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coldresolve · 4 months

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Moneymakers, pt.xlvii // The Confession

Credit to @snuffhimout for graciously letting me steal the 'missing in my head' line from a year old character analysis of Renee that hasn't left my brain since lmao Previous / AO3 / Wattpad / Masterlist / Next

By the time Renee reaches the apartment complex, the snow has ceased, and what thin pickings remain on the side of the road is melting in the increscent heat of the morning sun.

The same is true for whatever rage had a hold of him when the car ride began. It dissipated into apathy, and remained there until the roads became more and more recognizable, at which point, his mood steadily shifted again. He’s not entirely sure how to describe it, backing into a booth and drawing up the handbrake. Something like apprehension, but it goes much deeper than that. It’s the utter fatigue of the stream, the fight and a sleepless night, tangled with the relief of having finally left, and then – the knowledge that his immediate future depends on the following hour.

No address and no money, but if all goes wrong, at least he’s got a car this time around. Beats getting woken up by cops who whine and moan as they escort him off the premises for disrupting the sanctity of a private gas station alleyway.

He picks out a cigarette, teeth squishing the filter as he steps out and clicks the lock behind him. A few tries of his lighter, and he finally gets a spark in, looking around while rubbing is arm.

It’s a small-ish complex. Four red brick buildings lined with off-white plaster surround a lawn, across which the naked fingers of several tall larches reach toward the gray sky. Picnic tables and a community grill, a sandbox, a set of swings, piles of wood chips lining hedges that fence in the tiny gardens of the ground floor apartments. It’s a nice neighborhood. The residents seem to take care of the common areas, at least. No trash littered around, no graffiti, no smashed bottles.

The parking lot is void of people apart from a few electrician-looking guys arguing next to their van, and an older lady hauling two bags of trash toward the nearest container. A handful of crows watch him smoke from a treetop, puffed out to ward off the cold. Noise from the city creeps through the thicket surrounding the complex.

Renee discards the cigarette butt in an ashtray mounted on the outer wall, and spends a few moments watching the blanket of clouds, baring his throat to the wind.

Stalling.

It’s hard to stand the uncertainty, but he’s still mulling over a hundred different ways he could phrase things, grasping at whatever won’t make him sound too pathetic. Being this nervous about appearances is objectively idiotic when Laz has already seen him at his worst. Renee is overthinking and he knows it, but it’s compulsive. He’s facing homelessness again, but for once, that’s not even at the top of his list of worries. He thinks it might be fourth, actually.

Washing away the dread is impossible, but he moves none the less, although his heels drag on the pavement. At the second-nearest entrance, three dozen buttons line a panel on the wall. Lazarus rents the apartment under an alias, and Renee’s memory of placement is rusty. He has to read through half the Dymo labels before his eyes finally catch on M. Sullivan, the only label that sparks a feeling of familiarity. He’s not entirely sure it’s the right one, but he pushes the aluminum button next to it nonetheless. Ten, twenty seconds pass. There’s no voice on the speaker, only a low buzz that lets him know the door has been unlocked. Renee grabs the handle, looking over his shoulder. But whatever out he’s searching for, all he sees are the withered bushes that line the slope to the main road.

Stalling, stalling.

Climbing the stairs serves as a distraction, at least until the fourth story platform is within view, and his body begins to seize up again. Renee tries to push through it, determined to not waver as he knocks twice on the familiar dark green door. But the short wait is unbearable. A hint of that piercing feeling in his chest is back. His hands are clammy, breathing a little too superficial. Shutting his eyes helps, but then he loses his balance. So he backs away from the door, leaning against the staircase railings, grabbing them on either side of his body.

The bolt slides, and the door opens, but he still doesn’t open his eyes, just focuses on breathing deeply, evenly. He tries to guess proximity by the sound of footsteps, but must’ve misjudged, because when a hand tentatively brushes his shoulder, Renee flinches. It’s on repeat again. He deserves better. He deserves better.

“Hey, big guy.”

The touch slides down his arm, and Lazarus lightly squeezes his upper arm.

Renee’s first attempts at speech die partway through, dissolving into pained sighs. “Shit,” he eventually squeezes out.

“We’ll figure it out.”

Renee opens his eyes.

Concern, sincerity. Lazarus looks up at him, brows furrowed, head tilted slightly to better catch his gaze. Warm brown eyes taking in the new bruises on his face, he brushes his thumb over Renee’s cheek. There’s an ache in his expression. “I know you’re hurting,” he mutters softly. “We’ll figure it all out, alright?”

“I’m sorry,” Renee says hoarsely.

Lazarus lets out a breath, head dropping. He rocks forward, leaning his forehead against Renee’s chest, and stays there for a moment, clutching at the side of his neck. The smell of his cologne, subtle and pleasant, somehow finds its way through a stuffed nose. When he draws away, he catches Renee’s jacket, gently pulling as he takes a step backwards. “C’mon. Come.”

The apartment is more disorganized than usual, that’s Renee’s first clue. A few dishes have been left on the coffee table, clothes tossed over the chairs or the armrest of the couch, dry groceries have been left on the counter, and the cord of a charger snakes its way across the floor. It’s a far cry from the mess he’s used to living in, but with Laz, it stands out. His apartment was pristine even during the week Renee detoxed, and Renee quite clearly remembers being reprimanded for leaving trash out as soon as Laz deemed him well enough to actually do something about it.

His second clue is the silence. He walks in the dealer’s slipstream, absentmindedly glancing around, and only realizes on the threshold to the open kitchen that the apartment is uncharacteristically still.

“Where are the cats?”

Lazarus glances over his shoulder. “Been too busy this week to really take care of them. I asked Amelia to babysit.” His movements slow, and he clears his throat, and then he paces a few more steps toward the windows, bowing his head.

There’s a faint, but unmistakable sniff.

Renee feels his stomach churn. “Are you alright?”

Laz lets out a chuckle, shaking his head. As he turns, he’s rubbing one eye with the root of his hand, a sad smirk on the corner of his mouth. His voice is a little uneven. “It’s just been a shit couple days. I’ll be fine.”

Renee wants to cross the distance, but isn’t entirely sure that’s what the other needs. He swallows. “Did something happen?”

Lazarus hesitates, biting his lower lip. His focus shifts to the small dining table. “Can we sit down for a bit?”

“Sure.” Renee nods seriously. “’Course.”

“Do you want something to drink? I made a pot of coffee, but I’ve got cold drinks in the fridge, too. Water, lemonade…”

“Uh. Coffee, yeah.” Renee shrugs and stiffly sits down.

He barely noticed it at first, but it’s painfully clear now that he’s paying closer attention; there’s a hitch to Laz’ usually graceful movement, fragments of pauses in which he’s midway through a deep breath that otherwise would’ve been unnoticeable, or that small line in his forehead from a furrowed brow. He pauses to scratch that exact spot with his thumb, and for a second, his usual poise returns – only for the line to appear again the moment he carries on.

Renee’s stomach sinks. He can’t pretend he doesn’t know what it means, and a part of him already wants to leave. Why not let it all remain unsaid?

But before he can even think of making excuses, Lazarus has carried a coffee pot and two mugs over, a carton of milk notched in the crook of his elbow. He sets everything on the table. “I’ve got sugar somewhere, too, if you want.”

Renee smirks. “Nah, it’s alright.”

Nodding, Laz takes a seat on the opposite side and reaches halfway across the tabletop, hand open in invitation. Renee doesn’t know how to interpret the gesture, but he doesn’t hesitate to take it – and regrets that almost immediately, as Lazarus’ gaze flickers over the deep, layered bruises across his knuckles and winces, looking out into the room. Brown hair falling partway over his eyes, Laz rests his chin on the thumb of his other hand, closed fist covering his mouth. His jaw works. He squeezes Renee’s fingers – noticeably avoids touching the knuckles at all. That’s the third clue.

The sight of Laz struggling to maintain his composure is nauseating, but Renee finds a glimpse of comfort in a touch that feels different than the one in the hallway – one that isn’t merely for reassurance.

Still avoiding his eyes, Lazarus clears his throat. “You look like shit,” he says.

Renee snorts tersely. “Rough night. I just…” He trails off, not entirely sure he could come up with a sufficient explanation.

Laz purses his lips. “I’ve been thinking about… Do you remember that night in Dayton?”

Renee blinks. “Uh. Vaguely.”

“Music on that big lawn in Carillon. They lit up the bell tower. You didn’t get that drunk.”

“Oh – that folk bullshit you dragged me along for?”

Lazarus chuckles. “You liked it, asshole. Don’t diss my date idea.”

Renee has to do a double take. “I thought you said—”

“Who are we fooling? It was a date.” He gives a small smile, but it’s too tense, and he looks away again. “Our one and only. Just been thinking about – how carefree it was, I suppose. How you made me feel. All this time, I kept telling myself I was keeping my distance, keeping it from turning into… But we’ve been exclusive for a while, haven’t we?”

Renee swallows.

Lazarus shakes his head. His voice is almost a whisper. “I don’t really know how to have this conversation with you.”

“C-can I say something?” Renee blurts out.

Laz looks in surprise. Nods, slowly.

This is it.

Renee suppresses a cough, feels his leg start to bounce under the table. “I just… fuck—I know I’m… I haven’t been…”

It’s his turn to look away. Frowning at the table, he has to force a deep breath to collect himself, to feel out the words in his mouth. The tightness of his throat makes it harder to squeeze out – but he has to, somehow, without thinking too much about it.

“I’m kind of… I’m kind of a shit person.” He lets out a half-hearted snicker, but it quickly veers into a grimace. “I mean, I’ve wronged a lot of people. I’ve done a lot of shit I wish I didn’t. And I wasn’t even – I was sober for enough of it, y’know? So I can’t just blame it on, y’know… whatever.” Another grimace, and he shakes his head. “I think there’s something missing in my head. There’s something wrong with me, something, like… basic. I’m lacking something that everybody else has, and I don’t know what it is or how to fix it.

“All my life, just going in fucking circles, y’know, like I’m stuck in a feedback loop. I get hooked on one thing, I get clean, rinse and repeat. I make things worse, that’s the only thing I’ve ever done. I fuck people over, I burn all my bridges. I’ve never even – like, I never called Steph after I got clean, y’know? I was just pissed. And I keep… I keep getting involved with shit that makes me… It’s been like that the past month, it makes me worse—I just go insane. It keeps happening.”

As Renee takes another deep breath, Laz’ quiet listening almost becomes unbearable. It’s not coming out the way he wanted it to, far from it. He’s slowly realizing it was naïve of him to think he could keep his thoughts straight long enough to give a whole speech. But there’s no turning back, not now.

