#sometimes you’re a reward and sometimes you’re an offering. objectification rights!

[transmascsam]

s11e23, "Alpha and Omega" | s13e21, "Beat the Devil"

[oftenderweapons]

Steamy Waters — Jungkook

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x reader (nicknamed Candy)

Wordcount: 7.7k 

Genre: smut, pwp; initial fluff, but don’t let that fool you; established relationship;  idol!AU

Rating: 18+

Hello my fluffy ducklings, welcome to Jeongguk’s Steamy Waters 😈

I won’t even pretend there’s a plot in this. It’s just Jk, coming home from the gym and finding excuses to shower with his gf. Set almost a month after Love Talk, Jeongguk is finally ready to take a big step in his relationship with Candy, however finding the courage for the big leap is excruciating. Candy is more than willing to reward him before asking for something in return, she simply doesn’t know how much her game will cost her. 

I decided I’ll keep using the nickname the nickname “Guk”, (see more in this post). Now, straight on to...

TRIGGER WARNINGS: unprotected sex within an established relationship (don’t do that unless YOU’RE TESTED AND CLEAN), mentions of therapy and mental health; sweaty jock!Jungkook, smitten!Jungkook who can’t express his emotions but IS WORKING ON IT, with a very supportive gf; I guess there’s a striptease, if you like... squint?; masturbation (female and male receiving); breast worship; period talk; very intimate love confession; foreplay under the shower (specifically mutual oral sex — aka 69 — while laying on the floor); predator/prey dynamics (namely she runs and he chases her, finds her as she tries to hide, drags her out and throws her over his shoulder); plenty of lube (lube is important and useful, let’s normalise using it); lots of degradation and objectification, name calling (fuckdoll, slut, cocksleeve, cockfairy), very multiple orgasms — like a lot; edging (both male and female receiving), begging, crying, slight humiliation. These two know all the possible variations to missionary sex (sorry not sorry); biting; slightest, most delicate face slapping and grabbing; spanking; tattoo fetish; cumplay, mentions of cum eating. 

[Inspired by this look]

Here is my masterlist and check out my non-idols!AU (Partition update coming on Sat, Jan 23rd!!!) 

Remember to vote for next prompt (link in bio)!

And now, enjoy ✨💜

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The entry door smashed loudly sometime around ten p.m., followed by the thud of a bag falling to the floor, Jeongguk’s heavy steps stopping as he took of his shoes.

The moment he appeared he looked unreal, with an oversized black shirt reaching his mid thigh, the sleeves exposing his forearms and part of his tattoos, his hair falling messily in wet curls over his forehead.

“Candy, babe?” He called from the entry. “I’m home!”

“Guk?” You called from the kitchen, your head peeking around the corner. He spotted you and smiled.

“What you doing there?” He said with a smile, sauntering towards you, standing at your side and placing a hand around your waist as you stood by the stove.

You turned and stood on your tiptoes, puckering your lips and closing your eyes.

He bent down and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. “I’m sorry I’m messy.” He said, close to your mouth.

“Are you fresh out of the gym?” You asked.

He nodded. “I haven’t even showered yet. I wanted to come home as soon as possible.” His fingers rubbed your side gently, trying not to tickle you. “I missed you a lot today.”

You smiled as you finished warming up his favourite post-workout snack. “I’ve already eaten. I thought you might be hungry.” You said, just as he stole the ladle and took a sip.

“Yum!” He commented, placing the utensil back in your hand. He stood behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders. “I wanna hug you but I’m too sweaty.” He commented as he kneeled the tense muscles of your neck.

You shook your head. “Oh, these need to be washed,” you said, referring to your outfit. “We went to a bulgogi place today and I feel like I smell so bad.”

“You haven’t showered yet?” He asked, his hands slowing down, almost stopping.

“No… I switched on the tv and there was this interesting old interview with Miyazaki and I got caught up.” You explained with a cheery tone.

“The Japanese director and artist?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You confirmed, switching off the stove and pouring a couple ladles of noodles and broth in a bowl, adding some basic decorations on top.

He paused before wrapping an arm around your waist. “Can I hug you then?” He asked gently, almost too quietly for you to hear.

Still, there was no way you wouldn’t hear his voice. Sometimes you thought you could hear his very thoughts.

“Of course you can hug me, Guk.”

His body adhered to yours without hesitation, a low moan exiting his throat as he felt you sink even deeper into him, pressing into his body, almost trying to hide into him.

“I said I missed you.” He said shyly, waiting for you to praise him as he opened up about his emotions.

You were working through it, together, trying to make him open up more, offer you more of himself, of his feelings and fears.

“I missed you too, baby. I love you.” You spoke against his chest, taking in the clean and humid scent of his skin. He always smelled so good even after working out. Especially after working out.

Your hormones did a somersault.

“Today I felt very… restless.”

That was a very specific word for his emotional vocabulary. Lately, he was getting better and better, finding new words that fit his moods appropriately. His way of speaking was always plain, in the best meaning of the term. He is simple and transparent, always using basic words with great meaning. That seemed to be his style, pure and direct, honest.

However, he was growing a lot, even emotionally. He was slowly losing the adjective “young” that people normally put before the word “man” when trying to describe him.

He is a man. And an excellent one at that. Sure, a bit naive sometimes, and still shy, but he always showed a caring, attentive side whenever you tried to speak your needs and grievances within your relationship.

“Mh… What made you feel restless today?” You asked, repeating an exercise that your psychologist always made you do when you were a teen.

“We practiced a choreo all morning. And we always messed up the same part. There’s a very difficult transition and it’s just… so difficult to end up in the right position after the passage.” He said, huffing out loudly.

You thought about his food getting cold, still you knew that if you made him eat the conversation would quite surely stop. “Anything else, baby?” You asked, kissing his breastbone.

“We had a couple interviews this afternoon. One with a radio and another one with a talk show.” He said. “I’m glad that my English is improving. Namjoon hyung said he’s proud of me and that I did a good job.”

You heard the smile in his voice.

“Even Yoongi hyung said I did a good job. And he offered me a tangerine!” He said enthusiastically.

You rubbed his back. “We’re all proud of you, baby.” You said fondly.

“Thank you.” He replied and when you looked up at his face you saw his ears flush red.

“Time to eat, Koo.” You said, pressing your hands to the sides of his head, trying to calm down the blush.

He smiled.

He looked beautiful.

On your tiptoes, you kissed the mole under his lip, shortly before he picked you up by the waist and brought you at his eye level, your arms anchoring behind his neck as he pushed his mouth to yours. “Thank you.” He said again, that feeling in his chest getting more and more urgent.

He would say it. Just… Not now.

He had plans.

He took the bowl and a spoon in his hand, the other one staying around your back, pulling you to the table with him. First he placed down the objects and then he sat, still holding your hand, tugging at it gently and making you sit across his lap.

You giggled and adjusted yourself, your forearm moving behind him and securing you to his back.

He pecked your temple and thanked for the food quickly before digging in, slurping loudly and devouring the whole meal in eager, large spoonfuls.

“No one’s stealing your food, baby, don’t eat too fast.” You said, worried as he paused for a moment, only to take a few breaths and dig in again, finishing the bowl.

He placed down the spoon and rubbed his belly, exhaling with a satisfied grin.

You smirked. “Would you like some more?”

He shook his head no. “I wanna shower.” He said, placing the spoon in the bowl and handing both to you; but before you could protest, thinking he was asking you to tidy up, he moved one arm under your knees, the other around your shoulders, picking you up bridal style.

“Guk, for goodness’ sake!” You shrieked, trying to secure yourself with one arm, the other holding the bow.

“Trust me,” He said, “I’ve got you.” He reassured you, stopping in front of the sink and helping you place the bowl down. Next, he made you sit on the counter, “I need both hands free for this,” he said, picking up the pot and covering it with its lid before placing it back inside the fridge.

He would deal with that later.

“Come here,” he called, standing between your legs and picking you up again, his hands pressed to the back of your thighs. You pushed your nose against the soft hair of his nape. “Where are we going?” You asked, curious.

“Shower.” He said, reaching the room and placing you down near the sink in the dim light coming in from the window. He looked at the saffron gleam of the streetlights landing on the floor, cutting a thin, long stripe landing at your feet.

He took a step forward and stood in it, his black shirt immediately absorbing the light with a curious pattern of shadows that seemed to offer small outlines of the taut, solid muscles underneath.

Jeongguk stood there, fascinated with the way you looked at him, almost ready to hide his face in his hands before you traced the line of his collarbone, then up his throat, until you reached the deep darkness enshrouding his mouth.

“Would you take off your shirt?” You asked, cupping his jaw.

