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#the car goes to heaven
geekthefreakout · 2 years
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New Destiel Fic Dropped!!!
Not written by me, but by a good friend. It's a funny, quick read, and I recommend it as a pick-me-up.
Also go follow @silverelectricsnowboots, who is the author and also now officially a Heller with this fic.
ONE OF US. ONE OF US. ONE OF US!!!!
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bearyyayay · 3 months
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I like to think that whenever the trio forgets a certain word in English they will either just speak Italian or try to explain the thing
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crunchity-munchity · 11 days
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I love cds. They gotta be one of the best inventions. Truly the peak of physical media
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seithr · 5 months
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Randomly remembered the half-reason i call my oc-verse by the name it has while laying in bed. One-half of the reason i still knew, but I had forgotten what had truly, really cemented it jointly until now
(it was a song from my favourite band I haven't listened to in a while.)
(the song fit so well at the time, still does, that i needed to hold onto it for the main protagonists forever, by partially naming their story in reference.)
Does this explanation make any sense? Does anyone know why I'm tearing up remembering this. Aahh
#(I'm emotional because I've been feeling bad about it all lately. enjoying things I make I mean—art or ocs or frivilous things.)#(So remembering that song and when it came out. That I couldn't see them in person. But i held onto it my own way. As something I loved)#(Something I still do love a lot... Parts of me saying no—you don't hate it. No. I'll help you remember more. I'm a little misty about it.)#The song is just The Killers - Run For Cover. I couldn't see them in person all those years ago—family went without me.#All my new oc rework with Zin and Hunter and Caia were like a year old or so.#It's a little silly. But the character Zin's derived from was a lightning mage so I stuck to it—I like monhun's zinogre for what its worth#So there's recurring theme and imagery. Thunder's not lightning but the sound and the feeling after the flash the flame and strike.#There's that meaningful thought—the story is the aftermath of a big tragedy. It matches what I like in monsters and other chars.#And at that time—my favourite band I missed out on puts out a really good song I download everywhere and it goes like:#He motioned me to the sky/ I heard heaven and thunder cry/ Run for cover/ Run while you can baby don't look back/ You gotta run for cover#And it goes on of course. The rest of the song's still really good. There's more that fits but point is; More evocative imagery.#So there. Why my bundle of OCs—Zinadia Hunter and Caia's story—is called Thunder 20XX. minus the 20XX. That's tongue-in-cheek#About some day I'll manage to make something tangeable or broadly shareable with them. I guarentee this century!#Thunder... oh my darling Thunder. Eight years man. More than that if I really want to count pre-rework INTO the complete original work. but#I like that it's definably 8. I like that I remembered I've always loved them a lot. Always been my thing to lean on even by name...#I need to get to sleep. Ive gotten a little more emotional over one song than I'd rather regularly be. Give it a listen maybe? Goodnight#Armour clanking#I need an oc tag#What have you gathered to report to your progenitors?🎶Are your excuses any better than your senator's🎶He held a conference#and his wife was standing by his side🎶He did her dirty but no-one died🎶#I saw Sonny Liston on the street last-night black-fisted and strong singing🎶Redemption song🎶#He motioned me to the sky🎶I heard heaven and thunder cry🎶RUN FOR COVER#What are you waiting for—a kiss or an apology?🎶You think by now you'd have an A in toxicology🎶#It's hard to pack the car when all you do is shame us🎶Even harder when the dirtbag's famous🎶#I saw my mother on the street last night all pretty and strong singin🎶The road is long🎶#I said 'Mama I know you tried!'🎶But she fell on her knees and cried🎶RUN FOR COVER#Just run for cover - you've got nothin left to lose...
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xflashbastardx · 8 months
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If and when you go grocery shopping, who pushes the cart?
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"Well, it's rare that we go grocery shopping, but when we do, I push the cart. Crowley handled it the first time and, well...suffice it to say, I think it's best if he leaves it to me."
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hyuny-bunny · 5 months
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skz + types of p*rn they watch (w/links) pt 1. hyung line
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MDNI (+18) content warning: p*rn, nsfw links, mentions of rough sex, use of female anatomy, breeding, spanking, choking, fingering, oral (f receiving) most afab reader terms.
a/n: if the links are not working for you, you may need the app as most are not compatible with a web browser
pt 2. maknae line
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chan: he's definitely watching twitter/x porn. as for what side of x he's on all depends on the mood. he definitely seems to stay on a more "vanilla" side. probably has a keen interest on size kink and breeding videos. but what they all have common is riding. it gets him so riled up seeing ones shot in cars because the next time he sees you it's all he thinks about. he'd love nothing more then to have you riding his dick, his hands holding your hips in place, eventually snacking a hand to lightly you choke and bunching your skirt in the other hand while you sloppily bounce on his cock. maybe he's taking you out to a nice dinner & movie but once your back in that car he's practically begging you to sit on his cock.
"baby, i need you so bad. come here, ride me, need to feel this pretty pussy on me."
breeding
riding
minho: there's so many things i could say about him. i don't think he necessarily needs porn to get off or actively looks for it, but i do think he loves being able to send you links that either remind him of the both of yours sexcapades or things he wants to do to you. i feel like he watches a lot of overstimulation, spanking, BREEDING, and just a sprinkle of voyeurism. i think he gets really turned on by the ones of girls in pretty lingerie wearing collars with bells, so every movement makes the bell ring. he almost collapses to his knees when he gets home one day to see you wearing the collar he bought, the one he'd been hiding and waiting for the right moment.
the only thing on your mind is the feeling of your sopping wet cunt being suffocated by minho's cock. he's got a fistful of your hair in hand, pulling you up from your pillow before landing a hard smack on your ass, never letting up on his thrusts.
overstimulation
spanking
changbin: another one in my books that loves size kink porn. not because i think he likes someone smaller, but more so the fact that he likes the feeling of being able to make someone feel so small. in seo changbins biceps, we trust. i think this one in particular will have him pleading with you to let him try it. you might feel reluctant because of any underlying insecurities at the though of feeling like you're "too heavy" (there's so no such thing to him) . it isn't till he's got you lifted up against the wall with no holding you either than his arms & shoulders, his mouth lapping away at your pretty cunt, any worries you ever had dissipated along with your ability to use your words.
"bin-binnie please i-i can't hold on much longer" a string of whines follow suit. he's been at it for a while and you've already had two orgasm but he's relentless. all you can hear are his groans and the squelching sound of his tongue abusing your cunt. he lifts his head up from between your thighs with you hand webbed in his hair, mirroring your worn out lustful look.
size kink
making you feel small
hyunjin: to me, i think hyun goes either of these two ways. he's the most depraved man known to walk this earth that loves it sloppy, messy, wet and downright lustfully filthy. the latter also leads me to believe he's not big on porn, prefers either his imagination or his OWN videos. one he's recorded (with your consent + encouragement) while you've done it together. he needs the passion of either love or the passion of wanting to make the either cum so hard they've gone to heaven (preferably both). if he's watching videos, his favorite ones always have the girl shaking and crying in pleasure by the end. he needs to see the passion, lust to be able to get off. when it's you, it's different, if anything it brings him back to those moments to fully remember the need between the two of you. that being said he's heavy into breeding/cumplay and semi restraining. he loves seeing the hands held behind the back and holding someone in place while they fall apart in his lap + cock.
it was supposed to be a quick kiss, which turned into heavy petting, and now he's brought your leg over his hips. the panties you were wearing discarded somewhere in the room, one arm is wrapped around you holding you tightly to his chest while his other hand is at work. his middle & ring finger are knuckle deep thrusting into you and he's groaning into your neck sucking hickies in all your favorite spots.
semi restraints
playing w you in his lap
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Pt III good omens but i STILL SOMEHOW haven't watched it (and i'm increasingly passive aggressive)
i'm now basically held hostage adopted as mascot by this fandom. it's fine i'm fine *SIGNALS FOR HELP DESPERATELY*
Alright fuckers I swear this time I'm going to get some shit right. Without further ado, here's my third attempt at a good omens summary:
Everything everywhere is queer all at once
Angel Aziraphale and demon Crowley on earth likey each other
The car is a bentley and it is BLACK not silver and everyone is very upset about this. my bad yall it was reflecting light therefore i guessed more silver than black but I'm not Anish Kapoor take your black.
Then it is yellow, and aziraphale likes it. crowley preferred the black because he's a flamboyant emo.
God is a deadbeat absentee parent and you are all children of divorce.
There's a naked archangel and they cause problems for the husbands somehow. By being naked? By being an archangel? By being at their doorstep? Who knows not me
They were actually married for 6000 years, they just are the last to know about it.
Crowley is on fire. Like, he's slaying for sure, but also he is literally on fire, like Aziraphale's bookstore.
The actors like I said before are Michael Sheen and David Tennant but this is the place where I finally admit that I don't actually know who is whom. I'm going to assume Michael is Aziraphale because Michael sounds angel-y and David is Crowley because uh Michaelangelo made David and was gay for him.
Terry Pratchett is not fictional.
He co-wrote the book with @neil-gaiman, who IS fictional, because he does not have social media. Several of you have assured me that he is in fact a fandom inside joke. I like to think he would be proud of me.
They adopt a preteen and Crowley gives him bad advice.
At some point a baby was delivered to someone and was exchanged for the son of Satan. Idk if the baby is the preteen, or the son of satan is the preteen, or neither. This could be a fanfic, I have no way of differentiating the fanfic from canon on tumblr, except that the canon is weirder.
Crowley does not go down a chute. He goes down a telephone cord after making himself microscopic to pole dance on a pin with shroom-induced backgrounds.
During this his stage name is Disco Tony. Get it king go slay you're making better life choices than I am tbh.
Aziraphale is a biblically accurate angel, and you have all gone to extensive lengths to prove this to me. I understood nothing, but there you go.
It's all very queer, just like the fandom.
Crowley is a retired demon but he still sins by breaking the speed limit.
They eat at fancy restaurants and bicker but like in a sexual undercurrent way.
Crowley gives Aziraphale a private dance that is not a lap dance, it is an apology dance, but not in a kinky way, until it is.
Their haircuts keep changing and range from 'this is acceptable and gay' to 'i let a drunk chimpanzee take gardening shears and a blowtorch to my hair'
It's all ineffably queer my good fellows
Everyone keeps trying to convince me Neil Gaiman is the villain yeah no guys I know it's really you. Y'all be like 'SEASON TWO BROKE ME' and then you're making headcanons to make it sadder yeah I see you mmhm.
There is a final fifteen. It is sad. What is it? No one told me.
The demon turns goats into crows and the angel turns them back and then children are turned into newts (does the angel turn them back? who cares not yall) and the demon was the snake in the Eden garden and everyone's furry game seems to be on point.
There are a rather lot of children. I have not seen them. But I am assured they are there. They are, guys. I assume they were turned into the alcohol Aziraphale and Crowley drink or something.
There was an apocalypse plotline. It was averted. It is not important. You don't talk about plotlines in this fandom, no sir.
Crowley doesn't want to go to heaven. Aziraphale is sad.
The kiss is not nice, just like this fandom. It is queer, just like this fandom. It is sad and desperate and masochistic, just like this fandom.
Aziraphale doesn't want to stay back with Crowley. Crowley is sad.
Season 2 ends. Fandom is sad.
Everyone's sanity is hinging on the promise of a happy ending in season 3. Good luck guys.
Y'all better appreciate this. I can't even boast to my mother about this legacy of mine, hey mum your son has been held hostage kidnapped inducted into a cult adopted by a fandom he's not part of look he's winning at life.
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badjokesbyjeff · 6 months
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Steve dies and goes to Heaven, where St Peter informs him that he'll have to share apartment with someone else. 
"You see, it's getting a bit crowded up here", St Peter explains.
"What kind of roommate will I get?" Steve asks.
"A gentleman from 14th century Mexico."
"Medieval Mexico?!" Steve exclaims. "But I'm from 21st century Britain! We'll have nothing in common!"
"I'm sure you'll find something to talk about if you try", says St Peter.
So Steve is shown to his heavenly home and is introduced to a shy, skinny fellow whom he's supposed to share it with.
"So what did you work as?" asks Steve.
"Peasant", says the Mexican.
"How was that?"
"Hard."
"I was a web designer."
"What's that?"
"I don't know how to explain it to you, sorry. Did you have hobbies? Mine was old cars."
"I don't understand."
Thus the conversation continues, both men struggling to keep it going, both fearing an eternity of awkwardness.
Then the Mexican asks: "How did you die?"
"Well..." Steve hesitates. "To be honest, I died because my life had become too difficult for me to handle."
"Why had it become so difficult?"
"I fell for a pyramid scheme. You see, my heart was stolen by someone who only wanted to use me."
The Mexican beams with relief. "What a coincidence!"
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lenaellsi · 5 months
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One thing that really gets me about the opening with angel Crowley is that he's not just excited by how beautiful his stars are, or how fun the process of creation is, or how impressed he's made Aziraphale. He’s not in it for the glory or the aesthetics. He’s actually horrified by the idea that the universe will just be "fancy wallpaper" in the future, even though Aziraphale assures him that humans will "marvel" at his creations.
What Crowley loves about his stars is their potential. He is building, essentially, a nursery. Most of the universe's stars, he explains to Aziraphale, will come pre-aged--but his are just starting out! After they're given time to grow, who knows what could happen! Good or bad, black holes or new constellations—there are so many possible futures ahead of them, and Crowley can’t wait to see what happens.
And then Aziraphale tells him that he knows what will happen: those stars will never grow up. They will never shine or burn out or implode or become anything new. They’ll be destroyed before they get the chance.
"You can't kill kids."
“Whose side are you on?” “God’s, of course!” “Same God that wants me to whack the kids?”
"People die." "They do, don't they?"
“Great pustulant mangled bollocks to the Great blasted Plan!”
"Don't test them to destruction."
"It's always too late."
"Nothing lasts forever." "No, I don't suppose it does."
This fear has been chasing Crowley since before the beginning. It’s what caused his first doubts, put the first traces of gray in his wings. He’s been raging at the futility of watching beautiful, complex things be damned or destroyed for his entire existence, and that’s why he seems to the audience and to Aziraphale to be a mess of contradictions.
He loves to follow the trends of the times, but he clings to his classic car in an era of planned obsolescence for vehicles. He lives in an ultra-modern flat, but finds his greatest comfort in the unchanging security of aziraphale’s old shop. He hates the idea of killing children, but is willing to see a child die if it preserves the rest of the universe and foils the Great Plan. He “goes too fast,” but his most unique and notable power is that he’s learned to stop time.
Crowley hates predestination. He hates divine intervention and the removal of agency. Crowley, the architect of free will, is constantly torn between his love of change and choice and potential and his terror that everything will be destroyed by an unstoppable, incomprehensible higher power. That’s his driving conflict in the way that Aziraphale’s is learning to find his own path without following Heaven’s rules, and I am fascinated to see how it resolves.
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medusaesque · 25 days
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Kim Kitsuragi and the pale-
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Kim has a unique relationship to the pale, I tried dissecting it and making sense of it. Reposting with more thoughts after some good conversations with @binomech.
Warning- it's insanely long.
1. After life, death
One of the first thing you can learn about Kim is that he would hurl himself in death's way to save you. From the very first moment, Kim is related to sacrifice and death, it follows him wherever he goes-
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The slaughterhouse.
He lost his parents at two years old. He worked a year in Processing (here's good post about that by @renmorris and @spilledkaleidoscope). He lost his partner, Eyes. People have taken a bullet that was meant for his more than once. His survivor's guilt is insane. He's killed six people. He's afraid of killing recklessly, and has a deeply unhealthy relationship with his gun (made another embarrassingly long post about that).