“I got out of it,” he says, “this last one, it’s done. I just want—I want to move on, I want to… to not be like this.” His voice cracks. Keeping his head down, he closes his eyes. “I want to be worth a damn. I just want to move on with my fucking life, I want… And I’ve got nothing to offer, I know that, but you’re the one thing I’ve managed to not fuck up yet.”

Yet another breath, uneven in his throat. He realizes he’s squeezing Laz’ hand a little too hard, eases up. Lazarus doesn’t move in response, and that should’ve been his fourth clue, but Renee can’t bring himself to look up, not yet. He’d lose his nerve.

“I like what you turn me into. Whatever I’m missing, you have it. You’re… And I’ll do whatever you want me to do,” he says hoarsely. “Anything you want. Fucking – therapy, rehab, whatever. We’re just friends, or we’re something else, or we’re… Or if you tell me to fuck off, I’ll fuck off. I just wanted to… to tell you that.”

There’s a long pause. He’s pretty sure he’s holding his breath.

“Renee,” Lazarus mutters unevenly. Something in his voice finally makes Renee raise his head. Dark hair falling over his forehead, he sits very still, lips slightly parted, tears welling in a wide-eyed stare, but that’s not what makes Renee pause – it’s the fact that Lazarus is paler than usual. He speaks slowly, carefully, as if the words are hard to get out. “What… exactly… are you moving on from?”

Some hint of an alarm bell. This isn’t the reaction he imagined getting. Renee swallows. “Just… Just life.” He lets out a dry chuckle. “My whole fucking l—”

“Stop,” Lazarus whispers low, shaking his head. “Please don’t be vague. I’d like to hear you say it.”

Renee feels himself tense.

Lazarus licks his lips, reclining, and his hand slides out of Renee’s, resting slack on the table. “What do you mean when you say it’s done? ‘Cause you’re making it sound like he’s dead.”

The initial confusion is genuine. “Wh-… what?”

Although Lazarus is able to force a straight face, his breathing seems shallow, and maybe that’s why it takes him a while to speak. “Conrad DeWitt.”

If there’s a single word that encapsulates the feeling of the world collapsing, caving in around you, Renee doesn’t know it. The air is sucked out of his lungs, room suddenly spinning as he takes in Lazarus’ expression, which only now registers as accusatory – something he’s never seen in the other before. Renee feels as if he’s sinking backwards – lightheaded, disoriented.

And still, as if from a distance, he hears himself compulsively laugh. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Did you kill him?”

“Wh-…” Renee smiles incredulously. “I gotta admit, confessing my undying love for you, I didn’t expect to immediately be accused of murder.” And he lets out another ironic snicker, throwing out his hands.

The chair scrapes across the floor as Lazarus suddenly gets to his feet and paces a few steps away from the table, both hands carding his hair back. His breathing is noticeably heavier now, and he hunches slightly over himself. “I feel like screaming at you right now.” He drops his hands. When he turns around this time, he makes no move to dry the wetness running down his cheek. “Please stop lying to me, ‘cause I can’t fucking recognize you when you do.”

His expression feels like a punch in the gut. Renee’s smile falters. “I’m not ly—why the fuck are y—”

“I know,” Lazarus says firmly, pointing at his own chest. His jaw is locked in another grasp at composure, even as the tears continue to fall. “We start from there, alright? I know.”

“I don’t know what the f-… I haven’t killed anyone.” Renee slowly shakes his head. “Why would you—”

“Do you think I can’t see it in your face right now? I know you.” Lazarus swallows. “I can recognize you by the sound of your footsteps. I can spot you in a crowd of a thousand people. I think I’ve heard every possible inflection of your voice. It’s been two years; I’ve spent hours by now just staring at your eyes.” He takes a deep, shaky breath, but his voice still cracks. “I watched every. single. stream.”

Renee opens his mouth, grasping for anything to say. But it’s like he’s forgotten how to speak, as if the energy is rapidly being leeched out of his body, and all he can do is stare.

“I watched some of the interviews with his family, too. Have you seen those?” Lazarus’ voice lowers to a nearly inaudible murmur. “He sounds like a decent guy. Never gotten in trouble, never did anything to… unless there’s something I’m missing, but from what I can tell, you never even met him before. He hasn’t done anything to you, has he?”

Renee’s vision is blurry. Not because of tears – it’s a veil of sorts that has slid over the world, a barrier. It doesn’t feel real – not the room, or the words, or the body he still somehow inhabits.

Lazarus lets out a bitter exhale. “And that one stream,” he bites out, “I gave you that gun, it’s the exact same make and model. You pulled me into it, do you realize that? I’m sorry I’m angry, but you made me a participant in this.”

Renee can’t even muster up the effort to wince at that. He barely feels the pain in his throat. “What do you want me to say?”

“What I want—what I hope you’ll tell me,” Lazarus says shakily, “is that someone is forcing you into this. Because otherwise, I don’t know who the fuck I’ve been…”

Wincing, he cuts himself off with a sharp inhale. Shaking his head, his voice drops to a whisper. His expression changes to something more somber.

“But every time we meet,” he says slowly, “you’ve got new bruises. You keep looking worse and worse. It’s pretty obvious that someone’s fucking you over, Renee. I can see it on you.” He finally dries his cheek with a hand that trembles slightly. “What you said at the motel was a cry for help. I don’t know how else to interpret it. You wanted out, but you didn’t know how.”

Silence.

“Tell me I’m right about that. I can’t fucking sleep at night, Renee. Tell me.”

Silence.

There’s no way to explain it all, at least not right now. Renee can’t quite feel his own body, can barely conjure up the wherewithal to keep breathing. His mouth is open, but his lips won’t move.

The depth of the plea in Laz’ expression. It’s unfathomable seeing that kind of look on him. “Is Conrad still alive?”

It’s too late to retract the silence – it alone has spoken volumes already, and Laz isn’t stupid. Renee hears himself very, very distantly, miles and miles away.

“… yes.”

Lazarus nods a little, pressing his together, and then he suddenly folds, bracing his hands on his knees, hair falling to obscure his face. He lets out a long exhale, one that sounds like relief at first – but it changes when he brings his hand to his mouth, and Renee realizes he’s trying to suppress breaking down completely. Eventually, with a low grunt, he rights himself, rubbing at his chest with a flat hand. “Is he somewhere safe?”

Gaze drifting listlessly to the floor, Renee slowly shakes his head.

“Is there a way to make him safe?”

How is he supposed to find the words? Staying would’ve been a death sentence. A more violent confrontation with Davin would’ve turned sour: he has the gun, and even if he didn’t, Renee is pretty sure he’d still have lost that fight, no matter how much he’s been fantasizing about bashing the guy’s head in. Not to mention that he’d be stuck with the hot potato – and there’s no conceivable universe in which Conrad goes free and doesn’t immediately rat him out. Notoriety is the kind of thing that gets you shanked in prison, so letting Conrad go or turning himself in would’ve both been death sentences. Any scenario he struggled to conjure up the previous night led to the same bitter conclusion:

“It’s him or me.”

Lazarus swallows, brows furrowed in concern. “What does that mean?”

It’s selfishness, that’s what it means. It’s Renee choosing his own slim chance at a decent life over the life he ostensibly should be doing everything he can to emancipate, even if it means dying in the process. It’d be the only route coming even close to fairness. Renee is just selfish. He's betting all his chips on his own ability to forget.

“Please talk to me, Renee. You don’t have be alone with this.”

Rolling his head, he slowly gets to his feet, steadying himself on the table when it triggers a wave of dizziness. Half in a haze, he ducks his head, staggering past the kitchen’s threshold.

“Don’t!” he hears Lazarus hiss. “Don’t leave, do not walk out that door.”

Renee hadn’t planned on leaving; he just wanted to create some distance between them, to turn his back the same way Lazarus did, to hide his face for a moment. But there’s an urgent desperation in Lazarus’ voice – one that betrays a degree of fear that makes Renee stop in the entryway. It doesn’t quite fit, even in this context.

That’s his fifth clue.

Something’s off, he realizes, and a chill runs down his spine. Something’s off. His shoulders drop, and the air seep out of his mouth. As if moving in slow motion, he turns around. “Why not?”

Lazarus’ face is contorted in a grimace, and he shakes his head. “Because we have to deal with this, alright? We have to face it. I’ll – I want to help you.”

Renee closes his mouth.

All the clues are adding up, but he’s not entirely sure if the sudden, growing spark of paranoia is the reasonable conclusion to draw. If he wants to test the waters – what then? What if he’s wrong? He’d be setting fire to everything again, he’d burn his last remaining bridge.

… but what if he’s right?

He walks back into the room, stopping by the table, fingers brushing over the backrest. Looks at Lazarus for a long time – how he somehow manages to be stunning even with tear tracks down his face, with his hair somewhat disheveled. Wide, brown eyes, long lashes, some of which now stick together. Renee’s tongue feels dry. “Do you trust me?”

Laz eyes him warily.

Renee grimaces. “Can I ask you to? Just for a moment.”

After a pause, Lazarus reluctantly gives a small nod.

Renee sets his jaw. His grip on the chair tightens, and he walks backwards, dragging it along with him.

“What are you…?”

Lifting it over the rug in the hallway, he tilts it, settling the backrest underneath the doorhandle. Stepping back, he levels a few hard kicks to each of the back legs, until the tension is solid enough for the door to stop jolting.

Behind him, the intake of a breath. “Are you barricading the door?”

Clue six.

With a wince, Renee stops to steel himself. Gritting his teeth hard enough to hurt, he returns to the kitchen, closing the door to the entryway behind him, and grabs the second chair. The coffee sits untouched on the table, mugs still turned on the rims.

Lazarus’ voice is dreadfully small. “Please, talk to me - why are you barricading the doors?”

It’s almost a duplicate, but the last word feeds into Renee’s suspicion – doors. Clue seven. He wordlessly repeats the ritual: the backrest under the handle, stomping at the legs. He feels distant as he steps back, settling his shoulders. Strange how he can slide so easily back into the role now, when he’s had to force it for the past week and a half.

Finally turning to face Laz again, Renee pulls the folding knife from his pocket.

Lazarus’ eyes widen, and he takes a step backwards. “Renee?” There’s fear in his voice, but slightly different this time – lower. His eyes are fixed on the closed knife.

Renee starts walking towards him slowly. “Can I trust you?” he asks, voice low. The wrongness of what he’s doing is masked by the rage looming at the prospect of actually having guessed correctly. Because Lazarus is right. Two years is enough to get pretty good at reading someone.

Lazarus is at the narrow corridor between the coffee table and the TV stand, steering blindly toward the window. “Wh—yes. Put the knife down.”

Clue eight.

“Put the knife down. Don’t come closer, okay? You’re scaring m—”

“You’re narrating,” Renee mutters.