He nodded. “In a second.” He said, staring some more.

He would have never believed he looked at you the same way you looked at him, weren’t it for the picture that had become his new desktop wallpaper a few hours ago. Jin had sent him a picture of the night Jungkook had introduced you to the boys, a week after the two of you had reunited. In the picture, you were talking with Jimin and Taehyung, the older leaning into you as he laughed hysterically while the younger looked at you like you had hung the very stars in the sky. Sitting on the sofa, you glanced up at Jeongguk as he stood behind you with his hands on your shoulders, a large grin on his face and the warmest feeling glittering in his eyes, his ears bright as your own lips opened up in a soft smile.

And now he stood in front of you and you were gorgeous. And he felt so in love.

So desperate to touch you.

But you looked like a vision, a mirage ready to disappear like his unsteady feelings; like that ugly, lying voice could come up any moment and make his doubt you and himself, making him believe that he was incapable of understanding true love, that he had been fooled once and it was sweet like this at the beginning until all there was left was barren land and bitter dust.

He took off his shirt. You moved away the hand on his face before you got tangled up, giving him space until his naked torso was right in front of you.

“You’ve been getting skinnier.” You said, placing your hands on his pectorals. “You’ve lost weight?” You asked, cupping his face again.

“It’s why I’m exercising. It was hard to keep a routine while I was gone.” He explained, placing his hands around your wrists and pushing them down. “Am I not strong enough? Fit enough?” He asked once your hands were resting on his pectorals.

Your thumbs circled his nipples, making them harden immediately. “No, baby.” You argued, a bit disappointed. “I’m saying I wouldn’t mind if you slowed down with the gym and ate a tiny bit more.” You replied. “I love you. I don’t care about your looks, but you’re all bones and muscles. I don’t mind the flesh.” You said, pinching his belly and finding only skin between your fingers. “I’m saying I don’t want you to be so hard on yourself.” You explained before your hands travelled to the ribbon of his sweats.

“You want me to put on some weight?” He asked, incredulous.

“I just want you to be healthy and eat enough food to match your workouts, and do anything you want with your body without feeling pressured. True Army will love you with or without abs.” You raked your nails across his taut abdomen. “And I don’t care as long as I get to touch you like this. Or kiss you here.” You said, following the shape of his cock with a finger.

He smiled and blushed — which you couldn’t see, considering the dark room. What you did feel was his sex twitching and hardening some more. He moaned weakly, his head falling forward and landing on your shoulder. “You mean you care only about blowing me?” He asked, his hips pushing against your palm, his hair tickling your neck and ear, making you arch away from his sinfully messy mop of hair.

You cupped him from over his sweats, massaging him slowly, gently. “Let’s say it’s a pretty important factor in our relationship.” You joked, nuzzling your nose against his head.

“Mh...” He commented meditatively. “How important compared to your love for me?” He asked, mouthing at the underside of your jaw, chuckling and teasing it with the vibrations of his voice clad in a deep rumble and the thick, teasing accent of his dialect.

“Mh… they’re neck and neck for factor number one.” You teased back, tracing his happy trail with your index finger.

“Neck and neck, you say...” He mused, nipping at your throat harshly, making you gasp. “Let’s see what happens if I take it away from you.” He wondered as he took a step away, out of your grasp.

You tried to keep touching him until he was too far for you to reach.

“Hands to yourself, babe.” He scolded as you licked your lips, looking at him as he switched on the soft led from the shower, lowering it to a soft dark red. “Promise me you’ll keep your naughty fingers at bay.” He asked, taking one step toward you.

You nodded eagerly, “I promise. Please.” You begged, placing your palms flat on your thighs and waiting for him to come closer. Once more he stood between your legs, his hands catching your wrists and bringing your arms behind your back, indirectly making your spine arch forward and push your breasts up.

He stared unashamed at your curves, barely visible over the large cotton blouse. “Keep your hands there.” He said, his fingers starting at your buttons. “My turn.” He said, undoing enough buttons to reach the lower hem of your bra, his hands sliding into the opening and cupping your breast from the lower, outer part, pressing them together and planting his face right in the crevasse, making you laugh at the drastic way he dove in.

“You good there, Guk?”

He nodded simply. “God, if you’re listening, this is a good moment to die.” He commented gingerly. “Let my girlfriend’s tits be the last thing I see before I pass.” He went on. “Amen.”

The laughter overtook you, your whole body wiggling with giggles. “Admit it, you love my tits way more than you love me.” You said before realising that the joke didn’t work both ways: even though you had confessed your feelings, he hadn’t done so with an actual declaration yet.

“Neck and neck.” He replied, letting his feelings implicitly show with ambiguous confessions.

He drew the upper curve of each breast with small kisses while his fingers worked the buttons left. The moment he reached the last one, he undid it and raised his head, looking you in the eye for the longest, slowest seconds in the history of the universe. His lips collided with yours, pressure building and building until you separated, galaxies of feelings and sensations blooming in both of you.

His hands pushed the blouse off your shoulders, letting it slide to your wrists. Next, he moved the straps of your bra off your shoulders kissing the slope of your neck and collarbone slowly and leisurely on the left side, before turning to the other side and parting his lips, letting half an inch of his tongue hang from his mouth and trace the ridge of your collarbone, his fingers undoing the clasp of your bra. The garment slid lower, your breasts heavier now without the support of the small cage. “Are they sore?” He asked, kissing you under your ear before moving his hands to your forearms, freeing you from the shirt.

“A bit. It was hot outside today.” You paused. “And my period’s close.” You added, hoping he didn’t get embarrassed by the small statement.

He stayed silent for half a minute. “How close?” He asked, moving your arm to your front so he could remove one strap, then focusing on the other one, baring your torso completely.

“It should be… four or five days away.” You said after making a quick count.

He nodded before cupping your face and kissing your mouth. “Do you need me to stock anything in the house?” He asked, parting from your face and looking you in the eye? “Sanitary products, comfort food, anything?” He asked, his gaze so soft and caring you felt a string of your heart snap and break.

“I have those at home.” You said, combing his hair away from his face, the red light making his eyes even more intense, his lips even more tempting.

“You won’t be here on the weekend?” He asked, suddenly hesitant. “I know we met today because I called you and normally you prefer staying at your place on weekdays and coming over for the weekend; but I thought that meeting today wouldn’t mean I wouldn’t have the weekend.” He said, confused and a little bit sad. Even with the dim lights you could see the disappointed look on his face.

“I thought that since I had my per—”

“It’s not like I wouldn’t want to cuddle and sleep with you. You know I—” love you. “I don’t want only sex.” He said, frowning.

You noticed he grew increasingly upset, his teeth torturing his lower lip.

Can’t you just fucking say it, Jeon Jeongguk, for goodness’ sake! His brain snapped at him, but his heart stayed guarded and wary.

“Come here.” You said, opening your arms, and letting him barricade himself into your embrace, your chest hot against his, the late summer night making both your and his skin clammy. “I know you care about me.” You said, your hand sliding into the long locks of his nape. “I’m not used to this, Guk. You know how we did this before you left.”

“This is not before I left. This is now.” He said, his voice so insecure. “I want everything. The cuddles and the sex and the feelings and… all of it. I want to be there for you. Always.” He said, raising up, towering over you as hegave up on the protection of your arms and offered you the safety of his own. “I want you to count on me. To trust me and tell me when something’s wrong. I want to support you and protect you.” He said, more and more determined. “I want to be the one you want when you had a stressful day and you need to talk. I want your problems too, ____. I want the ugly bits too. I don’t want you to choose the parts that you think I can handle and offer those alone.” He patted your head before making you look at him. “I want everything, Candy. Every damn thing, baby. The good, the bad and the in between.” He bent to your ear and closed his eyes, leaning into you, pressing his forehead to your temple. “Will you let me be there for you, baby, please?” He asked, begging, holding the crown of your head with one hand and your waist with the other.

You nodded, almost too emotional. “Yes.” You replied simply before he pressed you to his chest, where his heart beat so loud you thought he would get a heart attack.

He placed both hands on your waist lifting you off the counter and placing you with your feet on the floor. “Take off your trousers and panties, Candy.” He spoke softly as he watched your hands slide down your sides dragging the garments all the way to your ankles before stepping out of them. He placed them in the basket with the dirty laundry.

“Your sweats,” you said, trying to reach for the waistband.

“No,” he said, getting undressed by himself.

Just like that, you stood naked in front of each other, his eyes focused on your face, your gaze laced with his.

“You're so beautiful.” He whispered, cupping the side of your neck before letting his hand skim your chest, the plumpness on your breast, the sensitive curve of your waist, his palm stopping at your hip before his fingers sunk into your flesh, his eyes following his hand with unbreakable focus.