Kim also hears pale 'ghosts' on the police radio all the time, talks about it like it's normal, and says he doesn't believe in ghosts.
If harry is with Noid during the Moralist dream quest (more on it later), Harry can even wonder if Kim himself is a ghost, prompting this beautiful exchange-
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And he's not entirely wrong. When Harry gets shot, after Kim fulfills Espirit's promise and stands in death's way for him, you can ask as you fall into darkness what will happen to you-
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It's the living who are ghosts. You can leave them behind and rest. Go into the wild pale yonder, along with everyone else Kim has ever cared about. Or at least you can try to.
When death is at the door, you have two options-
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2. After death, life again
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Kim might associate himself with death, but Harry associates him with life again and again- Death is darkness, Kim has a light bulb halo. Death is a sunset, Kim is a sunrise. Death is where you are when the game start, it's ready to take you, and then- a clarion call, the sound of a motor carriage, a detective arriving on the scene, and you open your eyes.
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Of course Kim is no actual saint, no guardian angel, but it's really telling that even in harry's deification the symbols of Kim's holiness are worldly, almost mundane, the matters of every day life- a celling's fan lightbulb, the engine of a car..
Or the way @binomech said it when discussing Kim's portrait: this is the only thing keeping you from the full brunt of the world in your mind #but truly you are already in the world #and he is just a man #and that's just a car and that's just a ceiling fan
The game is very clear about Harry being a ceaseless agent of the world, but he's not the only one. Harry stands at death's door twice, and Kim is his way back to the world both times.
3. After the world, the pale
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So what is Kim's relationship with the pale?
As casual as he might try to appear, Kim is clearly uncomfortable with the pale, afraid of it even. When Harry brings up the pale, he intervenes, genuinely worried for the fragile stability of his mind, trying to protect him-
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It's no more terrifying than water or death or that we're stuck behind our eyes for all eternity?? Sounds pretty terrifying Kim...
I think the key is in the moralist vision quest, When Harry attempts to reach the Committee of Responsibility, and he hears the pale crosstalk coming through the radio, when suddenly-
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"Pale is a shroud of memories and it doesn't really distinguish to whom those memories belong to. You could hear anything." You could hear anything, but you hear Kim. Soona even says that the odds of us hearing him, out of all the voices in the pale, are astronomically low.
We know the past has not been harmless to Kim, we know it's full of ghosts and cold winters, but that's not the thing that's eating at him-
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Kim is afraid of forgetting. He's constantly writing, he thinks through his notebook, always recording, so he wouldn't lose anything. That's why the pale is so terrifying to him.
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4. After the pale. the world again
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The world is what it is. God is in his heaven. Everything is normal on Earth.
That leads me to the expeditions through the pale-
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Volta do Mar is a skill unique to Kim, according to the stats of this pilot jackets, and it's a Physique skill.
It's driving me crazy to think how Kim wanted to be revolutionary pilot as a kid, and is walking around dressed like a pilot as an adult, to give himself the ability to navigate the pale. To return from the sea-
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DISTANT ENEMY OF HIMSELF?? kim....
Seeing how Volta do Mar is strengthened by his jackets, and the items' descriptions point out that most of the people who used to wear this jacket are long gone (alongside what they represented) and considering that the only real advance in pale transit is the speed with which an aerostatic craft can pierce it, is seems fitting that returning from the 'sea' requires the kind of armor that ghosts wear- the ghost of who you wanted to be but never could, of a home that was never yours. Glory to them.
@binomech said it best in this conversation we had about Kim's skills: "your traitorous race. your traitorous job. your traitorous parents. your traitorous senses. distant enemy of yourself: seolite, communist, cripple, faggot. and you wear it as armor"
Kim is equipped for Volta do Mar, he armors himself for it every day, for the thing that makes it possible to return sane, and discover a new world-
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This is one of the most touching Kim moments in the game to me- putting his hand in the rain, looking up to the sky, mouth open, welcoming the spring rain, even knowing it'll bring death and destruction with it. He is devoted to this world and the role he has to play in it, or at least the role he thinks he has to play-
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But we know Kim has a bigger role to play, he's trying to do his part right there, getting Harry to stay-
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His connection to Harry can keep him on this world once again- keeping the two of them together. Their real work is down here, him and Harry are Revachol's only hope. If they stick together they might be able to keep her on this earth.
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UNITY AMONG THE RANKS IS PARAMOUNT.
I NEED YOU. YOU CAN KEEP ME ON THIS EARTH. BE VIGILANT.
I LOVE YOU.
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kooyabooya · 16 days
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GAMBIT
m reader x tzuyu // 9k words
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The thing about risk takers, you see, is the fact that you tell them to stop multiple times - and they never do. 
At every turn of the hands on the clock, here lies Chou Tzuyu, in her most casual form imaginable. One leg on the other with an arm outward to the head of the couch cushions. She’s got her face at this inquisitive angle; pure innocence, slant lips nearing a sly grin while she’s put through an earful from her manager: 
“You’re on your last set of legs, and I hope to god that this story doesn’t break out in the ringers of the press come tomorrow morning.” 
Nothing could scrounge up the loss of professionalism, draining away from the slips in the shut door frame. Because the challenges become more complicated than the other, and this one might just be the tip of the iceberg. 
“Well then,” Tzuyu starts, and in typical Tzuyu fashion: sweetly and unbothered. “Let’s just have our fingers crossed that no one around here is willing to leak that out to the public.” 
Tzuyu’s manager glances towards your direction, matching the same eyebrow with theirs in pure confusion as to what this conversation was boiling down to. You almost feel bad, but fortunate enough to not be stuck in their position. Dealing with Tzuyu’s bullshit on a day to day basis, growing a gloomy shade in their hair that shouldn’t be there for another twenty to thirty years; luckily, that hasn’t happened to you, at least not yet. 
In the years of service that you’ve had with the agency, you’ve had the fair pleasure in confiding with different individuals amongst the growing industry, to different waves of success. Sana? A world beater that has cameras flashing everywhere she goes. Mina? An absolute angel sent from heaven, well fit into the standards of fame. Those two amongst your clients might as well be considered your favorites - and the list that follows after is a very reputable asset to have. 
But Tzuyu? That is a blank area that has still yet to be defined. 
Something about Chou Tzuyu around these doors and offices has everyone turning their heads in the other direction - because you know from experience in this industry - for someone like her that’s bound for stardom with that one of one face and the age that she’s at will be the kind of story that’s not following the script. She’s one of the most genuine, kind-hearted, and beautiful souls that everyone envies to an extent; moreso jumping over cars and off of cliffs to have a mere inkling of notice from her, a scale tipped in the balance to love or hate her persona at the same time. Every now and then she sweeps you up in that whirlwind too, but who can blame you for getting lost in her charming features?
And you find it to be amazing at how she remains so stoic. Color yourself impressed, or bewitched even, you’re also reminded why this little project of hers hasn’t been brought out to the world. 
“So remind me again,” you’re saying, settling yourself around the office, scooching your way past Tzuyu to take the open spot left vacant on the couch, “Tzu over here was caught with what?” 
The observing of Tzuyu doesn’t stop there, unfortunately, limit testing on how dire this present situation actually is - with those long, glossy locks that rest right past her shoulders and in front of her chest, beautifully so like a sculpture bust; the threaded eyebrows, and those long eyelashes. Then, there’s the dimple - and her baby blue outfit, the heels, the jewelry, snug with the curves of her body, she’s meant to be the main event, the sole person who can shift the atmosphere in just a few steps-
Tzuyu’s manager, sadly, isn’t one to play games however. 
Another quirk of the brow gets thrown, and they hit you with a crinkle from the bridge of their eyebrows, inward lips as if anything said from this point on would be held against themselves. 
So you smile, and play the cool guy vibe, mirroring Tzuyu’s seating position in the exact same way down to the wiggling foot. “Well?” 
A file gets thrown to the coffee table in the middle of you three, and a phone is up in the air - unlocked and everything when it lands in between your hands. It’s already on the photos app, and when you’re zooming in to get a closer look at all of the pictures from what you can see from the date in the top portion of the screen - from last weekend, and you’re doing the exact same expression as her manager. 
“It was supposed to be a breaker event for little ‘miss perfect’ over here,” Tzuyu’s manager starts, laser focused like he thinks you’re going to ask her yourself if the contents in the phone were actually hers - which might not make the situation better. Look, you’ve got to keep it cool and stay professional, since that’s your job - especially since Tzuyu’s also young, not by much, but it still feels all the same. Sure, you could challenge that, but why would you? Every time you look at Tzuyu, she can see that there’s not a single thought past your eyes. “I leave her with Sullyoon for thirty minutes at this event and I-” 
You turn your head towards Tzuyu again to which she gives you the side eye after looking at the phone in your hand, and somehow you just know. 
Tzuyu’s manager flips open the file, filled with a good stack of pictures. He spreads them out all over the table, much like finding a specific still from this gallery that stands out. You’re staring, closer, the photos match up in the phone too and- 
Shit. 
That’s the only word that you can think of, but the meaning and intent could be taken in either one of two ways. As for the thoughts circling around your head?
There’s hardly any. Almost nothing. 
“Okay,” you say, face still unfazed; a skill in itself that took a god awful amount of time to get down perfectly, but still, holy shit. Now you’re seeing why the agency is doing everything in their power to keep this under wraps. You can’t even believe the pictures that show Tzuyu exposed with no clothes at all, clearly tattered up in marks and scratches and ran through from whoever was the person that took the pictures in the first place. There’s her thighs stacked on top of each other with pointe feet, her abs are soaked in fresh spurts of cum, the way that her head is crestfallen to the right side as she tries to cover her face, how she smiles at the corner of her mouth; she’s made for the cameras - and you could see the literal sex that she emits from the stills, every profane term in the book or in your vocabulary culminated into one person - but this is the line of work you’ve put yourself in, as you can feel the two pairs of eyes staring at you from the both of them, waiting for an answer. 
You toss the phone off to the side, and get your fingertips on the pictures, examining them with wandering eyes. And with the calm and composed demeanor you could craft within seconds, you say: “I don’t see what’s the problem here.” 
Nothing flies with Tzuyu’s manager at this point when it comes to you. “Watch the attitude now,” he leads, overbearing. 
“What he said,” Tzuyu doubles one second after, a wisp of hair falling to the front of her face, grinning behind the thin curtain of her strands, “Watch the attitude.” 
You exchange glances between Tzuyu and her manager, clearly in shock at how they’re figuratively double-teaming against you. Tzuyu’s always had a knack for being upbeat and funny, flirty would also be a way to put it, but she’s made that her own thing, her label - the press wasn’t kidding when they said in between the lines that this woman here was going to turn the world on its head, to make anyone from anywhere fall to the ground just to have them acknowledged in her good graces - many will die when granted the opportunity - but it's one of those days that has you wondering why she’s more forward, and obvious, that equation is still getting solved by the second. 
“Done,” you say after, giving in to their demands; it’s still difficult to learn and determine what kind of tale she’s willing to write today and you’re still seeing whether it's a good idea to play along to what’s forming. “What else do we know about her and-”
“Sullyoon’s already had her discussion earlier,” Tzuyu answers right away, combing her hand through her hair, watching her fingers disappear within those coffee bean locks that’s effortlessly charming. “As for me, that’s still yet to be determined. Which also got me thinking: it can’t be that bad as it sounds the way that you’re suggesting it.”
You’re also seeing the attitude that Tzuyu’s showing through her words and how she feels about the entire situation as a whole before you and her manager could even dive into the more complicated bits within the first five minutes of walking into the room. It’s like in her case file written in parentheses: ‘known to be a hot head, and a bit self-obsessed’ - considering her arrogance at times, but her charms make up for it. She can be one or the other, or even both. It’s how she grins: simply desirable. Once she’s put her name out there for the rest of the world, and not even for the industry, the scandals won’t even touch her going forward. She’ll be untouched while you are at the bottom picking up the scraps and taking the damage. 
“The punishment for Sullyoon is a lot more lenient because of me,” says Tzuyu’s manager, but his gaze gets back on her, hand on hip in clear and utter disappointment with the shake of his head. “And Haewon’s already not having it with the incident with Bae. Now with this, it’s a complete clusterfuck of events, so I just-  ugh, it’s a lot.” 
“Sorry to hear that,” you apologize, a hand up but the look on your face shares little to no care about the manager’s pain as of this moment. “And for the record, I feel like we had this conversation before, no?” 
“You’re her advisor, dipshit.” Tzuyu’s manager grits, ball forming at the fist, “That’s the reason why I brought you on board with her in the first place. Isn’t that supposed to be your job to, y’know, advise?” 
“You’re the manager, and might I add the correction: her manager,” you shoot back retortfully, “Maybe you should keep a close monitor on our lovely, budding starlet here from the get-go?” 
Tzuyu stifles a laugh, causing both your eyes and her manager’s to do this form of joint attention on her, and hiding away in the plane of her medium-sized hand, “What?” you both say to her, and it comes off as comical. 
“Nothing,” she muses, lifting a leg up over her opposite one this time, leaning deeper into the cushions of the couch, eyebrows up in the horizon of her forehead, beaming. “I just thrive amongst the bickering you two are having over my career.” 
“See?” And Tzuyu looks away from your rolling eyes, “I put it in the file in bullet points. She’s not ready for this kind of pressure and lifestyle, and do you really want me to go through the list of the incidents she’s already put herself through to serve your memory?” 
“I would find it best for you not to remind me of everything up until now.” Tzuyu’s manager shuts down the question, spinning his phone in hand between the fingers, “Please don’t-” 
“DUI charges, social media backlash because of a vape laying in her lap in one of the pictures, smoking out late at night with Ryujin and Yuna,” You’re listing out the events anyway, because Tzuyu’s manager can easily tell that you’re the kind of person to not really give a shit about these kinds of things. It’s not you being put under the spotlight - this microscope that’s always being picked off with a pair of tweezers - how one influencer’s words could brainwash the general public into rubbing their palms with a pair of tangerines. They’ll always follow, to some extent; and for Tzuyu, that’s the kind of power she wants to have - to get people talking about her and not stop there. 
“So do you want me to keep going?” You ask again, clearly caring little to none as Tzuyu examines her personal stills, head tilted when she picks up one of the photos. “And may I remind you that she’s got a gala event to attend to in the midst of all this, so let me ask you this boss,” you say, and you can see the flared nostrils coming from Tzuyu’s manager, “How do you want to go about this?” 
Tzuyu’s manager freezes, phone vibrating in record time like crazy. He’s taking a few seconds to strategize the next move, what’s the next course of necessary action. Keeping Tzuyu here is the worst idea, because that breeds into speculation. Compounding that, there’s also the monumental effort of keeping these pictures on the table in her phone on the down low, which may be impossible at this point, given with the insiders circling around like moles in the organization. 
“The event isn’t for another hour and a half or so,” Tzuyu’s manager announces, eyes darting back and forth from the phone to you two sitting on the couch, pulling his lips upward at the exchange of messages. “Fuck this industry sometimes,” he groans, “You do things here and there and don’t expect the treatment to be - goddamit, Haewon’s calling me again about Sullyoon,” he says, phone to the side of his head when he answers. “Hey, Haewon. No, I uh- I’m here with Tzu and- yeah, I’ll come over right now to see the situation.” He pulls his phone away from his ear, button pressed on mute, “Sorry, but you know where I’m going with this here.” 