“I… what?”

A brief moment of doubt. That bewilderment reads as fully earnest, but Renee is in too deep to let it go now. Watching the other’s expression carefully, he tilts his head to the side. “You’re narrating what I do.”

The blood drains from Lazarus’ face, and Renee catches a flicker of something akin to terror in his expression. He tries to cover it up with a brow furrowed in further confusion, but the damage is done.

Clue nine. Renee flicks the knife open.

Lazarus’ breath hitches. He lets out a sound when his backside hits the windowsill.

Renee is just a few steps behind him, and that distance doesn’t take more than two seconds to cross. Hands push at his chest as he gets up close enough to feel the heat from Lazarus’ body. Being almost a head shorter, Laz has to crane his head back to look at him. It’s the same ease of access Renee has previously found in Conrad.

He lifts the blade to Lazarus’ throat.

Laz stiffens with a gasp, mouthing a silent plea before he can gather his bearings enough to let out the real one. “You’re not like this,” he whispers, blade pressed lightly to the crook under his chin. “You’re not like this.”

Renee can’t explain why it makes him more angry, but his upper lip still curls in a sneer. “What if I am?” He raises his other hand to Lazarus’ collar, voice raspy in his throat. “What if it was all me?”

Lazarus grabs his wrist – but not of the hand holding the knife, no. Instead he pushes at the hand that’s steadily unbuttoning his shirt.

It’s the final clue.

Renee shifts, using one forearm to press Lazarus into the glass by his neck, forcing his back to arch over the window sill. He runs his hand down Lazarus’ collar, fingers searching between naked skin and fabric.

“Don’t,” Lazarus whispers desperately, hands pushing more fervently at his chest, his arm. “Renee, don’t—”

He cuts himself off at almost the exact instant Renee’s index finger catches on the thin, black cord.

Lazarus shuts his eyes tight, jaw locked, the wince curling his mouth somewhat askew.

The step Renee takes backwards is heavy, and he almost stumbles on the second, hands dropping to his sides. Something cold has hit his core, and the numbness rapidly spreading from his insides is stark enough to nearly make him lose his grip on the knife. His mouth is dry. “Why are you wearing a wire…?”

Lazarus lets out a breath through his teeth, barely moving. The relief he might feel at no longer being held at knifepoint is hidden by an expression that conveys enough grief to stun. His eyes are watering again as he gives a small shake of his head. “I know you’re not going t—”

“Why the fuck,” Renee interrupts him with a growl, “are you wearing a wire?”

Previous / Masterlist / Next

#writing #moneymakers #renee #lazarus #pterodactyl screech.#edit: sry for forgetting the readmore this bitch is longgg

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itsdannysworld · 1 year

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Sunkissed (Chapter 1)

unapolegetically writing this while i chill in the library looking like a hippie stripper, the long awaited Sunkissed 😌

Pairing: Danny Wagner x Reader, Jake Kiszka x Reader CW: smoking, mary j usage, cursing, idrk kissing? Summary: Don’t fuck a rockstar, and definitely don’t fall for his best friend (more angst than anything but itll get fluffier as the story goes on i promise)

enjoy-

You zipped up your boots and threw on the jacket you had discarded in the messy process of trying to have sex with the prettiest man you had ever seen. Usually you weren’t one to leave in the middle of the night after a one-night stand, but in this case you thought it would be for the best, considering you would rather die than have his brothers find out. “You’re seriously leaving y/n?” Despite it being mumbled, you could hear the annoyance laced through his voice. “Jake you and I both know it’s for the best. What if they find out?” You started fishing around in your purse hoping to find your phone so you could call for an Uber. “So what if they find out? They’ve probably heard us before.” This has been a sore spot between you and Jake for awhile. You had been sleeping together on and off for the last few months and you couldn’t stand the thought of other people knowing. You weren’t one to share your sex life with others, especially people you had only known for less than a year. “I don’t want anyone knowing about us being fuckbuddies. If we were dating it’d be different but for now I’d appreciate if you just left the topic alone.” “Whatever, get home safe y/n.” You rolled your eyes as you opened the door and crept down the hallway of the house they all shared. Technically they all lived separately, but when it comes to working on an album they tended to all crash at whoevers house they were at. You heard a door open and stopped in your tracks.

Shit

You looked around in the dimly lit hall, praying you could find somewhere to hide. As footsteps got closer you decided to accept your fate, praying it was either Danny or Josh, knowing you could bribe one of those two to keep quiet. “Y/n?” It was Danny. “Oh hey Danny, fancy seeing you here.” You were praying he couldn’t pick up on your awkwardness. “I didn’t know you stayed over? I did go to bed early though so I guess I just assumed you left.” He didn’t seem suspicious of anything so maybe you were going to get away with this. “Yeah, decided I wasn’t sober enough to drive home. I’m good now though, I was just on my way out.” “You better not be sneaking around with anyone” He said jokingly, and you mustered a laugh praying that it didn’t sound fake. “I wouldn’t dare.” “Want me to drive you home?”

He grabbed his keys and you both stepped out of the house into the cold night. He was insistent on driving you home and who were you to stop him? He unlocked your car and opened the door for you. He was always such a gentleman to you and you found it to be sweet. You set up your phone so your favorite playlist would play, and he backed out of the driveway. He was beautiful. You’ve noticed it before of course, but tonight he just had this glow about him. His curls fell in the right places and the way the street lights illuminated his face was almost godly.

The drive was short and quiet, both of y’all soaking up the music. It was 4am and deep down you knew that he knew why you were really at the house. He pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex and turned the car off. “Hey y/n?” “Yeah what’s up?” “Be careful, with Jake. I don’t want either of you getting hurt.” He said it calmly and quietly, which in a way made you even more nervous. “Do the other guys know?” “I doubt it, I mean, I didn’t put it together till just now. I’m not mad, by the way. I know you overthink and I want to assure you that everything is ok.” For once in your life you didn’t totally know what to say. You had always wrestled with feelings on and off with the two of them and Jake was the first one who ever took interest. Part of you hated that Danny knew, but also knew out of everyone he’s the one who wouldn’t say anything. “Please keep this between us. Thanks for the ride home Danny, let me know when you get home safe.” “Will do, love you.” Y’all had always said I love you but this time was different and you couldn’t figure out why. “Love you too Dan.” You smiled.

You threw yourself on the couch and picked up your phone noticing two text messages.

Jakey: Wear something cute tomorrow, I’m taking you to breakfast @ 10

Danny-Boy: made it home, can we talk tmrw?

You liked both messages and set an alarm for 9, but you knew you weren’t going to be able to sleep. Why would Danny want to talk to you? Did he secretly hate you? Did he think it was gross that you and his bandmate hooked up? Why did he say “Love you” weird? Your head swarmed with thoughts even though you knew none of this was a huge deal. You were the queen of overthinking

Tomorrows gonna be a long ass day

-ok so ngl I kinda hate this but I’m too lazy to edit anything or change it. i promise not all of the chapters are gonna be awfully short, but this is just a starter? im not a big slowburn person soooooo also sorry this took a month, life started kicking my ass haha-

#gvf #jake kiszka #jake gvf #sam kiszka #samgvf #josh kiszka #jake kiskza x reader #danny gvf #danny wagner #danny wagner x reader #fanfic

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verai-marcel · 3 years

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Serendipitous Meetings (Arthur x GN!Reader, Modern AU, 18+)

Summary: You foolishly didn’t mark where you parked in the huge parking structure, and spend some time looking for your car. You run into a fellow who did the same thing, and things get ridiculously serendipitous from there.

Author’s Notes: How many tropes can I shove into this fic? Let’s face it, I just wanted to have Arthur fuck like the manly man that he is. Also going for gender neutral as much as possible, so all my readers who want a piece of Arthur can have him.

Tags: Arthur x GN!Reader, smut, light D/s tones, size kink, light spanking, neck grabbing, rough sex, dirty talk, modern AU

AO3 Link is here, li’l darlin’.

Word Count: 3764

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"Shit."

You let out a long suffering sigh as you looked around the packed parking structure. In your rush to meet your friends, you had forgotten to take a photo of where you parked. Now you stared at the large expanse of cars, racking your brain for at least a slight memory of how you got to the venue entrance from your car.

Sticking your hand into your pocket, you gripped your phone for a moment before letting it go. You had already shooed your friends away, insisting you had parked nearby and could get to your spot no problem. Swallowing your pride, you started to search the rows for the off-white bucket of bolts you dared to call your car.

After searching one floor, you trudged up the stairs to the next one, stopping a few steps past the landing to gaze upon the hundreds of cars before you. You faintly heard another set of steps coming down the stairwell, but you were so mired in your own despair that you didn't pay the sound any mind.

"Shit," said a gravelly voice next to you.

Glancing over, a very broad set of shoulders filled your view. Your eyes flicked over the red and black flannel shirt and blue jeans, with an almost hilariously large belt buckle. Then you looked up.

Oh no. He was gorgeous, in a rugged, manly-man sort of way. That chiseled jaw, the five o’clock shadow, that thick neck… he was the kind of man who could probably pick you up and throw you over his shoulder with ease. You were so busy staring at him in tired awe that he finally noticed you.

A pair of turquoise eyes met yours. "Sorry," the man said. "Can't find my truck."

It took you half a second to remember to respond. Then you gave him an empathic half-grin. "I can't find my car either."

He pointed upstairs. "What's yer car look like? Maybe I saw it up there."

You shook your head. "It's just a generic off-white Toyota Corolla."

The man shrugged. "Oh. Well, sorry darlin', there's a bunch of those up there."

You sighed, lamenting the fact that your car was one of the most popular cars out on the road these days. You also secretly enjoyed him calling you darling with that accent of his. He sounded like he had just stepped out of a spaghetti western.

"Maybe I saw your truck downstairs, if it stands out," you said, trying to be helpful.

"It's a blue Chevy pick-up. Really old, like one o' them classic trucks, 'cept it ain't been cleaned up like the ones you see in a car show."

Your memory flashed with the image of a dirty blue truck in your apartment complex's garage. You stifled a laugh at the thought. You had always wondered who drove the old thing, since you had never seen its owner.

"Nope, I didn't see a truck like that downstairs," you told him.

"Oh. Well, guess we better start lookin'," he said. He looked at you for a moment, opened his mouth, then closed it again.

You waited.

“Maybe,” he finally said, “maybe we could look together? For a bit. Keep each other company.”

“Okay,” you said easily. Part of your brain screamed that it could be really easy for him to just pull you into his car, but you dismissed the voice in your head. He seemed alright; you had a good feeling about this guy.

The two of you took off towards the left side of the structure. Putting your remote under your chin and hoping it would actually increase its range, you hit the button on occasion.

