to adjust and then the coiled spring in him snaps.

“So fucking tight around me, angel. Taking my cock so well.” There’s an edge in his voice, a warning for what’s to come.

You groan when he draws up, a tiny squeal erupting from your throat when he slams back down, hips angled to piston you into his sheets. The pounding is hard and unforgiving, a contradiction to the gentle look in his gaze. He holds you tight, giving you no room to shuffle under the bruise of his thrusts.

You can’t do anything but mumble his name, tongue numb in your mouth as he fucks you senseless.

“You’re dripping so much, baby. Making a mess on the sheets. You wanted my dick that bad, huh? Wanted me to fuck you full? Stuff this dirty cunt of yours?”

“J-Joon!” There’s an arch in your back, a dangerous tingle fluxing through your nerves when his mouth latches on your neck, your chests pressed against each other. Each drive into you pushes out a haggard breath, the heat into the room wrapping around your joint bodies, your arms slung over his shoulders, gripping him tight as he unravels you with his cock. Time stops, nothing punctuating the moment apart from the lewd sound of your meeting, your slick slipping from your cunt each time he hits deep. And he keeps at it, fucking you with a vigour that feels new and vicious.

You can feel him tensing beneath your fingertips, a soreness spreading through your muscles with every hard thrust of his hips into you. But you don’t care, delirious with the feeling of his cock deep within you, slamming right into that spot that has you dangling off the edge. The tight grip on your thighs adds to it, Namjoon pressing you down as he fucks you open like you’re nothing but a toy for his pleasure. He slams into you with abandon, his lips on your neck. Every drag is loud in the room, the slick pooling around your entrance orchestrating the sound of your meeting. You love how he feels over you, broad and big and pinning you down with an ease that shouldn't have you stomach twisting but it does. And he knows that, reading the whimpers that leave your throat well. You can feel it, the knot that tightens with every hard drive of him into you. So close, a blink of your eyes and you could be there. But then he slows, cock squelching against your entrance with a half-hearted thrust.

“Namjoon—" You’re burning, fingers scrambling to push his hips down, shove your hips up. Anything. Anything because if he gives you nothing you’ll implode.

“My baby is so quiet today. Hmm? Why are you so quiet? You don’t want my cum? Don’t want me to breed this tight little cunt of yours?” There’s a in his tension colouring his deep voice, like he’s holding back from saying something. You want to ask but your needs are forefront in your mind clamouring for attention.

“Joon!” He nips your neck at that whine and you dissolve into his sheets, nothing but pleasure running through your limbs. “Namjoon please, please, please. I want it, Joon, need it.”

He cocks his head, a languid roll into your core that has you squirming underneath his hold. “Need what? Words baby, words.”

“Need your cum.” It’s shameful to say and the heat in your cheeks makes it obvious, Namjoon doesn’t care, shifting his hips so that his cock slowly slips out. Your legs clamp around him so quick that his chest smacks into yours, a muffled sigh escaping into the air.

“Need it where?” He says, hips rigid with how he holds himself back. It takes tenacity to make you work for it. You feel perfect around him, tight pussy stretched around his length and your slick dripping all over. So needy, so wet, velvet walls clinging to his cock leaving him weak even though he tries to hide it. You’re intoxicating, your heat, the feeling of your body moulded into his, the way you moan his name. He wants to hear you scream it though, hear your throat go hoarse with each cry until you're a blubbering mess in his bed. There are other things he wants too, but he needs to hear you say this first.

“Inside,” you reply, a perfect whimper drifting from your bruised lips. “Inside me, Namjoon, please.”

He gives in then and there, resolve shattering when his gaze drifts to the minuscule grind of your hips against his own, his cock sinking deep with every shift of your waist upward. It’s not long until he’s sheathed back inside of you, length twitching against the heat of your walls. He wants to take it slow, make you beg for him a little more, but there’s a weight in his gut that threatens to drop. And then his focus shifts to the span of your stomach and it slams into him so quick he nearly chokes. He may joke about it as a kink, the idea of fucking you until you were bearing his child, but the actual vision of your stomach swelling hadn’t occurred in his thoughts until right then. You would look ethereal, round with evidence of his love for you. He can’t help the palm that settles there as his hips slowly rut forward, forcing himself deeper, needing to see you stretch out for him.

“Joon,” you sigh, shuddering at the press of his balls against your ass.

He hums, thoughtful, dark eyes lingering on the sway of your chest. “Yes, baby?”

“Harder, please, harder.”

“Anything my baby wants, she gets. Isn’t that right, princess.” And then he’s falling out of you, quick when he slams back down. Your voice sounds foreign to your eyes, brain roughly registering the harsh feeling of his hands as he swiftly rearranges you, cock still buried deep, until your knees are folded over his broad shoulders. The quake in your thighs is violent. But you don’t protest, mind unable to shift from the hard pistons he delivers into your cunt, thrusts demanding your release. There’s the sway of the bed beneath you, soft sheets bundling underneath the weight of your joint bodies, a heaviness in the air you breathe. He fucks you with a purpose that wasn’t there before, as if he needs to see you stuffed with his cum, unravelling around his length, a mess beneath him.

And you give it to him, shuddering when his fingertips sneak to your clit, the flickers he lands there unfaltering. That combined with the steady drag of his cock has your vision blanking, contentment spilling through your nerves as your high hits. It’s quick; a hard fast thing and spreads right from your core and through your system. Namjoon fucks you through it, swallowing your incoherent mumbling with a deft press of his lips against yours. You don’t realise you’re crying until he swipes a thumb along your cheeks, dropping a kiss on the damp skin of your face.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs. You don’t miss how his hips speed up, muscles tense underneath your trembling fingertips. “So pretty. My pretty girl.”

“Cum in me,” you reply, breaking away to catch his gaze. Namjoon chokes, hips faltering. You don’t let him process it, still riding high on the look colouring his features. This is what he wanted from you, and you’re drunk enough on the feeling of him deep inside of you to say it. There’s still a tremor in your walls that grips him tight and you aid it by raising your hips upwards, the bend uncomfortable but worth the darkness that consumes the brown of his eyes. A part of you wants to say it again and you do, voice low in the room. “Joon, I need you. Need to feel full.”

“Fuck me.” It’s said under his breath but you don’t miss it, stomach twisting when his cock slams into you. It’s hard and mean. Namjoon takes everything you’re giving him, folding you into his mattress and driving his hips hard enough for the bed-frame to shift, a low thud against his bedroom wall. You let him have his way, groaning into his ear, the sheen of sweat that builds on both your bare bodies glimmering under the dwindling glow of the sunlight. There’s a faint tepid heat flickering in your core and it sparks up when Namjoon lands a hard kiss on the span of your neck, moaning low as he splits you open on his cock.

“So fucking tight.” There’s a hitch in your rugged breathing, your grip on his ruined sheets fierce. “So wet. All for me. All mine. Right, baby? This is mine, isn’t it?”

“Yours,” you whisper in return, lost in the feeling of him enclosing you in. “All yours.”

His lips are soft against your own, a delicate press of his mouth that doesn’t match how hard he’s fucking you. But you revel in it, rupturing into something bright and wild and full of love underneath the piston of his hips. It’s good now, the sensitivity you felt a moment ago ebbing into nothing but heat and want. You don’t miss how he twitches against your walls, thrusts growing erratic with every lewd slam of his length inside of you. And you want it, reminding Namjoon of that fact with wicked whispers in his ear. He caves fast, a few last hard rolls before he paints your walls in his release, the moan he lets out bleeding into your skin. You’re on edge now, the feeling of Namjoon’s cum coating your cunt when you’re at peak fertility doing something stupid to your brain. It shouldn’t turn you on — in fact you should be terrified. You weren’t ready to be a parent, yet the weight of him on you, the spurt of cum that slips from your cunt when he draws again, sends your spiralling. It’s swift, the swing of your legs back around his waist.

“No — don’t, don’t move. Not yet.”

Namjoon pauses, checks still warm and his skin a pretty golden rouge. You don’t enjoy the way he reads you.

“We can’t cuddle like this. Remember what we did last time? The cockwarming?” He suggests it easily. He gets what this is doing to you even when you don’t understand it at all. You nod because the idea of Namjoon not lodged inside you sounds abhorrent. He shifts the both of you quick enough, his softening dick back to half-mast the moment your protest emerged. It’s easier like this, with you sprawled on his broad chest. You don’t want to acknowledge it but you’re still somewhat wound up and the feeling of him holding you close, your cunt stuffed full of his cum, is doing unimaginable things to your brain. You pretend it isn’t, snuggling into the valley of his massive chest, feeling safe and secure. And then Namjoon opens his mouth.

“We’re going to have to talk about this. You know that right?”

“No, we don’t have to talk about it. Ever. Pretend this never happened.”

His laughs echoes in your heart. “Baby, I just came in you and you’re ovulating. That’s fairly risky, don’t you think?”

“I told you!” You whack his arm for good measure. “I told you it was dumb.”

“But I liked it,” Namjoon continues, staring intently at the ceiling. “A lot.” You flutter, cheeks hot at his admission, a bubbling in your chest that shouldn’t be there. “And judging from how you’re using my dick to keep my cum inside of you, I’m guessing you liked it too.”

“...Maybe.” You hate it but he’s right. You liked having him use you like that, the prospect of his cum doing more than leaving you euphoric with satisfaction lingering in the depths of your mind.

“Maybe?” He scoffs, wide hand gently pushing you off his chest despite the whine you release. “Get off then, I need to check if my dick is intact. I think I saw the fifth dimension when I came.”

“Shut up, please!” You cling to your boyfriend, viciously wiggling around until you feel him twitch inside of you. It’s too nice of a feeling to lose just yet. “Why are you ruining it?”

“Why can’t you admit what you’re into? Speaking of that subject, I don’t know what your kinks really are. So far there’s been a bit more exhibitionism than I expected from you but the breeding one… is different. Not bad. Just different,” he suddenly rambles.

“Because it’s embarrassing.” Your voice is small, landing on his naked chest in the silence of his room. His hand shifts from shoving you off to gingerly resting on you back, rough fingertips languidly tracing patterns on your skin. The motion is reassuring, yet you can still hear the eye roll in his voice when he speaks.

“You’ve seen the fisting porn on my NSFW twitter, what the hell do you mean embarrassing?”

“It just is!” You protest. “I’m not sure what I’m into.”

“I think you are, you’re just not comfortable admitting it to yourself. Don’t you watch porn? Or have any particular fantasies?” Namjoon’s persistent despite your deflection and while some part of you hates it, you know he’s right. He always is — well most of the time.

“I do,” you retort instead, refusing to give him an ounce of triumph. “You know that don’t be dumb.”

“Well then,” Namjoon returns, curiosity colouring his voice, “What’s your NSFW twitter? I’ve shown you mine, let me see yours.”

“I don’t have one…”

There’s a pause, the hand on your back drawing to a halt. You can hear the cogs in his head turning.

“You don’t? What do you use then?”

“...Yours,” you whisper. The breath that falls from his lips is horrified. “I like most of the stuff you like,” you quickly tack on. Somehow this is more shameful than admitting that you like being stuffed with Namjoon’s cum. The silence carries on and you're left stewing in your thoughts, looking for a way out of this awkward mess when Namjoon starts up again, a tentativeness in his tone that concerns you.

“Most of what I like,” he says. Another pause. “... Including the fisting porn?”

“Namjoon,” you snap, “Shut up.” You can’t believe you’re allowing this man to plug his dick in you after sex, can’t believe it at all. It’s a horrible realisation to come too especially when he breaks out into a loud laugh, his chest shuffling you around with every quick intake of air and the sound of his glee resounding in your heart.

“Sorry, angel,” he offers between muffled laughs. You hate him. You do even if you love him ten times more than you hate him. “We should make you one after this,” Namjoon says. “And then get food. Sounds good with you?”

“Food first,” you retort, mellow in the arms of your lover. “And then the Twitter porn.”

#namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon fanfic #namjoon imagine #smutcentralnet #bts x reader #btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #*posts then runs away*

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poptod · 3 years

Text

The Breeding Kings, pt. 8, (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: Search and creation. In a desperate bid to protect his identity, he convinces you you're not safe in the cities of Egypt, thus assuring you further that your place in life is far away from Egypt––where he was trying to keep you in the first place.

Notes: okay i try to stay as true as i can when it comes to the egyptian language and how hieroglyphs are pronounced but theres so little information on the indus valley. we still dont know how to decode their language but we know the closest language is a form of a modern indian dialect so thats what ive been using hope thats alright WC: 6k

Pounding like a hammer on his cranium brought him back to the land of the living in a dizzy, sickeningly fast whirl. He returned to his body and at once felt the aching of his joints, his throat bereft of water, and the headache reaching from his temple to the base of his spine.

As he blearily opened his eyes, the dryness of them making it rather hard, the pounding of warhammers on his ears continued in clearer and clearer beats. It was then, his hand already covering his eyes from the sun, that he recognized the inside of a bell swinging above him, the massive metal gong sending vibrations throughout his whole body.

"Oh dear Gods," he moaned, the awful sound thrumming everywhere he could feel.

Hazy memories of the night before returned slowly to him, injured only by the continued swaying of the bell above him. After finally filling your stomachs, you drowned yourselves in beer, going from storeroom to storeroom to take whatever they would be willing to give.

"Yogi?" He said in a rough voice.

You let out a long, low whine.

"No talking," you mumbled.

"Oh, you can't stand my talking but you're fine with the bell?"

"Aganu, I can not stand anything right now," you said in the most helpless, exasperated voice that Ahk couldn't help but laugh, even with his head hanging off the edge of the belltower.

His laugh faded away the longer blood was allowed to rush to his head, till he had enough of the pressure and turned onto his stomach. In the very least the bell was not rocking as much as it previously was, swaying instead of swinging back and forth. Below, however, the people had gathered at the foot of white limestone steps that gleamed in the morning sun, their eyes directed to a speaker standing upon those stairs.

Ahkmen squinted, attempting to make out the person's identity.

"-and the decree of the Pharaoh is thusly," they said, their voice faded from the height Ahk sat at.

The moment the words were spoken, Ahk's eyes bulged, his expression dropping from casual humor to dead horror.

"My soldiers have seen my son leave me," they said as they read from the papyrus in their hands.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump, but he relaxed when he saw you, if only for a moment before he was once more petrified by the fear of you discovering him.

"He has gone towards the mouth of Hapi. See my son––the Prince Ahkmen––is not with you. See my son, if he is with you, to me."

"Ahkmen?" You said with a small frown. "Who is Ahkmen?"

"Just some stuck-up Prince," Ahk said quickly.

"Ah, so like you," you said, grinning as you nudged him with your elbow.

"That is... so rude," he said as he only half paid attention, his eyes focused on the crowd below. In a straight voice he continued his teasing with, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to abandon you now."

"You will not make that, you are too full of old beer. You need my potion," you said.

"Maybe so," he grumbled, all too aware of his headache. He looked down, attempting to gauge the tower for an escape. "How.. the hell did we get up here? We must be fifty spans in the air."

"Have you rope?"

"No, I –"

You raise your hand, revealing the rope in it.

"It is on the side, where you forgot it," you chuckled, handing him the long rope. He glared playfully as he took it.

The descent down the perfectly polished walls was, needless to say, interesting, and made less difficult by the removal of your sandals. Ahkmen went first, followed by you, and he immediately took off the moment you landed on the ground. He looked over his shoulder as he turned the corner, spotting one last flash of the scribe calling the name of the missing Prince.

Murmurs of conversations that surrounded him spoke of the same thing––a lost prince, oh how strange!––behind the veils of widows and children who heard the words of the Pharaoh. The ache in his neck worsened as he turned rapidly back and forth, constantly scanning his environment for any surprised faces. Your own, shorter legs barely kept up with his pace, sometimes barely landing back on the ground before you were pulled continuously by Ahk's grasp on your hand.

The edge of the city must've been 5 iteru away––longer than either of them could run in their state. Realizing this, Ahkmen pulled off into alleyways as he had the day before, and hid within the tall, vacant walls.

He panted heavily as the two of you slowed, skidding on the sandy ground before you both fell down in exhaustion. Your chest heaved like his, eyes concentrated on a purely blue sky, as his remained centered on the single exit from the dead end; the only direction you could be approached from.

"Who do we run from?" You finally asked, irritation lacing the knot in your brow.

"Soldiers," he answered instinctively. You had a fear of them––it might subdue your curiosity. "And the town officials. We're a little young to be on our own and I don't want them to falsely accuse us of anything, or put us in any situation where we have to talk to them."

"Uh..." you scanned his composure thoroughly, "okay. I see your fear, but we must think, not run."

"You're right," he said, just barely rising to his feet enough to stumble over to you, kneeling at your side. "You're right. We need to get out of here, but not like this."

"I have one – one potion, of all my potions, in my bag," you said as you looked around, trying to find the packs you'd entered the city with. "The one for the, the – the getting drunk sick, thing in the morning."

"Hangover," he said.

"Etuvaka. Where is my bag?"

"Your what––oh, shit," he went quiet with his last words, grimacing as the blistered memories of last night returned to him in one-scene flashes.

"What?" You whipped round to look at him, a dead panic in your eyes. When he didn't answer, you scooted closer and cried, "what??!"

"We found a loose brick in the street," he said, closing his eyes and leaning back with deep regret in the breath he drew, "and to hide our stuff while we went drinking... we put our bags underneath it."

"Oh shit."

"Verily," he breathed out with a nod.

Several minutes of astonished silence passed before he croaked out, "I had most of our wares in there."

"And my potions," you said, similarly collapsed as he was. "Do you know any else?"

"No, I'm surprised I can remember that we hid our bags at all," he said, running a hand through his unkempt hair.

"And my cat!" You cried.

"Your cat came with us?"

"Yes!! All from Memphis!"