“Don’t be,” says Tzuyu. There’s some tension in the air, like a flare set off in the dead of the night - how her head turns slightly towards your direction, smile laced with a purpose - and she cocks her head off to the side as her manager starts to make his way out the room. “We’re not leaving yet as it is.” 
Her manager pauses, in between the open doorway. His phone is right back into his ear, nodding along to Haewon on the other end of the line, eyes lapping side to side and back between the two of you - because it’s his job, and he can’t get away from that fact regardless. 
“That’s still up in the air, you know,” he says towards you, clearly hurt by the tone you gave earlier; insulted might be one better word to put it, but he knows that you know better and you’re just acting like this out of spite. “Don’t know how long this will take, but pray that I’ll be back before we have to go.” 
Once the door closes - much like a kingdom raising up their drawbridge, a safe with all the locks in the world clicking into place - holding you and Tzuyu prisoner in this vacuum of space, this could be hell, or it might be heaven. Tzuyu clicks her tongue, gets it under the front portion of her bottom teeth, at a molar, studying you as if you’re a centerpiece or painting hung up on the room; this girl is clearly unreadable. 
“Tzu,” you call out to her, keeping the ambiance chill - whilst maintaining some form of lead in this hurricane of tension. It doesn’t also help that the sun is right at the ocean, kissing along the horizon towards the beach, a wonderful mixture of hues between orange and dark blue and purple clashing in the sky, the lights are on in the neighboring skyscrapers - a view that can serve as the last sight for someone before falling off fifty plus stories - and in the midst of all that calming pictures, she’s still looking at you. 
She leans over, dress wrinkling in all the right creases. Don’t look now, or else that’ll be the end of you, as she blinks dotingly, lashes fluttering and with that sugary tone of hers, she just says: “Yes?” 
“What gave you the compelling idea to have an entire album of a cock in your mouth. Not only that, but the fact that Sullyoon was also in on this too? Especially when she’s three years younger than you, her senior? Like what-” 
“You’re making it sound like I fucked up?” Tzuyu says, an eyebrow raised in curiosity, the innocence isn’t doing her any justice compared to the hard evidence found in her phone. “Of course I know what I was doing, and believe me, this would only speed up the process a little more.” 
“What process?” 
“To get me out there into the real world.” 
She giggles when the crease of your eyebrows knitting together comes back into the frame of your face, leaning over while she sinks back into the couch, hands fiddling with the red ribbon that was attached to her dress. The eerie sound of your name being recited from the proper pronunciation meshing into hums. She’s observing your posture, much like her normal act persists - staying quiet but acknowledging others when needed. You hate how much of a sweetheart she is at times, because it’s all a setup for a bleeding edge that eventually comes to life sooner or later. 
“I’ll keep it real,” you’re starting again, “You did fuck up. And you fucked up bad. It’ll be a miracle if this doesn’t get out, but I’m not holding my breath for you, and-” 
Tzuyu just keeps staring. With that gaze of hers, she’s still trying to get a read - from the hem of your jacket or at the peak of your ruffled hair, it might be easy to tell that in some way: she’s into you.
“Okay, in simple terms, you’ll live.” With that said, you shouldn’t be silently suffering with a potential breakout star of an actress, so you’ll hang strong against her glance. This was something that you enjoyed doing from the multiple meetings and screenings. “We could honestly set this up to be a hush money agreement with whoever managed to get these pictures in the first place -  your fault, might I add - but anyways, all of this should go away, if we play our cards right. No need for you to come forward to address the rumors, that’s why you have people like us to deal the damage. All you have to do here is just - uhm - well, be Tzuyu.” 
Tzuyu appears intrigued, finding a small crack in your impenetrable armor, a rarity at times but also is aware that it might be a minor slip-up. “Be Tzuyu? What do you mean by that?” 
You flash a look at her, but she’s one to double down, eyes squinting - she’s capitalizing on your mistake. “There’s a proper term for this,” she says, “and maybe um, pretty would be one to suffice?” 
“I’m not trying to sound afraid,” you say, calmly. “There’s two choices between right and wrong. Then there’s the respect, and also being sensible. You have to treat this career like it’s your life.” And you didn’t say professional, because that word is the last resort; a rescue rope only to be used in the most dire situations. 
“I want this life.” The admission, something nestling underneath the parts of her sentence, a slow-burning being soaking behind those soiled eyes. Tzuyu then scoots over, gets closer to you, tips her chin to further the examination. “I have what it takes to be professional. You’re just afraid to say it to my face.” 
“Welp, you caught me,” you say, knotting your fingers in between themselves just to keep yourself from doing anything rash, maybe walking out of the room to leave her alone would be the best move, instead of letting your thoughts get the best of you and pinning her body flat on the couch. “Seriously, doing things like this will only kill your chances of making it big even before you start.” 
Common sense appears to be dissipating out the clear windows. And now Tzuyu is the one who’s taking full advantage, bursting your personal bubble - the way that she shimmies her way across the cushions, so mindful of how she moves her body at every curve and nick in her limbs; you can hear your own heartbeat quickening, like you’re hiding in a locker and she’s about to tamper with the dial to get the door open - and she’s about face to you, hand ghosting the upper profiles of your chest where your shoulders are at. She’s not that tall from a height standpoint, but sitting down, she’s matching your build bit by bit. 
“It’ll happen, regardless,” says Tzuyu, face with a wide grin. “That’s why people like you are working hard to make sure that things like these don’t happen again. Especially in the long run.” 
“You’re really going all out today, are you?” You exclaim after closely assessing, holding our ground against her. “Might I add that you might also ruin Sullyoon’s career after yours is out of our hands?” 
“She’s a tough girl,” says Tzuyu, flatly, as if the prospect itself is something to laugh about. Tzuyu is a silent killer, shown in her signs of arrogance which shouldn’t be enticing to you, but they are, and in every way possible. “And like I told you, I’ll keep doing shit like this because I want to. You can hide away all you want, when it’s clear in your eyes that you want me just as bad as I want you.” 
“And what do you propose here?” 
“I’m telling you that the way you sound right now turns me on, genius.” 
It comes in a black flash, much like you staring down the hole of a double-barreled shotgun; or your head getting pushed into a tub of ice cold water. You can see the stars in her eyes, each and every one of them an alternate reality of their own between you and Tzuyu, sparkling with so much light. “Who’s saying that fucking a client was on the cards?” 
And Tzuyu chuckles at that, on cue like it's some cheeky sitcom. “Don’t get stupid with me,” she says, and she’s raining fire down from above. “Everyone already has said the same thing at least once or more.” 
Your eyes land on the clock hanging above the room, then they dart to the closed door. “He’s not gonna be back anytime soon, is he?” 
“Haewon’s office is at least five floors down, and the elevator apparently hasn’t been working all day..” 
“Some luck.” 
“I can make my own.” 
“I hope you know that this is a really bad path you’re going down to.” You’re deterring, but it's a lazy attempt at best, no point in shying away - because you’re not scared of Tzuyu, and you never were, mentioning the fact that she’s radioactive in her own rights. She’s equipped with an arsenal of tricks and quirks, but you’ve got your own brandished within that noggin of yours. A hand is on her thigh, trailing up to the hip, and she looks down to take the hint, scooting closer. “You’ve got some nerve, testing me like this, and you have no idea what you just signed up for.” 
“Do you have to be this serious?” Tzuyu’s hand finds yours, slipping up against the fine silk across the palm of your hand. “I’m one for keeping things simple here,” she’s telling you, watching your eyes as your fingers get rumpled over the fabric, venom lacing your nerves before you even realize it. It’ll get reactive really quick, but you stand your ground. “About the sex, don’t overcomplicate-” 
“Why would I overcomplicate something with the likes of you?” you’re asking her, and you watch as her hand finds the knot tied at the nape of her neck, unraveling it, where you see her bra. It’s no help that she’s sliding her dress down to her panties and thighs, the covers being unleashed with every inch opening up to the air. “We’re on track here, and I think I’m getting warmer here.” 
This is something serious, much like a public execution at the hands of her just strolling on by - people stopping in their tracks just to get a good look of that face, that body, so this might be some form of armageddon - but Tzuyu’s dress gets discarded somewhere in the office, to a corner where it won’t be seen on her until you’re fully done with her. Everything in your head is flowing like a whitewater river, a burning urge that gets beyond just the sexual aspect of it. So you’ll get your knees deep: 
“You know how long I’ve been waiting for this?” you ask, and examine. The sense of being normal and professional has long gone out the way. But oh. Oh, she knows what she wants, and you’ll have the fine luxury to give that to her, because it’s what you signed up for: twist the words and her body in every way that you see fit, to fill people in on what their crown jewel of a woman is up to. “Dreaming of that one day where someone will just tell you straight: I want to fuck you. Well Tzu, today’s your lucky day.” 
Tzuyu tenses, eyes appearing like glitter, holding your hand where it stays on the rise of her hip. “I’ve never seen you this talkative outside office hours.” 
“I converse like this on the regular.” You’ve got the experience, and the hours under your belt, you’re holding the other end of the rope in her burgeoning career - if she fucks up the next time, you’re also gone along with her, too. “Now, are you gonna keep talking, or are we going to talk business?” 
Tzuyu is so good for you, in more ways than one. It’s in her eyes, the way that she tilts her head off to the side, when you’ve pushed her up against the cushions as far as you could take her, hair spilling over to her covered breasts, keeping her gaze locked with yours when you’ve sunk to the bottom of the couch - the low light of the sunset makes way for the night sky, moonlight breaking through that captures her face, illuminating the fine mold of her cheekbones, her teeth break past her lips, and she smiles a bit like practice for the waves of flashes out on the red carpet - she relaxes, feels the lace of her panties slide off her thighs like nothing. Undeniably gorgeous, is one way to put it, she’s dirty, she’s every single thing; oh god, the staring, when you look up between her legs, mouth hanging low, chest puffed up in anticipation of the relieving pressure. 
“Many people have tried to test me, get rid of the fun in what I do with my manager and such,” Tzuyu says. “But I knew-” Her hands find yours, sliding up the sides of her outer thighs, holding them in place when you start to lean in. “You didn’t do anything about it, and I liked how you were with me, to set me right, without the changes of rules.” 
“Had it been anyone else,” you acclaim, mouth leaving hot and wet kisses across the inner portion of her thigh; she’s got a hand in your hair with no intention of letting you go. 
“You,” Tzuyu says the singular syllable, reduced to just very minimal words, much like she’s being scolded. But the confession let out is like a padlock finally breaking under the pressures of the wrench: “I’ve always wanted you. I promise and fuck- I’ll be good.” 
There’s actually no way she said- 
The words that spilled out her mouth flew over your head for a short second, a minor blowback in the swing of things - but then again, why are you playing it safe with Tzuyu in the first place? There’s no need, and you’ve got to make that apparent to her; you’ve got your hands on her long legs, spreading your hand out on the skin, she’s got a hand sliding down to her glistening pussy, but she reels back when you’ve beat her to it, and Tzuyu hisses, hiding a whine, “Baby…” 
You pause, hike her up on the couch higher, focus slinging to her face, and her dead-eyed stare slams right alongside yours. 
“Tzuyu,” you’re saying, when you’ve managed to say her name that’s caught in between your vocal folds - it’s a little rushed, no exhale behind it, and a bit tattered - but there’s her demeanor, the tightness swirling in the air between you two. She’s only a few years younger - and that alone could be worse - you’ve got the better position, the better wits of how things work, the implications - and maybe you were a pawn in her game all along, there’s really no telling. 
“Love it,” she exhales, voice tripping when you dip your mouth down to her other pair of lips, “when you say my name,” she’s needy, fingers curling to your head to satiate the sensation a bit longer. Legitimately, fuck, she might end your career, make you a martyr for the whole office to witness, and she could be the one to do all that. “Baby, your fucking mouth.” 
The gaze never wavers on her, hunting - her dainty fingers are gripping the cushions, fibers of muscle moving in ways much so she would be defending herself; she’s used to giving orders and due compliance, but knows where she stands in certain situations. She could be the primary catalyst of what’s happening right now, but you’ve got full control: a green light going off in the back of your mind. There’s no turning back now, foot to the floor, bases fully loaded. She won’t- She won’t last a week in this life by playing it by the rules. 
“Need me that bad?” You ask, face twisting devilishly. Some things in this line of work have taught you that people have to be selfish at times, and you’ll fall face-first into that. “Watch and learn, sweetheart. Don’t even think about getting your hands on me.” 
Tzuyu’s lip is caught between her upper teeth, rolls her eyes, nodding profusely - it’s gonna take more than that. You see her lidded eyes, spread her apart further, “We listening?” 
“No- touching,” she sighs. This girl is soaked - the refreshing taste of her cunt on the pad of your tongue, and you’ll keep indulging. You’ve got yourself in that open space between her legs, she’s sputtering out nonsense, pulling her thighs in to combat against your hands - “Please, just- please, do this one thing for me, I swear-” 
She’s waving the flag up high in the air, and of course you’re going to take this into account. This is someone who is going to make headlines wherever she goes, has people do things that would lead into major or second-hand embarrassment, so you lean down to her aching pussy - across the folds, and her clit, so slick for you, she’s sighing a lot more louder this time - and she’ll let you mold her into any shape you want her to be, let your tongue do the talking: “Right there, yes-” she’s relaxing into your hands and face, giving you the praise she’d never thought she’d say to you ever, like some act of contrition that will absolve her actions - wow, and you’re wondering of the lucky fucker who took the pictures of her and Sullyoon got the same luxury as you’re getting right now. “Fuck, oh honey-” 
You’re paying no mind to how her hips are wiggling across your face, desperate for a sense of friction, fighting every urge to not dig her nails into your hair and get your tongue even deeper where you can send it - but you keep her legs spread, and she could almost rip into the cushions on the couch, grip tight enough to choke- 
“Taste so good,” you mutter, off to the side of her leaking slit, listening as the chorus of Tzuyu’s moans crescendo a bit before dropping in silence. “Look at you, being so good for me.” 
“Shit, you’re gonna- you’re gonna make me-” 
Whether she’s able to tell you or not, you know it all the same. Her flawless face is so torn to the fine points - faltering in every aspect of perfection, that apex, you’re working her there, warmer, and warmer-
But you pull from the tops of her thighs, shove your nose right down to her clit. Stay right fucking here, and don’t even think about moving a muscle; sometimes there’s no need to say things verbally - but the implication stands - when Tzuyu finally lets go into the heat of your mouth. 
You can be lenient, maybe have her rest in the grace period, but there’s a schedule still drawn up on the board, and the sand in the hourglass is still seeping through the middle. “I’d like to keep this up,” you tell her, cleaning up the slick spread across your lips - that fine nectar, easy to say that you’re addicted, but that’s old news. “But must I remind you that you’ve got an image to protect at this gala you’ve got in an hour?” 
“Can- Can I have my turn now?” Tzuyu asks, sitting up on the couch now, hands fast to her backside, unlatching the clips of her bra, slides out of it like it’s nothing. You’ve got your jacket discarded on her manager’s desk, hands to the buckle. Tools are being laid out here amongst you two, and Tzuyu keeps her eyes trained on you, chest rising and falling - watching the noticeable bulge appearing in your boxers. “Please, I can help - just need your cock-” 
“Do you always like to rush these things?” You ask her - pushing her back as her arms just float in the air - she’s beautiful, gorgeous, and wanting; the notion alone would already be disregarded if it wasn’t for the sensible form of structure in your head. It’s in that dimple of hers, that sly grin, those eyes, she’s a personification of eye candy: you’ll keep staring for as long as she’d like you to. “No need to answer that, but,” and you laugh in between for a slight second, “You’re really pushy today.” 