Gently, he tugged you toward the shower, making you stop before entering. “Let me get the temperature right.” He said, opening the tap and waiting a little before the water turned warm. You stared at him as he tested the spray and dove under, small rivulets rolling down his body, following the curve of his back, drenching his hair and rolling down his cheeks as he rubbed his face with his hands.

“Come, babe.” Jeongguk said, stretching his hand toward you.

Biting your lip, you took a few steps before he moved out of the spray, hugging you before he took a small step back, your and his body both under the water. You simply pressed your mouth to the base of his throat while his hands made sure that your hair got properly wet before he could wash them.

Your hands moved down his back, from his shoulder blades to the small of his back, until you managed to reach the full roundness of his ass, massaging it slowly, comfortably.

He snickered. “Are you comfy there?” He asked, just as his hands reached your own ass and squeezed it. “Does that feel good?”

You nodded, the sound of the water drowning your small moan. “Let me.” You said, turning around and rubbing at your hair, making sure it was soaked.

His hands followed the curves of your body capturing your heavy breasts in his palms. He took a deep breath before he stretched to reach his body wash, pouring some in his palm and foaming it up before spreading it over your skin, the scent of his soap filling the space.

The lights were making it even more intimate, with the red-to-black spectrum tinging the experience in a variety of tones of eroticism. First and foremost, the mildest but most difficult of them all: intimacy.

Jeongguk placed his hands on your waist, making you turn around. You were there, with your hair pushed back, your beautiful face completely exposed to his observing stare. He couldn’t hold your gaze.

He poured more shower gel on his palm and after it turned into a small handful of bubbles he bent down and divided it between his hands, bending down and washing your legs, until he knelt, washing your feet.

“Guk.” You called shyly.

He hummed in reply, just as he took a gentler soap meant for your intimate parts. He pumped a dollop on his hand and foamed it briskly before cupping your vulva delicately, focusing on the simple, affectionate task at hand, making sure to spread your labia as you parted your legs slightly to let him have access. He rubbed the palm slowly, lightly against your skin, not sparing the back, in between your ass cheeks, waiting for the water to rinse his hands and clean you fully.

He felt ready.

His hands cupped your hips, holding tight without his fingers digging in, all the pressure focused on his palms.

He kissed your belly button.

“I love you.” He almost whispered.

You were far too lost in sensations to be sure that he had actually said what you thought you had heard.

“What?” You asked, looking down at him.

He delivered another small kiss on your tummy and looked up. “I love you, ____.” He said, before smiling timidly.

“You love me?” You asked, incredulous.

“Yes. I love you, Candy. A whole damn lot.” He said, kissing a straight line from your belly to your pubic bone, stopping there. “I wanna… Can I… Can I taste you?” He asked, waiting on his knees, removing his hands and mouth from you, letting you choose freely.

You looked at him before your mouth opened in the happiest, widest smile you had ever given him. “I love you, you know that, right?” You told him, touching his face, combing his hair back.

He nodded. “I love you too.” He said, and the more he said that, the more his body felt how right, how true it was.

“You wanna eat me out?” You asked as he nodded furiously.

You lifted a leg, ready to place it on his shoulder when he sat on his hip, then turned with his back to you, laying flat on the floor, his head away from the water spray.

Your brow furrowed before he tucked his elbows next to his torso, his hands close to his face before he grinned and wiggled his fingers in a “come forth” motion.

“Uhm…” You wondered, confused for a brief moment, trying to understand if he really meant for you to ride his face, especially since you were both still trying to understand the whole cunnilingus discourse.

“Sit on my face?” He asked, his cheeks blushing — which fortunately you couldn’t see with the current lighting, he considered.

Your eyebrows shot up. “You sure?” You asked.

“Pretty sure, yes. If you want to, of course.” He replied.

Slowly you lowered yourself to your knees, his hands circling your waist and heading up, up, until he met your breasts, before heading down again, fixing your hips right against his lips.

“I’m gonna start now, Candy.” He warned you, “you can ask me to stop whenever you want to, baby.”

“Wait!” You called. “Is it okay if I blow you?” You asked, pretty sure that it would be good for your mind space if you dedicated yourself to his pleasure, easing the mental pressure you felt whenever someone went down on you. After all, Jeongguk had been the first to make you cum during oral sex, and even with him sometimes you struggled reaching your high.

“You want to sixty-nine?” He asked, trying to comfort you by lacing his fingers with yours.

“I wanna try?” You asked. “Maybe it all works better if I’m not thinking about it too much. I could use a…distraction?” You explained, doubtful.

“Okay, let’s give this a go.” He replied, completely oblivious that the simple movements of his mouth as he spoke against your crotch were making your hole drip in wetness.

“Okay then!” You slowly lowered yourself on your elbows, his lips going on a slow side-to-side motion before he opened his mouth, his upper lip pressing against your entrance while his lower one met the sensitive nerve endings of your clit, making you moan just as his tip entered your mouth, your hand cupping his balls and sliding upwards, until you could grip him as comfortably as you could.

He released a heavy breath, the hot air meeting the raw skin of your slit. Just as his tongue made its way between your labia, you bobbed your head a couple times, making him moan loudly, which made you moan in return.

The whole situation turned into a game where the more you received, the more you gave.

As you started sucking him, creating a vacuum effect with your cheeks, his hands gripped your ass, his lips wrapping around your left labium, pumping it with his cheeks into his mouth, just past his teeth, that grazed it perfectly, alternating the softness of his lips and tongue with the hard edge of his teeth, making blood pool in the sensitive tissue. Meanwhile, on his lap, you were drooling all over him, pumping him with your fist as you started losing focus. “Guk.” You called.

He simply hummed and switched to the other side.

Yes, he was dedicated like that.

“Gu— Oh, yes, love, like that, baby, just like that.” You said as you felt his hands direct your hips in a grinding motion, your mouth returning between his legs out of sheer gratitude.

He moaned again, his eyelids fluttering with pleasure as you pushed his soft head to the back of your mouth, bobbing your head a few times before your hand started fondling his balls with your palm, twisting your wrist and using the pad of your thumb to tease the delicate spot between his balls and his anus.

He released your labium. “Candy. Fuck, baby, yeah, that a… I— I really like your finger there, baby.” He said, swallowing loudly before flicking the tip of his tongue repeatedly against your clit, spanking your ass brusquely before he gave a few strong pumps to your most sensitive spot.

You released his cock, letting it snap back to his belly and speaking against his shaft. “Please… Guk. Too good, love—” Your hips began to gyrate on him, his hands leading you, keeping your movements controlled so that he didn’t lose his grip between your legs. Holding his tongue rigid and still, he pushed the tip to the underside of your clit, dragging it up and exposing the most sensitive nerves, usually protected by the hood and way too sensitive for direct stimulation. Which is exactly why after two minutes your body stilled before starting to shake uncontrollably with effort, your whole universe silent, holding its breath before your lips opened in a high pitched, incoherent cry that announced your orgasm and predicted your reckless, ruthless movements on top of Jeongguk.

He took everything in.

Every small thing.

He kept moving his tongue even as it cramped, slapping your ass shamelessly, violently, spurring you into a wilder, more desperate pace as you — completely oblivious to your raw knees — rode him with a passion, pulling him into your mouth once more to quiet down your moans.

You felt your legs shake even more as his hips started pushing into your mouth, his long hums turning into short, deep groans and whimpers.

Just as you felt his balls tighten, you drew away, making him whine and arch his hips toward you.

“Please…” He called, his voice so, so miserable and pleading.

“You want your orgasm?” You asked, voice sultry.

You precisely knew what you wanted. And you had very clear plans on how to get it just right.

You looked right in front of you, at the small bathroom carpet laying just outside the shower, ready for you to dry your feet. Your escape route was bright and clear in front of your eyes.

“Does it feel nice?” You asked, un-straddling his face, acting as if you had each and every intention to bring him to the very edge and watch him dissolve.

“Please, Candy...” He cried, his hips undulating hypnotically.

“You wanna cum?” You cooed cutely.

He nodded eagerly. “Yeah… Please.”

You stopped. “Then come get me, bunny boy.” You grinned and stood, exiting the shower with a long step, shaking the water off your body as you rubbed your feet against the carpet a few times, before dashing for the door.

Alone, he opened his eyes and raised his head, looking around. “Candy?” He called again.

No sign.

He shook his head and stood up, his erection painful and uncomfortable as he closed the tap and walked out of the shower, drying his feet harshly as he switched off the bathroom lights and exited the room, looking around, spotting a trail of droplets on the floor.

He sneered and swore, staring at his hard on and clenching his jaw as he walked down the corridor with quick, long steps.