"No, I mean, she came into the city? When did she leave? Or do you even remember?" He said, assaulting you with an onslaught of questions.

"Young, by the wall for the city," you said in almost a whine, leaning against the alley wall.

"Maybe she can help us," Ahk suggested, shifting to sit up straighter with the idea in his head.

"She can not speak Egyptian, dumb head!" You scolded.

"But she doesn't have any eyes," Ahk said, and you opened your mouth to explain that isn't exactly pertinent when he continued with, "so her nose might be much stronger. I hear that when you lose one of your senses, the others grow stronger."

You seemed, at best, dubious of his claims, but spoke after a moment of contemplative silence.

"Okay. But we must to find her, then the bags," you said slowly.

"Absolutely, of course," he said with a nod. "Does she answer to her name?"

You looked to him with a flat expression.

"Does any cat?" You asked.

"Fair point."

"We must have a - a.. a pot, and I will make her food. I need.. fish," you began to count the ingredients on your fingers, "fish head, oil, skin of the goose, and milk."

"That sounds disgusting," Ahk admitted honestly.

"It is. And it is good we will not eaten it."

The most difficult part of your plan ended up being the very first step––finding a place in which to mix all these horrid smelling ingredients. Neither of you owned anything in the city, and staying out of the public eye led Ahk to sacrifice several different ideas, landing you with a final resort.

It was already midday by the time you stood outside one of the city's temple's baking kitchens, the heat of the sun blocked by tarps of orange and yellow swinging from rooftop to rooftop. Already the scent of searing meat and baking pastries filled the air, wandering through little chains of markets all throughout the city, and leading you to one of the biggest kitchens you'd seen. They would not remark upon the absence of one pot, would they?

"There's a way in, back there," Ahk whispered to you, the both of you peering over empty crates. "It's just a tent so we can flip it and get inside."

"And who will we get?"

"Whichever one is closest, I presume," he said, offering no more advice before he ducked out of the hiding spot, heading discreetly across the street.

You followed in a stumble, taken surprise by his sudden movements. When you caught up with him, you knelt to hide behind the same abandoned cart, once more checking the positions of cooks and cleaners occupying the bakery. Most people were sitting at the side of a tall fountain, enjoying the midday break for food.

He left, this time signalling for you to follow him. Without pause you did, crouching down to sneak beneath the tent flaps and into the kitchen, where you were faced with a cauldron half your height. Before either of you could exchange words, you were both grasping the handles, hauling it off the small fire and out towards the space behind the tent. Another makeshift alleyway.

"Do we have to heat it?" Ahk asked, peering into the heavy bowl.

"No, it is not a good for the nose. Borrow the fish, in there." You pointed to the tent. "I will get milk."

The wretched scent stewing below you bathed your face in its' fumes, but remained nothing more than a hint of your actions to anyone further from the pot. Ahkmen had been holding his nose manually the entire time, his voice nasally, which didn't help when you laughed and drew in breaths that tasted of fish milk.

"We're going to have to pour this in the street, aren't we," Ahk said, one hand pinching his nose and the other on his hip.

"Yes, and we can not... soldiers, can not see us," you said, glancing between him and the pot.

"Right. Drop and dip."

"... okay."

Oil was eventually hard enough to find that you forwent the ingredient, leaving you with milk, goose skin, and fish head mixed up till it all softened. The look of it alone made Ahk queasy, and if he ever attempted to breathe too deeply, he lurched with sickness, clutching his stomach. You just laughed.

"Not good, is it?" You said with a toothy grin.

"How many times have you made this shit?" He asked, his face pale as he leaned against the nearest solid wall.

"I make it... not much, and it is smaller many times, so... I am.. dear God, this smells," you grumbled.

"Just get this over with."

The two of you lugged the heavy cauldron out of the alley, shuffling past the temple to dump the product of your work. Your head pounded as you strained, dry and hungry, till you managed to toss the pot out into the crowded streets.

The reaction was instant. Questions and groans rippled through the people who split as the white mixture flooded down the road. More shouts and exclamations followed when the scent truly set in, wafting from the milk already baking in the hot sun. Ahk turned to you to find you laughing, stumbling back as you hid your grinning mouth.

"What's so funny?" He asked, but he was already chuckling with you.

"You rich people," you said as you pointed to a couple fleeing hand in hand, their silken white robes lined with rotten milk. "It is funny to see you run, and scream."

"Alright, you've gotten your kicks. Where's your cat?"

"Quiet. She comes soon."

From the many different streets coalescing into the center outside the temple, cats came, some hairless like yours and others furry and large. They gathered at the spill, sniffing curiously at the strange mixture before ultimately licking away at it.

"You know, I didn't actually expect them to like it," Ahk said above you, both of you peering out from behind the kitchen tent.

"You do not trust me?"

"It's not that," he said with a frown that disappeared at your chuckling. "I just.. it's astounding anything can stand that close to it."

"We did."

"Shut up, Yogi."

It took a little while, but by the time soldiers discovered the debacle, you and Ahk were chasing Sephys down another, smaller street. Her missing eyes were of no consequence as she darted between boxes and legs, jumping over a small mouse who cowered near the wall. Ahkmen's heart was already racing from the proximity to royal guards, doubled by his chasing feet, following after you following a blind cat.

Sephys' luck ended as she ran into a man's legs, bonking her head and fluttering back with an unsteady tail. You knelt, swooping her up to coo and pet her head, cradling her like a baby in your arms.

"Uh, sorry," Ahk apologized quickly to the man Sephys had run into. He glared but said nothing, continuing to lug crates of vegetables out of a nearby doorway.

Ahkmen jogged back over to you, looking over your shoulder at the cat.

"Do you think she'll be able to find it?" He asked.

"What?" You looked up at him, flinching away when you found how close he was to you.

"Our bags."

"Oh! Yes, yes. Sephys," you held her at eye level, her gangly limbs stuck straight down, "we must to find my potions. My bag."

She looked blankly to the side of your face. Her nose twitched.

"Good," you said before dropping her.

She trotted off with hunched shoulders, her thin body jumbling her steps. You ran after her, motioning Ahk along when he didn't immediately follow you. He sighed but obeyed, winding back through the streets to the spill, where Ahk attempted his best at hiding his face as he ran by. Fortunately you were only there for a split second before you running off down another street, following the light-footed Sephys.

When she stopped, she pawed at the ground, sniffing the dust that had blown over. You slowed to a halt, kneeling down beside her.

"Atu inke irukirata, Sephys?" You asked as you caught your breath.

"Did we find it?"

"I think, yes," you said, gently pushing Sephys aside and digging your short nails into the loose brick of the street. Ahk knelt at your side and aided you in moving the rock.

Soon, the brick was raised enough for you to pull it out the rest of the way, revealing a pocket within the earth containing leather and fabrics reminiscent of both yours and Ahk's packs. Both of you exclaimed, looking to one another with big grins that devolved into laughter.

"We did it!" He said, pulling the bags out of the tiny hole. He handed you yours.

"We are smart, we know," you said with a sly wink, tapping your temple. "And cat knows."

"Right," he chuckled as he moved to his feet. "Shall we?"

"What we?"

"Uh... never-mind. We should go soon. The guards are nearby."

"I know."

Sephys was the first to jump into the stranded boat, followed by you and then your collective bags. Ahkmen stayed on solid ground to push the canoe back into the water, jumping in as it floated away, and grabbing the oar to resume your travels.

Without the canals of streets that trapped sunlight in alleys and beneath tarps, the cool wind could distract you from the burning sun. Your fingertips returned to grace the water in shallow strokes, breathing slower, and basking in the stillness that could not exist within cities. While you relaxed in the boat's bottom, Ahk remained on his feet and rowed you onwards.

"We have bread, magic, and good friends," you said, a long sigh leaving you as your head tilted back. "We are cakes."

"We're what?"

"You know. He is the... the head, of Egypt," you said.

"Ohh, you mean Kings."

"Etuvaka." Your head fell back down onto the floor of the canoe.

You set off in the afternoon, leaving you little time to travel before the nighttime would set you away. Much deserved sleep was collapsed into, your blankets splayed across the nearest flat, dry surface. The boat was just barely pulled onto the shore, but the thought never crossed his mind as his eyes fluttered open to see you facing him. Already you were dozing, anywhere from a second to a minute from deep sleep.

"Yogasundari?" He asked softly.

"Mm," you breathed out.

"I don't think we should stop at any more Egyptian cities," he said, his voice cracking.

You shifted slowly to your side before you spoke, just barely opening your eyes.

"Why?"

"It was a close call with those soldiers," he said, scanning you for any hint of emotion beyond tired. "I don't want to lose you so soon."

"We have made okay with more.. scary people, and.. more danger. Soldiers are little to me," you mumbled, eyes fluttering shut as you finished.

No, you're little to soldiers, he thought, but said nothing, and relaxed back into the blankets.

"I hope you're right," he said.

Breakfast consisted of bread and what little you could find along this stretch of the Nile. Ahk managed to spear a fish with a sharp stick, but neither of you could manage to eat much after yesterday's snafu. The fish ended up being eaten mostly by Sephys, who purred happily at your discomfort, playing with the bones of her prey. You and Ahk watched in mild disdain.

By midday you were back to burning in the sun, lamenting the lack of shade present in the middle of a kilometer wide river. Despite your discomfort, you continued to wear your longer robes, insisting they helped in keeping the sun off. Ahkmen took a different approach and removed most of his clothes, to your humored surprise.

"Any time you can take off it, you do," you said, laughing as you threw your head back behind loose shoulders. "Bad little boy."

He had to slap a hand over his mouth to stop himself from yelling––well, that or laughing. He couldn't quite tell what was bubbling in his stomach but it seared your name onto his heart. You could make him curl up and die in a single sentence, something Ahk was used to being, not receiving.

The signs of civilization appeared much earlier than they had when arriving in Heliopolis, beginning with trading and passenger ships passing the two of you by. Ahk always looked away. His uneven breathing gave way to anticipation, waiting for the appearance of the city, where his attention would constantly be heightened to perceive every person around him.

It was a cold return to royalty––the state of constant awareness, keeping your posture straight, your gaze steely, your brow firm but not stern. After days spent with you, it was already an alien stature to his body.

He squinted through the bright sun to the distant walls, remarking upon little else besides the pure white of the stone. Tanis was an unremarkable place known only for being a city at the mouth of the Nile river. That made it a trading port, but few people actually lived in Tanis, and much of the population was made up of travellers and traders who never stayed more than a week, or three months at most.

"There it is," he said, raising his hand to shield his eyes from the sun's glare.

"The next city?" You asked as you moved to your feet.

Wind pushed you about as you moved, nearly rocking you over on the gentle boat. Ahkmen was forced to grasp the oar with both hands, steering you through the choppy, foaming waves.

"Tanis," he said. Technically a safer city to be than Heliopolis, but still ruled prominently by the generals of Egypt. "It's a, um.. a military town. Lots of soldiers and such."

He bit his tongue as though it served as a punishment for his little lies. It was for your benefit, right?

"Oh," you said, drawing your knees to your chest. "Are they mad to me?"

"Not... particularly," he said, hesitating after noting your shrunken posture. "Foreigners aren't treated too badly here, since there's a lot of merchants. It's just... you were taken by the Pharaoh's men. What if they're looking for you? I mean, I don't know that they are, but I'm just worried. Do you understand that?"

"You are so scared of me being hurt –"

"For the night," he interrupted you. "Stay outside the city for tonight. Tomorrow we'll need to get camels... start off into the east. You can come then."

You frowned but curled back into yourself.

"Okay," you said.

Early evening settled itself in the skies around you when you reached the city, stopping off on the opposite side of the shore to ensure your 'safety'. Ahkmen's muscles strained, already aching from the multiple efforts to pull the canoe safely onto shore. This time he only pulled it halfway up, leaving it to help you set up a tent for the evening, hidden in a grove of date trees and vines.

"I won't be gone for long. I promise. I'll bring back some actually good food, um... beer, of course," you grinned at that, and he couldn't stop his own smile, "maybe a tarp."

"A tarp?"

"For shade, when we stop for breaks. I think it'll be good if we're going to be travelling by land, we'll be wanting to stop quite often, I think."

"Okay," you said with a nod. "I will see to find maybe things for my potions."

"Perfect. Do you have a sword? Or, a dagger?"

"Yes," you chuckled.

"Alright. I'll see you soon."

Time passed achingly slow without Ahk, sharing the company of no one but your cat. That had been your life for a time, but things were different now, and you had gotten accustomed to his company.

Sephys followed you as you roamed about the trees and bushes, looking for any plant of specific necessity. The ingredients of your potions ranged anywhere from common fruit to materials so rare many didn't believe in their existence.

What Ahk had yet to find out were the uses of your potions––not so much practical as they were fantastical. The hangover cure was the most useful, but given the right ingredients and the right amount of time, you could also fashion mixtures that allowed you to hear the Gods' and Goddesses' words, or to see the stars and know your direction even in daylight. Considering the sun was still a thing, the latter wasn't one you made often.

Flowers played an integral part in a few of your brews, though the role was usually outshone by other, more exotic ingredients. Roses could be used to enhance your lusting potion, as well as the Commander spell and the To Shadows mix. Blue lotus lillies that grew within the Nile had a magic all their own.

You settled down on the riverbank, pausing in a space between overgrown bushes that led straight to the shore. Mud and sand crawled up from the softly rippling waves, carrying rocks and tiny fish that Sephys batted at, blindly attempting to use her dull claws.

"Stop that," you said, hitting her gently on the head after she splashed you.

Lily pads, their roots and stems towering off the river's floor, slowed the already feeble current passing by your side of the shore. There were few flowers among them, and the moss that surrounded them were a more vibrant green than the pads, but you still traced your fingers over the tops as though you would walk across them. Someday, perhaps; out of all the incredulous things you had encountered in your time, giant lily pads didn't seemed quite a normal thing in comparison.

Reaching for one of the purple flowers, you began to pull, attempting to uproot the vine that grounded it. In the end you twisted the stem till it thinned and broke, allowing you to free the lotus. You spun it round on your fingers, entranced in the symmetry of the petals, till you tucked it aside and reached for another flower.

Altogether you spotted four blue lotus flowers, each boasting vibrant purple and pollen as yellow as the sun. The true properties of the blue lotus were subject to your active imagination, as they appeared to boost one's connection to the divine, as well as intensifying both romantic and lust-filled thoughts that hid in the corners of the drinker's mind. Commonly it was brewed into tea used for Egyptian ceremonies––you made syrup out of it, or boiled it into potions that altogether cancelled out the sugarpea-like taste of blue lotus.

You decided to leave two of the flowers as they were, and left with two of your own. Sephys followed you as you stood from the shore, returning inland into the groves of trees, to where Ahk had originally left you and your bags. There you knelt in the dirt again, setting one flower aside and crushing up the other with a mortar and pestle. Occasionally you dripped a few strands of honey from your glass bottle into the mixture, allowing the petals and the pollen to mix easier, into yellow-ish paste that would last as long as you boiled it and kept it bottled up. With that, you set up the fire, allowing it to bubble before you slowly poured the mixture into an empty bottle, and corking it up once you were satisfied.

"Wonderful. Now I'll never use it," you said to yourself, cheerfully, and in your own native language.

Sephys sniffed the mortar in which you had ground up the flower, licking when she realized there were traces of honey inside. You didn't bother to stop her––if she wanted to get sick, she could, and if she wanted to get high, she could do that as well.

The other flower you set out to dry in the spotted sun shining through palm leaves, and left it alone to return to the river. It was there you remained until evening, watching ships stop and leave on the opposite shore, stopping by the city Ahk found himself lost in. Worry did occur to you, though you had little time to dwell on it before a small canoe was making its' way back across the river.

By then the sun had lowered to a point in the crystal-clear sky that rays of gold and red reflected off the water's surface, bouncing back in shimmering waves. The rowing of an oar within water marked Ahk's return, and you waited patiently at the edge of the river, watching as he made his way back with a grin that lit up the moment he saw you.

He splashed as he jumped out of the boat, hauling it onto shore before wrapping you up in a tight––and very wet––hug.

"Look at you!" He said as he pulled away, his hands on your shoulders and his eyes on yours. "You're still alive!"

"You are mean, Aganu," you said, grinning as you stared up at him with that same starstruck look.

"You're right up there with my mother on that belief. I've gotten what we need, but I also brought something for you," he said, motioning you over to the beached canoe.

You followed him, looking over his shoulder as he rifled through the bags and protective fabrics tossed into the raft's bottom. First he pulled out a clay jug, which he set down gently beside him, before returning to pull out a large, orange tarp.

"Garish, but... only color they had," he said, handing it to you. You took it with mild confusion.

After several cases of food, he drew a lute, handing it to you with great care to notice your reaction. Your mouth fell open part way, eyes widening as you twirled it around in your hands.

"This is... money," you said slowly, your brow furrowing as you traced the thin strings.

"It did cost a little, but I'm sure we'll get plenty of use out of it," he assured you.

"You can.." you motioned strumming it, but were reluctant to touch the strings, "do the, uh... music?"

"No," he said, his face falling into a slight grimace. "No, not really. I mean, I can make it make sound, but whether or not those sounds are good are, well, um.. up to the listener. I was thinking you could play it. It seems like something..." he sucked in a breath, "... you'd like."

"You will do the words," you said, suddenly energized as you took his hand, dragging you over to the little fire you'd made hours ago. "I do the music."

"You want me to sing?" He asked with a soft chuckle.

"Yes!" You nodded ardently.

You pulled him with you as you sat down, your legs stretched out across the blanket you'd set out earlier. He followed, crossing his own legs as he watched you fiddle with the position of the instrument, accustoming your arms to the feel of its' weight.

When you at last plucked a string, a single, high note hummed throughout the grove of trees, silencing the bugs and birds that inhabited the riverside. You looked up, glancing around at the sudden quiet. Your eyes fell to Ahk, who nodded with a smile, gently encouraging you.