“Please, baby.” That gaze, eyes trained up with her bit lip, she’s dangerous. “For me.” 
You don’t say anything, but with a simple nod, and her fingers are fast to the elastic. 
You also like how she’s willing to follow, to listen. She’s good with her hands, she’s been trained to handle PR questions with the flick of her wrist, programmed to take information and internalize it - she’s flawless enough to stand with the other clients, even when you’re the first to make the move in kissing her, capture her mouth with yours. It’s a bit cute when she’s caught off guard, sucking the air out of her, yielding to your touch.  She’s smiling against your lips, and that’s the laced venom you’ve been cautious of. 
The grip gets let go from the back of her head, retreating, panting, the taste of her lips mixed with yours. She helped clean off the remnants of her pussy on your tongue and she’s licking her lips again wanting more. “Give me some kind of feedback. A demand. Anything,” you command, fingers dancing along her chin when she looks up so innocently. “I think you’ll ask nicely, so prove it.” 
She doesn’t even think twice about it. “I want you,” she’s coming in and out of focus in her eyes, way past the point of no return, staring at you while she’s keeping you magnetized to her hands, slowly dragging along the skin of your cock, “to fuck me, put this cock inside my pretty little pussy, and use me to cum all over-” 
Her face does it for you, shattering right in front of your eyes, wanting smile, pupils blown - you snake your arms around her back, press her down to the couch - there’s a beauty behind the sneakiness of this, the thrill of being found out, the risks taken to take advantage of someone to your own liking, let the thrums of your heartbeat be the only thing to hear within yourself - but Tzuyu goes quiet, she’s so pliant and wet that doesn’t really need any words to come out of her, just the noises when- 
“Fuck.” 
When you slide your aching cock into her cunt, slowly, painstakingly strategic, and the feeling was too much to bear for her. 
“God-” 
You draw back and snap your hips into her - a statement made, an opening in the woven threads to rip a hole in -  you’ve got a hand quick to her parting mouth, hushing her, pinning her. “Go any louder,” you’re hissing, lowly, trying to not think about the fucking clench her cunt makes around you, “Go any louder, and you’re just asking to get caught. We can’t have that, can we?” This is something new, something absolutely obscene, hiding away in the office of her manager’s - keeping a secret that nobody should be able to tell, besides you two. “Did you realize how much of a slut you are when I saw those pictures?” 
Tzuyu’s breasts wobble on the upstrokes, bouncing along while leaking all over your length. The thought of damage control is still in play, to not have her completely ruined for the red carpet in the next hour or so - but you’ll take the secrecy, construct a fake picture to ensure that will not have anyone look a second time. Nobody will know how good Tzuyu’s wrapped around you, that hot and tight cunt, a hand now wrapped around her neck, pressing down but not too much- 
A thumb is in between her lips. “Speak up.” 
“Yes- I know, fuck, it was- a mistake.” She’s choking up the words from the hand on her throat, barely enough to produce the sounds through her vocal folds, chasing for that relief that she desperately needs - “It was stupid, but,” she’s unmoving with her reasons, fervor standing strong, it’s irking - you’ve got to fuck this attitude out of her - “That doesn’t matter, please, your cock, keep fucking, right there, that’s the spot, I’ll be good, I’ll cum for you, make you not worry about-” 
“You keep talking like this and I’ll make you shut up myself.” 
She spills a line of expletives that get mixed up with the slaps of her hips with yours, but there’s one outlier - maybe two - that captures your ears. 
“I didn’t make him cum inside me, but I’ll let you do it if you want.” 
“Yeah, not happening, babe. Not like this.”
Tzuyu mewls and whimpers when you give her one good, impaling hit inside her cunt, let your cockhead rest right beneath the womb where it aches. It doesn’t help her case when she’s shaking her head in refusal, denying. You’re chuckling as she tries to shimmy out of your grasp, the sound reverberating around the room, in relief, or awe would be a way to put it. Stepping into this office was a little bit out of your way, just popping your head in to get a quick word before going on with whatever was on the agenda - until this whirlwind of events coming from her changed all that. “Please. Can you do that? I want it, I want you, so bad. I swear, nothing bad will ever happen from me again - please, if you just-” 
Luckily, everyone’s gone from the office for today - because she’s way louder than you would’ve expected - you ram your cock inside her pussy, without any care for her begging and pleading - there’s also not ruining her appearance, but you’ll pull something out of your ass or she will to cover it up. You’ve made your mark in twisting people’s words around, shifting the angles that way you’re not the one taking up the heat. Conjuring up whatever you could that might rival a con artist’s whole life. But this is also another thing: if Tzuyu’s manager walks in right now, you could prime the whole act onto her and she’ll be gone. 
“You can keep asking, begging, offering, whatever it is that you want.” It’s hard to forget that you’re on the clock, the provisos informed, lines that were drawn up from the start; you could cut it some slack, maybe for someone like her, who really knows. “I’ll keep fucking you up as long as I like, but you’re not getting me to cum up all inside you.” She tilts her head back, and you sweep down to the column of her neck, get a mark on it, not too hard. “Want it to be easy? Just keep screaming, nobody will hear you.” 
Wishing that this moment here in the room to last forever might be a tall ask. From the exchange of hitched breaths coming out of your lips and hers, to the slaps still stable in pace, bottoming her out as her ankles finally latch onto the small of your back, holding you in place - someone could walk in the room now and know without question as to what you’re doing to her - maybe with the sea of cameras at this event later will take notice as to the damage you’ve done to- 
“Inside. Please, nobody has to know. Just us.” Fuck, this girl is testing your mental tenacity, exersizing every impluse that you’ve unleashed of every dirty thought you’ve had since working with her. She could convince you with words, the magma emitting from her voice, sounding low, goes so well in tandem with her moans. “Maybe if you keep this up, I’ll let you knock me up whenever you want, wherever you want, however you want.” 
“You- Tzuyu, you- fuck-” 
“That would be so hot, you know? To use my tight pussy as your personal cumdump - shit - even the manager won’t take up on the offer, so you’re the next one in line.” 
The defiling theory alone is very, very tempting. She’s not like this when there’s a camera or journalist waiting for a slip up to pen the story - you’re still in the driver's seat, keeping it level, thinking of some substance for guidance. You’ve been in this position before, and you’ve learned. 
So: 
“I’d be honored,” you say to her, pressing a hand down her breast, grasping, pulling your cock out to do a few measly slaps along her sensitive clit to show her you’re not playing around, “So far you’ve been convincing, but you’re still new to this. A few stupid acts early on will ruin you down the line, so watch yourself.” 
In the meetings, you remember the firm tone when asked for your personal take towards a proposed plan - coming off as abrasive because that’s how gritty this industry really is without showing it - Tzuyu’s incidents have been nothing short of interesting, talking down on her for acting like a complete dumbass - but she loves the degrading, the harsh compliments. This is something that she wants, and you’d be happy to let the media eat her up alive for it. 
“It’s gonna take a lot more than that just to sway me,” you keep going, twist the knife to where it hurts: “You’re not the first one, let me tell you that, Tzuyu. And I can assure you: you certainly won’t be the last.” Hands on her hips, and you fuck in - it doesn’t get any simpler than that. “Don’t test me with that attitude, because I’ll make you change it in an instant.” 
Her entire body is like a noose, a live wire on a bomb that’s about to reach zero - she’s gripping and convulsing around your cock, you’ve got her to be this way, “Please,” pleads Tzuyu, the utterances and vowels and consonants all collapsing like some domino effect, eyes flapping shut, and the sounds of obscenity seem to get better every passing second, “You’re gonna make me- make me fucking cum, oh god-” 
She’s got so much potential to shake the industry up, not since Sana first came around and did some damage to you. Mina was also the same, and could match up with Sana if the universe allowed it. No one is ready for what Tzuyu has to offer, no fan could scream and break down crying let alone a photoshoot capture the beauty she carries with that face of hers, and that body, every part is sculpted to immaculate perfection, the flex in her abs when you thrust down, catch the arch in her back with an arm, get your forehead with hers, the scaffolding finally losing it’s last limbs of support at the ground level, hand quick to the hard bud of her nipple-
“Cum all over this cock, Tzu,” you’re sighing, leaning down to coax her with a kiss, and she’s got a hand raked through your hair again. “Cum for me. Do it. No shying away from me this time.” 
And like you’ve observed before, the mental note much like a callback, she’s so easy to comply; it's in how your mouth works over her, cunt so slippery hot in friction with your cock sliding in with no problem whatsoever, this is everything to you - and Tzuyu’s body goes limp, holding in a noise in her lungs. It’s a high-pitched ‘fuck’ followed with a murmur of your name, muddled with ‘baby, oh my god, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-’ 
You’ll leave a mark for someone else to notice, the shade with enough bite that could be covered up with a little foundation, let her ride out the peak of her high. “Breathe, Tzuyu. There we go, nice and easy, soak up my cock with that pussy of yours. Jesus.” 
Tzuyu picks up on things fast, and she’s reduced to a various spill of words. She’s a shuddering mess, sinking her hips down to get a lasting feeling of your cock when you pull out - but she’s quick to get up, hands fast to your thighs; leaning down, a swift lick up on the underside. Her makeup is a bit battered, chest slick and light pink from all the marks you put; she hollows her cheeks, has a little bit of fun, and you start to sink. 
“Tzu.” 
She gives no response, lowering her mouth past the halfway point, eyes lidded, but weighted with intent, appalled; her cheek blows up unintentionally, lathering up your cock in her spit, and your head falls back to the crown of the seat. She’s unsure with what she’s doing, you’re tensing and untensing in the lower half, but complaining is the last thing you’ll do. 
“I’ll make it up to you,” you say, gritting your teeth when Tzuyu reaches down a spot near the base, tongue grazing at a vein, where the head of your cock is staring down the hollow of her throat, a slight clench. She could care less with the curses leaving your mouth, it just tells her she’s doing something right. “Do whatever you want, and I’ll owe you next time. Fuck-” 
It does some form of numbers in your head when her eyes lock onto yours, smiling with half a cock in her mouth, quick to shut you up. 
Her mouth is amazing - and that could be an understatement. She’s holding you at the base, where the angle of your cock is tied down between her fingers. You let her take control for a bit, try to see if she can do it herself - but you’ll play the role of guidance again, because that’s what you do, help out in ways that make her have the moment - so you lean forward, hand fast to the back of her head, and you feel her jaw go slack, muffle the choking sound coming out of her open mouth- 
“Fuck, Tzuyu,” you grit, the name alone of hers is an easy impulse to keep doing; you’ve got her hair in this makeshift ponytail, out of the way when she continues to bob her head up and down the length. It was a boring day for you anyway, but at least you’ve made it up to have the prospecting breakout actress strip her clothes down and get on her knees in her manager’s office. “Just keep- yeah, okay, there we- ugh, shit-” 
She mumbles a brief phrase of a ‘mhm’, mouth wide open, salivating, nudging your cockhead down into her throat before pulling back up for another wisp of air - her index and thumb are wrapped around the bottom of your shaft, closing her eyes as the contraction literally leaves you breathless - all the way down into her throat, holding her up with her hair as much as you can- 
Yet the sound that rips from the cavity in your chest, it’s loud enough for someone to hear down the hallway, probably someone from the floor below to pick up on the commotion too. 
Tzuyu’s mouth lets out this sobbed out sound, coughing and inhaling your cock when you cum down her throat - she can’t swallow it all, you think, but you forget her ambition at times when she holds herself, eventually pulling back - eyes glossy and full of impurity, burning irises that mimic Sana’s when she also- 
“God-” you manage to choke out, fixated on the image of Tzuyu cleaning her face up with a small stream of your cum leaking out the corner of her lip. But, you’re satisfied. You’ll let her take the credit for now.
It also doesn’t help when she’s got a finger circling her slicked lips, tilting her head when she hollows her cheeks again around her fingertip. She knows she’s hot, how dirty she can get - and she’d let you do anything and everything from the fucking on the floor to railing her on the walls, because she’s got her own center of gravity with her being, that’s just how it is. 
You can’t help when you’ve pulled her back to your space, catching her lips, since that’s the only logical thing to do with her, and she’ll accept it. “Mmph. I just- you, you-”
“Yeah?” You’re saying, face in your hands when you keep kissing her. “Something to say?” 
“My mouth- you?” 
“And what about it?” 
“Your cum. You just-” 
“I overheard Sana talk to you about her story with me the other day, figured I’d just do it anyway.” 
The tone in your voice is a clear contrast to all the filthy stuff you were telling just a few minutes ago, it’s still crotchety, but a little more lighter than usual - like everything that was a worry suddenly just washed away, and all of a sudden Tzuyu’s quick to get your neck corralled with her arms, leaning for another kiss, the hums alone are delightful, pushing hysterical a bit. 
“I hate you,” she says, a chaste peck to your cheek when you’ve got her ass on top of your forearms, carrying her. She’s laying out a few suggestions, but you’re telling her that the gala could wait, to waste more time to explore her body, more and more. ‘That’s a lie, by the way, but I’m sure you knew that.” 
Shutting her up is a viable option, but she’s right on the jump with that one ahead of you - so she kisses you, why bother putting up a fight against that?
-
The car ride on the way to the gala premiere is nothing short in terms of quiet. Some chatter is being thrown around with you and the driver, since Tzuyu’s manager also had the unfortunate task of bringing some swinger that’s already made a name for herself with the company, per instructions given by Jihyo; you remember hearing it past the open door to your office, named Kim so-and-so on the files. Maybe it was Jennie or Jiwon, or was the name beginning with a letter D? 
“I think the boss man is convinced with your lobbying,” Tzuyu says under her breath. Like you, she’s managed to clean up her appearance - scent still fresh of sex, her hair still a bit rattled, but is trying to repair as much as she can. You can’t keep your gaze off of her; how the headlights from the oncoming cars illuminate through her eyes, handing you her hair band because it doesn’t match up with the look. 
“I mean, if you already asked him what you asked me, and he still refused,” chuckling when you’re looking out the window towards the sidewalk, trailing the crowd of people lining up around the venue, “That should give you enough prose to ask me, since I was next in line.” 
Tzuyu just laughs, dipping her head down - she’s infectious, without even putting effort into trying. You’re seeing why she’s bound to be a topic once she’s put herself out there, and - sure, you could draft up a file with all of that content in a heartbeat. Needless to say, you’ll be one of the many fans. 
“It was supposed to be sarcastic commentary,” Tzuyu tuts, combing her hair over to one side - at the left shoulder, turning her back towards you with the red strands of her dress untied. She peeks over before looking away, fingers fast to knot the ends for a snug fit, pat her collarbones down before tilting down to place a small kiss on her nape. “But on a serious note: do you really think you can handle my little fiasco?” 
You notice that the cars ahead start to slow down, file in line with security personnel stationed along the street, managing traffic. A whole lot of commotion going outside with the photo area, photographers getting ready with their cameras and flashes angled toward the cars, and thank God that the windows are tinted for good reason, brows furrowing in assessing the sea of different media outlets in attendance. 
Tzuyu flows her hair forward, a last minute touch up as she takes a deep breath to calm her mind. You’re playing the stand-in role of bodyguard, checking every side of the car to make sure that things are right in place, avoiding any form of fuck up that might pop up in the next few minutes or so. 