“Uh, what’re you doin’?” he asked, pointing at your remote.

“Oh, I read about this online, someone figured out that you can use your own head as an antenna, or something like that.”

The man raised an eyebrow, but eventually just nodded. “Huh, I guess that makes sense.”

You shrugged. “Haven’t tested it before this, so I’m hoping it actually works.”

The two of you wandered further and further towards the center when finally you heard that familiar beep.

*BEEP BEEP*

He chuckled. “Guess it works.”

You had never been so happy to hear that annoying little buzzer of a horn. You took off at a jog without waiting for the man, going towards where you had heard the sound, and as you turned a corner, you spotted it.

It was the big, old, blue truck from your apartment complex.

No way, you thought. There is no way. Maybe it's a similar truck.

Going back, you saw the man wandering around, still searching.

"Hey Mister!" you yelled.

He turned towards you.

You excitedly pointed towards the truck. "This yours?"

He started walking to you, and as he came closer, you could see the smile on his face and felt your heart skip a beat.

"Thank you," he said, stopping in front of you. "Where’s your car?"

You grinned and hit your unlock button. The little off-white sedan next to his truck let out a little beep, the lights coming on.

"Wish I had one of those," he said wistfully. "Sure woulda made my life easier." He looked at you with a small smirk as he opened the door to his truck. "But then I wouldn’t have met you. Thanks fer your help, angel."

You smiled, feeling your cheeks warm from his comment. "No problem." You struggled to find anything else to say, feeling pathetically desperate to hear him speak more. "Have a good night," you finally said.

"You too," he said, his voice a little lower, a little more breathy as he hauled himself into his truck and closed the door. Now that you had a pretty good feeling that he was a decent guy and not a creep, you half-wished he really would pull you into his truck and have his way with you.

Shaking the lewd thought from your head, you got into your car and set up your phone to listen to a podcast as you drove home. You eased your way out of the garage, through the local roads, and onto the freeway. For the next thirty minutes, you would spot the same blue truck out of the corner of your eye. Sometimes you’d pass him, sometimes he’d pass you.

Maybe it’s a different blue truck, you tried to convince yourself.

You couldn’t convince yourself any further when you pulled into your apartment complex right behind him. He parked at his usual spot, three away from yours. Climbing out of your car, you saw him walk towards you.

“You followin’ me?” he asked gruffly, though the grin on his face clearly showed his amusement at the coincidence.

“I can’t believe we live in the same complex,” you muttered, still in shock that you had never seen this handsome man before. “How long have you lived here?”

“Oh, ‘bout two years now.”

“Shit,” you thought to yourself.

“Why’re you cursin’?”

Oh crap. You said that out loud. “I, uh, um,” you stammered.

He quietly watched you, letting you stew in your own embarrassment, an amused grin on his face. The bastard was enjoying watching you squirm!

Feeling your face heat up, you blurted out the truth.

“We could’ve known each other sooner!”

It was an unfortunate tick in your personality that you had never managed to get rid of, and now, watching his eyes widen at your embarrassing remark, you wished the sidewalk would just open up and swallow you whole. But since that wasn’t going to happen, you opted to turn around and stalk away.

“Hey now, wait, you can’t just say that and leave,” the man said, jogging to catch up to you. When you wouldn’t stop walking, he swerved in front of you, forcing you to stop mere millimeters from him. You noticed how big he was, how little you were in comparison. You weren’t a small person by any means, he was just… large.

“Why’re you runnin’ away, darlin’?” he asked, his voice hushed as if he was trying to calm a wild animal. Perhaps with the way you acted, you seemed that way to him.

You took a deep breath, accidentally inhaling his scent, a mix of pine trees and a subtle hint of campfire smoke and musk that made you want to bury your face in his chest and stay there. Desire shot straight between your legs, reminding you that it had been a long time since you’d been with anyone. Letting out a shaky breath, you made the poor choice of looking up at him.

You were blinded by his kind smile and seduced by his deep voice. “Do you want to know me?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, I do,” you answered immediately.

He pointed to his apartment. “I live there. Want to share some whiskey?"

You paused. He was a stranger.

A stranger with beautiful eyes and the sweetest smile you had ever seen.

You followed him willingly into his den.

***

You blinked after he turned on the lights. When your vision cleared, your expectations were, fortunately, not met at all.

You had expected a bachelor pad with junk everywhere and clothing on the floor. What you saw was a clean and neat living room with a simple couch and a TV on top of a small entertainment center that held a few blu-rays and a blu-ray player. The short table in front of the couch had a plate on it, a smudge of ketchup and some crumbs on it, and a glass with a little bit of water left.

The man went to pick up after himself, putting the dirty dishes in the sink before going to his pantry. His kitchen looked pretty bare, except for the dried herbs, tied up in bunches under his cabinets.

While he shuffled around bottles, you went to sit on his couch, but not before pausing for a moment to look through the door to his bedroom. He had a bed that looked big and comfy, his sheets somewhat askew but otherwise in place. Didn’t look like there were any clothes or boxes lying around anywhere. So either the man was tidy, or he didn’t own a lot of things.

“Curious li’l one, ain’tcha?” he chuckled behind you.

Spinning around, you could only give him a sheepish grin. “Yup, sorry. I couldn’t help myself.”

He smiled and gave you a tumbler of amber liquid with a giant sphere of ice. “Curiosity like that could get you in trouble one day,” he said mysteriously, gesturing towards the couch.

You raised an eyebrow, but sat down anyway. You took a sip of the ice cold whiskey, enjoying its slow burn down your throat. It was smooth and sweet. “This is fantastic, what is it?”

“It’s a blackberry flavored whiskey,” he replied as he settled himself on the couch, a little closer to you than you had expected. “I thought you might like it.”

“Oh?” You leaned in a little closer. “And why is that?”

“Somethin’ a li’l sweet fer a li’l sweetheart,” he said with a grin. He knew he was being schmaltzy, but you didn’t care. You were eating up his words, spoken with that deep rumble that went right between your legs.

You continued to sip and make small talk with him until your ice had melted and the late night had become the witching hour. But he didn’t seem to mind, and you wanted to stay.

“You got a bit o’ whiskey here,” he said as he leaned in and reached for the corner of your lips, his thumb catching the drop that had escaped your last sip. You flicked out your tongue to catch him, and your eyes met. A heartbeat passed. The whiskey gave you strength.

Taking his hand in yours, you surged forward and kissed his lips, tasting whiskey and his woodsy scent. A low moan came from deep within him, but he did not reach for you. His hands gripped the cushions as he let you take the lead, climbing into his lap and wrapping your arms around him, your fingers kneading his broad shoulders. You kissed the breath from him, desperate to feel him against you.

When you finally broke away for air, you stared at his eyes, now filled with lust and longing, and realized you didn’t even know his name.

He came to the same conclusion. “What’s yer name, darlin’?”

You told him.

He nodded and repeated your name. It sounded so good when he said it. “Feels nice to say it out loud,” he said. “I’m Arthur,” he added as he wrapped his arms around you and held you tenderly. “How far do you want to go?”

“All the way,” you said, grinding your hips against his groin, making him take a shuddered breath.

Without a word, he picked you up and carried you to his big, comfy bed. He dropped you unceremoniously and took off his shirt.

He was ripped. He was built like a man who had worked all his life in a physical job, carrying & lifting. With his tall stature, his broad shoulders, and his huge arms, he made you feel small.

You had never been more aroused in your whole life.

Your body was ready to be thoroughly fucked by this man, and you hadn’t even taken your clothes off yet. You watched hungrily as he undid his belt and dropped his jeans & boxers, your eyes taking in his size. He wasn’t even at full mast yet, and you already wondered if you’d be able to take him all in.

“Your turn, darlin’.”

Taken out of your trance, you took off your clothes as he watched. You started at a normal pace, but when you saw him take himself in his hand and stroke himself while watching you with a lustful gaze, you slowed down, making an attempt to tease him. Already topless, you lay back on the bed and lifted your legs up, sliding your pants upwards. Slowly, you exposed your ass to him, winking salaciously.

He stroked himself a little faster. A soft moan escaped his lips. “Darlin’, yer makin’ it real hard fer me to stay in control here.”

You glanced down at him. “I can see it’s real hard,” you said with a playful smirk.

“Oh, yer goin’ ta get it now,” he said, his grin becoming predatory as he climbed onto the bed. Grabbing the rest of your clothes, he pulled them from you, flinging them over his shoulder before flipping you onto your belly. He gripped your ass and squeezed hard before giving you a firm spank.

“Ooh!” you yelped.

“You want more?” he asked as his hand soothed over his mark.

You could tell he was asking for permission. Turning back to him, you gave him your best pouty face. “Does Sir think I need more?”

Arthur looked immensely pleased with your response. “I think so,” he said, his voice deepening with a thread of command that turned you on beyond belief. He straddled your legs and rested one hand on the curve of your ass. “I told you, curiosity would get you in trouble.”

He spanked you hard once more. “That’s fer sneakin’ glances into my room,” he said. He gave you three more swipes, each in slightly different areas so you wouldn’t get too sore. Then he grabbed your ass with both hands and massaged your muscles, spreading you open as he thrust his cock along the cleft of your rear.

“Yer so obedient, sweetheart,” he murmured as his hips rocked, his eyes fluttering shut for a few moments. Then with his strong grip, he manhandled you onto your back, wrapping his big hands around you and pulling you into his arms. He cradled you for a sweet, gentle moment before rolling you around like you were as light as a pillow before setting you back down onto the mattress. He leaned over you as he reached for the nightstand, pulling out a condom. You watched him slip it on, but he didn’t move to enter you. Instead, he reached down and began to stroke you as he loomed above, watching your reactions.

You moaned and writhed under his deliberate exploration. His hands traveled languidly along every inch of you. When he found a sensitive area that elicited a soft noise of pleasure from you, he lingered, making you whimper and lean into his touch. He finally touched you lower, where you longed for his attention, but to your frustration he continued his study at the same leisurely pace. Soon his strokes became faster and he pressed harder against you. His eyes nearly glowed as he watched you lift your hips towards his hands, imploring him for more. Using his new knowledge to his advantage, he brought you to the brink and then shifted his touch elsewhere, making you cool off before working you back up again until you were going insane with need.

“Please, please Arthur, I need to come,” you begged.

He only smiled as he slipped a finger inside of you. He slowly worked you open enough for two of his fingers, then three. Soon he was dragging you to the edge again, and you hadn’t even had his cock. You were feeling like you were being denied the thing you wanted most.

“Arthur,” you whispered, “I want your cock.”

“Louder, darlin’.”

“I want your cock!”

“And what do you want me to do with it?”

“Fuck me!”