A finger on the fret board and the tone changed, growing higher in a pentatonic that appeared to clash without the other notes making up the hymnal. So you slid up further, creating a minor tune that still thrummed in the lute's echo chamber. You breathed in shakily, hoping to calm yourself before you continued.

Ahkmen, sensing your nervousness, decided to stand and gather fallen twigs and branches for the fire to lessen the stress of an audience. His absence allowed your shoulders to release from their tightened state. With that, you stroked all three strings in a swoop of your thumb, discordant but not unpleasant in its' reverb. Different positions on the wooden board brought about different notes, sliding up and down in crescendos that sounded not unlike the instruments of elders played by the side of the road. A single string worked better for you--at least for now--than attempting to use all three, especially at the same time.

A string twanged when you accidentally pulled the string to the side, and you flinched, looking up to Ahk with a worried look. He didn't seem to mind, so you continued.

He began to hum as he returned to your side, tossing in the smaller twigs to restart the embers of the fire. You tried to ignore him until you realized he was singing in harmony, no words in the tune, but twisting around your lute like vines overgrown with roses.

A burst of fire sprouted from the stone circle, reaching up higher than you stood on your feet. Ahkmen jumped back with a yelp, covering his face automatically with his hands, though he landed back with no more injury than a bruise on his bottom. Your mouth fell open and you dropped the lute, rushing over to his side.

"You are good?" You asked in a frantic voice, your shaking hands hovering above him.

He clasped his head, groaning as he sat up.

"I'm alright," he assured you, patting your knelt thigh. He started to chuckle, "I'm just sort of stupid."

"No, no," you said, but could offer little comfort besides that.

That alone made him snort, his head falling back down to the ground as he laughed. You giggled with him, your shoulders shaking as you covered your mouth, hiding your smile from view.

As you both calmed, he asked something that had been on his mind for a good while.

"Why do you cover your smile whenever you laugh?" He asked in a soft voice, one that demanded no answer.

You paused, your lips parting as your posture straightened.

"I... I do not know," you said, looking away. "It is.. something to... I do not want soldiers to see me smile. They think I am.. 'up to something'."

"Why would they think that?" He asked with a frown.

"I think it is my home, my clothes," you said.

"Where you're from," he mumbled, sighing as he shut his eyes. "I've never liked those damn soldiers. The only people who want to be my father's soldiers are the ones who will abuse the power, and those who abuse power are not good people."

"What do you say?" You asked, furrowing your brow.

"You've probably already realized this, but there's quite a lot of nationalism in Egypt. A lot of my people don't like foreigners," he explained. "It's a crude and primitive frame of thought. I'm sorry."

"It is not for you, to say sorry for," you said, meeting his eye as he turned to you, still lying flat on his back.

"I know," he grunted as he sat up.

But I am the Prince. Can I claim that?

"Here, though, there is nothing but us," he said.

He scooted closer to you, resting his palms on your knees.

"You don't need to do that anymore," he said. "I want to see you smile."

"I do not -"

His fingers crawled like spiders up your shirt, teasing your sensitive stomach with light brushes that brought you far too easily into cackling. You fell back, your hands subconsciously coming up to cover your mouth, much to his disappointment and amusement. He reached up, pinning your hands above you with one arm while the other continued to tickle up from your waist and onto your chest as you laughed helplessly.

You continued to writhe in his grasp, your smile wide and blushing as he sat on your hips, pinning you further to the ground. Your legs kicked against the floor, sometimes budging against Ahk's back. Ahk continued to grin at your laughing stupor.

"Stop! Stop!" You cried through the laughter, attempting to wriggle out of the hands pinning you down.

Tears blurred into the edges of your eyes and he finally ceased, leaning back with cheeks aching from his smile.

"And I'll do it again if you don't stop covering yourself up like that," he said, ever so slightly leaning in closer, till he hung over you like the sky.

Nothing but silence from you––the words couldn't form in your head or on your tongue, so you simply nodded, eyes flickering across his features. He fell into a similar silence, scanning your near vacant expression. Close enough to feel your breath.

Your gaze drifted upwards. A halo of stars glowing around him. Above you, pinning you down, as he had weeks or months ago––sneaking you across a river turned into sneaking you down a river, painted stars became the heavens, speaking of your laughter rather than the Gods and their stories. But your eyes remained the same, staring into one another, puzzled by your hesitance to part.

"We must sleep," you said softly, making no move to get up.

"Yeah," he said, and he appeared to be just as reluctant to move.

The fire crackled beside you, now burning through larger branches and leaves that emitted smoke high into the starlit sky. Dancing flames illuminated the dips and rises of his face, the long eyelashes surrounding cold, grey irises, and the curls of his growing hair nearly overtaking his eyes.

You dared not breathe.

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader

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devilsworn · 3 years

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@cerasphim asked: 1, 2, 5, 7 || MUNDAY MEME

1. What is your favourite trope to RP?

Lovers to enemies. I find the conflict of people who used to be in love turning into the bitterest enemies to be one of the most compelling and heart-wrenching dynamics I’ve ever explored, with so many nuances and avenues to generate interesting conflicts, scenarios and character arcs. Angst and conflict in general is something I like to explore in RP because the emotions elicited by them in the respective muses are so raw and powerful that it makes writing it a very easy and fluid experience. The higher the emotional engagement, the more fun it is to write, as a rule.

2. Name 3 things you admire about OCs.

OCs require a lot of time, attention and care to create, and that’s not something everyone is willing or able to provide. When someone has an extensively thought out and well-detailed OC, it shows how much passion and drive they have for their craft and how talented they are as a writer as well as a character designer--it takes being a jack of all trades in many senses to create a truly compelling character from all angles and furthermore to be brave enough to broadcast that OC to the world for others to scrutinize. So, in short, the three things I admire most about OCs is 1, their ingenuity, 2, their creativity and 3, the passion that goes into them.

5. What is a character you love but dont think you can write?

I’m honestly not sure! Historically, I’ve always just picked up any muse that took my fancy without considering whether or not I could write them, and figured out whether they were a good fit for me through actually attempting it. Sometimes they worked out, sometimes they didn’t, but there’s not generally a “type” I typically feel like I am unable to grasp. There are some characters I like but just won’t roleplay, albeit, not because I don’t think I could but because I usually just don’t find the rest of their source material that engaging, and having to be entrenched in a story I don’t enjoy just for the sake of one good character is not something I am interested in doing.

So I guess one character I enjoy but would never actually RP is Aaravos from TDP. Love the character as a lone entity, am not particularly interested in the show he comes from and in which he stars very minimally, which would make it a hassle to engage with the source material to conduct myself accordingly on a blog for a character from it. I know I could just as easily read the wiki to gain what relevant information I needed, but it feels very counter intuitive (and frankly draining) to devote time to a franchise you don’t whole heartedly enjoy. DMC for example is a franchise with a long overarching story that I find entirely interesting from start to finish. Nero may only be present in two of the five games it spans across, but I love everything about the world of DMC outside of just Nero himself.

7. What is one overrated RP trend?

Replies that are formatted in such extra, convoluted, hard to read arrangements that it makes me not want to read them at all. I am all for aesthetics when it comes to your blog itself such as backgrounds, themes, headers etc., but when you make your writing itself almost incomprehensible with the amount of formatting you run through your text posts, I am not going to be thinking about how ✨ aesthetique ✨ your presentation is, but how much of a headache that text post is going to be to read. I generally avoid RPers who have over the top text post configurations with a ton of unnecessary symbols, font changes, splits, breaks, alignment shifts and so forth simply because they’re annoying to read and end up looking janky as hell when they are viewed anywhere else but the desktop dash. Some basic small text and paragraphing is good enough for me!

#{ ♛ : OOC }#{LMAO ENJOY SOME MUN CHAT}

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hunbomb · 5 years

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roommate! jaemin

i hope u guys like this one! i do :)

warning: not proofread LMAO

jaemin: a huge flirt

like we been knew sis okay bUt its not like it defines him ya kno??? like yes he is a flirt but its not like he does it purposely

however that doesn’t stop every single girl from liking him

except for u cause you’re ~not like other girls~

jk you are

cause who wouldn’t find na jaemin attractive?? tf???

okay but like the dealio between you and jaemin is that you are best friends

and you have a fat crush on him (u have since the beginning of highschool LOL)

luckily for you, although jaemin is a flirt, he isnt interested in any girls so he doesnt bring any to your dorm

and even if he did, he would tell u because it would be shitty not to

anyway

so u met in grade nine and yalls friendship popped TF off right away like you joined nomins duo and made it a trio in the span of 4 months and everyone was like???? this mf got that close to them that fast???? mastery

jeno was like ur brother from another mother fr

you and him told eachother everything and sometimes he would tell you things he wouldnt even tell jaemin. like everyone has those people that although theyre close w, there are some things you’d never tell and that goes for jeno and jaemin

jaemin never told jeno he listens to taylor swift

and jeno never told jaemin that he watched all of my little pony friendship is magic on netflix

but since you and jeno shared some personal things w eachother, you obviously told him about your crush on jaemin

and since you had a crush on jaemin, you never got like super super close with him just cause ur feels got in the way

mainly just you never got as close to jaemin as you did jeno

sure you were bffs, but it wasn’t on such an intimate level

cause everytime jaemin would look your way you’d be gasping for air

so timeskip to senior year

everything is great

your friendship is still strong af and you guys are all planning for post secondary

jaemin and you get into the same uni right.... and jeno gets into the one the town over so your friendship wont take that much damage

but!!! jaemin wants to room with you!!! and ur like!! fucufejdsk!!!

cause like ofc you want to who wouldnt????? but you have such a massisve crush on him you dont want it to get in the way of not only yours but also jaemins university experience

you say yes tho and next thing you know youre unpacking all your stuff

the dorm is kind of small like there isnt a lot of space,,,,, theres two bedrooms but the beds literally take out the whole room HAHHAHA and then there is a chill space with the kitchen connected and u and jaemin have to share a washroom LOL

“jaemin what the FUCK did you eat??? beans??? i bet it was beans this shit smells so bad i-”

“it really do be ya own friends sometimes” -jaemin 2020 :((((((

anyway so like university life is good you and jaemin invite jeno over every weekend for a sleepover and vice versa its so cute GAH

but like,,,, here’s where the drama comes in

one day you are facetiming jeno and youre telling him about how you really like jaemin and blah blah ya know the usual

and youre not really looking at the screen cause youre doing your homework and focusing on that but jeno sees in the back that jaemin has fully entered the room

and you dont notice cause hes silent and your still talking but jeno is trying to get your attention UDHSJIA

and when he does you see in your part of the screen jaemin just,,,, standing there

cue you ending the call with jeno SO FAST and turning around like oH i thought you had classes right now?

“.... they ended early”

“i see” ://////////

you like get up super fast and just walk around him and go into your roomm shutting the door

poor jaemin is just like “what”

cause to be honest he never really considered this situation ever happening yah he thought you were prettier than most girls and he liked the way you were able to talk to people so easily but he never would have thought you harboured feelings for him

so he kind of just leaves it be cause he knows that you def dont want to talk about it and is willing to wait for you to be the one who brings it up

so time skip to dinner youre both just eating in silence but you dont like it,,,

“what i said was true” you say and jaemin looks up and he knows where this convo is going but he lets you speak

“i didnt ever plan on telling you because i really like our friendship but i guess i wasn’t careful enough”

your heart is beating hella fast but you try to look unbothered and its going pretty good until jaemin asks you something

“how long have you felt this way?”

OKAY like it shouldnt be a big deal to tell him bc you already exposed yourself but for some reason that question just hit you deep cause you realized that youve liked him for so long and he never felt the same ya know

“i dont know,,, since the start of highschool? when we became friends i always thought you were cute and it just turned into a full blown crush”

jaemin just sort of nods in response “oh okay”

so that night your just laying in your bed full of regrets

you know things are about to be super duper awkward between you and jaemin and you wish it didnt have to be like that

so over the next couple of weeks its more awkward than it has ever been before and the sleepovers with jeno seem so divided

its either jeno and you or jeno and jaemin its never the three of you anymore :((((((

jaemin isn’t ignoring your feelings though, dont worry! hes just trying to sort his out

because your confession kind of opened his eyes

he doesnt want to force himself to like you but he cant help but admit that when he first heard you talking about your feelings a huge warmth spread through his chest and he may or may not have uncovered some feelings

these feelings were always there but he suppressed in grade nine cause he thought you’d never like him and you just wanted to stay friends

so he pushed them down and never thought about it again

but obviously that didnt happen because now youre on his mind 24/7 and he wishes that he could just talk to you but hes kind of nervous

so after taking advice from jeno he tries to talk to you more, like asking how your day went and starting up conversations

youre kind of like “what u playing at son” but you leave it cause you know jaemin would never do you dirty like that

it stays this way for a while until one night theres a particularly bad thunderstorm and jaemin is scared of thunder

and so when youre just playing on your phone jaemin opens your door slightly and has this scared look on his face

and you know that jaemin is scared of thunder so you open your arms without any words being shared

a huge boom of thunder makes jaemin squeal and jump into your arms

and he gets comfy under the covers as youre holding him, no words shared between you two

he starts to feel much better and this sense of comfort washes over him like,,, youre his home

and as hes falling asleep he softly mutters

“im sorry it took me so long”

and youre just straight confused like what does that mean is he talking about his feelings or just the fact that yall havent had such an close encounter in a while

the next morning you wake up and jaemins arms and you guys are facing eachother

and hes already awake so when you oepn your eyes you find him already looking at you

“thank you for last night, youre the best” he whispers and youre like all good fam i understand

but then he leans in closer and is like “i should have told you this so long ago, but i am in love with you”

your eyes widen and youre like wh AT the FUCJ your heart is beating at like 420 bpm and ur shooketh

he just smiles and pulls in you in closer and its just a super soft moment and no words have to be said

that night you guys are cuddling on the couch after dinner when jaemin just asks you be his gf

OF COURSE YOU SAY YES! you have been waiting for this moment for god knows how long

jeno is all like damn fina-fucking-ly i’ve been watching this romance play out for like 5 years!

its super cute

its even better that you guys are roommates because youre already living together so you get to see eachother everyday

jaemins room as become a guest room for sorts as he now shares a bed with you

jenos happy af hes like YESSS I DONT NEED TO SLEEP WITH JAEMIN IN OUR SLEEPOVERS ANYMORE

jaemin: >:(((((( tf is that supposed to mean

you just laugh and youre like im not complaining hahaha and jaemins heart just stutters so bad

he really does love you and he cant believe it took him so long to accept his feelings

and one night he tells you about how he pushed them down and youre like “exCUSE ME we could have been dating all this time u pussy”

sad jaemin :(((((

anyway ya its so good its a win-win situation

you get to room with the love of your life and its just magical there are so many soft moments between you two and just UGH relationship goals

i need me a jaemin

#nct #nct dream #jaemin #na jaemin #nana #jaemin scenarios #jaemin scenario #jaemin x reader #jaemin blurbs #jaemin imagines #nct jaemin #nct na jaemin #nct bulleted au #nct scenarios #nct smut #nct 127 #kpop #kpop scenarios

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bakatenshii · 4 years

Text

Katsuki x Leese HCs

I uhhh have no excuses for this. This turned out so much longer than expected and I just?? Hope you don’t lose too many braincells hehe Inspired by our mutual obsession love for the Yakuza. For @lookslikeleese 3.5k! U make my kokoro doki doki ♡︎ \٩(๑`^´๑)۶/ ♡︎

So we all know Weese Leese as this saint, an angel sent from above, a pure soul that could do no wrong.

Leese, who puts up with our spamming, random bursts of thirst at 4am, answering everyone with nothing less than kind words straight out of a self-help book.

The reincarnation of Mother Theresa herself, if you will (minus the controversial problematic part)

Except I’m bout to blow your mind right now, cue the big TRIGGER WARNING: MIND BLOWING INFO AHEAD:

She’s a bit of a closet brat. No, not the kind that’s outwardly sassy, she’s just not a pushover. And maybe a lil stubborn.

Especially if someone who has no right to challenge her is speaking down to her.

See: 6’3, beeg beefy undercut Katsuki

Katsuki, who’s patrolling his district in the Kabukicho, making sure no one’s doing illegal business in his area, his property

He probably didn’t need two bodyguards with him, he could handle himself just fine. (He doesn’t know that they were just there to keep him in line, make sure he doesn’t blow up a hostess club because a man walked in who looked like Deku)

But it was a spectacle to see either way, three massive tatted men storming down the rowdy streets like it’s nobody’s business— (soon there might be none left if they keep scaring the fucking customers away)

Don’t get impatient, we’ll tie them together somehow I promise, and no they’re not going to fight over spilt boba this time

(Or any mugging of any kind, though that’s a good fuckin trope that I will shamelessly re-use)

Weese Leese is walking home from work, and sees some sketchy men in a dingy alleyway in sunglasses and suits— she knew right away that they were Top Tier suspy

I mean, if the way they were trying to coerce an innocent-looking girl in school uniform didn’t already give it away, the sunglasses at 8pm definitely did the job.

So Weese Leese took her whole Mother Theresa, Thou Shalt Not Hurt an Innocent Girl (pls no one religious attack me please) ass over

Because she’s too good for this world, honestly

Can’t help but jump in to try and help someone in potential danger, she knew it all too well herself.

Of course the men flip out, screaming at her to fuck off or take the poor girl’s spot

(for the sake of this AU we’re going to pretend that either we all speak fluent anime Japanese or it’s in English, plotholes be damned)

This is when Big Boss Katsuki comes marching in, wide as the alleyway itself, and—

Doesn’t come to Weese Leese’s aid, SIKE yall thought he was gonna be a knight in shining armour?