He found you as you tried to hide in the walk-in closet, almost sure you were unfollowed the moment you moved on all fours and tried to crawl under a lower shelf.

Jeongguk smirked, the scene disgustingly hilarious to him as he grabbed your hips and pulled you out of your hiding spot.

“That’s your plan?” He asked just as you tried to wiggle out of his grip.

His fingers dug into your waist, grabbing you even harder as he dragged you away from the shelf, where you could hit your head.

“You’re ridiculous.” He said, putting you on your feet before he turned you around and hoisted you over his shoulder, spanking you unceremoniously. “Running on wobbly legs.” He spanked you again. “Leaving a pretty trail of water leading me right here.” Another spank. “I thought I had taught you better than this.” He said, offering you some mercy and biting your leg instead of smacking your ass.

Your world was very unstable as he began walking you to his bedroom. He threw you on the mattress and switched on the led light behind the headboard. Again your view became nothing but the sultriest black and red.

“You wanted to make me angry?” He asked, looking you in the eye as he climbed on top of you, spreading your legs and sitting in between before both his arms caged your head.

His chest, wet and toned, was right before your eyes, moving with the fury of a wild beast. He grabbed your chin and led your gaze upward, into his. “I said, you wanted to make me angry?” He repeated.

You nodded.

“You wanted to make me snap?” He asked again, grabbing your face, making your lips turn into a silly pout.

You nodded once more. “I am—”

“I’ll tell you what you are.” He said, getting off you, opening his drawer and taking out a towel and a plastic bottle, which he placed on the bedside table before he lifted your legs with one arm and laid the towel down with the other.

You stayed silent as he took his time.

“You are a ridiculous little fuckdoll.” He stated clearly, no lips, no stutter, no hesitation whatsoever. “You are my dumb little fuckdoll,” he went on opening the bottle and letting a heavy amount of lube draw a line from the base to the tip as he held his cock away from his belly with his thumb and forefinger running around the glans. He spread the slick liquid with his palm, sliding it up and down as he hissed. “You always need to act like a dumb brat to make me fuck you like a slut.” The moment he leaned over you and poured some lube on your cunt too, you knew you were in for a long night. He closed the lid of the bottle but kept it nearby, in case he needed more.

You were close to your period, and once you had mentioned that you had some issues getting wet because of hormones changing. He was glad you gave him that kind of notions too. He had so much to learn still.

“You want me to fuck you hard?” He asked, spreading the wetness between your legs.

You nodded wordlessly.

“Not so wordy anymore, are we?” He said, cocking an eyebrow.

“Please, Guk.” You whimpered.

“That’s my little slut. You need to be fucked, uh?” He asked again, making you beg for him.

“Jeongguk, please.” You called again, pleading for his cock inside you.

“She even says ‘please’. Aren’t you desperate?” He asked, rubbing his tip up and down your slit.

“Yes, I’m your desperate doll. I’m begging… Please—” You whimpered, opening your legs as far as they would go.

He tutted and snarled. “Oh no. You’re not my desperate doll. You’re my desperate fuckdoll.” He said with a smirk. “Say it.”

“I’m your desperate fuckdoll.” You repeated with a thin voice.

He nodded “That’s right,” he replied, rewarding you with the tip of his cock as he swore and let it stay inside you, helping you get used to it — still, he grit his teeth, his deltoids and trapezei bulging with the effort. His tattooed hand held his cock to your entrance, covered in slick, helping you as he fed you a small inch at a time.

The moment he looked up at you, you noticed the lack of harshness in his eyes. “Are you okay, Candy?” He asked just as you hissed out a ‘yes’, closing your eyes and biting your lower lip. “Can I move?” He asked again, at which you nodded energetically. He giggled. “I love you, bae.” He concluded, making you whisper a brief ‘love you’ in reply before his bad boy persona came back into play.

“So you want it hard, uh?” He asked, feeling his cock already pulsate inside you.

“Yes, hard and fast, Guk. Please. I’m your fuckdoll. Do me like your little cocksleeve, please.” You begged, whiny and weak.

“Like my cocksleeve?” He said, rolling his hips twice before he pulled out. His hand drew away from his sex and moved to your mouth, laying there gently. “Cocksleeves don’t make a sound.” He leaned towards your ear. “So you’d better stay quiet.”

Your eyes blew wide as you bit your lip and furrowed your brow, his cock sinking in your flesh so hard that the smash echoed through every single organ inside your body.

You laid there and admired him as he fucked himself inside you, biting his lower lip and releasing it slowly, letting it roll and snap forward, past his teeth. He switched his position, leaning on his hand rather than on his elbow, arching even further, spreading his legs wider, propping his weight on his knees for better leverage, using his thighs to push your legs further apart as his eyes closed, chilly droplets of water falling on your face and your chest as he hammered into you, the tendons of his neck growing taut, his veins pulsing and growing and showing even in the dim red light.

Your high was there, right there, right…

Jeongguk roared, loud and aggressive and so, so angry that he sat on his heels and gripped your hips, shoving you on his length on and on, his hips meeting your body with loud smacks as he released inside you.

“No, no no. No, please no, please—” you begged as you felt him slow down, “So… close…” You sobbed as he stopped entirely.

He placed you down on the mattress. “Oh, no...” He said with faux compassion. “Poor cocksleeve.” He said with a sadistic grin, his smirk almost demonic in the crimson light.

He caged you with his body, his arms bulky and delicious at each side of your head, several rivulets of water — or maybe sweat — sliding down his face and chest. “Cocksleeves don’t get to cum, do they?” He asked rhetorically.

You whimpered and tried to squeeze him with your inner muscles.

“Or maybe I could be generous… Offer you another round…” He wondered, kissing your lips. “Would you like that?” He asked.

“Please. So close,” you whispered, chasing his mouth with yours.

He stretched and grabbed his pillow from the headboard, sliding an arm under your hips and lifting them up, placing the pillow right under your ass. “Do you need more lube, Candy?” He checked in on you, at which you shook your head.

“I just need you inside.” You replied miserably.

He pouted and got in position, cupping your jaw and sliding his thumb in your mouth. “Take it,” he said, his right hand pushing his cock in, only barely softened. Once he sank in and gave two tentative rolls of his hips, any sort of softness disappeared.

“Like this?” He asked, his nose curled adorably and sexily at the same time as his face scrunched at the effort of slow, deep thrusts.

You purred and shook your head. “Faster, harder… please.” You moaned before he started going even slower.

He chuckled. “What do I get in exchange for it?”

You opened your eyes and bit into his arm delicately. “Please,” you pleaded again. “I’m—” A tear rolled down your face. “It’s too good, let me cum, please, I love you. I’m your fuckdoll, Guk, please let me— I’ll be so tight around you, I’ll milk your cock so good, let me cum.”

He loved when you grew wobbly-lipped and teary-eyed. He loved seeing how desperate you always were for him, how much you depended on him for your pleasure.

He collected one of your tears with his lips, “are you crying for my cock?” He asked, wicked as usual.

You shook your head yes. “More, I’m begging you, Jeongguk. I’m begging you. I’m…” In an act of pettiness, you turned completely quiet, trying to rebel against him and his oversized ego. Self-sufficiently, your hands went to your boobs, grabbing them, pinching your nipples, sometimes climbing up to your throat and pressing against it softly.

He swatted your hand away, bending his mouth to your breast, tugging and suckling at your nipple messily, just as his arm grabbed your right knee and hooked it at his elbow, pushing your leg up, the angle so irresistible that your high finally peeked from around the corner. Still you stayed silent — mouth open, but quiet.

“Candy?” He called, curious about your sudden lack of noise.

You furrowed your brow and looked at him.

He tutted at himself. “Hard and fast?” He asked again.

You didn’t react. He rolled his hips deeper, hitting the spot you loved so much. Another tear spilled from your eye, but you proudly kept your stoic approach.

He smirked and started going faster, now that he had found the spot.

A small hiccup escaped your mouth.

“There we go, Candy.” He said, finally sure of his decision as he started pounding into you with everything he had in himself. “Touch your boobs, Candy.” He suggested as he saw you grow closer and closer. “So messy for this cock, uh? Whose is the best cock, Candy?”

“Yours.” You sobbed, your hips beginning to stutter, trying to meet his thrusts but too weak and sensitive for that.

“That’s right. You love this cock, Candy, don’t you?” He asked again.

“Only yours. I do, yes, please, Guk. Jeong— Guk, please I—” Your body thrashed against his as your orgasm finally caught you and drew you under.

Jeongguk’s head dove for your breastbone, pressing there as he tried to resist your high, currently threatening to drag him with itself.