Just when a worker from the red carpet event approaches the door, a buzz vibrates on your thigh. One check later and it’s Tzuyu’s manager. With no hesitation, you answer: 
“Yeah. Oh, okay. Okay. Right, you got it.” 
“I’m trusting you with her. Please don’t fuck this up.” 
“I won’t,” you say, in a melancholic tone to which Tzuyu smirks at. “Good luck with Dahyun? I forgot her name, but it is Dahyun, is it?” 
“Don’t push your luck here, bye.” 
Once that’s gone out of the way, you move over to wave a hand to the worker, signaling a two in your hand to let them know of the delay. After touching bases. You settle back into the backseat, watch as Tzuyu observes from the window, taking in the sight of what she’s dedicated a good portion of her life towards - to thrive in the glares of publicity, get engulfed in the growing flames of fame. She can do a whole lot more than just stand still and look pretty, and you’ll help her there along the way. 
“Still think this is a lot to handle?” You ask, peering over her shoulder, causing her to twist back around to face you. “To be fair, you were pretty nervous when we brought up the incident earlier, so I’m just checking up on you.” 
Tzuyu simply stares, again. Her face may appear blank, but her eyes and the subtle quirk at the corner of her lips tell a different tale entirely. There’s also that sly dimple too, man, she’s too good for you to the point where it’s bad. So what if people already caught wind of her story, you’ve got the contingencies, the fallback if things go south; she got herself into this mess, and you know what you signed up for. 
“They all can go to hell if it comes my way,” says Tzuyu, face falling forward, leaning for a kiss. “Where’s the risk if you don’t run into a cyclone head on?” 
When she gets forward with a hand on the door handle, opening up to reveal herself to the world, you shake your head at her, because that’s another point of discovery to add to her growing list of character: she’ll be the face of this company in record time as long as she keeps acting this way, and you wouldn’t mind staying by her side for whatever is in store. 
Right before she goes any further down the capet, she twirls around on that singular heel on the sidewalk, facing you when you scan the screaming audience, landing your eyes on Tzuyu again - in all of her beauty and elegance, you’ll keep admiring no matter how far or close you are to her. 
An outreaching hand, the simplest gesture, and she asks: “So, are you ready tonight?” 
-
a/n: @co-reborn surprise! not really lol, but this fic is slightly dedicated to them. thank you taking time to read as always <3
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satoruhour · 1 year
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SL*T HIM OUT !
a/n: sometimes it doesn’t hurt to be more of a freak than ur man is...! im sorry to the babies who voted 4 fluffy sugu. also not tagging bc this intro is alr so damn long 😭
warnings: soooo filthy, lots of dirty talk, freaky!reader, modern au!gojo, online voyeurism / exhibitonism. implied cockwarming, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, light spanking (like once), gojo’s friends listen in, reader calls geto, m! masturbation (gojo), cult leader!geto, public sex (in front of his cult), clit stimulation, exhibitionism, power play (?), pussy slaps, squirting, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink (geto), exhibtiionism as well, oral (m receiving), handjob, semi-public sex (in a car), cum shot, implied creampie / breeding kink, cum eating, brief daddy kink @ the end (nanami), lie back oral (m receiving, basically an upside down bj lol), deep-throating, face-fucking, fingering, clit stimulation, spitting (in TOJI’s mouth!), cum eating (toji), n*sfw under the cut
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✶ GOJO
gojo thought his best friend and him were truly nasty people, exchanging videos of fucking their sneaky links, lewd photos of his cock in some chick’s mouth and sharing hookups between themselves several times, but when gojo had gotten together with you, it’s like the only time he’s got one-upped by someone repeatedly.
you, with your bright, blinding smiles and kind disposition being such a filthy slut behind closed doors. gojo can hardly hold in his moans as he tries to focus on the game in front of him, but you decided that cockwarming was too much of a waiting game that you’re disobeying your boyfriend and moving your hips.
“f— fuck, angel, didn’t you p-promise?” he’s already felt your cunt clench around him too many times for him to be saying stupid shit like that and it’s clear he’s not even following his own rules when his hips jerk up from his gaming chair and into your dripping cunt. it’s leaking so much he’s sure he needs to change the covers of it, soaking his cock and balls that there’s a wet patch of your juices under him. 
“you’re moving too, though,” you click your tongue with a grin, not caring about his friends on the game with him as you bounce fully, now. “j-jus’ can’t resist my boyfriend’s fat cock, now, can i?” 
gojo swears lowly at the praise and by now his control over his character in the game is lost to pleasure, too intoxicated with how your cunt squelches around his length and his hands leave his controller to cup your ass. his hips are meeting yours in shorter, desperate thrusts.
“w— wanna call, suguru, baby?” you’re whining into his neck and you can feel the brief nod; he was never opposed to your whorish ways, hearing the receiver pick up almost immediately and geto’s face comes on his display: shocked, half hard already and bothered.
“stretchin’ this pussy out s’much— mmh—” you turn back momentarily to give geto on the video call a drunk smile and a wave, interrupted by gojo’s harsh smack on your ass and a loud moan falls from your lips when he snaps his hips into yours, stark blue eyes trained on your cockdrunk face.
“who’s making you feel this good, slut?”
a hand goes up to squeeze your cheeks together and in gojo’s peripheral vision he can already see geto stroking his cock. his friends are probably disgusting too, muting their mics and jerking off, but a dirty girl like you loves it, don’t you?
“y— you are, ’toru— shit!” sat on gojo’s cock for too long makes you like this: crazed, filthy, and mixed in with geto’s impatient hand on his cock and gojo’s words in your ear? it’s not difficult to cum with “yes, yes, yes”’s leaving your lips, back arching into gojo’s hand as he fucks you like a fleshlight, sloppy thrusts hitting you deeper and deeper in you, you swear you see heaven with tears lining the corner of your eyes when gojo shoots his long awaited cum right into your puffy pussy and gojo’s head dig hards unto his headrest.
but gojo knows you aren’t done, moaning softly into his ears for you to turn him over and ways showing suguru what he can’t have.
“look at how much i’ve bred my pretty girl, suguru,” geto’s eyes stay locked as his best friend tugs his cock out of you, cum spurting out in loads and staining your pussy white that it’s got him reaching his climax with a choked groan, hands squeezing ribbon after ribbon of cum out of his cock and you watch, entranced. gojo swears he feels you clench and he grins. “maybe one day you’ll see your cum seeping out of her, heh.” 
✶ GETO
geto never liked humans — he’s made that much clear when he turned his back on jujutsu high and committed to his cause — but sometimes when pussy’s just too good, he can’t help but fuck it once in a while, or in this case, every day since you loved it.
“this— f-fuck—” geto’s slamming into you from behind, both hands wrapped around your biceps so hard it might as well make marks, but you hardly care when it holds you up so well as you take his throbbing cock repeatedly. your body’s limp, letting him use you in front of his cult.
“this— is how you breed— a cute little human—” suguru struggles to speak through his thrusts, hardly focused on his followers watching with gaping mouths and possibly tents in their pants. gross men, they were, but he doesn’t give one fuck knowing he’s the only one to have your pussy every single time. geto stays hypnotised by your dripping cunt sucking him in, clenching just as you lock eyes with one of his followers. “you could be getting treatment like this but—”
“g-geto-sama— harder, harder!” you whine when he yanks you up and hooks a hand under your knee. it drives him deeper into you easily, large cock reaching all the spots in you that you can feel your knee buckling. don’t worry, geto’s got you perfectly, but he smiles when you’re spreading your legs more.
“but you’re too busy being shitty fucking monkeys.” geto swears into your neck, robes removed hastily so he could have all of you and he switches positions again and carries you with both legs over his arms, shutting your pleas up for his cock by pulling your back against his chest and shoving him back into you from behind with a bit of your help.
you’re spread out like a buffet so nicely now, feet dangling lifelessly like a doll as his hips piston up into you from below and your praise falls from your mind for a moment. “suguru— s’deep, gimme more, please—!”
he doesn’t mind when you’re more than his worshipper in his quarters at night, muttering out a soft yeah? just for you to hear, fingers slapping your clit roughly and you’re jerking roughly, tongue lolling out and eyes rolled to the back of your head. it’s so hot, and suguru’s so strong, holding you up like this.
“this is how real men fuck,” geto declares as dramatically as always, continuing to land smacks on your pussy before you’re tensing up and your head falls on his shoulder, squealing. 
“cumming— sugu! g’nna cum— haah…” geto simply laughs when your body fully surrenders to him and you’re squirting all over the floor, juices littering the tatami mats and onto some of the faces of the followers, convulsing so much around his cock that he’s cumming soon after you, pumping you full just like the many times he’s done to you privately.
you feel him twitch in you and you don’t mind the drool leaving everyone’s mouths at that point, planting a sloppy kiss on his lips as you hear his praise against your lips — “that’s a good whore, taking all my cum like an obedient cum dump.” 
✶ NANAMI
nanami wasn’t aware of your high sex drive when you first dated — so when you’re dragging him past the higher-ups and the many sorcerers into some random limousine and slamming him against the door, he’s pleasantly surprised, although not too pleased at gojo shouting into the open air how yeaaahh! nanami’s getting some toniiighht!
sure, he might’ve been a little held back — he was never one for anything public, but feeling your hand tugging on his to rest between your legs and how your might not have worn underwear tonight, he was thinking he might need to do something about it.
but nanami is usually too afraid, so he willingly lets you pull him instead into one of the random limos outside the fancy gala venue. at this point there’s too many sorcerers at the event that he isn’t even sure who the driver escorted here, but it turns out to be one of tokyo’s, unknown of your current need to have nanami down your throat and up your pussy.
nanami’s cheeks burn when the driver recognises his voice.
“ah! nanami-san, back to jujutsu high?”
all the while, you’re yanking at his pants and pulling st his underwear, him torn between letting you do what you want and having some decorum in front of a junior. but you’re whispering against his half-hard cock, pressing light kisses on his leaking tip that maybe it isn’t so bad succumbing to you sometimes.
“needed your cock since i saw you in this suit, kento— mmfgh—” you’re quick to descend on his dick, not caring if he was still hardening. that was your favourite part, feeling him stretch to his full size while still in your mouth, words a mere whisper that you’re grinning at the possibility of getting caught.
“shit—” nanami groans softly when you bob your head, thankful the partition was slid close and all cars for sorcerers are usually muffled pretty well for confidentiality (gojo requested it, god knows why) — because from here he can hear you slobber over him unforgivingly and noisily, not caring about consequences one bit.
“angel, you gotta be quieter… fuckkk…” you lick a long stripe up his cock, his ears picking up on the way you play with yourself under your dress and nanami scoffs at how much audacity you had, pulling you off immediately and pushing you into the seats.
though, nanami’s streak of confidence is lost once he feels his tip prod at your hole. he can feel you squeeze around him so tightly that you take over, collecting your slick easily by drawing his cockhead along your folds. it’s so disgusting and hot, hearing the slick squelch around before you’re pushing him into you and you’re letting out a drawn out moan.
“kentooo…”
“nanami-san? everything okay?”
you giggle softly, shouting across to the driver, “everything’s well, tsugimo-san!”
“ahh— (y/n)-san, i was unaware you were here too—” hips push back on his cock and nanami bites his lip so hard he tastes copper. you’re so wet you get right in, buried right up to the hilt, hissing softly at the way your ass ripples against him, “boring party huh?”
you laugh, “soooo boring,” it’s disguised as a whine, moving your lower body back on nanami and it’s a wonder he’s able to stay so still in the vehicle — while he’s gotta praise tsugimo for driving so steadily, he thinks it’s because of his fear of getting caught that makes him so still and rigid.
the thrill is unlike any other, though, so he takes the chance, hooking both hands under your neck and pulling.
“sorry to hear that, (y/n)-san! well, rest up back there.” oh, poor tsugimo had no idea you were getting your guts arranged by your lover, head tipped back all the way while your back arches and your moans are shamelessly loud. nanami bullies his cock into you, too in love with your tight, pretty cunt as he tries to keep his grunts to a low.
“c’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” nanami rasps despite the loud pap! pap! pap! of his balls that’s he’s convinced he’s going to get a warning letter tomorrow but at least he’ll have this memory to jerk off to next time: your sweet cunt gushing around him, arousal giving away the racy things you were doing. he can feel his approaching high, the twitching of his cock obvious enough that you notice too until you’re forcing yourself off of him. nanami’s a little disappointed in not being able to paint your insides white but—
you’re skilfull (and excited) by the way you’re manoeuvring yourself onto the carpeted floor of the limo, pushing nanami that he falls back onto the leather seats and both hands wrap around his throbbing cock.
“give me all your cum, kento,” you mumble, the two hands pumping him hastily straight up offensive as you fill the car with the slickest noises. tongue outstretched and your warm, soft hands moving at a steady pace has nanami cumming with a muffled groan and jolting hips, angry tip spurting so much semen into your mouth. your arms never stop, milking him dry as you suckle on his cockhead, slurping up the cum that threatens to spill out.
“mmhh— s’much…” it has your lover panting, watching you smother his seed along the bottom half of your face messily and he thinks maybe, maybe, this could be his second favourite place to cum on.
“...cum. need some more, daddy.”
✶ TOJI
toji chuckles when you beg with another flutter of your eyelashes, simply leaving a soft peck on your lips and he drags you gently — a entire 180 from how how he’s got you on your back now, getting your pulse up from how his cock is past your face and reaches your throat.
“ya sure you want this, baby?”
you roll your eyes, tugging on him and making him let out a soft groan, letting you have your way as you stroke him needily. you’ve been wanting to have him down your throat while on your back for the longest time, wanting to feel that uncomfortable stretch of your jaw and getting his cockhead as deep as you could into your mouth—
you’re already doing your own thing, swirling your tongue around toji’s tip and playing with his balls, before you feel the other pump himself, spitting on his palm to get it wet just a little before easing himself into your throat. the stretch is delicious with how big toji is, seeing himself bulge in your throat by how deep you were taking him.
“oh— s-shit, that’s it. mouth so fuckin’ warm—” you moan around his cock, mouth stuffed full and hands kneading at his thighs that he takes it as the green light to go. it’s slow, at first; he’s afraid to hurt you and yet you’re humming around him, gargling on his dick so dirtily that he can’t help but thrust.
it’s a hundred times better than you going down on him normally, letting him fuck your mouth upside down. toji smiles when you guide his hand to your clit with no problem and as he leans forward he reaches the hilt in you. you whimper around him, the smile spreading into a sick grin as he rubs lazy circles upon your clit.
“m’slutty girl needs it that badly, hm?” toji accentuates each word with slaps against your pussy, already so wet from being in such a provocative position and having your boyfriend’s shaft in your mouth — toji laughs when he inserts his fingers and your hips buck up, while his never falters; he’s always been the best at masking how he felt.
toji moans at the way you gurgle on his cock, slipping out momentarily to let you breathe. it’s nice seeing you so slutted out, drool dripping down your face paired with a grin. you spit on him from below, stroking his cock for a bit before he’s back in your mouth. you clamp down on his fingers when he starts to set an relentless pace, slamming into your mouth while needy moans send vibrations up his body.
“takin’ me like a good lil girl, aren’t ya?” toji swears lowly at the way his fingers disappear into you, both holes of yours filled to the brim. “g’nna cum, doll.”
your forearms close around his thighs, head falling off the edge of the bed as you hollow your cheeks even more and breathe through your nose. his hips are turning sloppy and loose now, losing its pace altogether as he ruts into your warmth.