Nah, he’s pissed that a random woman is sticking her nose in somewhere she doesn’t belong

There’s a lot of ‘aniki’s and ‘oyabun’s and ‘kumicho’s going around, and Weese Leese has seen enough Yakuza movies fantasized about enough tatted men with missing pinkies to understand that she fucked up

Sort of.

This 200lbs of pure muscle of a man is the Head of Some Family, probably, and like, yeah, realistically she should be flittering in fear, but the only thing she’s getting are fanny flutters (alliteration or whatever, we out here)

BUT how much she wants to fuck this man still doesn’t excuse the fact that his subordinates were trying to force a (most-likely) underage girl into fuck-knows-what

So when Katsuki, in true aggressive on-brand fashion, practically roars out a

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, woman? Stay in your lane, this is my business”

She actually, to everyones surprise, retorts:

“Maybe teach your subordinates to use their brains a lil and pick out someone who’s not clearly underage and still in uniform next time, then.”

So now we’re back to the beginning, end of the: record scratch, freeze frame, ‘Yup, that’s me. You’re probably wondering how I got here’ sequence

Told you it’d all tie together, sans-boba

Back to the show:

Katsuki’s fucking shocked, kinda impressed, but mostly pissed off that some ‘stupid woman’ is talking back to him telling him how to run his business

Weese Leese is… kind of terrified, mostly turned on though, because her brain’s wiring must’ve gotten tangled when she turned into this alleyway.

Sucks for him because she had a point, and Katsuki’s not fucking blind— he can see the uniform clearly on this stupid girl’s body.

They deal with it some Yakuza way, I’ll spare yall the details and me the work of doing research and writing more nonsensical irrelevant waffle (because weese has the attention span of a 3 year old and doesn’t like long drawn out narratives boohoo)

Cut scene back to Katsuki, his two irrelevant bodyguards, and Weese Leese, stood alone in the alleyway.

He’s fuming because she’s demanding an apology for his attitude, his bodyguards are only slightly worried they might have to repave the alleyway (again), and Weese Leese is…

scanning any sliver of exposed skin for some yummy scary tattoos

Long story short, one long passive aggressive (from Leese’s end), straight up aggressive (from Katsuki’s end), argument later, he swallows his pride and offers her a drink at a local bar he owns as a means of apology.

because he’s not saying those words

(also to flex, he’s a proud bastard, he is)

We’ve all read Weese Leese’s hcs about drunk! Leese right? So we know how bold she is?

And how touchy she is and how her brain-to-mouth filter takes a holiday on a Caribbean island so she’s spouting shit like ‘show me your tattooooooos’ and not noticing how he’s blushing in response?

Drunk! Leese gets too drunk, and conveniently loses her keys (she just can’t find them, dont worry we’re not losing deposit money here) so in true Josei manga fashion, he takes her to a hotel

(THAT HE OWNS, HE OWNS EVERYTHING, OYABUN KATSUKI COMING THROUGH)

Because he can’t take her back to his, obviously. Not only is that embarrassing but also dangerous.

(Not that he cares what happens to her, obviously)

Stupid fucking tsundere

Do they diddle the do at the hotel? You decide, but they definitely diddle the do the next morning when she wakes up, sees him splayed on the bed on his stomach and she absentmindedly traces over the back-piece he’s got.

Yeah, he’s for a back-piece. It’s entirely self-indulgent, I don’t care. He’s also got all ten of his fingers because I say so.

And he wakes up with a raging boner mighty need and a half naked girl in his bed caressing the muscles on his back and

BLEEP

Insert censor bar here.

He doesn’t admit that he likes her, of course he doesn’t. Do you even know how tsunderes work?

He just thinks she’s nice, and comforting, let’s him be loud and angry all he wants, but can also stand her own ground and so, so lovely fun to be around. She’s great company, that’s all.

The head of a house needs a woman to play around with, right? That’s what all his shateis say (see: Yakuza term for younger brothers)

So what if they don’t buy their women flowers, take them to fancy dinners at restaurants they own, pound them against the penthouse windows of hotels they own, and begrudgingly take hot soaks in the fancy marble bathtubs the morning after.

He’s just better than them, that’s all.

He’s always the best at what he does, always has to be #1, so courting a woman shouldn’t be any different.

It’s not until his shateis poke fun at how soft he’s become and asks him when he’s inviting her to move in when he realizes—

fuck.

He’s in too deep.

But there’s something special about fucking his woman on the ancient tatami flooring of the house, (he’d only had to replace two holes, so he’s doing alright to be fair)

Or outside on the wooden planks of the hallway, legs pushed down to her ears as he plows her in front of the judging eyes of the Koi fish in the Japanese garden.

Or having her parade around in clothes he chooses for her, proudly displaying her as his. And so they live happily ever after, Yakuza movie style.

They might pop out an heir within the next two years, but that’s all for the better, right? Gotta continue the bloodline and whatnot.

edit: weese made a picrew with yakuza! katsuki

#I literally #this felt like a fever dream #on GOD I had a random spurt of an idea and I snatched it and Usain Bolted with it #I'M SORRY HAHA #don't hate me for the pov change weese pwease #:((((#matchup hcs #crackheads in the psychotic server

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bakugoukatsukisonly · 4 years

Text

i did this on the spot because i just had an idea after reading a dj of them, im a sucker for bakudeku so please bear me.

baku deku oneshot

in which midoriya gets a 'fall in love' quirk

midoriya was shocked, like seriously, who wouldnt? when someone you ever met just now, confessed to you in the span of 2 seconds of eye meeting and in came another person that was just passing by suddenly had the audicity to grab midoriya's hand. he was very terrified and so he ran.

"wh-what? a quirk?" midoroya uttered in shock. "apparently so," recovery girl, who midoriya confronted about the weird things that were happening replied to him. "it definitely isnt a common quirk and probably almost seem none-existant to most people, anyhow, did you bump into some unusual people or did you interact with anyone this pass hour?" recovery girl asked wanting to know the source of this incident that he had. "no, not really- wait maybe there is," midoriya suddenly remembered about the hoodied man he bumped in when he was rushing to school this morning. it was strange because the man looked like he had killed someone by accident and after that the man was on his knees apologising to midoriya, but midoriya thought it was weird how he was apologising that hard for just bumping into him, he explained this to recover girl and she smiled saying maybe he accidently used his 'fall in love' quirk on midoriya.

" so what am i supposed to do?" midoriya said remembering how he was surrounded by people when he came to school just now. "its going to be fine as long as you dont make eye contact with anyone, so use this glasess to prevent anyone from locking with your eyes and also keep in mind that most times quirks only last for a significant time, im sure nothing is going to happen in the meantime" recovery girl retorted smiling warmly.

oh this is not fine at all, he didnt expect the only person he didnt want to meet(or maybe not) to suddenly ripped the glasess from its rightful place, startling the poor greenette, also getting the attention from their classmates. "kacchan no, dont look at me!" midoriya quickly covered his eyes from being seen by bakugou, the person that he didnt want to interact right now, because he didnt want kacchan to feel burdened by this stupid quirk and probably even embarrassed the blonde or so he thought. he didnt think this was going to happen when bakugou didnt act out of normal and even replied with a "what, you shitty nerd, i only asked why you were wearing such shitty looking glasess and not to mention, in class?" bakugou simply replied eyeing midoriya weirdly. midoriya slowly put his hands down and immediately asked "you dont feel anything? nothing at all?" "what? no? was i supposed to?" this had midoriya taken aback, was the quirk gone completely? and so he concluded. there was no need to worry now.

but ofcourse he was dead wrong, when todoroki suddenly caught his hands, looking into the green locks and said "mi-midoriya, i dont know whats happening, but you look so pretty today," cue the gasps from the others and a pair of rageful crimson red eyes.

wait, isnt this the effects of the quirk? but why? and so being the quick witted boy he was he quickly got the glasess back and wore it, to prevent the next incident from happening. the class was still in shock by todoroki's sudden confession. midoriya had to explain the situation and so he did from the hoodied man to why were todoroki acting like that.

"oh, so you just have to wear this until the quirk wears out, is it not?" iida said after understanding the situation. todoroki was also in shock still, he understood everything. midoriya was still curious on why bakugou didnt get effected by it. "can it be?" he thought to himself, heat rushed through his face as he finds himself blushing by the thought that he had the slightest chance but was immeadiately dismissed as the other was dead on hating the poor greenette.

all day, todoroki followed midoriya around like a lost puppy and honestly it was cute of todoroki but what can he do, he was under the influence of a 'fall in love' quirk, so midoriya just hanged out with him all day. it was at lunch that he had noticed the anger filled eyes that was shooting daggers at the poor todoroki, he also remembered how bakugou acted today, he was awfully more explosive than ever. midoriya would caught bakugou glaring at todoroki as if he was a predator lurking for its prey not to mention he almost blew up the school's cafeteria when todoroki was trying to share his lunch with midoriya. midoriya find it totally weird as bakugou wasnt really someone who would do things like this.

meanwhile, bakugou cant take it anymore, he has had enough of the weird heavy feeling in his stomach that was killing him everytime he saw those two together and when he had witness the oh so loving sight infront of him, he just blew up not caring about other people and went straight to class. seeing this, midoriya chased after him and told todoroki to wait for him.

"kacchan, wait, are you okay?" midoriya said catching up his breath and took his glasses off. " what do you want, deku? go on with your todoroki," bakugou said unamused. "and what makes you say that he is 'my' todoroki," midoriya retorted with a smug face. " nothing, for the fact that you were on him 24/7 " bakugou deadpanned now looking at midoriya. "but kacchan, it hasnt even been a day, but seriously though, why are you so weird, you didnt even react to the quirk like everyone else did," midoriya stated curiously. "shut it," bakugou rolled his eyes, turning back to continue on his way. "but kacchan, you almost blew up the whole cafeteria, you surely are not okay," midoriya said still persistent as always. "none of your business, now go away and leave me alone, or i would blow you up too," bakugou stated in a warning tone but midoriya being midoriya, he caught bakugou's wrist and forced bakugou to turn, still waiting for an answer. "wha-what ?" holy shit he's close, ah those freckles looks so kissable its really adorable i cant-

"tell me whats wrong," midoriya asked again with those cute puppy eyes of his, but bakugou still did not gave in although he was almost at his limit, still pulled his hands away turning around again.

midoriya was sure he saw a faint blush crept up onto bakugou's cheeks and he was taken aback. "kacchan? hey kacchan!" midoriya called and was now infront of bakugou blocking his way. "what? go away!" bakugou glared at the smaller one. "kacchan, why are you being like this?" midoriya stated seriously this time, eyeing bakugou dead in the eye. bakugou just stayed silent but midoriya was not one to give up easily.

"kaccha-" WAIT WHAT?! midoriya was beyond shocked when bakugou suddenly pulled midoriya and connected their lips, midoriya's thought was everywhere or rather he had a few broken fuse by now. it was a sweet passionate kiss and when they parted, midoriya was stoic, standing still while looking into bakugou's eyes. "there, is that enough of an answer?" bakugou quickly went pass midoriya and straight to class. midoriya who was still frozen in his spot was soon interrupted by ochako and iida who were on their way to class. "hey deku-kun, are you okay, why are you red, do you have a fever?" "if you have a fever please go to the infirmary" they both said. "oh it's nothing, is todoroki with you guys?" deku said changing the topic. "no he was still at the cafeteria, wait midoriya did the love quirk thingy ended, because i dont feel anything now looking into your eyes" iida said and midoriya was also surprised by it. "oh yeah i guess it is gone now, and by the way i got to go to todoroki, see ya guys!"

after he got to todoroki, he was sure that the effects of the quirk had worn off and todoroki was being his usual self now and he even apologised to midoriya about his behaviour.

midoriya got to their class alongside todoroki, and immediately turned red when he saw bakugou and to worsen the situation, bakugou locked their eyes together resulting in a very flustered deku who then broke it and went to his seat. he hid his face and muttered stuffs under his breath but got caught off when bakugou suddenly spoke loud for the two of them to hear still looking infront "im not saying it twice, so wanna be my boyfriend?" he was acting tough but his body betrayed him, he was shaking uncontrobally and his face was nothing but red. midoriya can see the redness on bakugou's ears and had thought that it was cute. after some time that felt like hours to bakugou but in reality it was only seconds passed, midoriya replied with a faint "yes ofcourse" followed by him hiding his also flushed face with his arms.

"um so, wanna go to the dorms together?" bakugou suddenly said after packing up his stuffs, turning to midoriya. oh fuck why is he so cute, with that blushing face of his. "s-sure" midoriya stuttered from all the nervousness. so they went out together, hand in hand. they were silent, but the atmosphere is a comfortable one. midoriya suddenly gasped with his hand to his mouth saying "thats why the quirk didnt work isnt it?" bakugou was caught off guard, embarassed by himself. midoriya was actually beyond happy, he was over the moon, he had always thought that bakugou hated his guts so this was extremely surprising and also he was having fun teasing bakugou's new side that he just found out about. " hey kacchan" midoriya called out and bakugou looked at him. "i like you," midoriya said with a sweet smile.

BOOM! bakugou exploded, he was very flustered by the sudden confession, his face was bright red, his mind went blank and he couldnt control his quirk. "damn you nerd!" he screamed to a laughing midoriya who find his now boyfriend very cute. after laughing for a bit, he connected their hands again, tugging at a very red pomenerian to continue their way to the dorms.

that was an experience that both of them will cherish forever.

hmm i think i wanna do a bkdk headcanon after this or maybe not?

#bakudeku #katsudeku #midoriyaxbakugou #kacchanxdeku #mha #bnha #myheroacademia #bkdk

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some-jw-things · 4 years

Note

if you dont mind explaining, what did the organisation do that it gives you such reaction? im not jw/exjw myself, im just following this blog because i wanna keep myself educated on all sorts of issues, but if you dont want to its absolutely fine

I mean Jehovahs Witnesses are blatantly a cult. That’s been explained pretty thoroughly by a lot of people.

I guess “this organization is a cult” can be hard to understand what that actually means. On a personal level, it defined my entire life. When I introduced myself to new people, the first thing I said was that I was one of Jehovah’s Witnesses. It was my entire identity. I actually think of myself back when I still believed in it as a completely different person than who I am now. I consider my old self to be dead, and so does my family.

When I told them I wanted to leave the cult, they mourned me. They cried for months. They raged and got angry. My sister refused to even look at me for days. In the span of one sentence, I lost my whole family, all of my friends, and my entire community. I was shunned, and they blamed me for abandoning them.

And I knew that would happen. They had always made it perfectly clear that love was conditional. I was told flat out— multiple times— that I would get kicked out of the house if I got disfellowshipped. My dad told me as a child that he would stop supporting me if I ever went to college, because every Witness he knows who’s ever gone has left the Truth. He also told me that the day I turned eighteen he would make me pay rent to keep living in his house unless I was preaching full time. All of that later turned out to be empty threats and a doctor told me that last part was actually illegal, but my family made sure I grew up believing it.

I was only loved so long as I followed the rules. This is standard practice for Jehovah’s Witnesses. I am lucky I got off as light as I did and wasn’t kicked out on the street. Even that only happened due to a technicality and how obviously mentally ill I was at that point.

Jehovah’s Witnesses’ theology is the reason I started self-harming. I was afab and when I was fifteen I spent a month asking why God thought women were innately lesser than men. That culminated in a big family discussion where I got anxious enough to start scratching at my lip over and over until I had a massive gash. My family watched. My mother made a token protest that I listened to for about three seconds. I walked away from that conversation with the knowledge that I needed to keep my mouth shut because certain questions were actually not allowed and a brand new bad habit.

I created an entire system for myself based on rigid discipline and punishment and the idea that any mistake meant I didn’t deserve to feel un-miserable, which is exactly the sort of mentality that this all-or-nothing religious purism breeds.

I was institutionalized in hospital psychiatric wards four times in the year after I left, and one more time about a year after that. The high school attempted to put me in foster care then, out of concern for my safety if I continued living in that environment. My mother supported the idea

The first time I remember sincerely contemplating suicide was when I was thirteen. My thoughts then were just that I figured I would never be able to hold off killing myself long enough to live to be eighteen. I felt trapped. I was specifically thinking I would never have the guts to be able to pry myself out of the Org and so I would be stuck in it forever. The JW lifestyle is miserable in a way I can’t express

I have comforted my little sister while she’s had a break down crying in the bathroom during meeting because the talk was about Armageddon and she didn’t think our dad would make it into Paradise. She had to stop attending public school because of panic attacks. She was suicidal too at one point, but our mom thought she wasn’t as bad as me and therefore was making it up for attention

Jehovah’s Witnesses by and large treat mental illness with prayer and talking to the elders. The majority of teenage girls in my congregation had severe unaddressed issues. The Society has whole articles on how sometimes the answer IS demonic possession. Their version of Paradise is a eugenics fantasy

At one point an elder comforted my family by telling them that Jehovah likely didn’t view my choice to leave as legitimate due to my mental issues. They have official articles calling all apostates “mentally diseased,” and how am I supposed to argue why that’s wrong?

The majority of Jehovah’s Witnesses’ teachings are bigoted and hateful. They have a cute little kids cartoon that compares the evil gays to terrorists. I was taught the mark of Cain and curse of Esau were responsible for the existence of other races. JW women are required to submit to their husbands and fathers no matter what, and divorce is a sin that will get you shunned. Trans people are forced to live as their agab, gay people have to remain celibate and never date. The elders reserve the right to out you to whoever they want, whenever they want.