“Say it again. All of it.”

“Fuck me with your cock!”

His smile was wolfish, satisfied that he had heard you beg for your desire. Pressing the head of his shaft against your opening, he pushed, easing his way inside of you.

You were right. He was big, long, and oh so thick. He stretched you deliciously, and you keened softly as he took you, claimed you, made you his in the most carnal of ways. He reached up and slipped his hand under your head, gripping your hair at the base and pulling slightly.

“Eyes on me, darlin’. I want to see you while I’m takin’ you,” he murmured.

You couldn’t look away from him. His look was intense, as if he commanded your entire being, your body his to use for his pleasure. And you willingly gave it to him, letting him sheathe his entire length inside of you. He held you still while your body adjusted to his claim, watching you with an almost proud expression.

“Good li’l darlin’,” he said as he leaned over. He kissed you gently on the lips, then on the forehead, and as if he was overcome with affection for you, peppered kisses along the curve of your cheek and down your neck.

“I’m goin’ to fuck you now,” he whispered into your ear. “You tell me to slow if it’s too much for ya, alright?”

You nodded, sure that whatever he was about to do to you, you could handle it.

He lifted himself up onto his forearms, his hands framing your face. “You look so damn cute,” he murmured before his hips slowly pulled back. “So fuckable.”

Arthur slammed his cock deep inside of you with one forceful stroke. He immediately looked down at you when you let out a cry of surprise. He waited, quietly checking in.

“More,” you whispered.

You thought you saw relief cross his features before he gave you a teasing smirk. “Ask me nicely and I just might give it to ya.”

“Please sir,” you begged, “I need more.”

Arthur gave you a single nod before rocking his hips, building you up slowly, his gaze nearly burning a hole into you with their intensity. As your body stretched and accommodated him, you clawed at his arms, greedily clamoring for him to speed up. He let out a feral growl before wrapping a big, rough hand around your neck, his other hand gripping your leg and spreading you wider for him.

"You think you can take more, darlin'?"

You looked up at him and smiled a challenge.

He began a ferocious pace, angling himself to take you as deep as he could go. All you could focus on was the impact of his body against yours, his thick shaft filling you over and over, unrelenting as a tidal wave.

Soon he let go of your neck so he could sit up and grip your hips with both of his hands. He was fucking the breath out of you with each hard thrust, the sound of his hips slamming against yours filling the room with a lewd rhythm, intertwined with your breathy cries and his low moans of pleasure.

He reached down and stroked you, his touch rough and vigorous, matching the way he was ravaging you in a haze of lust. You could feel yourself sprinting towards that delicious finish line. The end was in sight as your hips jerked wildly, your legs wrapping around Arthur as he thrust even harder and deeper than before.

"Come fer me," he murmured. "I want to feel you lose yerself around my cock."

You screamed as his words broke the dam that was holding back a torrent of pleasure, your climax tearing through your body at breakneck speed. Your legs stiffened, your toes curled, and your fingers dug into his very muscled biceps as you came harder than you ever had. You shook with aftershocks as Arthur continued to thrust, his hands letting go of your hips as he fell upon his forearms, caging you in as he chased his pleasure.

"Fuck sweetheart, I'm comin'," he moaned before he buried his head into the crook of your neck. He gave three more erratic thrusts, then nearly crushed you with his weight as he pressed his hips against yours, keeping himself inside of you for as long as he could.

A breathless moment passed, the two of you trying to catch that elusive breath. Arthur rolled off of you, quickly gathering you into his arms as he tumbled onto his side.

"Goddamn," he finally muttered. "Wasn't expectin' to have such good company."

You turned in his arms so you could see the wide grin on his face. "For once, I'm glad I got lost in the parking lot."

He kissed your forehead. "Me too, darlin'. But let's make sure we don't get lost again." He found your hands under the covers, brought them up to his lips, and kissed your fingertips.

"After all, I only just found you, my li'l darlin'."

--------------------

End Notes: Been a while, and of course, all of my pent-up lust just came streaming out of me in a flurry of words and phrases. Hope it’s still hot enough for you, my lovely readers!

#arthur morgan #arthur x reader #arthur x gn!reader #gender neutral reader #nsft #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #writing #lemon fanfic #fanfic

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subbykboys · 4 years

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the bad boy’s secret | chanyeol

↳ pairing : badboy!chanyeol x reader

Genre ➞ bad boy AU, fwb AU, college AU, smut

Warnings ➞ sub!chanyeol, dom!reader, bondage, oral (m. & f. receiving), edging, unprotected sex, riding, mild dirty talk, mild degrading, creampie, face riding, cum eating [ sorry not sorry ], reader is in denial , overuse of the word please

Word Count ➞ 8.2k

chanyeol is a bad boy with a nasty reputation. he’s sexy, mysterious, and entirely untouchable. well... to most people, that is. to you, on the other hand-- he’s something else entirely.

posted ; 6.04.20

there was an angry chill in the air. it bit at your face and hands as you strode to the campus lot where your car was parked. all around you, brightly colored leaves fell to the earth as strong gusts of wind broke them free of the branches they so weakly clung to. they blanketed the ground in shades of vibrant reds, tempting oranges, and dull, blotchy browns.

it was actually really beautiful. you'd always been a fan of the cool undertones of fall. especially the reds. ugh, red was such a gorgeous color. practically everything you owned was red, or some varying shade of it. it was just so sexy and dangerous and—

"(y/n)!" you were snapped from your inner thoughts by a barking voice.

quickly, you averted your eyes from the ground and onto the face of the girl walking beside you. her name is Mina, you're pretty sure. you grimaced at her irritated expression, realizing you must have zoned out again. getting lost in your thoughts at inappropriate times was a pretty frequent occurrence for you.

"huh?"

she scoffed in disbelief, eyes narrowing, "where's your head at? i've been talking for a solid five minutes and i'm pretty sure you stopped listening six minutes ago."

you chuckled, scratching the back of your neck as an apologetic smile touched your lips, "sorry. i was just thinking about the leaves."

"you're so weird."

you didn't know why she felt comfortable saying that to you. you weren't even friends. at least, not by your standards. maybe acquaintances. maybe.

and that was only because you happened to have the same afternoon photography class and just so happened to sit next to each other. you supposed in her pea sized brain that was enough to qualify for a friendship. but you had standards. and she was god damn rude.

regardless, you didn't have the energy or patience to start any sort of altercation. so you shrug, head bobbing lazily in agreement.

"i know."

that seemed to satisfy her as any remaining glimmer of annoyance was swept off her features with one last eye roll and replaced by a light grin, "whatever. hey, there's this party at my boyfriend's frat house tonight and you should totally come."

"no thanks." was your swift, concise rejection. but of course, that was not enough to satisfy her.

"what? why not?" her tone demanded an explanation that you really didn't feel like giving.

sighing heavily, you kicked a pebble across the sidewalks. "parties aren't my thing."

that was maybe half the truth. you actually did like parties. just not frat boy parties. they were like beacons for girls with low self esteem and insecure rich boys with superiority complexes. they were loud as fuck and made your head ache. not to mention they reeked. apparently, a lot of guys didn't learn in high school how to put on deodorant. your preference stood with more low key parties, with a more controlled number of attendees and some chill drinking. maybe getting a little baked if you were in that vibe.

"you can be such a buzzkill," she groaned loudly, head rolling back as she stomped her foot childishly. you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

"i know."

"do you ever just let yourself have a good time? like ever? we're in the prime of our lives for god’s sake!" and there she goes again with the 'prime of our lives' bullshit. please. maybe this was the best life would ever be for her, but you had other plans.

"i have to finish an essay for my business class." no you didn't.

"but it's friday! you have all weekend to finish it!" why was she trying to argue with you? you'd already said no, so why was she still trying to convince you. spoiler, you weren't about to change your mind anytime soon.

"i prefer not to put work off until the very last minute." also a lie.

"(y/n)," she whined, "come on, i personally think it would be pretty healthy for you not to spend another friday night pent up in that little apartment of yours—"

all at once she was cut off by the distinct roaring of an engine. both your gazes shifted towards the road ahead of you, watching as a flashy red motorcycle came tearing down the street. an excited gasp exploded from your–barely–acquaintance's mouth while a low groan escaped yours.

fantastic. just what you needed. your daily dose of—

"Yeolie!"

you winced as she squealed his name, waving energetically. you silent prayed he'd just keep going. but of course, he didn't. his bike came to a gradual halt in front of the sidewalk you stood on. it purred as he planted his feet securely on the cement.

now this next part you could almost see happening in slow motion.

he reached up with his leather glove clad hands, pulling off his sleek black helmet to reveal a pair of thick, pink lips, a sharp, defined nose, charcoal black eyes, and a head of silver locks. you could practically feel Mina swooning as he swung his head to the side, effectively flipping his hair like some kind of wannabe fetus Justin Bieber. it took less than a moment for those dark eyes to fall on the pair of you, and a slow smirk to crawl across his face.

Mina immediately rushed up to him (all too energetically for someone who already has a boyfriend, mind you), squeaking out sweet greetings as her touchy hands found purchase on the sleeve of his leather jacket.

what was up with him and the leather anyway? it was only on shockingly rare occasions that you witnessed him donning something other than his signature black leather outfit, decorated with silver zippers and complimented by a thick chain around his neck and a single silver earring. how much cheesier could he get?

you'd think after high school, people would be over the whole 'bad boys are so hot' thing.

apparently not.

because at your uni, Park Chanyeol was hot shit. every girl and every guy wanted to get their hands on him in one way or another. he was dangerous, sexy, mysterious, hard to get. he rode a blood red motorcycle and smoked blunts behind the main building for god's sake.

he was the definition of a cliche. but it seemed you were the only person that could see through his whole charade.

"(y/n), don't be rude! come say hi to Yeolie!" Mina suddenly whipped around, waving you over.

this bitch—

the corner of your lip twitched in a subtle sneer, but, ever the pacifist, you obliged, slowly moving to stand at her side. his irritating smirk widened upon your approach, tongue swinging over the corner of his lip as his eyes dropped to do a brief once over.

"Chanyeol," you grunted with a less than enthusiastic tone.

"(y/n)," was his swift reply, voice as deep and smooth as ever, "wonderful seeing you again. you look as happy-go-lucky as ever."

the sarcasm was palpable.

"yeah well, it seems i just can't contain myself with you around," you bit back with just as much satire, lips curling dryly.

"i'm flattered," he all but cooed, head tilting downward as his teeth latched onto his bottom lip.

he stared boldly into your eyes, and you stared right back with just as much fire.

"um... do you guys, like... know each other?"

"no."