“take my load down your throat, baby— f-fuck—” it’s abrupt when toji cums, thighs pulled taut under your hands and his hips still. his fingers also lose control, hand cupping your cunt instead as ribbons of his cum flood your throat. you’re swallowing part of it, popping his cock out of your mouth and turning over onto your knees.
the sheer size of toji always excites you, towering over you but you ignore the throb of your pussy to shove your lips onto his, making him taste himself — it’s spit everywhere, leaking from the corners of your mouths and when you pull away there’s a string of saliva connecting the both of you.
you simply thumb his bottom lip, the familiar scar running against the pad of your thumb and toji only slyly smiles, opening his mouth willingly. he’d never let anyone do this, but you gather a glob of saliva and spit it into his mouth, a mixture of cum and drool and toji just fucking loves how lewd you are.
“thanks, mama,” toji lands a playful slap on your ass and you giggle, “doin’ so well, always.”
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adoregojo · 7 months
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secret admirer.
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hihihihihihihihi, i cannot believe i actually slept for two days in a row? wth? and also that i never did this kind of posts? im such a lazy bum mb yall, I promise I'll write a real fic soon. summary: bllk characters as your secret admirers: isagi, bachira, chigiri, reo. how they fell, what do they do, how did they confess.
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isagi.y
him. just him.
you once held his shirt collar to stop him from planting flatly on the floor.
and when you walked away, you walked with his heart in your palms.
yea, just like that
but honestly, isagi himself didn't knew he was such a big sap inside
and the moment he realised you two shared a few classes was the second he almost kneeled and thanked the sky itself for this.
an absolute swoon from looking at your side profile.
he once was long gone within the abyss of daydreaming about you, he genuinely just couldn't look away.
then got called out by the teacher for being too distracted.
definitely prayed that you didn't see that.
writes your name unintentionally in his notebook.
gets so embarrassed about it later and rips the paper.
still dose it again the next day and almost ripped the whole book apart form cringing at himself.
he once was musing over you too much to the point that your name slipped out unwittingly on the dinner table.
his parents couldn't stop teasing him about it, wondering when they would see you walking down their house door.
leaves love notes in your locker almost everyday.
it's something short and simple like: "you look pretty today."
then when he goes home he'll realize how dumb that was because you literally look the prettiest everyday.
dumb, dumby.
takes time to make the first move though.
he just feels like you're way, farther away from his reach.
it's okay, he still considers himself lucky to be one of those who got admire you.
he just hoped you saw him behind all of them, even if it was a glance.
chigiri.h
omgg pretty boyyy
despite chigiri being a confident and self-reliant, the trigger words of his old injury was like a pulling a pin of a grenade to his still-raw sorrowness. something that'll always haunt him.
and what dose he dare to say when they were nothing but truthful? like a salt to his wounds, he tends to just take it and suck it up, or at least try to ignore it for his sake.
but everything flipped when you stood up for him.
from that moment on. chigiri knew that he was far a goner.
out of everyone here he's definitely the most romantic one.
reads all your favourite books and analysis it.
probably named a cat after you.
like isagi he writes love letters for you.
just a little too poetic..
it it's short then it's something like: "loving you is like breathing." or "i hope your days are filled with the same joy you give me with your existence only."
but mostly is: "my definition of love, i see the true meaning of living behind your hue of life. you shall lighten my soul with your existence alone, i was born to see you shin each day, witnessing you is a blessing from heaven itself. the day that i stop seeing you as the owner of the stars is the day my body shall vanish, yet my soul will know it way back to you. from your only and one your admirer."
what a lovesick clown.
he might be a smooth talker on the outside, but trust me the butterflies of sentimental keeps on swirling in his stomach on the sight of you.
told his mother and sister about you.
it was his biggest regrets.
because the next day his sister shouted your name in a demand for you to spend the night for the 'meeting of the future in law'.
he had to physically drag her back to the car, freaking embarrassing.
couldn't meet your eyes for a while after that.
wants to hold your hand.
like, really badly.
it's just that feeling your skin against his cold, pristine hands must've feel like the loveliest, cosiest thing.
the thoughts alone are making him go crazy.
he confessed first, just couldn't help himself.
he just hoped if you would go to the end of the world alongside with him.
bachira.m
the sunshine boy himself.
the definition of fell first AND fell harder.
it all started when the class was ordered to work as duo for a project, something he always despised.
you may say that because bachira was definitely not having the word 'smart' in his book, you'd be right actually.
but mainly since no one really wanted to group up with him.
it was embarrassing, to just sit there and wait to be picked was putting him under the lights that pointed him out as the most pitiful creature in the room.
then you pocked him on the shoulder, and asked him if he wanted to be your partner.
and when he didn't see the sarcasm reeking from you, he knew he tripped hard, and couldn't find it anywhere in his feet to back him up.
it was strange, bachira never had a company, let alone a crush.
but the signs were there, and were painfully vulnerable.
painted you in art class multiple times; you with a smile, you reading a book, you sniffing a sunflower.
maybe also you and him... holding hands or hugging...
stares at your face a way, way too long.
he tells himself it's to crave your features better and detailed.
even he doesn't believe that however.
he draws your eyes a lot.
his second favourite colour is your eyes hue.
he was never the best at writing romantic poems, and his hand writing is just........
so he insisted gets you a gift!
which is a rock.
yes you heard me, rock.
he would even paint a little face with a smile on it and leave it on your desk by the end of the day.
almost went bald from joy when you had it hanging as a small march on your bag.
and when you had a bad day, that goes unnoticed by him.
so imagine your surprise when you would find two pairs of rocks, one kissing the other who had a sad expression on it face.
that somehow that foster a blissful smile on your face. like that little action extinct any remains of the past negative you carried.
and bachira was more than happy to be the reason for your happiness.
definitely rambles about you to his mom.
and his monster.
he once ha a dream about you two smooching.
cried when he woke up because he wanted it to be real more than anything.
you two confessed first, at the same time.
and boy was he dancing on cloud nine at it.
he almost smooch you that moment and then.
reo.m
it's mister perfect everyone, cheer.
you fell first, he fell harder.
no, literally. you fell. tripped flat on the floor.
and somehow, that made the reo mikage heart move.
?????????
love at first (fall??) sight.
he definitely leaves a trail of gifts for you everywhere.
your chair, desk, locker, bag.
he switches between chocolate and flowers to letters and perfumes, necklaces, etc..
you say how he picked them?
easy, see something that reminds him of you, he buys.
and it's pretty foolish since he sees you in almost everything.
reo is convinced that you're within everything that shins beautifully.
he actually paid the teachers to let him be in the same classroom as you.
paid even more to get a seat next to you.
rip to whoever was sitting next to you.
he once heard that a guy was bothering you.
the next day the guy was the talking of school because he suddenly moved out of town due to his dad losing his job.
hm, must be karma then.
has a shrine of you.
but you didn't hear that from me.
talks about you none stop to nagi and ba-ya.
genuinely sobbed when he imagined you with someone else.
has a flight under your name.
made a makeshift doll of you so he can practice his confessions on.
had a mental breakdown of the idea of you rejecting him.
reo can the most horrible, miserable day to a human kind to live.
then he sees you smiling
BOOM
he's all happy and smiling again, also a little giddy.
you once greeted him good morning, the next day he was planing what ring would suit you the most.
had two planes to write on the sky: 'will you go out with me?' and your name next to it in a shade of a heart.
now, you definitely cannot reject that. (Please don't)
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have a nice day everyone.
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bloodymarymorstan · 1 year
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So yesterday I watched all the historical scenes of Crowley and Aziraphale in chronological order and then feverishly came up with a new interpretation of the "you go too fast for me Crowley scene" so here it is:
Ok so now we know from season 2 that the Dirty Donkey pub where Crowley holds his heist-planning meeting is right across the street from Aziraphale's bookshop. This means that when Aziraphale goes to meet Crowley in his car he literally just walks across the street, but it also means that when Crowley offers to drive Aziraphale somewhere he isn't offering to take him home. The previous implication of that interaction was that Crowley was going to drive Aziraphale back to his bookshop, but Crowley knows that the bookshop is only a 30 second walk away so that's obviously not the case. In fact, Crowley doesn't actually ask Aziraphale if he wants to be driven home, what he actually says is "can I drop you anywhere?" and then "I'll give you a lift, anywhere you want to go".
So now we know that Crowley isn't trying to drive Aziraphale home, the conclusion we have to draw is that he's asking him if he wants to go somewhere else with Crowley. This is kind of a covert way of wording things, but Crowley is still testing the waters at this point in their relationship. He pulled this same tactic in 1941 when he said he would give Aziraphale a "lift home" and then ended up taking him somewhere else which led to them spending the entire evening together. "I'll give you a lift" has essentially become code for "let's hang out". This also explains why Crowley looks genuinely disappointed and upset when Aziraphale turns down his offer (and why Aziraphale acts apologetic about it).
But, considering that we know Aziraphale has fallen for Crowley by now AND that they went out together in 1941, why the "you go too fast for me Crowley" line? My explanation is this: in 1941, Crowley nearly got in big trouble with Hell simply for having been seen with Aziraphale, and not only did he not seem that bothered by it but he is now asking Aziraphale if he wants to go out again even though they've both been directly confronted with the risk this poses for him. I think it scares Aziraphale that Crowley is willing to risk so much just to spend time with him - he's not ready to confront the truth of what that means yet, and he's also not yet at the point where he'd be willing to take the same risk with Heaven. As usual, Crowley is a step ahead of him in terms of his commitment to their relationship, hence "you go too fast for me". Keep in mind that Aziraphale was very caught up in the moment in 1941 and has had a lot of time to reflect since then about the potential consequences of a relationship with Crowley, and he's just not ready yet even if he definitely wants it.
As a side note, I think it makes a lot of sense that this is the point when Aziraphale agrees to give Crowley the holy water (and why Crowley is more determinedly seeking it in the first place), because now both he and Crowley more fully understand the the danger Crowley will be in if Hell finds out what the two of them have been up to.
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oddinary4bts · 1 month
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Chasing Cars | ch 15 (jjk)
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☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?
☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader
☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters have mature content)
☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff
☆warnings: cursing, mentions of taehyung getting slapped, alcohol, a haunted house (and a clown), fear of someone possibly committing the irreparable, confessions <3, explicit content: implied penetrative sex
☆word count: 7.4k
☆a/n: finally the end of the angst :') hope you guys enjoy <3 and thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing, you're the best <3
☆series masterpost
☆add yourself to the taglist here!
☆☆☆☆☆
If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol
☆☆☆☆☆
Friday, October 11th
You don’t think you’ve slept. You’ve lied in bed all night, chasing the smell of Jungkook from last night on your sheets. You hoped he’d reappear, materialize here in this room where you and him always made sense, but he stays gone, and you stay alone. 
Lonely, like the moon in the sky up above. 
The morning is grey, colourless. The sun rises like it didn’t care about you and Jungkook, like its heart perhaps never imploded on itself. But yours has, the second you had to watch Jungkook walking out of the door.
He’d closed the door softly behind him, and you’d turned towards Taehyung. You’d seethed, “I fucking hate you”, through your teeth, and Taehyung had offered you a sad, apologetic stare.
“You’ll understand that this is the best for you,” he’d said, and you’d walked up to him and slapped him, hard enough for your hand to sting.
He’d taken it, barely even flinching, and as his cheek had reddened, you’d said, “You should have fucking stayed in Paris.”
And then you’d fled to your room, and he’d let you do it.
It was the first time you’ve ever slapped him - or anyone, for that matter - and you really hope it’ll be the last. Perhaps because it came from such ugly feelings, from heartbreak and betrayal and everything in between, and it raged through you only to leave a pathetic shrivelled shape behind.
You’d meant it last night - you miss Jungkook. And you miss him more than ever now, as you’re faced with the irreversibility of your falling out.
Ariane came back home after you’ve gone to bed last night. You heard her walking in, heard her speaking to Taehyung in the living room before the sounds faded as they moved to their room. And as you lied there, you’d wondered, why did Taehyung even come back home so early?
Why couldn’t he stay at the movie theatre long enough for you and Jungkook to fix your relationship? Long enough to have that much needed conversation, long enough so you’d never said that last night was a lapse of judgment?
You regretted the words the moment they were out. You don’t think you truly meant them - yesterday night was heaven on Earth, a step out of time to a past you were trying to move on from.
This morning, you know you’ll never be able to move on from Jungkook. Not when your feelings for him were strong enough to make you hate the one person who always cared for you, who always was there for you growing up.
Because with the grey light of dawn you realize that you do truly hate Taehyung. You don’t think you’ll be able to see him again without blowing up in his face, so you remain hidden in your room as he and Ariane get up. He doesn’t text you if you want breakfast, doesn’t say anything at all.
You think it’s a relief - you don’t have it in you to fight anymore.
Jungkook hasn’t texted you either. You’ve debated sending him a message for most of the night, but you haven’t figured out what. You reckon he might need space after last night, after the roller coaster of emotions that everything was, and so you think it might be okay if you haven’t texted him yet.
You rub the tiredness out of your eyes, sighing deeply as the sounds in the apartment fade when Taehyung and Ariane leave for their morning classes. You get out of bed then, putting on clothes before you head to the kitchen.
Taehyung left you a plate of eggs and bacon on the table, with a scribbled note next to it. I’m sorry is all that’s written, and you wonder if Ariane forced him to write it.
It’s unlike Taehyung to ever apologize for anything after all. You crumple the piece of paper, throw it out in the recycling bin, and then eat the food even though it’s gone cold since Taehyung left it there. It’s still food, and though your appetite doesn’t show up, you still manage to eat half of it.
You text Nabi that you won’t make it to class before heading back to your room, the heaviness of everything that happened in the last twelve hours catching up to you. You feel bone-deep exhausted, and you hide underneath the covers of your bed, tears pricking at your eyes.
It’s nothing new - you’ve been crying on and off since Jungkook left last night, and that, most of all, must have been the reason why sleep evaded you all night long.
You grab your phone, quickly moving to your text message app. You find Jungkook’s conversation, rereading his text from September.
[09/08/24] JK: hey.. do you want to talk?
You’d ignored it then, but today, you find yourself in his position. Find yourself writing a message similar to the one he’d sent, and you reread it a thousand times before you find the courage to press send.
[9:37 am] You: i’m sorry about what i said last night. can we talk?
Anxiety flushes through you as the message delivers. It’s adrenaline in your blood, and you remain on the conversation for five minutes, hoping Jungkook might reply right away.
He doesn’t. As a matter of fact, he doesn’t reply all morning, and you busy yourself by going back to the dorms, not wanting to stay at the apartment knowing that Taehyung is going to come back eventually. 
You find the dorm room to be empty, which you reckon is a relief. You don’t think you’d have the strength to see anyone right now, not when the exhaustion is almost enough to make you crumple on yourself.
You end up taking a nap for most of the afternoon, waking  up drenched in sweat from a nightmare you forget the second your eyes open.
Perhaps the presence of Nabi and Ria, sitting on Ria’s bed next to you, contributes to your forgetfulness after all.
“Morning,” Ria teases.
You frown, shutting your eyes again as you hide your face in Nabi’s pillow. “Morning,” you mumble in reply.
“Why’d you miss class this morning?” Nabi asks.
You let out a noncommittal sound.
The mattress dips next to you as someone sits there. “What’s wrong?” Ria asks.
The tears are spilling over a second later, and you tell them everything. You tell them how your conversation with Ria yesterday inspired you to do the same thing with Jungkook, but that you never got the chance to tell him how you feel. You tell them about Taehyung, about Jungkook leaving without a single look back. You tell them about the text that sits unanswered on your phone, and you tell them you’re tired, oh so tired.