As your climax persevered, he pushed your leg over his shoulder, picking up the other one too, sinking so deep with the new angle, his mouth kissing your calf, the inner side of your knee. “Is it good enough, baby?” He asked as he saw your eyes slowly flutter open.

Fuck, his jaw line was impeccable with that angle. “It’s perfect, Guk.”

“Nice, can you take another round, love?” He asked and damn, that nickname made you say yes, yes, ten thousand times yes with no hesitation.

He pushed his thumb in your mouth, against your tongue.

“I need to touch you.” He said, watching as his finger emerged drenched from your lips, immediately bringing it to your clit.

“Can you lift your ass?” He asked right as you obeyed, the angle so deep that he slowed down specifically to make sure he could guarantee you one more orgasm before he achieved his own.

His thumb replicated the motion of his tongue earlier in the shower, teasing the tender underside of your clit just as your eyes closed—

Too intense. Too much, you thought as your breathing slowed down again, your whole body focused on your kegels.

“Give me another… Work your magic, cockfairy.” He teased as your lips parted, your eyes flashing open before slowly, messily crossing and sliding shut again, your body too confused and overwhelmed to give a verbal reaction.

Jeongguk kept going, so, so close, his hips digging deeper with tiny rolls focused on staying in, enjoying every tight squeeze you had to offer, your hands leaving your breast as you tried to slap his hand away from your clit while his teeth began teasing your calf on one side, his deep moans unstoppable even when he turned to the other side and actually nibbled on your leg, his hand persistent in his torture.

“No. Oh god! Please. No! Oh— I need to— Yeah, yes...” You hissed as Jeongguk finally crumbled against your body and delivered the last few thrusts, deep, slow, so destructive as your head tipped back, your final high too much for your body to handle.

He looked down, where your bodies joined and with a loud growl, he came apart and spilled inside you, his cock swelling intermittently for so long he almost worried at some point. But the softness of your breasts, pillowing his head, and the warmth of your breath fanning over his head, your legs sliding off his shoulders, to his waist while your arms circled his back. “I love you, Candy. So damn much. I’m so in love with you baby.” He repeated on and on, trying to make up for each slur, each degrading word and idea he had used against you.

“I love you, baby.” He repeated again. “I love every little thing of you.” He kissed your breast — even though he truly aimed at the heart beating underneath. “I don’t want just the sex. You get it now?” He asked, nuzzling his hair against your bosom.

You caressed his head fondly.

“I get it now, of course, love.” You reassured him.

“You’ll lean on me, right? You’ll count on me?” He asked insecure, afraid at how many things he still had to learn about adult, mature relationships.

“I’ll lean on you. We’ll lean on each other.” You said, kissing his forehead as he raised his head.

“We didn’t finish the shower…” He mused, pulling out of your entrance carefully, staring as his seed dripped out of you and down your thigh.

You looked at his mesmerised expression.

He bit his lip before releasing it with a snap. “Fuck, you’re dripping.” He said before looking up.

And you don’t know if it was for the hot sight of his tattooed arm flexing, for his mop of damp long curls, for his wide, taut pectorals, for his lips glistening in drool or the dark lust in his eyes as he saw the mixture of his seed and your wetness oozing from your cunt, but you decided you were far from having enough.

“Didn’t they teach you to clean after yourself?” You teased with a cocked eyebrow.

His eyes climbed all the way to your gaze, finding the silent permission he was looking for.

And he dove for your cunt like a starving wolf.

[fxgacious-blog]

really  LONG  CHARACTER  SURVEY.   RULES.  repost ,   don’t  reblog  !    tag  10  ! good  luck  !   TAGGED.  @vrepit-sa   TAGGING. @viridisleonis, @techspecialistofvoltron, @lothcir (won’t let me tag you but whatever, idgaf), and anyone else who wants to

BASICS.

FULL  NAME :   tixxis zharor NICKNAME :   tix AGE :  two hundred and sixty three BIRTHDAY :   never celebrated it and does not remember, was never raised to consider birthdays significant ETHNIC  GROUP :  kariian (go look at @vrepit-sa‘s kariio posts, they’re rad af and the source of this headcanon) NATIONALITY :   empire-galran, subrace-kariian LANGUAGE / S : primarily central galran & kariian, but has a familiar and more than working knowledge of many alien languages on a first-hand basis (without need for a translator and does not have one) for the sake of more accurate cryptography and encryption SEXUAL  ORIENTATION :  pansexual ROMANTIC  ORIENTATION :  grey aromantic RELATIONSHIP  STATUS :   single and wholly uninterested HOME  TOWN / AREA :  – CURRENT  HOME :   qewreka high-security apartments, aoria t-42 PROFESSION :  arms dealer

PHYSICAL.

FUR: varying between violet and lavender, kit markings still noticeably prevalent (varied in color; mauve, plum, lilac, byzantium) EYES :   canary yellow FACE :  high cheekbones, facial symmetry, generally narrow, strong jaw LIPS :   full, cracked, and scarred in two places from being deeply split COMPLEXION :  heavily freckled under fur BLEMISHES :  n/a SCARS :  extensive scarring on right cheek in the form of claw marks, earned from continuous insubordination; deep and uneven keloid scarring along her throat, inflicted by another fighter in the arena as a result of lack of focus; many scars from various lacerations earned in the arena, training, and missions; several small facial scars as well as a crooked nose as a result of a break that did not heal properly TATTOOS :  n/a. HEIGHT :   6′0″ WEIGHT :   142lbs (has considerable muscle for her size, but is technically underweight and relatively small) BUILD :   athletic, lithe, lean FEATURES :   noticeably smaller than average, large ears ALLERGIES :   n/a. USUAL  HAIR  STYLE :  just a mess of poorly managed mane hair, kept relatively short as a result of scarring on left side preventing proper hair/fur growth USUAL  FACE  LOOK :   pissed keeps fur around face properly trimmed for the sake of personal comfort – letting it grow without care generally leaves it long enough to get in her way and make her uncomfortable USUAL  CLOTHING :   when out of her normal attire (pre-aoria, armor – aoria verse, bodysuit and eighty layers of jackets), 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11 are examples

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEARS :   being touched, small spaces, insignificance, irrelevance, being forgotten ASPIRATIONS :   to give herself a purpose, to be remembered (whether it be fondly or with anger), to better herself, to earn her own pride POSITIVE  TRAITS :   ambitious, innovative, confident, adaptable, methodical, analytical, cerebral, intelligent, imaginative, self-assured, exploratory, thorough, resilient, adventurous, athletic, brave, careful, charming, determined NEGATIVE  TRAITS :   aggressive, bossy, cynical, envious, greedy, impatient, manipulative, cruel, impulsive, insecure, possessive, sarcastic, selfish, unstable, lustful, vengeful, deceitful, suspicious, vindictive, callous, obstinate, fickle, hateful, egotistical, corrupt MBTI :   istj -- the examiner ZODIAC :   unknown TEMPERAMENT :   choleric SOUL  TYPES :    warrior, strategist, engineer ANIMALS :   snake VICE  HABITS :    drinking, lip biting, growling, foot tapping, cracking knuckles, jaw clenching, eye-rolling, head tilting, humming, promiscuity FAITH :  n/a GHOSTS ? :   n/a AFTERLIFE ? :   n/a REINCARNATION ? :   n/a ALIENS ? :   definitely not POLITICAL  ALIGNMENT :  aligns with jack shit, does not care EDUCATION  LEVEL :    extensive

FAMILY.

FATHER :    kolir zharor (deceased) MOTHER :    aravra zharor (unknown) SIBLINGS :   n/a EXTENDED  FAMILY :   n/a NAME  MEANING / S :    n/a HISTORICAL  CONNECTION ? :   n/a

FAVORITES.

BOOK :  tixxis has read every book she has ever found, no exaggeration. as such, it’s hard to narrow down favorites; they generally include topics like psychology, sociology, tactical analysis, engineering, mathematics, history (mostly military), cryptography studies, criminal case studies (preferably unsolved), foreign languages, and technical/mechanical diagrams. while it’s seemingly unlike her, however, she also has a fondness for poetry -- especially in foreign languages, as she finds the cultural differences interesting. MOVIE :   n/a 5  SONGS :  n/a DEITY :   n/a HOLIDAY :   isn’t particularly interested in galra holidays, but likes researching the significance of foreign holidays MONTH :   n/a SEASON :   n/a PLACE :    her drawer-bed and ‘balcony’ (if you could call it that) on aoria t-42 WEATHER :    cold, not humid, still, quiet, calm SOUND :   welding torches, footsteps in snow, liquor poured over ice, clatter of coins and jewelry, beeping (in the ‘nothing is wrong and this is the noise my tech is supposed to make’ way, not the ‘help me everything is going wrong and these are your last warnings’ way) SCENTS :    hard liquor, blood TASTES :    see above FEELINGS :   silk, smooth metal, precious stones ANIMALS :    tixxis pretty much enjoys any animal, generally from a scientific and analytical perspective, but likes fish both for taste and hunting and appreciates the challenge of hunting larger prey (and the company of animals with similar temperaments to her own) NUMBER :  n/a. COLORS :   purple, black, red, navy blue, gold, silver

EXTRA.