There have been so many talks that have sent me running off somewhere private to cry and panic

There’s this little girl in the hall who was friends with my sister. She had needed a blood transfusion when she was a baby. Her parents had been willing to let her die, but the courts stepped in and took her away for a few days. She was given the blood transfusion, lived, and at thirteen had a crying breakdown in the middle of the hall because the talk had just said she would never make it into Paradise now. Usually though, if you’re old enough to speak for yourself, they let you die

My parents have had three bankruptcies and they mock me for saving money. They live as if the world is going to end at any moment. There’s no such thing as a future

The world has been about to end since my grandma was little. That’s a running joke. She’s lived through more changes to the Org than I’ll ever know about. My family has been ruthlessly controlled by this organization for generations. My family aren’t allowed to accept me even if they wanted to. I’ve seen this Org ruin so many people’s lives in a whole variety of ways. Three other kids I grew up with have been disfellowshipped since becoming adults. There are others who I don’t think could leave unless they literally ran away in secret

JW ideology loans itself to a certain style of parenting and that has consequences. They control every aspect of members’ lives. Behavior, dress, speech, career, free time, friends, which family you’re allowed to see, what media you can consume. The thoughts you are allowed to have. I’ve been sent into a spiraling panic before over the idea that “I shouldn’t be thinking that”

The Org barred outside ideas and all criticism. They forcibly kept me in the dark. Members are intentionally isolated from not just all outsiders, but also all outside opinions. I was raised in a way intended to make me an outcast everywhere but within the Org. I was told never to read about Jehovah’s Witnesses from any writer other than the Society itself. I was told never to listen to its critics. I was told that reading forbidden books would get me possessed by demons

The Society controlled and defined my entire life and somehow still manages to do so even after I’ve left. Every member I know has been hurt by it. I’m just the one who won’t forgive

#i feel like this doesnt explain anytthing but whatever #tw #suicide ideation #self harm #ask #ex jw #ex cult #apostate #ex jehovah’s witness #christianity #religion #exjw

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saltys-writings · 5 years

Note

Hi ! I have a request { got7 reaction when you suddenly come and sit on their lap }♡☁☁

[Got7] Reaction to you suddenly sitting down in their lap

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fluff

Warning: slightly suggestive on some members

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

JB:

he’d love it

feels rlly rlly cozy whenever you’re that close to him, because he’d never get tired of being near you

he might not show it that much but it really warms his heart whenever you touch him, especially small, fleeting touches

so when you come sit down in his lap I feel like he’d just roll with it

would defo put his arm around you and hold you, so he can be sure you’re safe and won’t fall

like even he knows it’s unlikely you’ll fall off, but it’s just kind of a reflex

anyway he loves feeling connected to you physically, so he’ll be very happy when you sit in his lap and then he’d just go on with whatever he was doing in the first place

though, if he was about to get up and you’re keeping him from leaving by sitting down on top of him, it can go either of two ways, depending on his mood

if he’s stressed he’ll probably get angry, though he won’t show it for the most part

but he might get impatient while trying to convince you to get off of him

chances are he’ll just pick you up and sit you down elsewhere once he had enough

will make sure to ruffle through your hair and give you a short kiss though, as an apology

or when he’s in a good mood, he’ll just let you have your way with him for a while, probably pretending to be dead underneath you lmao

but no matter what, just remember he can’t ever be mad at you for giving him some physical touch uwu

Mark:

with him it depends on what your relationship is

if you’re good friends, or have been dating for a while, he’ll be much like Jaebeom

very welcoming, making sure to put his arm around you and hold you close

might even lean back and lay your head against his chest

however, will be a flustered baby™ if he happens to have a crush on you

like the moment you sit down in his lap his brain will stop working and he can be seen questioning his whole life over the span of a second or two

plays it cool after that surprisingly well though

however…

the aftermath will look a little different

he’ll be constantly reminded of how much his heart was beating out of his chest when you sat in his lap

and he’ll remember what it was like to have you so close that he could even smell the perfume you were wearing, the shampoo you’re using, etc…

secretly a part of him is hoping you’ll do it again, while another part is too nervous to even think about it

and when it does happen a second time, he’ll be dying all over again

however this time he won’t just let things pass by naturally

chances are he’ll make sure you end up alone with him after that - if you aren’t already alone

and if you don’t make it clear that it was just 100% a friendly gesture right away, then o boi you’re in trouble…

Jackson:

???

what are you doing?

why are you suddenly sitting in his lap?????

will literally be like ???? for a good minute, before he starts laughing awkwardly

“uhm, this feels a little weird you know?”

just keep sitting there, he’ll calm down eventually, and the journey to that point is defo an amusing one

for you, not for him

will be torn between feeling the need to hold you and not to touch you, so he’ll just try to figure out how to give you some stability without making you uncomfortable

his hands will be on your shoulders one second, on your waist the next, and then on your arms right after that

no matter where he ends up touching you, you’ll never be as uncomfortable as he is right then and there

will eventually accept his fate and even feel a little disappointed once you get up

will also be thinking about nothing else for the next two weeks

at some point, when he sees you again, he’ll come round to talking about the incident and eventually come to the conclusion that he wants you to sit in his lap again

will be very awkward while he asks of course

but gain confidence quickly if you say yes and just naturally sit in his lap, maybe even snuggling up to him a little

Jinyoung:

will act surprised when you do it for the first time

but honestly he was just waiting for it

digs it so much

it’ll make him feel like the perfect boyfriend when he knows you’re comfortable in his lap

chances are he’ll ask you to come sit in his lap before you can do it by surprise though

so when you really just throw yourself onto there im kidding pls dont throw yourself he’ll probably just laugh and hold you tight and maybe give you a kiss if you’re in the right position

loves wrapping his arms around you fully and resting his head on your shoulder

also loves placing sweet kisses in your neck and tickling you with them

would spend hours just having you sit in your lap and holding and cuddling you

however if he’s not in a cute cuddly mood chances are - if the surroundings allow it - he will flip your positions, making him the one on top, hovering over you

what follows is most likely a make-out session

possibly even leading to more…

Youngjae:

very flustered the first time you surprise him by sitting in his lap

just like Jackson he’ll be awkward, giggly, and very “????”

calms down quite fast though and maybe holds your hand or smth

it’ll take him a while to get used to this, especially if you haven’t known each other for long

but after a few times he’ll be all about it

really, he loves getting attention from you just as much as he loves giving you attention

so whenever you come sit in his lap he’ll immediately hold you, hug you, and smother you in kisses uwu

likes swaying from side to side when you sit in his lap, and also burying his face in your back or neck

will complain once you get back up

also won’t let go of your hand, in hopes you’ll pity him and come back for “just 5 more minutes”

usually those 5 minutes turn into at least 15

but you can’t be mad at him for that, because he really gives the best, warmest, fluffiest cuddles ever

also loves having you doze off in his lap after a tough day at school or work

Bambam:

flustered as well

what is this?

where is it going?

“Who am I?”

if you listen closely you can actually hear him whisper that under his breath

he’ll be super awkward at first and not know what to do with the situation

you aren’t supposed to sit on top of him like this???

once it becomes clear to him that you really just wanted to be close to him and don’t have any ulterior motives, he relaxes a little

will lightly hold onto you, probably by your waist or hips, and might even rest his chin on your shoulder

but I feel like he wouldn’t be much of a fan of you casually sitting in his lap

if it’s something you like, sure he wouldn’t mind it here and there

but other than that he’d be fine without it

in a less cuddly context he feels differently about it though

I think if you two are starting to flirt or making out, he’d actually find it pretty hot to suddenly have you in his lap, fighting for control a little

so yeah, it all depends on the right timing with him!

Yugyeom:

oh no save this baby

will go through all stages of despair multiple times once you make contact with his lap

when he snaps out of it he’ll just lean over slightly so his face appears in your vision and he will very clearly ask you with just his eyes:

“What the f*ck???”

not in a sense that he doesn’t like it though, he’s just surprised and not used to being so close to you

pls don’t do this in public, he will make a fool of himself

will throw a giggle fit

but will at the same time hold onto you and hide his face behind your back - even when nobody’s around

he really loves it though

will also make you sit sideways, so that he can see your face and lovingly look into your eyes as he rests his chin on your shoulder and holds you tight

boop his nose with yours to make him grin with his whole face

you’re most likely gonna be that overly lovey-dovey couple others secretly want to throw up over for a few minutes

but that’s okay, so long as you two enjoy it

this can also go into an entirely different direction if he’s already in the mood to make out

watch him melt under you as you start kissing him softly and play with his hair

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nikkigrand · 4 years

Text

There’s no easy way to say this, but I’m abandoning all of my works. Everything.

This post is going to be long, honest, triggering and deeply personal. So for those who don’t want to read through all of my bullshit, the gist is that I’m not emotionally or mentally capable of writing anymore.

TW ARE IN PLACE.

If you’ve followed me for a while, then you know that my boyfriend was killed in Afghanistan last year. Since then, my life has been a breathless decline into self destruction. I didn’t know—I still don’t know—how to recover from happily waiting for his return to painfully knowing he never will. I swear that some days I feel like he’s still out there and some day he’ll come home and this will all be just a bad dream. I want to wake up to a reality where he steps off that plane and into my arms, where I don’t keep a crumpled old t shirt that smells more of me than him under my pillow, where the shock of hearing certain songs doesn’t make me throw up. A reality where I don’t have to sit in front of his ashes every time I visit his mother and look at his singed necklace around her neck.

I wanted nothing more than to wake up. Just wake the fuck up and feel alive again because for so long I had felt this choking pain and grief and misery and then nothing.

Everything became an escape, something to fill that void in me. I tried all the healthy things. I ate, I worked out, I ran. I talked to people about how I felt and reached out, but nothing helped. I volunteered, i planted trees and flowers, I channeled my grief into kindness. I tried to take all this pain and turn it into something beautiful, and still I felt nothing. I was falling falling falling into this black pit and was reaching for anything to keep me from hitting the bottom.

So I started chasing highs. The standard shit at first. I drank so much alcohol that I’d wake up in bushes with my friends, limbs tangled in ways that left me sore and stinging for days because who the hell passes out in a Rose bush?

At first, drinking was fucking hell, because no matter how much I drank I’d always end up with my head cradled in the palms of my hands, fingers digging into my scalp as I screamed and wailed and asked why why why why when he was so close to coming home and why was life so goddamn mean??? I’d be in bar bathrooms, just curled in the corner and sobbing like a dramatic princess until my friends carried me out. This happened about a dozen times before it just stopped, because I figured I wasn’t drinking enough if I could remember everything.

So I drank more and more and more and then I realized that it wasn’t making me feel better, it wasn’t doing anything for me.

So I started smoking. Just weed, you know. Nothing too crazy at the time. But all that did was make me hyper-fixate on all of my failures and short comings. It made me hate myself so viscerally, so deeply that I wondered if this is who I truly am at my core. A mean bitch who drinks, smokes, parties. A maneater who fucks these poor kind hearted men to fill that hole her dead man left inside her and still finds herself cold and numb after because it’s not enough. It’s never enough.

I’m sure you know where this is going. But I hated myself. I’m a beautiful girl, I’m not blind, and yet I found myself to be so fucking ugly. So fucking ugly and grey and all I wanted—all I needed—was something to breathe life into me the way life itself did before.

I just wanted to feel happy and normal. Only for a little while. That need was so encompassing it would grip my insides and I’d cry from how much I wanted it, how much I had convinced myself I needed it. It was all I fucking wanted.

So the bumps came. And then the lines. And then whole baggies to myself. And it felt amazing, it was wonderful. The world was alive, things were different. I had more energy, more life in me than I had in months. Then the other type of lines came and it made me feel like I was floating away. There was no pain, no misery, no death hanging over my shoulder to remind me that the strength of your love can’t make people stay.

But soon, that too wasn’t enough. Like every other thing, I felt there was something better, something that could make me feel more. So here is where I tell you about all the pills I popped, all the different colored presses and how each one pulled me out of that hole I was falling into and deposited me above the ground —much higher than I could have ever dreamed of—and filled my grey world with beautiful gorgeous colors.

Then I can tell you about all the tabs I let dissolve on my tongue, or fully swallowed out of impatience, all of the lines of ketamine I combined with ecstasy and acid in one night. The things I saw, the way I felt—it took me far from this dismal life and was addicting. I was chasing something every weekend until it became every other day, chasing some feeling I still can’t name, and I knew that it was ruining me.

My grief and my drugs were killing me, and I knew it. With every cotton mouth, every clenched jaw, every pounding headache, I fucking knew and didn’t care. I’d look at my friends faces and I knew, I knew they loved me and would be devastated if they knew what I was doing, and I still didn’t care. What was life if it felt this empty?

My grades dropped, i turned down a contracting job I wanted for years, I spent all my money on psychedelics and stimulants, and it had gotten to a point where I’d pop a pill while sitting at home just because I didn’t want to be sober and didn’t want to think about how fucked up my life was becoming.

Then one day I was at a concert, high in the clouds with a joint settled comfortably between my lips and frizzy hair piled messily atop my head, when I saw a girl get carried out the venue by medics. She was probably a few years younger than I am, and i remember looking at her face impassively as they pushed through the crowd with her body thrown over this bear of a man’s shoulder as if in slow motion. She was pale and foaming at the mouth, with her arms dangling limply down his back, and she looked dead—she was dead. I knew in that same way you know that the sky is blue when the sun is up, I just knew.

And in that moment—those few seconds it took me to acknowledge that she had most likely overdosed and died—this intense yearning shot through me, so strong that I felt it in the crooks of my fucking elbows, like I wanted to embrace whatever the fuck it was that I desired to live inside me, and this voice cried out, “I wish that were me.”

And you know what, I didn’t even know I had spoken until the guy next to me shoved me in the shoulder and said, “no you don’t.”

And that terrified me. I remember dropping the joint, fumbling it in my shaking fingers, burning myself on the lit end, before handing it off to that same random guy and running off to get some air.

I’m not stupid and I’m not blind. I know I’m depressed, I know I’ve got issues, but I had never said something so suicidal out loud up until that point. I’ve never vocally wished for death and even as I sat there, as I looked out at the people outside the venue huddled together doing whip it’s and killing brain cells, I still wanted to be that poor dead girl on that man’s shoulders.

That was it for me. I remember calling an Uber home on the spot and taking everything I had and flushing it. Im not going to sit here and lie to you and tell you that it was easy. I had convinced myself that I needed these things to make me happy, and i don’t know if I can ever see life the same way after them. The feelings you get off these things are otherworldly, it’s so damn good, but they come at a price. You dont feel the same way you did before you took them, and you never will. You’ll never be who you were before that high, but you can almost convince yourself that it’s worth it. So it was pretty damn hard to take my neon presses, my rocks. my capsules, my bud and my tabs, and flush them down the toilet.

Almost immediately after I did it, I cried. Mostly because i had flushed hundreds of dollars down the fucking toilet, but also because I had become that girl in those cheesy college movies. You know the one, the one where the party girl gets addicted to drugs and goes on a bender and her whole life is just one big goddamn tragedy that won’t end. I hate those fucking movies and I, for the life of me, could not believe I was that girl.

I had been military, straight laced with a good head on my shoulders and a hard worker. I was smart, respected, the girl everyone wanted to bring home to mom. And now I was a hot mess crying in my bathroom because I had just flushed my addiction down the shitter.

Now I’m just home, trying to gather the pieces of myself in a way that doesn’t cause long term damage when I’ve yet to hit my 27th birthday.

I still go out with my friends. They know nothing about what I’ve done because I’ve always gone out and done things alone. This is the first time I’ve ever spilled my guts.

So where does FanFiction come into play in all this. Well, it’s simple, really, if you’ve gotten to this point and picked out all the mistakes in grammar. My brain is so fucked up that I can barely write a passable 3 page essay. I can’t remember words, much less how to string them together to form something beautiful in the way I used to. Trust me, it kills me and I’ve agonized over it for hours. I once tried to take this amazing idea I had and put it to paper but it would just not flow. Nothing made sense. Where before writing was effortless and focused, now my brain could barely concentrate on forming a sentence that didn’t sound like gibberish.

My attention span is so short that I literally have to isolate myself with no internet and my textbooks to get work done. It’s so bad that I have anxiety and panic attacks about the fact that I feel like a whole dumbass with one brain cell, where before I was proud of my intelligence and could hold decent conversation.

I’m still pretty, as if that fucking matters, but now I’ve got a stutter and can’t hold eye contact because my paranoia makes me think they’re judging me. And let me tell you, I’m so fucking pissed about that because I know it’s just my fried brain thinking these things, and there’s no one to blame but myself.

And I still feel empty and numb. How can I write about love and human emotions when I don’t feel anything? How can I write about looking at someone and loving them when the memory of love faded like my lover’s ashes in the wind? I just can’t.

I know love as it whispers against my skin with each interaction between me, friends, even other men, and yet I look at them and feel absolutely nothing.

So Yeah, I can’t write my stories if I can’t get my brain or my heart to work.

I’m really sorry to all my loyal readers. I really am. I wish I had been stronger. Thank you for all of your support throughout the years.

Don’t do drugs.

#trigger warnings #personal

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years

Text

Sugar Rush

Summary- Taylor x Y/N. Taylors birthday is on set, and you have a surprise for him. Smut. Messy Smut.

Word Count- 2.2k

A/N- @official-and-unstable-satan I hope this is what you wanted to celebrate Kitsch’s birthday with. The best and improper way to enjoy cake. XD

“Hey, you there?” One of the sets assistants, Jane asked as she knocked on the door to Taylors trailer, and you popped open the door, and ushered Jane inside, who had a rather large, over sized cake, swirls of green and purples in the frosting, Happy Birthday Taylor written across the whole span of it. You immediately popped open the top and sampled the frosting while stuffing candles all through it.

“God I love the La Briouches bakery.” You say as Jane takes the candles from you and finishes placing them in a nice design. “He still has no idea right?”

Jane nodded, and handed you a lighter, which you slipped into your pocket. “Clueless Y/N, hes finishing up on set and going straight into makeup. Hes going to be shocked.”

Your mouth uplifts in a devious way, thinking that you finally were going to pull off the perfect surprise party for your boyfriend. He didnt even know you were on set today, or that the crew was setting up one of the sets unused for a party after filming today. Todays all about you Sir, you think to yourself. “Good, Im just gonna hang here then till you guys are already.”