Ria runs a soothing hand on your back through it all, while Nabi says she’ll go buy ice cream. You sit with Ria in silence for a while, before glancing at her.
“I hope things went better between you and Seokjin,” you say, voice rough from all the crying you’ve done.
She offers you an apologetic smile. “It did. But we don’t have to speak about it right now.”
You take a deep breath, wiping your cheeks dry even though you haven’t shed a tear in a few minutes. “No,” you say after. “Tell me everything. I just need to stop thinking about Jungkook for a while.”
There’s a knock on the door, startling the two of you. Ria throws you a quizzical look and then gets up to open the door. 
Yoongi’s on the other side, a six-pack of beer in hands. “Nabi said to meet you guys here,” he says to Ria, then looks behind her to see you sitting on the bed. You must look like hell, because he lets out, “Shit.” 
It makes you laugh, and then you pat the bed next to you. “No clue if beer mixes well with ice cream, but come here.”
Yoongi grins, and then he walks in, kicking off his shoes. Turns out beer does not mix well with ice cream, as you find out half an hour later when Nabi’s returned with a one-liter tub of vanilla ice cream with fudge ripples in it.  The two tastes clash in your mouth, but you shrug it off.
It’s Friday evening, and though Jungkook still hasn’t replied, you want to have fun with your friends. And you really try to - Ria drags you all to a board game bar near campus, and you play as you drink and eat your fill.
You’re walking home, arms hooked with the girls while Yoongi leads the way, when your phone buzzes in your pocket. You can’t see who’s texted you, but your heart picks up its pace, like it knows.
“Thank you for tonight,” you say to no one in particular.
Yoongi looks over his shoulder. “You suck at board games.”
He bursts out laughing as you let out an offended sound, and Ria and Nabi pull you back as you try to jump on Yoongi. 
“You’re a dick!”
He just laughs harder, until everyone joins in. 
Until joy pierces the clouds in your mind, and weight seems to be lifted from your shoulders. You feel lighter - who needs a man when you have your friends?
“For real though,” you say once the laughter subsides. “I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”
Nabi rests her head on your shoulder. “Good thing that you don’t have to live without us.”
“You’re such a sentimental drunk,” Ria teases, yet she pecks your cheek all the same. “Love you, bitch.”
“Love you too.”
Later, when you’re about to hop in the shower at the dorms, you finally look at your phone. You’d all but forgotten the earlier buzzing, but the message that waits for you is a bomb awaiting explosion, and you think it explodes right in your chest.
[11:26 pm] JK: i honestly don’t think we should talk rn. sorry
You swallow the rumbles of your beating organ, but they cut on the way down until you’re bleeding out standing there, naked save for the flip flops on your feet.
The clouds come back to your head, thickening until all light seems gone.
[11:58 pm] You: okay… i really am sorry
Jungkook never replies to that, and you cry yourself to sleep that night.
Sunday, October 13th 
Each year like clockwork a fair comes into town around Halloween. It’s a fair of light and music, games and plush toys to be won, with a haunted house and a corn maze. It’s not exactly in town - it’s a fifteen-minute drive from the outskirts of town, but Namjoon has a car, and so does Seokjin.
You technically do too, but you left it to Taehyung when you moved to the dorms. 
You get there with Nabi and Namjoon, Yoongi riding in the backseat with you. Ria and Seokjin are going to get there later, which you think is a good thing.
They have months of catching up to do, and you can’t blame them for wanting to be alone. Especially not when you see just how much Ria has been glowing the last few days.
You have to park the car in a field, and you’re glad you chose to wear your frat party shoes - the field is muddy from yesterday night’s rain. Nabi complains about it, and Namjoon immediately offers her a piggyback ride to cross a large puddle of mud.
You turn to Yoongi.
“Can I piggyback you too?” you ask, lips jutting out in a small pout.
He snorts. “No.”
You roll your eyes, though you chuckle as he walks around the puddle as best as he can. It’s useless - there’s mud everywhere, and your shoes are entirely dirty by the time you make it to the fair grounds. You head to the ticket booth, though you have to wait in line for a while before you manage to finally get in.
“I want a plushie,” you say the second you see the first game a little while later.
It’s a game where you have to throw rings on the necks of glass bottles. Your friends follow you to it, and you’re quick to make a competition of who’s going to succeed the most. To your surprise, it ends up being Nabi, and she wins a small dragon plushie that she gives to you immediately.
You cradle it to your chest as you make your way to the next game, though your heart drops to your ass when your gaze connects with Taehyung’s as he stands next to the stand.
“Nope,” you let out, turning around to head in the other direction.
“What?” Yoongi asks, but he soon falls into step with you. “Y/n, what’s wrong?”
“Just saw my asshole of a brother, and I have no interest in talking to him tonight,” you explain as your heart races in your chest from newfound adrenaline. “Or ever, to be honest.”
Yoongi winces. “Can’t blame you.” He looks behind you, nudging you with an elbow. “We’re clear though. He didn’t follow.”
You nod, stopping to glance behind yourself too. Nabi and Namjoon are nowhere to be seen, but you think it’s okay - at least you’ve got Yoongi. And Yoongi is a fun partner, though he beats you in most of the games you end up playing with him. He makes you laugh, and you think that’s what’s most important right now.
To have fun with your friends, lest your heart runs back to a doe-eyed boy who’s decided to leave you in the past.
“Want to do the haunted house?” you suggest to Yoongi.
He seems unconvinced, yet he still says, “Sure.”
Seokjin and Ria find you in line for the haunted house, joining you in the middle while apologizing to the people behind you, though they barely even pay attention to you. You hold a smile in at the sight of their entwined hands, and you nudge Yoongi to point towards it.
He rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The smile freezes on his face a second later, and you glance in the direction he’s looking.
It’s the guy from the reception at the gym. He recognizes you, and you wave hello as Yoongi turns beet red next to you.
“Want to go talk to him?” you say, wiggling your brows.
“You say a single other word, and I’m going to murder you,” Yoongi says through gritted teeth.
“Damn,” Ria lets out. “Someone’s angry.”
Yoongi scoffs, though his cheeks remain fully flushed up until you make it to the front of the line. It fades when you walk into the haunted house, though you think it might be because a clown jumps in his face the second you walk in.
Yoongi raises his fists in a defensive stance, and you burst out laughing as the clown moves to Ria, who shrieks so loud you wouldn’t be surprised if she ripped your eardrums.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to punch them,” you tease Yoongi.
He glares at you in the dim light. “Maybe I should punch you.”
“Try me bitch.”
At that he laughs, and then tension finally goes out of his shoulders. You spend the rest of the haunted house startling whenever someone jumps in front of you, letting out small shrieks that are entirely shadowed by Ria’s screams. Seokjin doesn’t fare any better, and you and Yoongi make fun of them, so much so you find yourself wiping happy tears from your eyes when you finally walk outside again.
“Never doing one of these again,” Seokjin deadpans, which only makes you and Yoongi laugh again.
Ria punches his shoulder. “You were supposed to protect me.”
“I was scared too!” Seokjin lets out, massaging the spot she hit. “I don’t ever do haunted houses!”
The two of them start bickering, though the teasing twinkle in their eyes tells you that it’s all in good fun. And it’s beautiful to see, though you can tell Seokjin is not all the way in yet.
You can’t blame him - Ria did lead him on for a while. But you can only hope that they’ll make it despite everything. When he throws an arm around her shoulder to pull her in, kissing the top of her head, you reckon they will.
If anyone makes it through the college experience without breaking up, it’ll be them, and Nabi and Namjoon. At least you hope so.
You meet up with Nabi and Namjoon when you go to the area where multiple food stands have been erected. You and Yoongi get corn dogs, only because you haven’t eaten them in forever and you feel like indulging tonight.
Like forgetting that, three days ago, you broke your heart and Jungkook’s heart with words you didn’t mean, all because your brother took you by surprise while you were with Jungkook.
Speaking of Taehyung, you notice him on the other side of the food court-like area, surrounded by his group of friends. He sees you, waving halfheartedly at you like he expects you might have forgiven him already.
You haven’t. As a matter of fact, the sight of him out and about enjoying himself after he caused Thursday’s heartbreak makes you hate him even more, and you turn away from him to focus on your friends’ conversation. But you can’t join in - your thoughts have run back to Thursday, to the feeling of Jungkook’s gentle hands all over you as you’d had sex, and then as you’d taken a shower together.
Your thoughts run back to your love confessions, that you both didn’t register because you were too angry, too caught up in the moment. But you know he said he fell in love with you, just like you did with him.
And that, most of all, is the reason why you hate Taehyung. Because no amount of loving Jeon Jungkook could save the relationship when your brother was so keen on destroying it. 
You take a deep breath as heaviness settles on you, and Nabi sidles closer to you, nudging you gently.
“Don’t think about it right now,” she whispers for just you to hear. 
You swallow around the lump in your throat. “It’s hard.”
“I know,” she gently says. “I know it’s hard, and I know you probably wish you weren’t here right now. But this is a good distraction, no? You loved it last year.”
You did. You’d ended up coming here four times before the fair closed shop for the year, and each time you had had the time of your life, messing around with your friends with not a single care for the world around you.
Needless to say, you’ve lost that unbothered attitude now, the frivolity of it completely forgotten.
You sigh, meeting Nabi’s gaze for a few seconds. “I’m trying. It doesn’t help that Taehyung is here, though.”
“You want me to go kick his ass?” Nabi asks. You chuckle, and a smile tickles at the corner of your lips. Nabi grins at the sight of it. “You’re going to be okay,” she promises. “We’ll make sure of it.”
You can only hope that she’s right.
After eating, you all head to the maze. You team up with the girls, racing the boys to the end. Evidently you get lost, and you manage to laugh around with your friends even through the heaviness on your shoulders. You’re lost somewhere in the middle of the maze when your phone rings in your purse with three incoming text messages.
You reckon you know who texted you. Considering that all of your friends are here with you tonight, there’s only one person you think could have texted you.
So you stop walking, Ria and Nabi stopping a step ahead of you, and you pull your phone out of your purse, heart dropping to your ass.
[7:27 pm] JK: hey so i’ve been thinking and there’s some stuff i need to get off my chest [7:27 pm] JK: sorry for the long message [7:28 pm] JK: I want to apologize for everything. I’m sorry, so sorry that I couldn’t make it work. I’m sorry Paris happened, I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you right away. I wish I’d been, maybe we’d be together now. But I had to fuck it up, multiple times honestly and I think it’s proof that I definitely am not ready to be in a relationship. I wanted to try tho, I really did. I think you and I could have been something great. And lately I’ve been wondering if, maybe we made it in another universe. Like… I can’t accept that there’s no universes out there where we make it, you know? Because I really love you. I’ve loved you since the day I met you and you ran into me. I fell for you the second I saw you, and then I found out you were Tae’s sister, and the rest is history. But I wanted you to know it, to know that I love you and that I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I fucked it up. I’d take everything back if I could, I’d save you the heartbreak, but life doesn’t work that way. so yeah… i’m really sorry peach… I hope we can make it in the next life
You can’t breathe. You can’t breathe for a whole minute as you reread again and again, and Ria and Nabi stand next to you, asking what’s wrong. You can’t say anything - you think your heart has stopped beating altogether.
You hand your phone to Ria, and she and Nabi read the messages while tears prick at your eyes, adrenaline flushing through you.
“Holy fuck,” Ria curses under her breath, and she meets your gaze. “Y/n, do you know where he is?”
You don’t. You have no clue where he’s gone to hide after he left Thursday, and you think you might be sick. “I don’t know,” you answer. “I don’t know, I don’t know.”
Tears fall from your eyes, and you grab your phone, immediately pressing on the call button. It goes to voicemail right away, and you choke on a sob as Nabi grabs your arm, pulling you behind her.
You were almost at the end of the maze, luckily, and the second you’re out you take off, your friends yelling your name behind you. Apparently, the boys made it out first, because there’s a chorus of ‘What is going on?’ as you run back towards the last place where you saw Taehyung.
Your brother is not there, and though you’re out of breath, you sprint down another alley, where a bunch of artists sell paintings and bracelets and everything in between. You try calling Jungkook again, but it once again goes to voicemail.
You’re about to throw up. You’ll fucking throw up your corn dog, you’ll fucking lose him, irreparably. The fear takes hold of you, sweeps through you until you’re shaking, tears falling freely like they have a mind of their own. You can barely think around the loud beats of your heart, around the sound of the blood gushing into your ears. 
You can’t think around the thought that Jungkook is about to hurt himself.
“Y/n!” Namjoon says behind you, and you spin around to see he’s the only one who managed to follow you. Your other friends are just now turning into the alley, and they rush towards you.
“Where’s my brother?” you ask, and you choke on another sob.
Taehyung is likely the only person here who might know where Jungkook is.
Namjoon looks over his shoulder as Ria skids to a halt next to you. “I don’t know,” he answers, and you almost want to punch him.
How is he so intelligent and doesn’t fucking know that?
“Have you guys seen Taehyung?” you ask your other friends as they all stop next to you. “I need to find him.”
They all nod, and you disperse throughout the fair, searching for your brother.
“Why don’t you call him?” Yoongi asks, and you startle - you didn’t notice he’d followed you.
And you find yourself stupid for not thinking about it before. Instead of trying to call Jungkook again - you’ve been trying constantly since you received his messages - you go to Taehyung’s contact, calling him.
He picks up on the third ring. “Finally talking to me?” he drawls.
“Where are you?” you ask.
He must hear the panic in your voice, because he answers, “In line for the haunted house. Is something wrong?”
You hang up, not replying, instead sprinting towards the haunted house. You indeed find Taehyung next to it, though he’s not in line anymore, like he knew you’d come see him.
“Where’s Jungkook?” you ask, the panic in your voice so stark you see the colours fading from his features.
“Why?”
“Where the fuck is Jungkook?” you repeat, and tears once again roll on your cheeks.
Ariane steps closer to you, resting a hand on your arm. “Y/n, what’s wrong?”
You break down. You fully break down, hiding your face in your hands. Yoongi explains the situation while Ariane pulls you into a hug, and you cry on her shoulder, clutching the fabric of her sweater - Taehyung’s sweater - as if that'll stop you from breaking.
“He’s at home,” Taehyung says, pulling you from Ariane’s arms. “He’s at home, Y/n. Let’s go.”
You nod, and you both take off, leaving Ariane and Yoongi behind. They don’t try to follow, clearly sensing that this is something you and Taehyung need to do alone. 
You’re frantic on the ride home, one leg bouncing up and down as Taehyung drives, and you urge him to go faster.
“It won’t do us any good if we get in an accident before getting home,” Taehyung answers, but you notice he does accelerate.
“Should we call the police?” you ask when you stop at a red light.
It only then occurs to you that you might walk in to find Jungkook hurt.
“We’re almost there,” Taehyung says gently. 
You are. You’d likely get there before the police would.
You’re crying again, the panic and terror swimming through your blood so loud you can’t think anymore.
You don’t know what you’ll do if Jungkook hurt himself. If you get home to find him…
You don’t dare finish the thought.
It feels like an eternity before Taehyung finally parks the car near the apartment, and you’re flying out of it before it’s gone to a full stop. Taehyung doesn’t comment, and you’re sprinting faster than ever, climbing up the stairs to your apartment in a record time. You try the door, but it’s locked, and you curse as you search through your purse, but you don’t have the keys.
You don’t have the keys.
“I got you,” Taehyung says as he reaches the top of the stairs, keys already in hand.