TALENTS :  mechanics, engineering, cryptography, programming, scientific research and development, invention, long-range combat/sniping, infiltration, manipulation, tactical analysis, martial arts BAD  AT :  close combat, subordination/accepting authority, physically overpowering another with strength alone, handling anger TURN  ONS :   domination, submission (occ.) begging, biting, bloodplay, electrostim, humiliation, exhibitionism, choking, dirty talk, gagging, forced nudity, hair pulling, iceplay, bondage, titles (master, sir, etc.), knifeplay, marking, praise (receiving), scratching, spanking, teasing, stripping/putting on a show, whipping, blindfolds, collars, degradation, rape play, slapping, servitude, leather, lingerie, lace, orders, orgasm/pleasure control, punishment/reward, competition, fireplay, beating, objectification, someone stop her TURN  OFFS :   weakness, inexperience (although taking innocence is fun for her -- she just gets bored of it quickly), lack of confidence HOBBIES :    sparring, programming, engineering, crpytography and creating her own codes, learning languages, binge drinking, weapons development, sex, target practice, hunting TROPES :   arms dealer (former reds with rockets for sale/gangland gun runner), bad samaritan, the baroness, beta test baddie, black cloak, the chessmaster, chronic backstabbing disorder, combat sadomasochist, complete monster, the corrupter, even evil has standards, the gadfly, asshole victim, hope crusher, magnificent bastard, manipulative bastard, smug snake, you have outlived your usefulness QUOTES :     “ you know how wives, no matter how cleverly their unfaithful husbands lie, almost always see through them? why do you think that is? it’s because they make excuses, that’s why. humans are creatures that are extremely sensitive to artificiality. so if a husband who never talks about work suddenly starts complaining about staying late... that unnatural-ness makes the wife think there’s something more to it, and so on. it’s the out of place words uttered to hide the truth that actually expose the lies even more. so do you know how one can make someone think the truth is a lie? by boldly, unreservedly offering up the truth.  ” ---  “ sometimes, if he possessed the right information, he neither had to do the job himself nor pay to have it done. a lot of people lived with secrets that could destroy them, and if you knew their secrets, you could manipulate them to do things for you that reduced them to the condition of puppets. ” ---  “ please, don’t torture me with cliches. if you’re going to try to intimidate me, have the courtesy to go away for a while, acquire a better education, improve your vocabulary, and come back with some fresh metaphors. ” ---  “ most people tend to think the best of those who are blessed with beauty; we have difficulty imagining that physical perfection can conceal twisted emotions or a damaged mind. ” --  “ stop what? cheering you up? or is life supposed to stop because you did something horrible? i’ll tell you the real, horrible truth. no matter what you do or how bad you feel about it, life just goes on. life doesn’t give a fuck that you’re sorry or upset or deranged or tormented. life just goes on, and you gotta go with it, or sit in the middle of the road and feel sorry for yourself -- and i don’t see you doing that. ” --  “ when it comes down to it, i let them think what they want. if they care enough to bother with what i do, then i’m already better than them. ” ---  “ if loving someone is putting them in a strait jacket and kicking them down a flight of stairs, then yes, i have loved a few people. ” ---  “ if you have nothing, then you have everything, because you have the freedom to do anything without the fear of losing something. ”

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 :   if  you  could  write  your  character  your  way  in  their  own  movie,   what  would  it  be  called,  what  style  would  it  be  filmed  in,  and  what  would  it  be  about ?           A1 :   it would be space alien catch me if you can.  Q2 :   what  would  their  soundtrack / score  sound  like ?           A2 :   anger and unrepressed sexual tension. Q3 :   why  did  you  start  writing  this  character ?           A3 :   because i can’t watch something with aliens without making an alien.   Q4 :   what  first  attracted  you  to  this  character ?           A4 :   alien, asshole alien, pretty and strong asshole alien. nah, but developing her with the freedom to use the vastness of the vld universe was pretty much what attracted me the most.  Q5 :   describe  the  biggest  thing  you  dislike  about  your  muse.           A5 :   i would fucking hate tixxis in person. Q6 :   what  do  you  have  in  common  with  your  muse ?           A6 :   lack of morals, sarcasm, we’re both fucking tired Q7 :   how  does  your  muse  feel  about  you ?           A7 :    she’d probably both relate to me and want to kick my nose into my skull Q8 :   what  characters  does  your  muse  have  interesting  interactions  with ?         A8 :    sendak and pidge are my faves so far. Q9 :   what  gives  you  inspiration  to  write  your  muse ?         A9 :    music, quotes (as you can see from the eighty seen above), my own emotions, (re) watching vld, etc. Q10 :   how  long  did  this  take  you  to  complete ?           A10 :    toof cuking long

[cryptobully-blog]

Yakuza 6: The Song Of Life Review: Tokyo Drifter

http://cryptobully.com/yakuza-6-the-song-of-life-review-tokyo-drifter/

Yakuza 6: The Song Of Life Review: Tokyo Drifter

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The Yakuza franchise is over a decade old, and in that time, its feature set has predictably grown. Over six mainline entries, free-roam areas became more substantial, additional playable protagonists were introduced, combat mechanics were expanded to incorporate multiple fighting styles, and more and more minigames were steadily piled on. Surprisingly, the latest installment goes the other way, discarding components that certainly won’t go unnoticed by series devotees. But that doesn’t end up being a bad thing, because Yakuza 6: The Song of Life successfully uses its smaller footprint to create a deeper, more meaningful impression.

The final installment in Kazuma Kiryu’s story focuses on him alone, with the plot seeing the large cast of series-significant characters like Majima, Saejima, Daigo, and the children of Sunflower Orphanage make only the briefest of appearances before being tidied away. Adopted daughter Haruka, sympathetic detective Date, and hobo-turned-loan broker Akiyama play important parts, but exist on the fringes. The Song of Life centers on Kiryu as he returns from another long stint in prison, separated from the Tojo Clan, and unravels the mystery of an infant who’s suddenly come into his care. The setup distinctly echoes the events of the first game, a seemingly purposeful decision which lets The Song Of Life act as a fitting refrain, giving Kiryu’s final sojourn a roundness that brings a nice sense of closure to his series arc.

His investigations bring him to the port town of Onomichi, Hiroshima, where he encounters a lowly blue-collar crime family led by an aging, but supposedly legendary yakuza portrayed by Takeshi “Beat” Kitano (a yakuza film icon in his own right, though his subtle mannerisms don’t completely survive the transition). While the game unsurprisingly spirals into a complex and dramatic story involving underworld political alliances, age-old conspiracies, and a healthy dose of deception, what’s ultimately memorable are the threads and character developments that explore what becomes a very significant, widespread theme: family. Kiryu’s time meeting new people from different walks of life in a closely-knit small town has him reflecting on remarkably ordinary ideas as they exist in different facets of society–bonds of friendship in the face of adversity, loyalty in times of uncertainty, and caring for your ward as a parental figure.

These themes resonate consistently throughout the better part of Yakuza 6’s narrative, and this includes the numerous, optional substories. You’ll help children and parents resolve conflicts and try to understand each other’s point of view. You’ll see Kiryu finding true strength and loyalty in the smallest of gestures, along with the different ways friends and strangers can support one another. The writing in these stories is often corny, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t an endearing sincerity that regularly shines through. When the sentimental piano melody kicks in during pivotal scenes of moralistic resolution, it’s hard not to be swept up by it all. The series’ penchant for goofiness still exists, though it doesn’t return to Yakuza 0’s ludicrous levels of absurdity. Particularly memorable substories are ones which humorously explore Kiryu’s unfamiliarity and disdain towards modern technology like drones, robot vacuums, and YouTubers. But even the game’s most comedic series of quests, which involve Kiryu dressing up as Onomichi’s adorable character mascot (who has an orange for a head and a fish for a purse) ends up becoming a touching reflection about having loyalty in town pride.