"yes."

you both responded simultaneously.

confusion plastered itself across her face, eyes jumping back and forth from your face to his. a taunting smile tugged at the corners of his lips, "we actually went to the same high school, isn't that right, (y/n)?"

you huffed in annoyance, shoulders slumping, "yeah. we did."

"and you never told me this because…?"

because you weren't close in the least and you hadn't even told her when your birthday was let alone about your high school life.

"didn't seem like important information."

she gaped at you in disbelief, "anything regarding my Yeolie is important information!"

was she trying to stroke his already colossal ego? if his head got any bigger, it might just explode.

Chanyeol’s grin broadened at her statement, and you silently groaned, knowing exactly what was coming before he even opened his mouth, "yeah, (y/n). anything regarding me is important information. so why didn't you tell her? trying to keep me all for yourself? how greedy of you."

"please." you scoffed.

Mina glared at you sharply before plastering an innocent smile across her face and twirling a strand of her platinum blonde dyed hair. "ignore her, Yeolie. i was actually wondering if i'd be seeing you at Jake's party tonight?"

"wasn't planning on it," he admitted, and Mina pouted, lips puckering, over dramatically whining in protest. suddenly, his eyes shifted to you, that stupid smirk touching his features, "but maybe if a certain buzzkill was attending... i'd be more tempted to make an appearance."

buzzkill? oh, you.

"i'm not—"

"of course (y/n)'s coming! wouldn't be a party without her!" Mina rushed to cut you off, throwing an arm over your shoulder and yanking you into her side with a grip tight enough to bruise. you looked at her like she was crazy, brows furrowed, eyes wide, lip raised in a disgusted sneer. but her hold was enough to squeeze the air out of your lungs and steal away your ability to refute.

Chanyeol’s brows jumped in surprise, an amused grin spreading across his face, "really?"

"wait, no—"

"yes! i was surprised when she agreed, too! but guess she's finally breaking out of her shell!" you were going to kick her ass if she kept cutting you off.

"well isn't that great to hear." there was a mischievous flicker in his dark eyes, a look you knew all too well.

"so... you'll come?" she asked hopefully.

"sure." you were annoyed at how easily he agreed. he was still smirking smugly as he began pulling his helmet back down over his head. shooting you a wink and a two fingered wave, he spoke again, "see ya tonight."

with that final word, he was speeding off down the road, tires kicking up dust and pebbles as they spun.

as soon as Mina's grip loosened from around you, you were ten feet away, swiftly walking in the direction of your car. "(y/n)! wait!" she cried out, running after you in her five inch heels. you didn't slow down in the least.

"i'm not going, Mina," you said sternly, not even bothering to look back at her.

"b–but i told Chanyeol—"

"no."

"please?"

"not. happening."

⋄⋆⋄

you ended up going.

not because you wanted to, of course. but because Mina decided it was necessary to show up at your apartment and quite literally drag you out. she was surprisingly strong for such a small person, and fiercely persistent. she'd even gone the extra mile of forcefully applying makeup to your eyelids and lips. that's not to say you didn't put up one hell of a fight. but conflict was never your strong suite, and you eventually ended up going pliant under her ministrations.

unsurprisingly, it was just as you expected it to be. loud. stinky. and filled to the brim with horny bastards looking for a quick fuck. you'd been there for all of ten minutes and you'd already gotten your ass grabbed six times. slimy assholes think it's acceptable to touch someone without permission. all the more reason you didn't want to stick around for long.

not to mention, Mina had ditched you the minute you walked in the door to suck faces with her fuckboy boyfriend. since then you'd been gravitating from room to room, searching for the best place to sit without being squished by a horny couple practically dry humping against you.

luckily, you found your solace upstairs in an empty bedroom. the music was muffled the moment you shut the door, the stuffy air that smelled of sweat and marijuana also clearing out. finally, you could breathe.

you spotted a candle and lighter on the bedside table, and quickly moved to light it. the dull, soothing glow that filled the room, splashing light across the walls made the headache that had begun to swell at your temples ease up. exhaling softly, you fell back onto the neatly made bed, body relaxing into the soft duvet.

but of course, your moment of tranquility was short lasting.

because before you could so much as shut your eyes, the door was opening, and a painfully familiar voice was purring, "there you are~ i've been looking all over for you, (y/n), you sly girl."

"fucking hell," you growled under your breath, propping yourself up on your elbows to face him properly, "what do you want, Chanyeol?"

he gently nudged the door shut behind him, before walking over to where you lay. "isn't it obvious?" he murmured, leaning forward to press his hands against the mattress on either side of your ankles.

"spell it out for me."

he chuckled softly, knees meeting the bedding as he began to crawl upwards, until his face was hovering over yours. even you couldn't deny how beautiful he looked up close, with those big, dark eyes, boyishly grinning lips, smooth, tan skin...

"i," he began, nose nudging against your cheek, "want," his lips feathered over yours, "you."

a dark chuckle rolled off your tongue as you met his hooded, lustful gaze. "you we're so greedy last time... and still... you couldn't get enough," you replied smoothly, voice deepening as your desire for him grew.

"what can i say? i'm insatiable."

you scoffed, the corners of your lips curling as you lifted your head slightly, leaving only the tiniest of spaces between your mouth, "i don't think you deserve it." your whisper caressed his lips all too temptingly. A chill rolled down his spine, eyes fluttering as he felt himself falter briefly.

"maybe i don't... but i can earn it..."

now that caught your interest.

a smirk touched your features, "and how might you do that?"

he bit his lip, trying his best to subdue a grin, "by doing whatever you ask of me."

"you willing to take that risk? after that little stunt earlier? i might just decide not to go easy on you." your voice was taunting, but the challenge and threat were very real.

"i can handle anything you give me."

you raised a brow, amused by his naive confidence. then, in the blink of an eye, you had him underneath you, pinning his wrists to the mattress above his head. the action had been so sudden that he could only gasp in shock when his back collided with the bed. you stared down at him with dark eyes, the tip of your tongue sliding over the corner of your mouth.

"you sure about that, big boy?"

he inhaled deeply when your head lowered to the curve of his throat, lips just barely grazing over that sensitive spot. "most definitely." he let out breathlessly, eyes fluttering as he tilted his chin back, offering himself to you. something dark alighted in your eyes, a sinister gleam in your smirk as thoughts of how you could absolutely ruin him flooded your mind.

"you're going to regret saying that."

you didn’t offer him the opportunity to respond before your lips crashed down on his. he let out a muffled sound of surprise at the sudden action, but quickly relaxed beneath you, returning the kiss eagerly.

see? you much preferred Chanyeol when he wasn’t running that big mouth of his. he was always so much more fun when he was choking on desperate moans and trembling uncontrollably under your touch.

truth about the infamous Park Chanyeol? he was a bitch.

in fact... he was your bitch.

it started back in high school. when you were the chill girl who wasn't too well known by anyone outside of your friend group, and when he was the untouchable bad boy that everyone drooled over.

to keep it to the point, you'd both attended a mutual friend's party your senior year, got wasted, and hooked up.

but, it wasn't what you'd expected it to be. no, because you'd expect Chanyeol to be the kind of guy to pin a girl (or guy) down and dominate the fuck out of them. but the moment your voice took on an authoritative pitch, he was putty in your hands, whining and moaning and begging... it stirred something to life inside of you that you had no idea was there.

and it was good. really good. so good, in fact, he came running back to you within the next week practically begging for more. and shit, you gave it to him. he was one of the first guys you'd dominated like that. it was empowering, controlling a guy as big as Chanyeol was. it was an addictive sensation.

but you'd made it very clear from the beginning that it was going to be nothing more than sex. it wasn't romantic, you weren't friends, and you had no intention of getting to know him on a deeper level than his body. though, he seemed suspiciously intent on worming his way into your life one way or another. the boy was relentless. luckily, you were equally as stubborn. a match made in hell, aren’t you? what a spectacle.

you drew away from the kiss at the feeling of his tongue prodding at your lips, a low whine following soon after. you scoffed softly at the sight of his pouting face, “so needy.”

“you can only blame yourself.” he shot back easily, eyes already hooded and darkened with lust. excitement glimmered within them as you reached down between your bodies, fingers slowly undoing his belt.

“is that right?” you murmured, not breaking eye contact for a single moment, a lazy smirk resting on your face. he swallowed, trembling pupils jumping noncommittally from your intense stare down to where you were making easy work of his belt buckle.

“i— yes.” you don’t think he knew what he was saying yes to, his mind already becoming a muddled mess from the promise of what the night had in store for the two of you. his rationality had a nasty habit of hopping out the window whenever you got him in this position.

“what are you hoping happens tonight, Chanyeol?” you asked softly, slowly pulling his belt from the first loop of his jeans.

he swallowed thickly, head beginning to swing back and forth is slow swoops. “i– i don’t—” his voice broke off with a strangled whine as you allowed your fingertips to caress ever so gently over the ever growing tent in his pants.

you raised a brow into a questioning arch, stifling a smirk of amusement at his already flustered state. “it’s a simple question.”

his cheeks pinkened. “i just… want you.” it almost came out more as a question than a statement, words shy and hesitant.

“want me to what?” you pressed.

“to… to kiss me.” his gaze fell onto your lips, his own parting.

“kiss you?” you repeated, tone on the verge of taunting. “asking for a lot there, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

you were teasing him, but he didn’t seem to mind, blinking slowly as he dragged his tongue over the pink swell of his thick lower lip. “want you to touch me…” his voice lowered an octave, deep, lustful eyes looking up at you intensely.

“where?”

“everywhere.” he replied without missing a beat. “anywhere. just— just want your hands. or your mouth. i’ll take anything that you give me… but you already know that.”

you really loved the sound of his voice when he got like this. it was softer than cotton and smoother than silk, rumbling so deep in his chest that you could almost mistake it for purring. it spilled off his lips like the thickest, sweetest honey, so lush and lovely, dripping with shameless desire. something about it was so soothing. and the sounds he made were even better, his guttural groans and melodic moans were nothing short of symphonies. and you were the conductor.

chuckling, you smirked down at him. “you’re right. i do already know that.” he gasped as you suddenly yanked his belt completely free. “now be a good little bitch and grab onto the headboard.”

he eagerly complied, capturing his lip between his teeth as he watched you bind his wrists above his head. his eyes slowly dragged over your face, drifting over the length of your neck, following the smooths swells of your chest beneath your black tank top. a low groan slid from his lips as you pressed your hips forward slightly, just barely grinding against his growing erection. his eyes snapped up at the sound of your soft laughter.

“my eyes are up here, sweetheart.” you hummed, pulling his belt taught before looping it around one of the vertical wooden bars.

“and beautiful eyes they are.” he grinned up at you in that boyishly charming way, shooting you a playful wink. you scoffed, hands drifting down to rest on his firm chest before one raised to grip his jaw, tilting his head upward. lowering your own head, you allowed your lips to caress teasingly over his.