He unlocks the door in no time, and the second it’s open you crash in, skidding to a halt as you scan the apartment with your gaze. The door to the bathroom is open, revealing that it’s empty. So is the kitchen, but light filters from underneath Jungkook’s bedroom door.
You run to the door, push it open as your heart beats so fast you’ll likely go into cardiac arrest.
Jungkook is sitting in front of his gaming PC, and he turns his head towards you, gaze going wide at the sight of your distressed state.
“You came?” he lets out.
You just stand there, watching him. Taking in the sight of him, alive and unharmed, playing computer games like he always does. It’s enough to make you break down again, and you fold on yourself, tears streaming down your face. 
“I uh…” Taehyung trails off from behind you. “I’ll let you guys talk.”
Soft footsteps move towards you, and gentle hands pull you up and inside the room. You don’t see anything through the blinding waterfall in your eyes, and all you can do is sob harder when you’re pulled into someone’s arms.
Jungkook’s arms. They wrap around you, strong and steady, holding you close to him. Your fists clench on the fabric of his oversized white t-shirt, and you cry as you rest your forehead on his chest.
He holds you as all the anxiety rushes out of you in the form of endless tears, and you just cry and cry, the relief that he’s safe and sound so intense you feel whiplash. 
Eventually, Jungkook makes you sit down on his bed, and he gently takes off your shoes. He then lies next to you, pulling you down, and you rest your head on his chest, the flow of tears finally slowing down.
It comes to a full stop when Jungkook kisses the top of your head, his arms around you momentarily tightening.
“You’re an idiot,” you say, voice raucous from all the crying.
“I assume this is about the message I sent you?”
You frown, lifting your head to meet his gaze. His eyes are red-rimmed, and you only then realize that he’s been crying with you all along. “Gosh, Kook,” you let out, fresh tears welling up in your eyes, but you manage to blink them away. “I thought you were going to hurt yourself.”
“Oh.” He worries at his piercings for a few seconds, then adds, “I wasn’t.”
“You sounded like you were.”
His eyebrows almost touch over his eyes. “Oh?”
“‘I hope we can make it in the next life’” you narrate. “Doesn’t that sound like what someone would say before…” you trail off, unable to say the words, the fear still impacting you despite the fact that you’re realizing he was never in any danger.
He winces. “Now that you say it like that, I guess it does sound bad.” He scrunches up his nose. “Sorry?”
“Fuck,” you curse. “Jungkook.”
“I really am sorry, I didn’t want to worry you,” he insists. He pulls you down, forcing you to rest your head back on his chest. “I just wanted to tell you how I feel. And I knew I’d say it wrong if we were talking face to face, so I just put everything down in that message.” He chuckles, though you hear him gulp. “I wrote it all in my notes app before sending it to you.” He pauses, and his lips ghost the top of your head. “My therapist said I should write down how I feel, and reading it after, I realized I wanted you to know too.”
Your hand is resting on his abdomen, and you shift it until it’s wrapped around him, pulling his body closer.
“I love you too, Jungkook,” you whisper. “Maybe not for as long as you… but I love you too.”
“I know,” he murmurs in the same tone. “I know, peach.”
You blink away the new onslaught of tears that threatens to spill on your cheeks, and coincidentally on his shirt. “We do need to talk, though.”
“I know.”
You take a deep breath, trying to find courage. As if speaking to Jungkook is scary, dangerous.
But then again, this is just Jungkook. This is the man who took care of you when you were upset on Valentine’s Day, who took care of you at every party you attended last semester.
This is the man who was ready to lose his friendship with his best friend if that meant having you. And you realize then that there’s nothing to be scared about. It’s just you and Jungkook.
It was always going to be you and Jungkook, wasn’t it?
“I’m sorry too,” you admit. “For being so afraid of Taehyung’s reaction. And I wasn’t wrong to be.” You lift your head to eye the purple-turning-to-yellow mark on his cheek. It’s streaked with a linear scab, where the punch cut his skin. “I can’t believe he punched you.”
“I was expecting it.”
You look a little higher, meeting his gaze. “Why didn’t you try to stop him?”
His Adam’s apple bobs and he takes a deep breath. “I thought I deserved it.”
“Jungkook…”
“I did,” he affirms. “Did you know he told me not to touch you, ever, before I even met you?”
You frown. “That sounds like Taehyung.”
“Yeah…” Jungkook takes another deep breath, and you move your hand to hold his shoulder, thumb ghosting on the side of his neck. “And yet I did.”
“I’m happy that you did,” you whisper. “All the time we spent together last semester… I loved it, you know? I really fell for you.”
“I’m lucky you did,” he replies, and he pecks the top of your head. “But then again I treated you like shit. I should have pushed Gabrielle away before she even kissed me. But I just thought I was helping her.”
“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “I stopped being upset with you about it the second she told me everything.” You hold him a little tighter for a few seconds. “She was rooting for us, you know?”
Jungkook nods. “I know. She told me.” He sighs, and his lips brush the top of your head again, as if he’s trying to anchor you here.
To anchor himself here, with you, just lying in his bed, slowly forgetting the world.
“I’m sorry about Lisa,” he adds after a few beats of silence. “I really didn’t expect you to ever show up like that.”
“I should have texted you first,” you say as your heart clenches in your chest at the memory of Lisa in his shirt, of every scene of them together you imagined during your countless sleepless nights. “You had every right to try to move on with someone, you know?”
“But you didn’t,” he points out. “I should have held out for longer.”
“Jungkook,” you say sternly, lifting your head to meet his gaze again. “You couldn’t have known that I’d come back. You had the right to move on.”
His gaze is lined with silver, big doe eyes shining softly in the dim light from his PC monitor, and from the LED lights strung all around his room. They shine a gentle yellow tonight, so unlike the red you’re used to.
“I’m still sorry about it,” he murmurs, lower lip quivering.
“Stop,” you whisper, cupping his cheek. “Stop, Kook. I can’t lie and say that it didn’t hurt, but I was never mad at you for it. Not even for a single second.”
“I don’t deserve you,” he says, and tears spill from his eyes.
You’re quick to dry them with your thumb. “It’s not a question about who deserves who or what,” you say, and you move until you can pull his face into your chest. “It’s never been about that.”
“But I don’t deserve you.” He chokes on the words, and you run a hand through his hair, massaging his scalp soothingly.
“You do,” you say. “You really do, Jungkook. You were here for me all those months. You treated me well despite Taehyung being a concern, despite the fact that I never really fully gave myself to you because of him.” You blink away the wetness in your gaze. “You deserve me because you love me,” you add, and your heart warms in your chest.
It only occurs to you then how real the feelings are. They’ve always been there, always been strong, but now they have a name, and you think it’s the most beautiful name in the universe.
You were right to chase cars around his head, after all.
“You deserve me because you love me,” you repeat, “and because I love you.”
“I do love you,” he says softly. “I really do.”
You can’t help yourself - every single second of your life has led to this moment. You pull away, and he looks up at you as you lean forward. As you softly press your lips on his, and as you swallow the soft sigh he lets out. You kiss him gently, your heart syncing with his, the cars now chasing themselves around both of your heads.
And you do forget the world, as you kiss him. It’s just you and him, like it’s always been meant to be. Just you and Jeon Jungkook, and your souls fusing into one. And maybe the three words aren’t enough, maybe ‘I love you’ can’t convey everything that you feel for Jungkook, but you reckon you have an eternity in front of you to demonstrate the feelings, in all of their glory.
And you kiss for your own little eternity, not ever falling into desire and passion territory. You ride the wave of the love between you and Jungkook - a gentle wave, like those a soft breeze summons on the surface of a lake in the summer. No, you just kiss with all of the love you share, and it burns brighter than the moon ever could, rivalling the Sun.
You wonder, do the stars see you shining in the sky outside? Do they know of the love that was born between you and Jungkook all those months ago?
The kiss ends gently, much like it started. Your eyelids flutter open to meet Jungkook’s soft gaze, and you take in the emotions swirling in the depths of his eyes, reflecting those in yours.
“Thank you,” you whisper.
He frowns slightly. “For what?”
“For telling me how you felt,” you reply. “For sending that message, even though I misinterpreted the end.”
He offers you a small smile, his lips barely curving upwards yet his eyes shining bright. “You deserved to know.”
“And you deserved to know that it’s all reciprocated,” you say. “I’m in love with you, Jeon Jungkook.”
The sparkles in his eyes explode into the most beautiful fireworks. “You’re getting cheesy on me,” he teases.
“And what about it?”
He pulls you down in another kiss, though this time it’s much shorter, more a quick peck than a deep love confession.
“I like it,” he admits. “Be as cheesy as you want.”
“I will be,” you promise, eyes twinkling with mischief.
His answering laugh is oh so healing, and you use it to cure the wounds on your heart.
To cure those on his heart, too.
“I do need to say,” you say a few minutes later, after you’ve laid your head back on his chest, “that I’m sorry about what I said to Taehyung Thursday. It was never a lapse of judgment, and I really don’t know why I said that.”
“It really hurt,” Jungkook admits, and you hold him tighter, trying to erase the past. “But at the same time, I do get why you said it. You were just trying to get Taehyung off our backs.”
“I was, but it wasn’t the right way to do it,” you say. “It was stupid, and hurtful, and I really didn’t mean it at all.”
“It’s okay.” Jungkook’s mouth brushes the top of your head, and he adds in a whisper, “It’s okay.”
You don’t think it is, but then again, there’s a lot of things you need to leave in the past if you want to be able to move forward with him.
You both made mistakes, a lot of them, but holding onto them won’t bring you anywhere positive.
“You know,” Jungkook says. “I suck at relationships.”
You lift your head to meet his gaze. “You don’t.”
“No, but I do,” he insists. “I’ve never had a real girlfriend. As you know, Gabrielle was just… a cover?”
“Yeah…” you trail off, resting your head on his chest again. “Did you guys ever…”
He chuckles. “Yeah. Once, when we were seventeen. She said she couldn’t really know if she was gay if she didn’t try having sex with a guy once.”
“How did that go?”
You hear the wince in Jungkook’s tone as he says, “Poorly. It was my first time, and hers too obviously, and it was entirely shit.”
You laugh, patting his chest. “Don’t worry, you’ve gotten a lot better.”
“Oh did I now?” Jungkook teases and he pushes you off his chest, forcing you to lie on your back so that he can climb over you.
Your laugh turns into a giggle as he hides his face in your neck, his breath tickling you, and you retaliate by tickling his sides.
He bursts out laughing, falling on the side next to you. “How dare you!”
You rest your hand on his stomach, stopping him before he can climb on top of you again. “I want to know more,” you say, falling serious.
He cocks an eyebrow, his grin slowly fading. “Know more?”
“About you,” you say. “I feel like I don’t know a lot about you, despite all the time we spent together.”
Maybe because there always were too many secrets between you and Jeon Jungkook. 
But not anymore, not ever again.
“What do you want to know?” he asks.
“Everything.”
He widens his gaze, laughing softly. “It’s going to take the whole night.”
“I don’t care,” you insist. “I want to know everything that makes you, you.”
He wets his lips, toying with his piercings. “And do I get to know more about you, too?”
You nod forcefully. “I’ll answer every question.”
There’s a silence as you just share a look, until Jungkook turns on his back, looking up at the ceiling. You just stare at his profile, wondering what question he’ll ask first.
“We should go on a date,” he says, taking you by surprise. He looks at you again, before adding, “On a real, proper date. Like in the movies. And then you could ask me all your questions.”
You snort. “You want to go on a date with me?”
“Of course,” he says. “Friday night at eight pm. Wear your best clothes.”
“You’re deadass?”
He narrows his gaze at you. “Yes? Why wouldn’t I be?”
You shrug, cheeks dusting with pink. “Does that mean that we’re…”
“That we’re?” Jungkook presses when you never finish the sentence.
“That we’re dating?”
Your heart beats out of your chest at the question - it holds the weight of the universe. Two hours ago, you would have never believed you’d get to ask Jungkook that, ever.
Yet here you are, and when his gaze fills with all the warmth of love and summer days and everything in between, you know the answer.
“Well…” he trails off. “If you want to. We can also take it slow if you prefer?”
“What about a little bit of both?”
Jungkook chuckles. “How would that work?”
“I mean…” You lie on your back, looking up at the ceiling as you search for the right words to say. “As you said, you suck at relationships, and so do I. So maybe we can learn along the way? Do things the right way this time around?”
He’s smiling when you turn your head to look at him again. “Yes,” he agrees. “One day at a time.”
The kiss that follows starts slowly, softly, gently, but it escalates quickly, led by the lingering fear that you could have lost him tonight. It burns with passion, Jungkook’s tongue pushing into your mouth, and you let out a breathy sound as he climbs back on top of you, his knee parting your legs.
You wrap them around his waist to hold him closer, your arms snaking around his neck. 
It’s all kisses and soft moans and whispered confessions until you’re naked, entwined, your bodies joined in the most intimate of ways. Jungkook muffles your moans with his lips on yours, and you pour all of your love into the kisses, in the way your hips lift to meet his.
When Jungkook climaxes, you hold him even closer - you’d be dumb to let him go. Not when it was always meant to be him. Not when your love for him is growing, flourishing inside of your heart, of your soul, to form the most beautiful garden.
A garden of you and him, of feelings shared and confessed, of yearning and longing that only led to this beauty. To this moment of you and him together - to this first moment of you and him together of the long list that will follow.
And later, before you fall asleep in his embrace, you whisper against his skin, “I love you.”
He whispers it back, and the reciprocity of the feelings shines on you through the night, like it will shine on you from this day on until you dwindle into stardust, to be carried on a wind of eternity.
Prev | Chapter 15.5 | Next
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I told you the angst was almost over :') which is good, bc there's only two chapters left. I hope this one managed to heal you guys a little, tho it started off sad. The last two chapters are for healing but first, what did you guys think of this one?
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Pt II good omens but i've still never watched it
so you crazies blew up the other post, and many of you tried to explain the plot to me. many others said there is no plot. many said i was accurate. many said i wasn't. and then i watched a few youtube edits of the angel and the demon.
I'm convinced that I know at least a little bit more now, so like the great guy I am, I decided to share how well you've educated me.
the plot is an angel and demon become alcoholics together while doing the good ol' animal husbandry
neil gaiman doesn't have social media
everyone is crying because the angel wanted to go to heaven and the demon said no
and then the demon did the kissy smoochy to make the angel stay and the angel said no
they were not married for 6000 years but they were more married than married
there is a car. it is silver and crowley likes it.
the car is then yellow. crowley doesn't like it. aziraphale does.
there's some kind of Jane Austen ball and dance
oh but also crowley gives aziraphale a more private dance in their home and he bows while making intensely sexual eye contact with the angel who is turned on and says nice and everyone is gasping about it
no one knows about god, not the fandom, not the characters, not god herself. god is ineffable. hey mum i learned a new word!
they run over an american witch
the angel likes books in a way bordering on obsessive and worshipful
the demon likes the angel in a way bordering on obsessive and worshipful
there's a gramophone
crowley says sorry a bunch of times
aziraphale keeps getting flustered and dying coz of crowley, and the fandom dies every time. crowley is also dying. everyone is dying. hopefully not literally, im now scared of this fandom.
there's a psychedelic drug trip at some point that's in the edits where crowley goes whee down a chute. either that or the sleep deprivation is getting to me. fuck you, good omens fandom.
terry pratchett is a guy
whether he is real, or a character, or like neil gaiman he is neither real nor a character, i am unsure, but he is important and people want me to remember him
crowley likes speeding
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