These heartwarming stories are also a key component of Yakuza 6’s new minigames. There are less of these side activities than previous entries, but much of what’s included is more robust than usual, and in many cases, the substories attached to them are enjoyable enough to stop the simple mechanics from wearing thin too quickly. Spear Fishing is a score-based on-rails shooter that finds Kiryu helping an injured fisherman and orphaned fishmonger track down the shark that ruined their lives. The Onomichi Baseball League involves some light team management, pinch-hitting, and player scouting, but the story of Kiryu rallying a team of no-hopers is what really makes the whole affair great. The Snack Bar minigame stands out as a real highlight in this regard. It involves attempting to become a regular in a small, Cheers-style local’s bar where Kiryu tries to forge personal relationships with a group of relatively unextraordinary, blue-collar folk. Its key mechanic is participating in group conversations where one patron has a vent about their woes, and Kiryu’s role is to help provide supportive dialogue and refrain from saying anything selfish or dumb. It’s lovely to see Kiryu try to resolve everyday, down-to-earth dilemmas and provide genuine acceptance and friendship.

Conversely, there’s the incredibly involved Clan Creator Mode, which sees Kiryu unwittingly intervening in a war between youth gangs (whose leaders include real-world New Japan Pro Wrestlers, because why not). Taking leadership of one of these groups, you’ll help Kiryu scout for soldiers, organize hierarchy, and participate in simple, real-time strategy-style street battles. You’ll take a bird’s eye view in skirmishes, where you can dispatch autonomous grunts as well as a limited number of leader characters with special abilities. Clan Creator is Yakuza 6’s most substantial minigame, boasting online network functions that let you compete against other players, tackle daily missions and participate in a ranked ladder. Unfortunately, it’s also the most tedious to play. Victory strategies stem entirely from massing as many troops as possible and grinding missions to keep your leaders at a capable level. Battles don’t really become challenging until the many substory missions are already done, and even then, the strategy more or less stays identical. For a mode with such ambitious scope, its mechanics and relatively uninspired plot–which mainly seems concerned with spotlighting its celebrity guests–aren’t satisfying enough to make the long ride enjoyable.

Elsewhere, the Club Sega arcade once again offers playable classics like Super Hang-On and Outrun, but there’s also complete, multiplayer-capable versions of puzzle action favorite Puyo Puyo, and the seminal Virtua Fighter 5: Final Showdown, both robust offerings in their own right. Mahjong is back, a gym offers track-and-field-style minigames for above average experience gains, karaoke and a cat cafe provide enjoyable distractions, and a simple-to-master darts minigame features a substory that lets you take on a real-world darts legend.

Yakuza 6 also maintains the series convention of including more titillating pursuits. Cabaret clubs return, with a choice of six hostesses for Kiryu to woo through conversation minigames. Also notable is the particularly risque Live Chat, a minigame which sees you pay money to watch live-action webcam shows (featuring real-world AV idols, no less), while hitting button prompts to progress to the point where you can watch the models strip their clothes off and moan suggestively. The unambiguous objectification of women in these minigames continues to make their inclusion uncomfortable in their own right. Their presence does truthfully reflect prominent parts of the real-world Japanese nightlife and adult industries, but these kinds of minigames have always perpetuated an unbelievable inconsistency of character for Kiryu. There’s a conflict between the canonical depiction of him as a strong, stoic, honorable saint, and a version who is a creepy, bumbling pervert. After ten years, it’s still hard to believe Kiryu is someone looking to build a harem as big as the orphanage he owns, who madly exclaims “BOOOBS” and “IT’S GROWING” when a woman takes her top off. These activities do have their moments, though–the text-based quips of Live Chat participants can sometimes be laugh-out-loud funny, and courting hostesses mean you get to see additional, phenomenally good karaoke videos. But in the grand scheme of Yakuza 6, where heartfelt themes pervade all of Kiryu’s character interactions, these minigames feel like distant outliers.

The iconic red-light district of Kamurocho still plays a big part in the story, though it has a noticeably smaller area size this time around. You’ll still feel at home if you’ve visited the area before, but there is a significantly disappointing lack of access to the Champion District and Park Boulevard areas. However, the distinct sense of a vibrant, bustling city still remains, and that’s amplified by what feels like a more detailed and densely populated world. Walking around in the first-person mode is enough for you to appreciate all the surface level intricacies and changes, and there’s a new element of verticality with increased rooftop access. But there are also some great advancements in the way the city invites you to engage with it.

Yakuza 6 now rewards you for interacting with the world in a way that previous games didn’t. Eating at the game’s many restaurants, which was previously really only worth doing if you needed a health boost, is now the most convenient way to rack up experience points to spend in the game’s extensive upgrade system, though you’re limited by a new stomach capacity meter. Purchasing and drinking beverages from one of the numerous vending machines around the world will give you cheap, temporary combat buffs. Every mini-game, from the batting cages to playing a round of Space Harrier will also earn you experience. The result is that slowing down and taking your time to soak in the atmosphere of the city will benefit you, and the world is no longer just a pretty path for you to run down to get to your next objective. Now, you don’t necessarily have to feel guilty for letting yourself be distracted by Mahjong for hours.

Onomichi, Hiroshima is a region that is larger than previous accompanying locales have been, although the sleepy port town is a much quieter, more unassuming area than Kamurocho. Situated by the seaside, cute greenery arrangements line its single-story businesses, an above-ground train splits the area, and narrow pedestrian walkways snake up the steep hills, leading to an impressive temple with spectacular views. It’s a charming, authentic-feeling recreation of the more tranquil parts of Japan, which both you and Kiryu learn to cherish. The town’s relaxed atmosphere and characters exemplify the Song of Life’s wholehearted themes.

Of course, in order to keep that tranquillity, sometimes you need to pound a few dirtbags into the ground, and the game’s updated combat system follows its philosophy of slimming and focussing. Gone are the variable fighting disciplines introduced in Yakuza 0–the Kiryu of Yakuza 6 is equipped only with an expanded version of his signature brawling style, perhaps another refrain to the series’ beginnings. It still maintains its characteristic weight and rigidity, but there are additional factors that make the act of fighting feel more fluid than it’s been in the past, turning encounters as a whole into more dynamic and exciting experiences.

Enemy mobs are larger in The Song of Life, and crowd control takes a more prominent focus because of that. Set-piece fights that make up central story moments regularly see Kiryu and his companions go up against dozens upon dozens of enemies at once–a ratio that is frequently amusing. As a result, the properties of Kiryu’s attacks have been altered. His throwing maneuver swings a victim around before letting them fly. Each combo string now allows him to execute two finishing blows as a default, and the second typically lunges forward with a wide attack radius. Starting a hard-hitting combo with some wise positioning means that Kiryu can feel like a human wrecking ball as he cleaves and plows through a group of assailants. You can frequently create domino effects that send enemies crashing into each other, and thanks to the game’s new physics engine, into environmental objects like rows of bicycles, through glass windows, and potentially, into stores and restaurants.

That’s the most significant change to combat–it now benefits from seamless transitions between world exploration and battles. Getting into a fight on the street no longer means coming to a jarring halt for a few seconds while a splash screen pops and civilians gather to restrict you to a small area. Fights now have the potential to move through the city and into areas like stairwells, rooftops, convenience stores, restaurants, and a handful of other accessible building interiors. It also means you have the opportunity to make a break for it if you’re not in the mood to throw down. The dynamism and uninterrupted flow this gives to Yakuza’s combat is a real wonder, and means that random battles are less likely to eventually devolve into monotony, as they could in past games. You could be strolling down the street, leisurely drinking a can of Boss coffee or taking a selfie in front of the cat cafe, and a gang of thugs can suddenly interrupt you, forcing you into a tight stairway brawl that eventually spills out onto a rooftop. Or, you might try to run and hide in a convenience store, unsuccessfully, and find yourself destroying shelves and sending snacks flying until you put an end to the chaos by slamming a thug’s head into a microwave–just don’t expect the clerk to serve you afterward. Combat in Yakuza 6 is exciting, and the situations you might find yourself in positively echo the kinds of scrappy, tense struggles you see so commonly in East Asian gangster films.

Another sticking point is one that’s been present in all of the game’s iterations–the inconsistent visual presentation. While the scenes that deliver pivotal plot events are absolutely spectacular–with uncannily lifelike character models, dramatic cinematography, and exceptional Japanese language performances–scenes that present lesser moments, like substories, are a dramatic drop in quality. As in previous games, they feature far less detailed character models and wooden, sometimes non-existent animation. Static camera angles also play a big part in aggravating their dullness. Substories make up a significant part of Yakuza games, so the low-end visuals continue to be an unfortunate blemish. Yakuza 6 is also entirely voice-acted for the first time in the series, and because the performances go a long way in enhancing the humorous and earnest moments these missions can contain, it’s a shame that the presentation doesn’t go to the same efforts.