“maybe i should gag you, too. keep that pretty mouth in check,” you mused, dragging your thumb slowly over his full lips, “but unfortunately i think i enjoy the sound of your voice almost as much as you do. especially when you're moaning my name. god it’s so hot.”

you almost growled as he took your finger into his mouth, moaning softly around it. you swooped down, swiftly replacing your finger with your lips. the kiss was deep, rough, and hungry. distracted by your weaponized tongue, he didn’t process that you were unbuttoning his jeans until they were being pushed down his thighs and your hand was gripping his arousal through his thin black boxers.

“fuck, (y/n),” he groaned deeply into your mouth, arms gently tugging against their restraints. you dragged your lips away from his, face lowering so that you could suck your mark onto the expanse of his neck. he sighed blissfully, hot breath rushing over your ear as he subtly rolled his hips, body temperature rising steadily. you bit down on his collarbone, hands pushing up under his shirt to feel at his toned, well built torso. he was so hard, muscles rigid and protruding, so warm to the touch.

it was rather amazing. a guy as big as Chanyeol, as strong and as confident, could easily get the upper hand over you if he wanted. he could flip you over and pin you down without so much as breaking a sweat. but he didn’t. he let you pin him down, tie him up, dominate him, mind and body. he allowed himself to submit to you, to be taken by you: slowly, quickly, roughly, gently, he didn’t care, but dammit he enjoyed every second of it. and if that didn’t give you a rush of power, then you don’t know what could.

goosebumps rose across his honeyed skin as you pushed his shirt up to fully expose his tight body to your ravenous eyes, a chill rolling down his spine when you lowered your mouth to latch onto the smooth swell of his pectoral. he moaned quietly, back arching as you peppered kisses down his abdomen, slowly shifting lower, lower, lower… until your face was level with his bulge.

a sound of excitement flooded past his lips, his breathing becoming rapid and deep. “really?” he asked hopefully, voice breathless and light. a slow smirk crawled across your lips and you chuckled at the way he jolted with a moan when you pressed a slow kiss to his clothed arousal.

“really.” you hummed in confirmation. “you said you wanted my mouth, didn’t you?”

he frantically bobbed his head. “yes. yes, god yes. please.” you almost laughed at his shameless display of desperation. he let out a deep, strained groan as you flicked your tongue over his clothed erection, head falling back.

“ah ah, eyes on me, baby.” you scolded mildly, squeezing his thighs in warning. he lifted his head without argument, face flushed and glistening with faint perspiration, lip caught in a tight grip between his teeth, brows furrowed.

from your viewpoint, he looked rather beautiful: arms bound above his head, exposed chest rising and falling dramatically with each deep breath, messy silver hair falling flawlessly over his hooded, lustful eyes.

and he in turn was also quite taken by how perfect you looked between his legs: smirking lips hovering right over where he needed them most, dark, penetrating gaze making his body tremble with an unspoken need.

your fingers slipped under the elastic of his boxers, slowly easing them down his thighs until his length sprang free. “there he is,” you murmured, tongue dragging over your lower lip as you admired him, long and thick and swollen, precum spilling over his hot, red tip. he shuddered in delight as you traced your finger over a vein.

“(y/n)…” his usually deep voice was pleading and airy, hands curling into tight fists above his head, “please.”

you smiled up at him innocently before delivering a teasing kitten lick to his sensitive tip. he whined softly, hips twitching as his need for you increased tenfold.

a slightly more sadistic side of you rather enjoyed watching him squirm. perhaps it was that hidden part of you that wanted nothing more than to tease him into oblivion with insubstantial caresses and borderline torturous kisses until he was writhing helplessly and there were tears spilling from those beautiful big brown eyes.

however, a larger part of you craved the sight of his stunning, fucked out expression. the one where his face glistened with sweat, thick pink lips swollen and red from being ruthlessly and relentlessly attacked by those pearly whites, puppy dog eyes hooded and fluttering, fighting to remain open against his mind's desire to just melt completely into the pleasure coursing like hot lava through his veins. that was the face you wanted to see more than anything.

a broken moan flooded from his gaping mouth as you fastened your lips around his tip, the taste of his salty precum immediately lathering your tongue. he trembled as you hummed lightly around him, mouth silently forming the words ‘oh god’ as the vibrations sent sparks of pleasure shooting through his body like static shock.

“feels good, (y/n),” he whined weakly, stomach tensing, “feels so good.”

your response was to thrust your head down and as much of him into your mouth as possible. he cried out, hips snapping up at the feeling of your gentle sucking. you were quick to pin them back down, a warning glare darkening your gaze.

“‘m sorry—,” he slurred, panting heavily, “i’m sorry.” he was quick to submit, fighting against the painfully strong urge to fuck himself up into your warm mouth and forcing his quivering body to go pliant beneath your ministrations. satisfied for the time being, you dragged your tongue from his base to his weeping head, tracing slow, taunting circles over his most sensitive place.

a broken moan was all he could manage as his cock twitched tellingly, precum spilling down his throbbing length. you fixed your lips back around his tip, sucking gently. his thighs trembled at the sensation it sent shooting through his veins, a breathless ‘oh’ pulsing from his pink-bitten lips.

“(y/n)— (y/n), if you keep doing that—” the warning was clear, but you wanted to see just how close you could bring him to his release before stealing it away last second. it was always fun to watch how hard he came down from his high when he was denied of it. it was delicious, the way he gasped and trembled, shuddering hips desperately seeking out more frictions, but never receiving it. he was so cute when he got like that.

“you gonna come, baby?” you cooed, replacing your mouth with your hand and shifting upwards so that you could look directly into his eyes. you wanted to be able to see the look in his pretty brown eyes when you stole away his release. he whimpered, head bobbing rapidly as he caught his lower lip between his teeth.

“please.”

you only offered a low, contemplative hum before a wicked smirk struck your features. “not yet.”

a sob broke from his lips as you drew away from his throbbing dick, his high stolen only moments before it could come crashing down over him. his hips bucked, desperately seeking the friction you so cruelly denied him of, but finding nothing but empty air in place of your warm touch. his muscles trembled, broken pleas spilling from his quivering lips.

“(y-y/n), no— please,” he gasped out, arms tugging against the sturdy binds, fingers aching to touch you, grab onto you, hold you.

you hushed him with sweet words, pressing a soothing kiss to the cut of his jaw, hands massaging the bulk of his muscular thighs and holding still his stuttering hips.

“fuck– i hate it when you do that.” he cursed weakly, glassy eyes peering up into yours.

“no you don’t.” you chuckled softly, brushing his damp bangs out of his face in an unexpectedly tender gesture.

“you’re right, i don’t.” he relented easily, the corners of his lips curling subtly.

a sudden silence fell over you, and it took you a moment to realize that he was looking at you with those eyes— the ones you knew all too well. the ones you’d told him plenty of times to drop. because those weren’t the kind of eyes you were supposed to look at a fuck buddy with. those weren’t the kind of eyes that just anybody could be on the receiving end of, most definitely not you.

“don’t look at me like that.” you warned, hardening your expression.

“i can’t help it.” he breathed. you felt your stomach twist. damnit.

“then close ‘em, Park. before I decide to blindfold you, too.”

it seemed your threat wasn’t very well received, as the smile adorning his features only expanded, the corners of his eyes crinkling endearingly.

“that doesn’t sound too bad.”

a dry laugh burst from your lips. “god, you’re so fucking submissive. how has nobody else untangled your little ruse, hm? acting all big and tough on the outside when all you really want is to be tied up and fucked like a horny little bitch. am i really the only one that’s got you figured out?” you hummed thoughtfully, tracing your fingers down his throat and caressing his collarbone.

“you’re the only one, (y/n).”

for some reason… you had a strange feeling that that sentence held more meaning than you were willing to decipher.

“you tell all your little side fucks that?” you taunted, disguising the slight tremor in your chest with a dangerous smirk.

he shook his head, gaze not wavering for a moment. “there’s no one else. only you.”

fuck. you needed him to stop talking. so, you did the one thing that always did the trick: shoving your fingers down his throat. he let out a muffled sound of surprise at the unexpected intrusion, a sound that easily melted into a low moan, his tongue immediately getting to work lapping at your digits.

“you talk too much.” you murmured, taking him off guard and eliciting a low groan from the back of his throat as you ground yourself down on his naked length. “you came to get fucked, didn’t you, sweetheart?”

he eagerly nodded his head, hips nudging up excitedly against your own.

“thought so.” you chuckled.

through wide, glassy eyes, Chanyeol watched you push yourself upright, straddling his thighs. just as he was about to ask what you were doing, you grabbed the hem of your tank top and peeled it off over your head, discarding it onto the floor, your pants fast to follow.

“fuck. you’re so beautiful.” he groaned deeply, ravenous gaze raking over your nearly naked form. you smirked at him cockily.

“i know.”

a surprised laugh erupted from his lips at your blunt reply, eyes glinting with something akin to admiration. “as you should.”

smiling to yourself, you swiftly climbed back on top of him, not wasting any time before grabbing hold of his throbbing dick. he let out a breath of appreciation at the contact, biting at the inside of his cheek. every muscle in his body tightened as you teasingly traced his tip over your clothed heat, his precum slickening the thin fabric.

“are you wet?” he asked weakly, voice so airy and strained that you almost missed it.

grinning devilishly, you toyed with the elastic. “do you wanna find out?”

“yes,” he all but hissed out, muscular arms straining against their secure restraints, “fuck— yes, please.”

“mmm, you sound so hot when you're desperate to get fucked.” you groaned softly, nudging your underwear to the side in order to slip his head through your hot arousal. he shuddered at the sensation, his pupils blown wide with lust as he watched you tease not only him but yourself as well with fleeting caresses of his needy length against your burning core.

“(y/n).” his deep voice had become little more than a breathless whimper singed with molten desire. you felt your pulse jump at the very sound of it, your own want for him swelling with every passing second.

Chanyeol let out a broken gasp as you sunk down on him, cursing weakly as you took him in inch by inch. a low hum vibrated on your lips at the blissful stretch, hot tendrils of pleasure igniting throughout your body.

“sometimes i forget just how good you feel inside of me.” you breathed out heavily, peering down at his already fucked out expression with a coy smirk.

“i could never forget.” he moaned, roughly biting his lower lip. a slow, deep grind of your hips had his head of unruly silver locks tossed back into the plush pillows, an unsteady groan of your name filling the hot, heavy air surrounding you.

“fuck, go faster.”

he realized his mistake only when your fingers were pressing into the length of his throat, all motion ceased. “is that how you ask for things?” you asked, voice dangerously calm.

he was quick to shake his head, eager to right his wrong. “please. please go faster.”