Jane checks her watch quickly. "Theres still 3 hours on set till you can go to stage 3" she sees you going for more frosting and swats your hand. "And stay out of the cake!" You wave her off and she leaves you to entertain yourself till they are done.

Taylor had been avoiding the Happy Birthdays singing fest all day, ducking off set as soon as cut was yelled, and not that he didnt appreciate the sentiment, but he really just wanted to be spending the day with his girl. Pulling out his phone as it was finally a break, his co stars went off there separate ways, and he needed five damn minutes to himself before he was shoved into a chair for makeup. He passed Jane in a rush, who whipped around and muttered ‘shit’ to herself, trying to find someplace to ditch the large box of scripts to chase after him. “HEY TAYLOR, wait!”

Taylor though was lost in his phone, typing out a message telling you how much he missed you, and his long strides was taking him to his trailer. Jane finally just ditched the box, running after him. “Shitshitshitshit” Taylor didnt even pause, going in the trailer and almost soundlessly the door shut Jane out. There was no way for her to warn you.

Your phone buzz’s next to the cake, and you pick it up, your finger wanders back into the sweet sweet frosting, slicing it through the sugary fluff to bring to your lips when you hear someone clearing there throat. “Oh Jane, did you for-” Turning you see that it definitely is not Jane.

Yet there is a amused Taylor, holding his phone, looking at you standing next to his surprise birthday cake, that you were just about to taste.... again. You give a shy smile, and a wave of your fingers before stuffing the frosting covered one in between your lips, and that he certainly perked at.

“Eating my cake on my birthday Little Songbird?” He said with a hint of disbelief, moving in close to take a look at the cake, and then at you with an arched brow, waiting for an answer. Your finger comes out with a pop, and a dart of your tongue to clear the excess.

“Maybe?”

He tilted his head, his eyes flashing in warning, your thighs squeezed together at that all to familiar look.

“Maybe Sir”

“Dont you think you should perhaps share?” He still looked amused catching you like this.

You reached behind you out of his sight and sunk your entire hand into the cakes corner, grasping a palm full, while his attention turned to the cake. “And how did you manage this Sweetness?” Distracted by what youve done, you smash the piece cake on the side of his face, cupping his face in your hands and turning him to look at you with a sly grin.

“La Briouche special Sir you like?” Your giggling at the way he is looking at you, whisps of green and purple frosting all along his cheek, and up in his hair and eyebrows, he gave a growl and pulled you in close.

“Oh very much Songbird! But you've been pretty naughty...” He to had taken some and smeared it along your neck in retaliation, making you squeal and try to pull away, but there was no way Taylor was letting you escape that easily. Huffing as he tipped his head, running his tongue along the length of your neck, smacking his lips against your clean cheek.

“Well look at that, I get to have my cake and eat it to.” he bit your cheek playfully, softly as your laughing and tilting your head in to lick at the frosting by his ear, purring against him, and turning it into kisses, he twirls you around and sticks you to perch on the table next to his now destroyed birthday cake, and takes a bite of the treat.

“You didnt just say that” you snicker and he claims your lips, the push of his tongue pushing pieces of cake between you two, and his sticky hands slid up under your shirt peeling it off, it was his birthday after all, you consider while wrapping your legs around his waist and you pushed yourself in against him. Messy Cake Sex it would be. You take a fistful of the frosting and smear it across your chest, smudging it in your bra when he yanked off your shirt. Sure enough he dragged his lips down your chin and dropped to nip down your collarbone chest to bite of the treat, placing heavy bruising kisses along the curve of your breasts as he yanked down the offending bra.

“Your so messy Sweetness” he mutters as his mouth closes around a nipple, the grainy feeling of the sugar rough and smooth along the swirls of his tongue. Fuck! Your fingers bury into his hair, spiking it with dried confections, pressing his head in closer “Fuck yes!” You hiss and he chuckles with a bit of a rush, when he lifts and you both are going through a sugar rush, laughing as your mouths clash once more, and both your hands are at your pants, yanking on buckles, buttons, and zippers, getting them down, both pop open at the same time and yank down, he backs away to yank yours all the way away, your legs kicking out to get rid of the denim.

“I was all dolled up and waiting for you! Sir!” You enunciate his title as he stuffs more cake between your lips and nips at them with a smirk, yanking his pants down.

“That should shut you up sweet little Songbird” he smirked as you moaned at the sugar rush once more.

You mumble through the bite, and rub your smooth pussy against his groin and along the length of his erected cock pressing against his lower belly. Taylor cussed under his breath and place his hands against your ass cheeks and slide you forward. You smirk as you take your cleaner hand and line him up to fill you in that far more delicious way then any cake could ever be. Swallowing your bite and giving the most filthy moan as he filled you with his thick cock, his tongue swiping up your neck to bite that sweet spot behind your ear with a growl, bottoming inside of you. "What was that little one, so fucking tight around me today." He rutted sharply and you gasped, clutching your fists into his shirt.

“You feel so good, deep inside me Sir.” You repeat yourself, still adjusting to feeling him pulsing inside you, He gave a roll of his hips, and your eyes flutter back, nodding. Your frosting smeared face was covered, your hair was had bits of cake streaked through it, and Taylor couldnt have had a better birthday gift. Then you purred at him in that way you do that spirals his blood to rush right into his groin, that ‘give it to me Sir’ noise of yours with the hooded gaze you locked your eyes on his, practically begging to be destroyed. That look.

He grabbed your hips and started thrusting, your legs crash around him to hold on and you fall back against the table with a cry, feeling him just hit and crash into you over and over, your ass and back rubbing raw on the linoleum of the trailers table, the wobbling of it just adding momentum to the way he jerks you back to bury himself balls deep.

You dragged Taylor down to crash over you, your hands ripping at his shirt as he fucked you hard enough for you to give sharp cries and bursts of screaming his name, oops to not calling him Sir, you just had to get to skin, touch, scratch, taste him and he let your hips go long enough get it off, falling back to his hard grip on your hips, crashing against your chest to claim your lips, a plunging of tongues sloppily tangling and bites against lips to inhale each others cries. The cake, that destroyed cake that the bakery sent over special for today, well that toppled off the table into the bench seat.

“Fuck sorry?” Taylor grunts against your mouth, and your responding answer is nothing more then swiping your tongue back into his mouth and groaning, your hands clasping against his broad back and raking nails into long red welts down his back until your able to find a spot to grasp onto, those clenching ass cheeks, pushing him to crash into you, fluttering your core around him cause you were that damn close.

“It was your cake Sir” you huff against his lips, and move to bury your face in his neck, nipping against the shell of his ear. Your lower back arching into the firmness of his chest, feeling the waves start to threaten to crash, the coil snap, all of it to take over. His hand slides into your hair, hard and sharp as it pulls you back so he can look down at you and change his angle, just slightly, since he knows you, he knows how to make you properly fall apart just for him, why hes Your Sir.

“Give it to me Little One” and his cock rubs against that spot, that sweet unleash and you tighten, locking yourself around him as you release. Flooding yourself around him, he never slows himself, but rides your orgasm to chase his own, and deep, out of sync thrusts roughly claim your still tight channel, and his warmth spills, thick coating of cum being milked from him and you arch just from that sensation again, you could be reminded through the rest of the day from him sticky on your thighs, and well that was a gift all for you.

“Mmmhhh, Happy Birthday Sir.” You nuzzle against his shoulder as hes experiencing his own high, deep breaths against your neck warmed you, and he lifted his head to look down at you, the corner of his eyes crinkled in his grin, this time his claiming kiss was not hard and demanding, but a teasing exchange. “Better birthday gift then I could have hoped for. If you got a chance to read my message Little One, it was saying how much I wanted this right here” He lifted to his elbows and ducked his head to lap off a bunch of crumbs and frosting that had wedged itself into your cleavage.

You giggled as you tilted to watch him, arching your brows. “You wanted us to ruin your surprise birthday cake with impulse messy sex Sir?”

“Well not exactly. This was just an added bonus.” Taylor chuckled around lapping off the frosting from around your nipple, making you whimper at the sensation, and finally he pulled back to slide from you and ease you back into a stand, looking down at the mess the two of you promptly made. The cake was completely ruined, leaving the both of you laughing.

“the crew... they are gonna be disappointed.” You pout slightly, knowing how hard they worked to pull all this together, and Taylor already has a napkin to wipe his hands clean and dug out his phone, sending off a quick message to Jane. “We really know how to destroy a cake.”

“Dont worry, I will make it up to them.” He grasped your chin and put a peck on your sugary lips. “Jane will go pick up another cake down the street, and they will be none the wiser that it wasnt the original one.”

You swipe a finger along the center of his chest and looked between him and the small trailer shower. “What do you say we continue this cleaning up?”

His hand snapped on your ass and growled “March baby, youve been filthy and Sir has to clean you up.”

You hop with a giggle, still on your sugar rush, and the two of you go to tumble into the shower, washing away your sticky mess, and making a whole other one. BEST BIRTHDAY EVER!

@official-and-unstable-satan and @kimisama1989

#sweaters birthday surprise #taylor kitsch #taylor kitsch x Y/N #dirty birthday smut #sugar rush

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bladekindeyewear · 5 years

Photo

Bloggin’ bout HS^2′s second upd8 continued. > (==>)

And it had felt so real, almost like he could have reached out and touched him--

--Yeah, the next page is gonna be BGDirk just standing there like I saw before I read the update, right?

> (==>)

Two pages. Close enough.

> (==>)

Hah! Get fucked, Dirk. (Even if you’re supposedly one of the better Dirks.)

> (==>)

Yep, all see-thru and everything.

DIRK: You passed out in a puddle of your own drool. And what the fuck is that on your face? JAKE: My face? What do you mean on my face? DIRK: The moustache, Jake. Who’s idea was that. JAKE: Oh! You dont like it? DIRK: I didn’t say that.

Oh come the fuck on. He looks good in a mustache, Jane-influence or no Jane-influence.

DIRK: We’ve had this conversation before, dingus. I’m you. And I’m me. But I only exist because of your powers. The fact that I’m manifesting here, in the new universe, outside of a dream, is evidence in itself for just how absolutely boned you are.

Now what exactly do you mean by that last part? How is this a sign of trouble?

--Is it because this Dirk thinks he’s needed? And therefore shit will be going down?

DIRK: You’ve been a useless sack of shit for two decades. I’m here to kick your ass back into active duty.

...Hm.

I mean, Jake MIGHT be able to help stop this stupid goddamn war, but this IS Dirk trying to help him, so...

JAKE: And what side am i supposed to be fighting on? for jane or against her? DIRK: Against her. Obviously. What the fuck, dude.

Pffff.

JAKE: But you were the one who wanted her to run in the first place! You wrote her bloody speeches! DIRK: Yeah, I did. And every single one of them kicked ass. I wanted Jane to be the democratically elected president. Not a cake-slinging Jeff Bezos with a great rack.

Pfff. I mean, you didn’t do a great job the first way, either. It’s heavily implied things in Canon-land were about to go to shit too.

Not as FAR to shit, nor as quickly, but still to shit. So, really, how DIFFERENT is this from the way you wanted it done, Dirk? How can you claim this isn’t half YOUR fuck-up too?

DIRK: Don’t worry about it. The point is, you have a chance to make a difference. You’re in the perfect position to infiltrate her operation.

Oh hell no. Don’t send him back in THERE you utter horse’s ass! How could THAT be good for his mental health!? What the fuck about Tavros?!?

DIRK: That’s horseshit and we both know it. Jane would take you back in a second. She loves you.

I think Jane’s definition of “taking him back” would be a bit broader than his body or soul could fucking afford.

> (==>)

Eugh. You really liked the Condesce’s way of doing things right down to her style, huh? To think you used to love the spoon. Is that a fucking spork? Is that zilly Battlespork your go-to weapon now?

Also, it took me a moment to realize those green and orange silhouettes were Jake and BGDirk. I was a little like “how did Rose get here?!?”.

> (==>)

Have I mentioned how good all this art is? So much attention being paid to the use of color, to making everything look so soft and streamlined?

Looks like she’s going in for at LEAST a hug. And the art style might be mercifully light on showing us indulgent details of just how asset-laden Jane is supposed to be. Shots of Jake’s manly bod aside, something in me doesn’t like the traditionally-sexualized stuff pushed like that in a canon that’s been light on it for so long...

> (==>)

Oh, that... THAT looks fake. Or like, she’s about to turn around and happily wail on his ass or something.

JANE: Boo hoo hoo! Oh, Jake! Something awful has happened! JAKE: It--it has? You mean more awful than usual? JANE: The opposition has taken Tavros, Jake. They’ve finally shown their true colors. I knew it was only a matter of time before they attacked our family directly!

.....Ah. Well, that explains it. She’d never cry like that about HIM returning AFTER STEPPING OUT ON HER.

It’s then that Jake realizes that Jane isn’t mad because she’d never realized he was gone.

Poor pages, huh? All their most dramatic gestures always undercut.

...It seems like we might see Candy kind of resolved in less of a fucked-up worldstate after all, at this rate?

She seems to have forgotten that she’d been cross with him the last time they met, because now that Gamzee is gone, there’s no one left to talk to.

It’s true. Gamzee’s absence always improves things.

> (==>)

All of it is made worse by the occasional wry glint in her eye, or moment of self-deprecation in the slant of her mouth. It reminds him of the Jane he used to know. Or the Jane he thought he used to know.

Ambition is a hell of a thing. Seems like she’s drunk of it almost as deeply as Prince Dirk. I’d imagine this could be a pretty consistent thing with really active Life players when they get actual power, huh? The way it just gathers to Life players in all its forms -- power over others, status, wealth -- it’s easy to start to leverage it in ways that constitute abuse of power over others from a Riddle perspective.

At first Dirk stands at Jake’s elbow, a one-ghost support staff, before he appears to lose interest in Jane’s rant and wanders off across the office, reading the spines of books and spending way too long staring at a startlingly phallic piece of installation art,

--PLEASE let us see it.

, the provenance of which Jake doesn’t know, but could hazard a guess it wore a codpiece.

Nope, never mind. Interest lost.

> (==>)

Then he settles on Jane’s desk, propping his ghost butt there and sort of just...well. Here’s a picture of what he does.

Um.

Where is this going?

> (==>)

Oh, so the BEST option, then. :D

Okay. That’s a bit of an exaggeration.

Boooooo.

> (==>)

--Alright, forgiven.

he’s thoroughly exhausted from attempting to pay attention to his supervillain wife while trying not to look at the crotch of a ghost man from his brain.

...Okay, hold up. BGDirk, are you trying to steer him into doing this for self-indulgent, non-comedic purposes? Or is this a bit of Prince Dirk in there? (I mean... I can’t definitively say Jake wouldn’t have wanted this.)

And I’m still wondering how all of this is going to be relevant. IF it’s going to be relevant. Despite promises to the contrary that are seemingly being ignored.

> (==>)

DIRK: All according to keikaku.

Fuck you.

JAKE: i really didnt think id fall off the wagon so quickly. I dont think being here is good for my emotions to be honest. DIRK: Yeah, probably not. But that’s okay. They don’t matter. JAKE: Oh.

Yeah, Dirk, you suck at this more than you know. This ain’t going to go as well as you “hope” I don’t think.

DIRK: Don’t know anything about stiff lips, dude. But that’s not what I mean. It’s not because you’re a man. You’re a god. JAKE: Oh right. That. DIRK: The world comes first, even at the expense of all your relationships and personal happiness. That’s what being a hero means. JAKE: I guess...i never really thought about it like that.

You’re also not guaranteed to be fucking right, you know.

There are definitely dichotomies where what was best for the world wasn’t best for the person, so far, and vice versa in Homestuck. But Dirk’s taking his anime-flavored principles as gospel as usual, and ignoring, oh I dunno, the impact of the heart in all of this. Some people, ESPECIALLY JAKE and other Pages so far, CAN’T operate at their best until they’re at least reasonably healthy and sure of themselves, and investments to that effect are essential to letting them slowly realize their full potential. Brain Ghost Dirk is likely making the same goddamn mistake he made with his overbearing Dirkbot back on Jake’s island.

> (==>)

DIRK: Think what you want about Jane, but at least she realizes that none of you can ever be normal, and she never bothered to try. Can it really be a god-complex if you’re actually a god? DIRK: People like us don’t get happy endings.

...Yup. This is the fucked-over part of Dirk’s worldview coming in full play, here. And he believes in it so strongly that he couldn’t even fucking leave NON-CANON alone anymore. Fuck.

JAKE: Thats bleak dirk i dont think i could possibly believe that!

Mmmhmm.

DIRK: Yeah. That’s probably more a Dirk thought than a Jake one. I told you, it’s hard to tell sometimes. JAKE: Is...is that really how dirk felt the whole gosh darned time?

Mmmhmm.

> (==>)

Last page of the upd8. Well... all I can say is, it’s a good thing he’s a fucking ghost here. And half Jake, at that. At least that can limit the damage. Hopefully giving Jake just enough of a kick in the doing-something direction without being so overbearing that he makes things worse, making for a balance of...

...Wait.

Wait, is that why we’re here?

Maybe that finally makes some sense of all this. Of this cut, of this small violation of that last sentence in Meat, of-- ah, yeah, I might be on to something here! Only maybe, but still--!

We’re quite possibly bearing witness to a realm of influence where, through measures outside of his control, Dirk has a balanced impact. Where this same ideology of his, tempered by Jake’s hopeful mindset and Dirk’s inability to take direct action, might just manage to make things better and actually make everyone happier by the end, while solving Earth C’s fucked-up Candyland state at the same time. It’s possibly to show the readers (through the lens of a Hope player specializing in positive possibility) that Dirk, had he been restrained, COULD have had a positive impact, even at the same time that we’re shown Prince Dirk at his soul’s most overblown and heinous.