Yakuza 6 reins in its scope, but doubles down on what has made the series great. It’s a unique and fascinating representation of the modern Japanese experience, worth playing even if you’re a newcomer. The narrative is dramatic and sincere, and the game’s endearing characters–coming from all walks of life–are interesting studies. The world is dense and rewarding to exist in, the dynamic combat system stays exciting even after you’ve kicked the crap out of five thousand enemies, and perhaps most importantly, Yakuza 6: The Song Of Life serves as a fulfilling conclusion to the turbulent, decade-long saga of its beloved icon, Kazuma Kiryu.

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Technology

[hawthorn-breath]

Masters

News came in this week to confirm that I will be matriculating in S. Rajaratnam School of International Studies in July to do an MSc in International Relations (IR). It is a dream come true, a journey that was long, challenging and tedious but rewarding indeed. 

The initial desire to go to graduate school comes as profoundly personal - much more than the academic career or socially laden value in paper qualifications. This came to be a very personal journey because of my bitter experiences that trailed back in 2015; realising my sheltered and healthy upbringing was not shared by women and having someone I once held esteem for tell me in my face "women are less important", "you're not a hot chick", "nice ass", "boobs, not bad" and "you look cute when you are rebutting" (though I still hold that my argument in that conversation was far superior and well constructed). That hurt and carved a scar deep onto me. I was also introduced to a world I once only knew in news or academic form -- sex trafficking, prostitution and the unceasing objectification of women and their purpose seemingly as sheer sexual playthings. I remember a night after GBG (a community that reaches out to the street-walkers in Geylang) and got asked, "how were the sexcapades?", a reflection of disrespect towards community efforts for women and absence of support for the marginalised. I thought I knew well that I am more than my appearances defined me to be for I am a human, endowed with moral, creative, relational, purposeful and mental capacities. After-all, I grew up in a Christian home and had Proverbs 31 repeated to me; modesty was preached, vanity was never primary and all these, together with every possible biblical talk on purity and sexuality. Yet, a misplaced sense of identity and a misguided idea of that particular relationship tore me apart. The arduous path back to regaining a self-worth firmly grounded in strength and grace has been undeniably painful. Little by little, I filled my heart with the sweet assurances and kindness from others around who believed in me and what I stood for. 

The pursuit of this MSc in IR holds a special place in my heart after attending conferences of UN Women and understanding the global status of women across transnational boundaries and the work they were doing; peacekeeping operations, relief aid, jumpstarting businesses, helping the marginalized, investing in education. Sometimes, I wish men who hold that much power and liberty could be a little more humane. Doesn't great power come with great responsibility? Of course, this world isn't ideal, we live in an almost unprincipled world, especially this year, where the height of misogyny seemed to have held its place in the Trump Administration. The basis of my conviction was feminism in IR and the vital need to tap on feminine qualities to empower communities.

I wrote a significant portion of my personal statement on the vital need for platforms and coordinating bodies possessing potential to provide leadership towards active regional and international cooperation to advance similar objectives. In this case: improving women’s standing in society. 

When I first received the call for scholarship interviews, one from RSIS itself and the other, a Terror Analyst Award, it left me really surprised. Juggling thesis, the semester workload and a research assistant position was overwhelming enough. There were so many points where I questioned if I was setting myself up for failure by embarking in this additional endeavour. At the very beginning, I was unsure that I’ll even get a spot in the school. In a bid to increase my chances, I even applied to another course, Strategic Studies, in the same school. I felt exceedingly inadequate -- a good number of places were allocated to international students while a significant portion were mid-career folks from the relevant governmental ministries (I reckon to be mostly military men) and there was me... likely the youngest in the pile and well, just an idealistic female. I went with nothing but conviction and sketchy ideas about Feminist Discourses in IR, Global Civil Society and Singapore’s contemporary challenges in relation to the region and changing landscape of superpowers. 

On the morning of my interview, I was high-strung and in a rush, I slammed the door against my feet and my left big toenail came off, injuring my nail-bed real badly. What an act of self-sabotage. The interview was happening in an hour and I had no choice but to go with a profusely bleeding toe and excruciating pain. The 20 min grilling session was tough - having to well position my foot to ensure less discomfort while maintaining all interview etiquette, knowing that every single movement or speech will be irrecoverably assessed. Top that off with the need to articulate things that sounded remotely intelligent and informed to prove that I am deserving of working with the International Centre for Political Violence and Terrorism Research. I left debilitated and hobbled my way to a clinic for anaesthetic jabs for an incision to remove the rest of the toe nail. Two hundred and fifty bucks. I cried. The next day called for yet another interview which I went in flip flops.. and the last bits of strength left in my being. I gave myself an ultimatum. I thought, if it all fails, I’ll just be thankful for the opportunity to have a voice, for allowing me to share my ardent views on the structural empowerment of women, security sector reforms, terrorism in the Middle-East and its implications on women and peacekeeping, which will give me the assurance that the work I want to undertake is sort of recognised. Granting me panel time is a gesture that reveals how our society is open to having conversations of the striving towards equality - in all senses of this word. At the very least, it is an encouragement towards my ideals. 

A week later in late March, the offers came in. This time, everything seemed less distant but still not concrete. There was thesis and MOE to approve the suspension of my bond. It was also at this juncture that I planted more of my self-worth into this pursuit; it was an indicator of who I think I am, or could be. I wanted it more badly than ever. But of course, God sends people to remind me: Perish every fond ambition. Every good thing cometh from above. God first. Nothing but the grace of God which is in you. It’s all grace. Pray.

Thesis was trying. It was a lot of independent work which I initially thought I would enjoy but it was difficult because of its length - I felt like I was depending on a frail self and trudging on in all delusion that I’m on track. Thoughts swirled all the time. You don’t have an extensive amount of interviewees responding in time. Everyone else’s ideas seem more refreshing and exciting than yours, people are 4000 words ahead of you, someone already began cutting words, they got to present their papers at some conference last weekend and here you are... 2am on a weekday typing at an unformatted word document, not knowing that your thesis should be in chapters, not in a paper-header format. “Am I using an appropriate theory to anchor my analysis? I didn’t get the greenlight for this framework. I didn’t check with Prof M. whether this is viable.” Still, I consistently gave myself the go-ahead because it was approximately 2 weeks to submission and at that juncture, all I wanted was just a hard-bound thesis, whatever the quality. And well, I paid the price. I got a delay in receiving comments for my final draft I sent to my professor slightly less than a week to my intended date of my submission. I thought she would only give a couple of sentences that would mean minor tweaking but boy, I was terribly wrong. In the wee hours of the morning I was going to send it for printing, she spotted a huge error in my methodology and said that overall, it was of “passable” standard, plus, a radical shift in my argument would be good BUT “I imagine it will be too late for it now”. 

Passable. Ha. Maybe the Masters Offer was just a fluke. I am a fraud. Gotta give that spot up, Ling.

Being sent into a state of frenzy, endless whatsapp texts were sent to H up in Durham (thank you for time-zone differences) who did her best to calm my nerves and set me into productive action. G was also useful in her brevity: so, edit. Come on, fight for it. Looking back, it was really the cliché mind-over-matter at play. I did massive overhauling in my wooziness and sent it in. I wasn’t confident at all, just relieved. This thesis has been an incredible journey that revealed to me that I am blessed by many people in life who often go the miles to look out for me and have amazing emotional capacities to say the right things at appropriate times and chide me in all lovingkindness. It was also a bitter time of coming to terms with the fact that I often desire to be coddled. I’m learning, how to be more firmly grounded in the path that I know is already laid out to be good and true and to better stand anchored on my two feet. 

The final hurdle was getting the MOE management to approve my bond suspension and there were many criteria and clauses to be fulfilled. It takes a strategic understanding of how things work as well as being persuasive about the application, so a big thank you to those who have gone before me and mentored me throughout this journey with the relevant advice and help rendered :-) Victorious moments are really the sweetest when they are shared.

 Reminder: A simple quote (which would be deemed to not bear much literary sophistication haha but it is what it is!)

“It doesn't matter where you come from, what you have or don't have, what you lack, or what you have too much of. But all you need to have is faith in God, an undying passion for what you do and what you choose to do in this life, and a relentless drive and the will to do whatever it takes to be successful in whatever you put your mind to.”

It’s wondrous how things all worked out and the painful moments were just learning opportunities that brought me inches nearer to where I now stand. I’m grateful. 

What’s ahead is gonna be steep learning curves and many things to adapt to. So well, here I am, at a brand-new starting point once more, treading the waters and preparing to tide through the next huge wave at graduate school. 

Shoutout to Hazie, Caris, Eunice, Esther, Jon, Jess, Jing, SW, Van, Mom and Dad and you-know-who-you-all-are :’) I thank God for each and every one of you.

XX