And, if we want to be optimistic..... perhaps this’ll show Dirk, too?

Canon and Non-Canon may not “meet” again. But that doesn’t stop Dirk, via this fragment of his multiverse-spanning soul, from seeing Non-Canon. From seeing how well things COULD have worked out, had he held back. And if we keep cutting like this -- back and forth between the “real” story and these events in Candyverse -- perhaps the moment at which Brain Ghost Dirk realizes what he’s accomplished, realizes how much better things are because he could hold back, will coincide at the end with Prince Dirk finally, belatedly, realizing just how fucked his plan was, and understanding at the very, very end why he has to fucking die?

THAT would be interesting.

I guess we’ll see? Talk to y’all next upd8.

#Homestuck #hs2 #Homestuck Liveblog #upd8 #bladekindeyewear #blastyoboots

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albapuella · 4 years

Text

How to Lose a Lover in 10 Days or Less: A Comprehensive Guide to Becoming a Future Romantic Failure (Chapter Two)

AO3

Fandom: Homestuck

Summary: How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days AU Dave needs to win a bet; Karkat needs to write an article. Shenanigans ensue.

Tags: Humanstuck, alternate universe - no sburb session, POV switches galore, implied/referenced child abuse Author’s note: This story is the result of a jam session I did with aceAdoxography on the davekat thirst federation discord server. This one's a little out of my usual wheelhouse, but I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. New chapters every Saturday/Sunday. Didn’t bother with the formatting this time: You want the fancy formatting, go to AO3 :D

Day 1:

Despite his slacker appearance (and life-style, to be honest), Dave was always punctual. He'd even made an effort to look the part of a guy going on a date with another guy: jeans with only a few holes at the knees, his favorite record shirt, and a red hoodie—all freshly cleaned. So freshly cleaned that the sweater was still very slightly damp. Well, whatever, it'd be fine. They were having dinner first, and that meant he'd have plenty of time for the thing to dry out before they went to the movies where the main thrust of Dave's doki-doki plan would commence.

Karkat arrived a few minutes later. He wasn't dressed to the nines, but it was at least to the sevens. It occurred to Dave, as he watched him approach, that he hadn't known how tall Karkat was. The answer was slightly shorter than Dave but with a more solid build. Stocky. Or maybe that was just the black sweater he was wearing. Then again, his legs looked pretty solid in the black pants he was wearing, too. Either way, he looked good.

Dave gave him an appreciative whistle which made Karkat's eyes narrow. Not the reaction he'd wanted. “Looking good, Karkat,” he said quickly, hoping to smooth over any feathers he might have inadvertently ruffled. “I'm digging the whole sexy college professor thing you've got going.”

“Uh, thanks,” Karkat said with evident disbelief. “You, uh, you look good, too.” He straightened up. “You said we were doing dinner first.”

“Yep.” Dave held out his arm. “I’m taking you to my favorite place. A lot of people think it’s wack, but I’m buying, so if you really don’t like it, at least it didn’t cost you anything.” When his date didn't immediately take his offered arm, he shook it invitingly. “It's not too far from here.”

Karkat looked from Dave's arm to Dave, suspicious. Then he sighed and laid his hand on Dave's arm, his hold tighter than Dave had expected it to be considering his earlier hesitation. “Okay. Fine. Sounds great. Let's go.”

---

The first thing Karkat noticed when he took Dave's arm was that his sleeve was damp. Then he noticed the feeling of the arm beneath his fingers. Despite looking thin enough to break, there was some muscle here. As they walked to what was apparently Dave’s favorite restaurant, Dave just kept talking. If Karkat had been offered a thousand dollars, he doubted he could have remembered any specific details of the inanity he'd been subjected to. A nervous talker. He'd have to put that down in his notes.

Dinner went much the same. Dave talked at him while Karkat sat there trying to eat his food (overpriced, faux Italian—of all the places Dave could have chosen, he'd picked a fucking Olive Garden? That was going in his notes, too.). In all honesty, Karkat tried not to pay too much attention to what was being said. First, he'd already determined that most of what came out of this man's mouth was completely meaningless nonsense, and second, if he actually listened to any of it, he'd be hard pressed not to respond to the idiocy. While Dave had no evident compunction about swearing, Karkat wanted to get through at least this first date without screaming.

All right, so that was an exaggeration. Some of what Dave said was actually pretty funny. In a hopelessly awkward sort of way. Karkat hated that Dave's clumsy compliments were making him blush. Clearly, the man had brain damage... which also explained the rapping that Dave kept doing (completely unprovoked!). By the time dinner was over, Karkat was only too grateful that their next destination meant that Dave would have to stop talking.

---

Since Dave had picked the restaurant, Karkat had picked the movie. Some romantic comedy chick flick Dave couldn't be bothered to remember the title of. Still, it gave him an opportunity to sit right tight next to Karkat and eat his weight in popped, buttery goodness, so he really couldn't complain.

“What’s the deal with that dude?” Dave whispered. “I thought he was already tight with that other chick. What gives? Is he cheating on her?”

Karkat made a noise like a cat being stepped on but softer. “Dave,” he whispered back, his tone full of the same sing-songy patient impatience that Rose would use when she thought Dave was being particularly dim, “if you were paying attention, you'd already know that that 'dude' is that 'other chick's' cousin. They are probably not romantically involved. I know you're from Texas, but that's not how it works above the Mason Dixon line.” Then he ducked his head and took a long drink from his soda. “Sorry. Just-just watch the movie and be quiet.”

Dave blinked. He'd been starting to think Karkat wasn't going to open up at all. At least, he'd had fuck all to say during dinner. Even if it had been an incest joke at his expense, it still was nice to hear Karkat say something. Something that wasn't just non-committal noises or unenthusiastic agreements. He leaned against Karkat's shoulder to whisper, “It's not true, you know. About Texas. We don't fuck our cousins; I mean, we do, but not first cousins. We're strictly second cousins only. It's a rule. Of course, none of my second cousins are as hot as you, so I'd be willing to make an exception. Just this once.”

This earned him a light elbowing to the gut and a low growl, but Karkat didn't push him off.

By the end of the movie, Dave had gotten five more elbows to the gut, three startled bursts of laughter, two creative insults (quickly joined by muttered apologies), and one “Will you please just let me watch this movie?” Over all, Dave felt like he'd succeeded in charming the hell out of this motherfucker, thank you very much.

They'd walked out into the open air, a nice breeze whisking away the smell of popcorn and sweat from the movie theater. “I had a lot of fun, Karkat. Thanks for coming on this date with me. Do you think we could do this again sometime?”

Karkat blinked at him, a clear look of surprise on his face. “Oh, uh, sure.” He shook his head. “I mean, yes, I'd love to go on another date with you.”

Dave's heart leapt. “Awesome. You can hit me up on Pesterchum. Or I can hit you up. How about I hit you up?”

“Fine, that's... that's fine.” Karkat's smile seemed uneven. “I'll be looking forward to it.”

Although Dave was tempted to try for a kiss, he didn't think he ought to press his luck so far on the first date. Karkat had loosened up some while they'd been in the theater, but out here under the streetlight, he looked nervous again. The last thing Dave wanted to do was chase him away. “Okay then. I guess I'll see you later?”

A slow nod. “Yeah, later.” Karkat was stilted and contained again. Restricted, like a hermit crab stuck in a shell that was too tight. It wouldn't do. It wouldn't do at all. Dave had caught a few glimpses of the real Karkat tonight, and the sight made him hungry to see more.

Dave watched him walk away, admiring the view with a new goal in mind: he was going to get Karkat Vantas out of his shell if it was the last thing he did. Getting to rub him in Rose’s face at her wedding was only going to be a bonus.

---

* Never shuts up. Not even during movies. Especially during movies. Attention span of a gnat. From Texas. Doesn't know how to use a dryer. Finds me attractive. Probable brain damage. Funny. Charming. Obnoxious. Never takes off sunglasses. Olive Garden.

Karkat sighed and set down his pen. He'd tried his best to be as cordial as he knew how to be, and he still hadn't managed to last for the entire four hours without insulting his date. Multiple times. Oh well. At least Dave was apparently brain damaged enough to find rudeness terribly amusing (if the way he'd kept bugging Karkat during the movie had been any indication).

He'd been surprised when Dave had actually asked if they could go on another date. Karkat knew he hadn't made the best impression, and yet Dave wanted to spend more time with him? He looked over his notes, trying to ignore the surge of happiness that filled him at the thought. It didn't mean anything: Dave was clearly an idiot, and after a few more days, Karkat was going to start on the offensive. Whatever meager promise there would have been in this fledgling romance, it was still doomed from the start: like all of Karkat's relationships.

Day 2:

It was all Dave could do to wait until the next day to pester Karkat. He didn't want to come off as too eager, after all. Didn't want to put Karkat off. But Dave was only so strong.

TG: so i was thinking TG: if youre not busy TG: we could go to the park this afternoon TG: watch the grifters and maybe get robbed TG: or you could come to my place and hang TG: is it too soon to do that? TG: asking for a friend TG: this is dave by the way TG: i dont know how many people youre talking to TG: not that its any of my business TG: i wouldnt want you up in my grill asking me who im talking to CG: IT IS SIX O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING ON SUNDAY. TG: yea and youre up anyway CG: BECAUSE YOU WOKE ME UP. WITH YOUR TEXTS. THAT YOU SENT JUST NOW. TG: oh shit sorry CG: IT'S FINE. I NEEDED TO GET UP ANYWAY. CG: YOU WANT TO HANG OUT WITH ME? WHY?

Dave frowned down at his phone. Was Karkat fishing for compliments or was he being serious?

TG: because its fun to hang out with you TG: thats how this works right? TG: i thought we could watch another movie TG: at my place TG: or your place i guess if that works better for you TG: ive got popcorn if that sweetens the deal at all CG: YES. BECAUSE THE WAY TO MY HEART IS MICROWAVED POPCORN. TG: fucking called it CG: … CG: FINE. I'LL MEET YOU AT THE PARK AT 2:30PM. IS THAT ACCEPTABLE? TG: perfect ill meet you by the giant yo CG: YOU MEAN THE OY/YO. TG: tomatoes tomotoes karkat

Dave watched the little “CG is typing” message run for almost a minute, feeling his nervousness grow. What had he said that required a novel length response? He managed to reign in the impulse to apologize preemptively, but it was a struggle.

CG: OKAY. WHATEVER. I'LL MEET YOU THERE.

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Fine, good then. Nothing was wrong.

TG: im looking forward to it TG: its not hard to intuit TG: when we come out to debut TG: sit by the yo then well go round TG: downtown get the lowdown TG: before we get busy in the hissie TG: partake of the fizzie cause we got a duty TG: to watch the fuck out of this movie CG: RIGHT. SEE YOU THEN. BYE.

Dave shrugged. He couldn't expect Karkat to really appreciate his off the cuff rhymes so soon after waking up, he supposed. Maybe they'd land better later. Flat reception or not, the important thing was he'd gotten Karkat to agree to come to his apartment. He looked around, frowning. Maybe he should clean up a little.

---

Jesus Fucking Christ. Karkat tossed his phone on the bedside table with a groan. It had been all that he could do not to curse out Dave like there would never be a tomorrow. Considering the fact that he was currently planning to go to the apartment of a practical stranger, that much might just be true for him. He lay in bed a little longer, out of spite mostly—he could never get back to sleep after being woken up—, before getting out from under the covers. First things first: notes.

* Inconsiderate asshole. Horrible rapper. Calls the OY/YO “the YO”. Doesn't know the right way to express “tomatoes, tomahtos”. Wants to spend time with me. Insane. We have that much in common.

Thanks to Dave's wake-up call, Karkat had plenty of time to eat a hearty breakfast and start his article.

“How to Lose a Lover in 10 Days or Less: A Comprehensive Guide to Becoming a Future Romantic Failure” BY KARKAT VANTAS

Since you have decided to read this article, I will assume that you are looking to learn the art of ruining your relationships without the mess of all that trial and error. Maybe you enjoy breaking hearts. Maybe you are the kind of masochist who enjoys getting their heart broken but is at a loss as to how to properly sabotage your relationship yourself. If you can manage to follow these simple steps, you will be well on your way to the same bitter loneliness that usually only the most unlucky in love get the privilege to experience.

The first step is the victim. For the purposes of this article, I picked one that is particularly obnoxious and brain dead. You may have different qualities you are looking for in a potential short-term partner. Ultimately, the most important thing to consider when you plan to lose a guy (or gal or enby) is that you make certain they are one you do not mind losing. That way you can start the process without any regrets.

The second step is the hook. Laugh at their dumb jokes; accept their stupid compliments; ignore their mangling of the English language (in my case, his horrible rapping); and generally be as agreeable as you can manage. A severe lack of intelligence in your short-term partner can be a boon here, though you will find most people are not immune to flattery. You need to make certain that you have your short-term partner well and truly interested in you before you attempt to lose them. If you try to lose them too soon, you will miss out on the full relationship ruining experience.

A little too informal, maybe, but a fine start. Depending on how well this afternoon went (assuming he wasn't murdered and stuffed in a closet), maybe Karkat would be able to start on step three. He was able to stomp down his nascent guilt with ease. After all, Dave wouldn't have been interested in him after the novelty wore off anyway.

---

The afternoon was a little warmer than the evening had been, but Dave still wore his hoodie. It felt lucky, and it was still clean. More the latter than the former, but the point stood! He sat down on the bench next to the giant yellow YO installation and waited. While it was tempting to shoot a message to Karkat, he decided against it. He’d be seeing him in less than ten minutes, and he didn’t want him to think he was clingy. Which he wasn’t. Totally not. Dave Strider had never clung his whole life. Ask anyone. Except Jade. Don’t ask her.

He noticed his leg was bouncing and put a stop to that noise. He was a cool operator. He had this thing on lock. The date yesterday had gone good, right? Karkat wouldn’t have agreed to see him again if he’d had a terrible time. He pushed back his hood and ran a hand through his hair. Nothing to worry about. He’d have a date for Rose’s wedding and continue sorting out the mystery that was Karkat Vantas.

Dave heard the crunch of gravel and looked over to see Karkat approaching. Another sweater combo, but gray this time. The guy had a style he preferred, clearly. It was fine: he looked great. He stood and closed the distance between them. “Hey, Karkat.”

“Hey,” Karkat returned, frowning. Of course, that seemed to be his default expression. “I brought a movie to watch,” he said gruffly.

Although Dave had been hoping he’d be able to pick the movie this time, he wasn’t too cut up about it. It might be a little early in the relationship to bring out The Room anyway. He wouldn’t know. “Sounds great. My place isn’t too far from here.” He held his arm out. “Shall we?”

Again, Karkat regarded his arm with suspicion. “Why do you do this?”

“Do what?”

Karkat opened his mouth before seeming to think better of whatever he’d planned to say. “Never mind.” He took Dave’s arm. “Let’s get going.”

As they walked to his apartment, Dave tried to keep the conversation flowing, but Karkat’s subdued responses quickly killed his enthusiasm. “I feel like I’m talking too much,” he said finally.

Karkat mumbled something which sounded suspiciously like “You think?” before he shook his head. “No, of course not. I’m just a little too tired to, uh, participate, that’s all.”

Dave winced at the reminder of his first faux pas of the day. “No problem, dude. I got us covered. I got words for days.”

“Months even,” Karkat added before ducking his head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have--”

Nudging Karkat’s side, Dave laughed. “Nah, man it’s true. I’ve got words for fucking years.”

Karkat smiled slightly. “Decades.”

“Centuries.”

“Eons”

“Until the next motherfucking epoch, I’ve got words, Karkat. So many words. All the words even.”

Karkat snorted, covering his face with his free hand. “Damn it, Dave. Stop making yourself likeable.”

“I think that’s the point of this whole thing,” Dave pointed out reasonably. “Dating, I mean. It’s not like the old days where your dad and my dad decide if you’re worth enough chickens to trade me for, you know. These days I get to decide for myself how many chickens I want to be traded for.” He gave Karkat a mock critical eye. “How about it, Karkat? How many chickens could I get for you?”

“I don’t know,” Karkat said, his mock serious tone almost too close to a serious tone for Dave’s comfort. “Let me look in my pocket.” He made a show of staring down at the pocket containing his free hand before sliding the hand out and flipping Dave the bird. “Is this enough for you?”

Dave laughed. “I’m sorry, Karkat. You must have at least five chickens to ride this ride.” He felt his face flush but pushed onward. “I guess you’ll have to settle for a movie, and maybe some pizza.”

Karkat was grinning, and Dave decided right then and there that he wanted to keep seeing it. “Maybe next time.” As though to intentionally spite him, Karkat frowned again. “Are we almost there?”

“Yeah, man, just a little further.” As they continued their journey to his apartment, Dave felt himself frown. What was Karkat’s deal? He was a lot more fun when he let himself be himself. Dave didn’t like meanness for meanness sake, but he enjoyed a good joke. For some reason, Karkat seemed to think he shouldn’t joke around? Why? His frown deepened. Karkat also apologized a lot. And he was so often deferential even when it was obvious he had OPINIONS he wasn’t sharing. The pieces were adding up to a disturbing picture.

Maybe after he was done hanging out with Karkat today, he should hit up Rose. She’d know what to do.

---

Karkat’s expectations for Dave’s apartment had been fairly low, and he’d been pleasantly surprised. While not as meticulous as his own apartment, there at least weren’t empty food containers on every surface or dirty clothes everywhere. There was an overall shabbiness though: the feeling that the occupant didn’t care overly much about the apartment’s upkeep. The futon in front of the television was ancient and threadbare as were the carpets. The posters hung on the walls were dusty and faded, and there was a sort of mildewy smell. Still, as previously mentioned it was clean (more or less), and there were no obvious signs of a hidden murder dungeon (not that there would be if there were one, naturally).

“Nice place,” he said for politeness’ sake.

Dave beamed like a little boy who’d gotten just what he’d wanted for Christmas. “Thanks. It’s not much, but it keeps the rain off.” He gestured towards the futon. “Make yourself at home. Do you want anything to drink? I’ve got apple juice. And water from the tap, I guess. I could go pick up some beer if you want to go that route, or--”

Karkat held up his hand, hoping to stem the tide of suggestions. “Water’s fine, thank you.”

“You’ve got it,” Dave said before tilting his head and making twin awkward gestures with both hands involving his pointer fingers. “I’ll be back in a flash.”

It wasn’t until after he’d disappeared into, presumably, the kitchen that Karkat realized he’d been making finger guns. What a dork. Not that Karkat was any more suave, but he liked to think he was at least less childish. He tried to supplant the rush of fondness he felt by recalling just how pissed he’d been with this manchild this morning. It was not one hundred percent successful.

Dave returned with two glasses: water for Karkat, and apple juice for himself. “Take a seat,” he insisted as he set the glasses on the coffee table (sans coasters). “It won’t bite.”

Gingerly, Karkat took a seat on the ancient futon. The padding was so thin, he could feel the bars beneath. It was going to take a while to become unbearable, and he hoped this hang out? date? didn’t last long enough for that to happen. Just as he’d been about to reach for the water, suddenly uncertain whether he actually ought to drink anything Dave gave him, Dave flopped down onto the futon beside him like a sack of gangly flour. “Dave!”

“S’up?” Dave asked, grinning.

“Don’t ‘s’up’ me--,” Karkat managed to stop himself from calling Dave an asshole, but only just. “Just don’t ‘s’up’ me. Speak like a normal person.” He realized he was making a mistake as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “Sorry, I--”

“Dude,” Dave said, his grin dropping away, “Karkat, you don’t have to apologise for every kind of mean thing you say. I’m a big boy: I can take it.”

Karkat supposed he shouldn’t be surprised: he’d never been good at pretending to be a good person. If he could have managed that feat for any length of time, he wouldn’t be in this position. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said as dryly as he could.

“I’m serious.” Dave sat up and turned to face Karkat head on, and Karkat saw his own annoyed expression mirrored in the black lenses. “I haven’t known you very long, and maybe I shouldn’t say anything, but--”

“You’re right,” Karkat interrupted, feeling his tenuous hold on his temper slipping. “You shouldn’t say anything.” After taking a moment to make sure he wasn’t going to say anything he didn’t mean to, he spoke again. “Let’s just watch the movie and eat some microwaved popcorn. Does that sound like something we could do? Or would you like to keep pretending you have some deep insights into my character as though we’ve known each other longer than three days?”

Dave raised his hands, and Karkat realized he’d sounded far more aggressive than the situation warranted. At this rate, he wouldn’t even get a chance to lose this asshole! Nice job, Vantas: stellar work. “No, you’re right. I’ll step off.” Dave said softly. He got off of the futon with far more grace than he’d flopped onto it with. “You just put the movie in, and I’ll, uh, I’ll make the popcorn.”

Karkat watched him go before putting his head in his hands. Well, fuck. As though this whole situation hadn’t been awkward before. He should just leave. Just leave, forget about his stupid article, and stop dragging this stupidly likeable idiot down with him. He should.

He stayed where he was.

---

Dave took maybe longer than he absolutely needed to to prepare the popcorn. As much as he liked to consider himself a smooth operator, he could tell when he’d made a mistake, and he wanted to give the guy in the other room a chance to cool down. What made it made it worse was that Karkat had been right to get mad at him: Dave barely knew him. In his place, Dave would probably be pissed, too.

Even so, Dave didn’t think he was wrong about the conclusions he’d come to. It was obvious that Karkat was, for whatever reason, putting on a show for Dave’s sake. Honestly, it was kind of creepy. If he understood why Karkat felt the need to do that, he’d feel better about it.

But it wasn’t his business. Not yet. Maybe you had to reach a certain level on the boyfriend echeladder before that kind of thing was something you talked about. It would probably help if they were actually boyfriends and not just newly dating, too. There seemed to be at least one obvious solution to that problem.

Dave could be patient. After all, he still had eleven days or so to get Karkat to at least like him enough to be his plus one at Rose’s wedding. It wasn’t all he wanted anymore, but it'd be enough to start with. As Rose had so often told him, start with small goals.

He poured an obscene amount of butter over the popcorn in the bowl and headed out to the living room. Karkat was bent over, fiddling with the DVD player, and when he looked up at Dave, his mouth was curved somewhat upwards. “What movie do you have for us?”

Karkat stood. “Coming to America.” He made his way back to the futon and sat down as though worried he might fall through if he sat down too quickly. “It’s more comedy than romantic, so I thought you might enjoy it more.”

That sounded vaguely familiar. “Okay.” Dave joined him on the futon, taking care not to startle him this time. “Let’s get this party started.”

---

Karkat had hoped bringing a comedy would hold Dave’s attention enough to keep him from talking through the whole thing. He’d been mistaken. Yes, a lot of what Dave said was funny, but it just never fucking stopped. Finally, Karkat couldn’t take it anymore.

He grabbed the remote and paused the movie. Then he very deliberately set the remote back down. “I want you to listen to me, Dave. Are you listening?”

Dave looked confused, but he nodded. “Yeah, I’m listening. Do you have something you want to tell me? I’m all ears. Lay it on me.”

God, he couldn’t even listen without rambling! “Would it kill you to shut up?” He saw Dave’s eyebrows peek over the tops of his glasses. A part of him told him to reconsider his current course of action, but naturally, Karkat could never abide by a piece of good advice. “Would it literally cause you to drop dead if you couldn’t expel your idiocy out of your mouth like a goddamned septic pipe full of half-formed metaphors and bullshit? Would your head explode? Can we try that experiment and see what happens?” Karkat felt his fingernails biting into his palms and realized he’d clenched his fists. “What do you say, Dave? Wait, I’ve changed my mind: don’t say anything. Let me bask in the gentle ethereal glow of silence for a moment. Can you do that for me, Dave? Can you let me bask? Will the endless flow of words finally cease?”

‘No’ was clearly the answer to that question since Dave was already opening his mouth. Then, to Karkat’s utter shock, he shut it again. His expression wasn’t ever easy to read with those douche shades he insisted on wearing all the time, but now it was completely closed off. Even the eyebrows had lowered back to their original position.

Silence stretched between them.

Karkat felt sick to his stomach. Shit. Shit. He really just couldn’t do it, could he? Couldn’t pretend even for a few hours that he was a normal person. Well, so much for this experiment. Time to write off this little adventure. Was it worth even trying to apologise? Before he could decide, Dave made the decision for him.

He was clapping. “Damn, just got owned,” he said, a wide grin splitting his face. “You owned me, Karkat. You should feel proud. Not everyone gets own this,” he gestured to himself. “I just hope you know what you’re getting into: I’m barely house trained.”

For an embarrassingly high number of seconds, all Karkat could do was blink. “You’re not mad?”

“Fuck no,” Dave said, still grinning. “I’m a big kid now. I’ve graduated from diapers all the way to pull ups. It takes more than a finely crafted, well-deserved take down to take me down.” The grin softened. “This is what I was trying to say before: I want to date you, not some weird super agreeable version of you. If you want to tell me off for talking too much, fucking go for it. You’ve got a way with insults--it’s a gift. Frankly, I’m insulted you’ve been keeping it to yourself.”

“There’s more where that comes from, asshole,” Karkat said before he could stop himself. To his amazement, Dave still seemed more amused than anything. A strange mixture of anger and fondness welled up inside him. “Stop grinning at me, and watch the fucking movie.” He picked up the remote and hesitated. “You don’t have to be silent,” he said, still feeling a little guilty over his earlier outburst, “just maybe less talking?”

Dave made a big show of running a zipper over his lips. Then he immediately ruined it by saying, “Scouts honor, Karkat. My word is bond. You can cash that shit at the bank.”

Karkat tried to picture Dave as a boy scout and failed. “Right.” He pressed play and the movie resumed. Of course, Dave still talked during the movie, but the sheer volume of words had slowed to a moderate stream rather than the full-bore blasting Karkat had been subjected to earlier. As he sat there on the futon, occasionally answering Dave’s stupid comments with barbs of his own, he felt warm in a way that was only nominally connected to the temperature of the arm he was leaning against. He felt… content.

---

Overall, Operation Hang Out had been a big success. It had been rocky in places, but again, overall, Dave felt like he’d hit his major mission objectives. A movie was watched, pizza was consumed, and Karkat finally, finally, did something other than apologise every time a hint of the person he’d met at the cafe had come through. He didn’t necessarily want to keep pissing Karkat off, but that bitch fit he’d thrown had been epic.

Karkat wasn’t the kind of guy Dave had expected to find himself interested in. At least, he’d never thought he’d have a grumpy asshole kink. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed the more quiet parts of Karkat’s visit, too. It had felt nice to sit on the futon with someone leaning against his shoulder. Dave wasn’t a sap, no, not a suave guy like him, but he couldn’t deny he’d like to do it again some time.

He considered texting Rose as he’d planned to earlier before deciding not to. After all, he’d managed the first crisis all on his own, and she might consider it cheating if he got her help. No, for now at least, this bird was flying solo.

---

* Clean apartment. Finger guns. Puts too much butter on popcorn. Also talks during movies outside theater setting. Likes getting insulted. Kink? Wants to date the “real” me. Delusional. Comfortable arm. Had a nice time. Had acceptable time. Clothes in his shower???

#Homestuck #Humanstuck #fan fic #my fic #wip

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disloopy · 6 years

Text

the heart is deceiving pt.2

bloo

genre: angst, smut

word count: 1.8k

a/n. firstly i apologize for how long this part is i just rlly wanna add everyth and it’ll all make sense in the end ok. n e ways regarding the whole bloo scandal and stuff idk cuz im not rlly a whole ass bloo stan aight so im gonna kinda stay away from that until he or someone clears stuff up so i dont do the whole “cancelled/uncancelled” thing lol k read

LAST a/n i promise. i changed it to first person pov cuz bitch i wrote the entire thing in first person on accident and i just cant deal w this any more

LIPS. daniel's were dripping with ambrosia. kissing him was like tasting an eternal summer, an immortal hour of golden skies, humid nights, honey kissed skin bronze and glistening as we moved against each other.

in this short span of time, daniel seemed to know everything about me; what i loved, what i hated, what got my heart racing and my breathing heavy, he knew what turned me on and he did it with finesse.

seeing him sit up, red marks on his back as he leaned against the bed frame and lit up a cigarette, felt like a scene taken straight from an angst filled movie. i wanted to admire every aspect of him; the way his damp hair stuck to his forehead, the purple bruises forming dark clouds over the moon tattoo, a cigarette dangling between his swollen pink lips.

i curled under the white sheets, so different from my own patterned ones, feeling immersed in the comforting smell of him. he rolled out of bed to get me my jacket to cover myself with. "this is yours," i told him when he handed it to me.

"what's mine is yours, baby." daniel laid down next to me and i wrapped my fingers around the golden necklace that hung loosely around his neck, pulling his face closer to kiss his lips once more. perhaps the taste of his lips was like the food of the greek gods ― pleasurable and addictive.

when my father called that night, i let another lie escape my dirty lips, telling him i had left the party and decided to stay over with jojo. "i'll see you tomorrow then, baby. love you."

"i love you too, daddy." why was i compelled to do the worst things when it came to daniel? i didn't know, but i liked it.

daniel raised his eyebrows as i hung up the phone. "oh, i thought you were talking to me when you said that." i clicked my tongue and laid my throbbing head on the pillow. it's like my lie came to life.

"do you think anyone heard us?" i asked daniel, looking up at him. the smoke seeping out of his lips enveloped my face for a second, and i indulged in the suffocating feeling.

"who cares? they'll only hear your moans... the real sight is for me to see."

he talked like that usually, but he was definitely wasted tonight. he tried to put his arms around me but i rolled onto my side, away from him. "what's wrong, baby? you didn't like it?" daniel rested his head on my shoulder and i reached up, running my fingers through his hair.

"will you forget everything in the morning."

daniel scoffed, his breath tickling my skin. "i never forget... but in case i do, then we can do it all over again and it'll feel like the first time." i laughed softly, and then turned to look at him, running my fingers over the birthmark on his cheek and over his lips, just like i had fantasized about doing on more nights than one.

daniel just parted his lips, taking my finger into his mouth, his eyes unwavering as they stared into mine. daniel was everything i wanted to be, everything i needed him to be; fearless, emotional, dominant.

"do you... really like me?"

"you talk too much," daniel groans, lighting up another cigarette. "i do... but if you ever end up in my bed again, don't think about asking me such a question."

i received stares when daniel dropped me off at school the next day, in his black bentley with the roof down and the early morning breeze running through my hair, much like his fingers had done just the previous night.

"see you later, baby?" said daniel, pressing a kiss on my lips that caused everything to somehow fall into place. i would leave the shadow of his lips on mine, getting me through the day.

it didn't take long for jojo to point out the band-aids on placed carefully on my knees caused by the rough work of last night. i didn't expect anything less from daniel.

"was it really like that?"

i nodded, taking a long chug from my water bottle. "it was like that. all fucking night long. he didn't even let me get on the bed until he was done."

"my, my, my, it's always the ones who look innocent that are the most freaky," jojo remarked, shaking her head. "and while you were getting it on with daniel, tattoo face has been blowing up my phone."

"jinyoung?"

"whatever his name is."

sometimes i wish that i could be like jojo - so caught up in her own world, independent, free of need to feel important or appreciated. maybe that's why people were just so drawn to her. i, on the other hand, craved attention and daniel didn't mind giving it to me. we fit each other.

TOGETHER. that's the way we were mostly found. tangled in between daniel's sheets, wrapped in each other's arms, clinging to one other ― where one went, the other followed. his friends soon became mine and my one (1) friend became theirs. just like that we became connected and feeling that connection was something worth risking for in life.

"mm baby wake up... i have to take you to school." the low, gravelly voice stirred me from my sleep but i didn't have enough motivation to open my eyes. last night, i had sneakily set an alarm on daniel's phone titled "wake y/n up for school" ― not that i couldn't have done it myself, i just thought it would be nice to be woken up by daniel this morning.

i stretched out my arms and laid my head atop his. "i don't wanna go to school," i murmured softly with a yawn. daniel grinned and snuggled closer to me, his arms snaking around my waist so that my back was pressed against his bare chest.

"okay."

my eyes fluttered open as i yawned again. "you're supposed to tell me that i have to go."

daniel propped himself up on his elbow, brushing the strands of hair out of my eyes. "why would i do that? i want to lie in bed with you all day long, maybe fuck you back to sleep." it may have been too early in the morning to be affected by daniel's words but they hovered around my body, squeezing my insides right down to my very core.

i reached up, wrapping my arms around his neck and he lowered his head, trailing kisses down my jaw and shoulder. daniel could never waste enough time getting me undressed, hands ghosting along my skin, his lips worshiping me like i was something divine. my fingers running through his hair and his fingers complimenting all my curves and edges.

between us was electricity and friction, silence being broken only by my soft whimpers for i could no longer handle the enticing touch of his body and craved more than just that.

then a sudden interruption came with the opening of the door and nicholas's voice informing us that they were going out to eat breakfast. "what the fuck, nick!" daniel exclaimed, throwing a pillow at his friend before covering me with his body. "do you mind?"

nicholas just yawned, bored. "how am i supposed to know she slept over?"

"as if you couldn't hear us last night."

"ok just get ready, we're leaving now." he shook his head and walked out the door. i wanted daniel to get closer, to bury my face in his tousled hair, his hands to dutifully commend my body. but instead he sat up, checking his phone.

i sighed, wrapping the blanket around my bare chest. "you didn't lock your door?"

daniel smiled sheepishly. "i guess i forgot?"

"or did you want someone to find us?" i asked seriously. "you act like our sex life is to be shared with the entire world."

"shouldn't it be?"

"only if you wanna put a label on it," i murmured quietly so he wouldn't be able to hear me. daniel was so obviously into exhibition and i found it strange how he didn't mind his friends walking in on us, knowing about us, what we chose to do together.

daniel talked about things while we were in the car; things i only cared about because he cared about them. somehow what was special to him meant something to me because it was a side of him i never knew existed, yet loved all the same. and because his bros were a big part of his life, they became a part of mine - like i finally found a proper family.

"hey - um," daniel started when we stopped in front of my school building. i stopped in the process of slipping on my bag to turn and look at him. "i wanted to ask you something."

i became interested. "what is it?"

daniel sighed, looking down at his lip as if he was unsure about something. "i just thought... let's make it official? do you want to be my girlfriend?" i didn't know what to say. i assumed we were already dating with the amount of time we spent with each other, on his bed but i guess he felt differently.

when i didn't reply, daniel continued. "i mean, i've been hooking up with girls but i'm sick of them coming onto me like i've got nothing better to do... it's different with you."

"oh..." i faltered, knowing i should have expected something like that. it was just the most daniel thing to do.

"do you not wanna?"

"no! i mean, yes... yes of course i want to be your girlfriend," i told him, lacing my fingers through his. "but... we haven't even been on a proper date yet."

daniel grinned, pulling me closer just to press his lips against mine, tugging on my bottom lip before i moved away. "then where would you like to go? hm, baby?"

i thought about it for a second. "monet's diner? it's like at the edge of downtown."

"of all the nice places in ventura, you want to go to a diner?"

unlike daniel, i still wasn't familiar with the boujee lifestyle that came like second nature to him. i've never owned anything expensive and never wanted more than what life had to offer me. maybe being with daniel would mean having to change all that.

"the last time i ate there was with my mom," i explained, looking down at my schoolbag, playing with zipper. "i just never had someone else to go there with... until now."

daniel reached up and touched my cheek, probably the most gentle gesture of affection he'd ever shown. "then we'll go there."

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