“that’s better.”

a rough sob is pulled from his flushed throat (which you’re almost certain will be raw tomorrow morning) as you fuck yourself down onto him. the pace was fast, hungry, rough. his back bowing off the mattress, hips pulsing upward, desperate to meet each thrust half way.

“(y/n),” you almost moaned at the sight of his body rolling beneath yours, muscles flexed and trembling, toned arms straining against the tight hold of his belt, the leather biting pretty red marks into his wrists, “i wanna touch you— please let me touch you. let me feel you, baby. you know i can make you feel good.”

his begging caused a playful grin to draw itself across your face. “should i?” you murmured thoughtfully, rolling your hips in slow, controlled circles. a low, throaty moan vibrated in your chest as he thrust himself up inside of you, just barely brushing over that perfect little spot.

“i can be so good for you. please… let me be good for you, (y/n).”

“well when you say it like that…” you sighed, feeling any remaining resolve come crumbling down.

excitement ignited in his dark eyes, and he watched with bated breath as you reached up, getting to work on freeing him from the binds.

the very moment the belt fell slack, releasing his hands, they were on your skin, eager and impatient, tugging you down into a heated kiss. it was messy and rough, all biting teeth and lashing tongues. not that you minded much, it was always fun reminding him who was in charge, one way or another.

his wandering hands eagerly explored the expanse of your body, squeezing, pressing, pulling. and you let him have his fun, let him push the limits, testing your boundaries with every curious prod and trembling caress.

it was only when you felt his fingers pressing into the swells of your ass and begin guiding your movements that you drew the line. it took all of a few seconds for you to have his wrists pinned down on either side of his head.

you pulled away from his lips was a disappointed sigh, tongue clicking. “still no restraint, i see? i’m disappointed. i thought you said you’d be good for me, yeolie? was that good?” he all but whimpered, his head, too muddled from pleasure to form coherent words, shaking remorsefully. “no… that was very bad. bad boy, yeolie.”

his dick throbbed so hard inside of you that you could’ve sworn he’d almost just come.

a scoff of both amazement and disbelief escaped your lips. “you like being called a bad boy?”

how ironic.

color flushed into his cheeks, embarrassment shining in his big, glassy eyes that were now refusing to meet your gaze.

“look at me.”

he gasped as you purposely clenched around him, thrusting your hips back until he was balls deep, successfully forcing his attention onto your face. you grabbed his chin securely between your thumb and forefinger, and lowered your head to the point where your lips were just barely brushing over his. his pupils were blown and trembling as they met yours.

“you wanna be my bad boy, baby?”

his jaw fell open, a thunderous moan breaking from his chest.

“yes.”

“say it.” you all but growled, tone leaving no room for argument.

at this point, he was too lost in his own desire to feel any real shame.

“i wanna be your bad boy.”

a triumphant smirk curled onto your face, and you rewarded him with a gentle kiss to his quivering lips. “you gonna come for me, bad boy?” he was already bobbing his head frantically before you’d even fully gotten the question out. you chuckled sadistically at his unabashed desperation. “should i let you?”

“(y/n), please— i don’t think i can— fuck.” he panted out, voice shuddering and breaking as you fucked yourself down on him at just the right pace to keep him teetering dangerously on the edge without completely throwing him over. you bit your lip, pleasure exploding like firecrackers in your veins as he thrusted into you. fuck, if he didn’t stop hitting that spot…

his hands curled into tight fists where they were pinned to the mattress, dull nails biting smooth crescents into his palm. noticing this, you took it upon yourself to weave your fingers through his, holding his hands in an unexpectedly tender display. only because you didn’t want him to accidentally hurt himself… that was all.

but, perhaps it was a mistake.

because that look returned to his eyes with vengeance, his features melting into bursting admiration and unspoken emotion. this time, you ignored it, too gone in your own pleasure to spare it a second thought. that’s what you convinced yourself of, anyways.

he was pulsing intensely against your slick walls, twitching cock threatening to erupt at any given second. you could tell he was fighting to hold himself back, the veins in his throat growing prominent from the strenuous effort. it was admirable in a way, how desperately he wanted to please you, even if it meant denying himself of the greatest pleasure of all. you’d encountered very few men with that kind of will power. so you couldn’t help but to respect it when you saw it in Chanyeol.

“you look like you’re about to explode.” you taunted breathlessly, lips pulled into a lust hazed smirk. “it’d be cruel of me to tell you to hold it, wouldn’t it?”

he whimpered helplessly, obviously not sure which answer would satisfy you and which would coax you into further torturing his already wrecked body.

you offered a rasping chuckled. “you’re lucky that i’m feeling rather generous today.”

something between a sob and a moan are thrown past his lips as you slam yourself down on him, purposefully squeezing your walls around him. he cries out your name desperately, imploringly. you know he can’t hold back anymore, no matter how hard he tries. his body was going to come whether he liked it or not. you felt in the way he throbbed and twitched inside of you, heard it in the way he groaned and sighed, saw it in the way his eyes rolled, body shuddering uncontrollably.

“come.”

and he fucking did.

his body stalled, back arching off the bad, hips sputtering up in sharp, quick thrusts, the sound of skin on skin contact resonating through the room. you cooed, relishing in the way he quivered and keener beneath you, mouth gaping silently for a few moments before growling moans finally broke through, rumbling so deep in his chest you could have easily mistaken it for thunder.

you let him fill you up, painting your walls with his release, knowing damn well your intentions once he was finished.

“that’s it, baby…” you cooed, releasing one of his clenched fists to caress his feverish face, tracing the lower line of his plump lip, swollen and red from his relentless biting.

“oh! look at that. you made a mess, sweetheart.” you purred, smirking wickedly as you watched his arousal drip out of you and onto his now half hard cock. he moaned at the sight, cursing under his breath. “I think it’s only right if you clean it up.”

his eyes snapped up to meet yours, excitement immediately burning with his hazy, blown pupils. that was your boy… always eager to clean up after himself. especially if it meant he could put his tongue and lips to proper use.

“fuck. ride my face. wanna taste you. wanna make you come.” he groaned breathlessly, freed hands reaching down to grip at your thighs, tugging at them impatiently.

you chuckled at how eager he was, happily obliging. you climbed up, repositioning yourself to hover over his flushed face, caging his head between your thighs. his fingers pressed into your hips, pulling you down and into reach of his greedy tongue. you couldn’t help the sigh that slid from your lips at the first contact, eyes fluttering at the feeling of his tongue dragging hungrily through your come soaked folds.

“that’s right. eat your come, baby. lick it up.” you breathed out heavily, fingers weaving through his damp silver locks.

he moaned against you, the vibrations sending chills rolling down your spine. it was like white hot electricity in your veins when he rolled his flattened tongue cover your clit, a sharp moan erupting from your throat.

“fuck, just like that. right there.” you panted, hips grinding down against his skilled tongue. “you’re so fucking good with your mouth, yeol.” his determination spiked at the praise, lips encircling your clit and sucking purposefully.

pure euphoria rushed through your veins, head falling back as your grip on his hair tightened. his rapacious hands danced across your body, fingers pressing hotly into your skin, obviously not having learned his lesson the first time around. though, you weren’t too keen on correcting him. especially not with the fire his touch was igniting across your body.

your hips stuttered as his tongue pressed inside of you, lapping at you hungrily. “tastes… so good…” he groaned brokenly against your arousal, hooded eyes devouring the sight of you falling apart above him.

if there was one thing Park Chanyeol loved– it was being the cause of your pleasure.

snagging your lip roughly between your teeth, you meet his searing gaze, your walls clenching around his invading tongue at the almost unbearable intensity of it.

“you like it?” you moaned, feeling yourself begin to climb your way towards release. he nuzzled against you, nose pressing against your clit as his tongue teased your entrance.

god… if you didn’t know any better you’d say he was trying to suffocate himself. knowing Chanyeol, he’d probably consider it the perfect way to go. perhaps you would have laughed at the thought had it not been for the molten pleasure numbing your mind and senses.

“i’m gonna come.”

at your breathless declaration, Chanyeol is quickly replacing his tongue with two of his fingers, fucking them up into you steadily while his mouth gets to work on your clit. it feels so good… you’re numb to pretty much everything else but the feeling of him, the sight of him.

and you find it’s just that that finally sends you tumbling over that ledge: the sight of those beautiful brown eyes, dark and eager, burning with unspoken emotion, pooling with crimson seduction. he’s breathtaking.

you shift off of his face carefully, a hazy, satisfied smirk settling across your face.

“what a filthy boy.” you purr softly, more so to yourself than him, delighting in the sight of his face, glistening from a mixture of both his and your own release. his lips curl upwards at the corners, sinful tongue peeking out to drag over them and savor the lingering taste of you, a low hum of appreciation rumbling deep in his chest.

his hands don’t leave your hips as you carefully lift yourself off of him, offering some much needed support for your still shaky legs. you flop down on the mattress beside him with a soft ‘oof’ and shut your eyes, taking a moment to catch your breath and gather your scattered wits. a few moments of silence pass, before your brow twitched in irritation.

“stop staring before i smack you.” even with your eyes closed, you can feel the heat of his gaze on the side of your face.

he chuckled unabashedly, not all too torn up about being caught. “sorry. i can’t help myself,” he paused, “you’re just so beautiful like this.”

sighing, you roll your head to the side, eyes fluttering open to meet his. “what’d i say about calling me beautiful?”

he pouts, looking like a scolded puppy. “not to say it after sex.”

“that’s right.”

“but it’s the truth!”

“Chanyeol.” you groan, throwing an arm over your face.

he huffs in annoyance rolling onto his side and propping his head up on his palm. “what’s so wrong with me saying that you're beautiful?”

“you know exactly what’s wrong with it.” you grumble, shooting him a pointed glare, one he is quick to return. rolling your eyes, you turn away from him. “i’m too fucked out to try and argue with you right now so can you just drop it?”

one of his arms snakes over your waist, and you inhaled sharply in surprise as he tugged you into his chest.

“Chanyeol—”

he was quick to disregard your warning tone, nuzzling his face into your neck. “i like to cuddle.”

“you know—” you began, scowling as he cut you off a second time.

“i know what we agreed to but come on… a few minutes won’t kill you.” he grumbled, low voice raspy with exhaustion.

the slight tightening of his hold around you told you that he had no intention of letting go any time soon. your features twisted into a scowl, eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling.

but your resolve to remain unphased wavered.

because, for a moment, you let yourself feel the warmth of his body against yours, allowing yourself to melt into it. it was a strange sensation, the comfort it brought you… the security. perhaps it was the aftermath of your orgasm. or maybe the exhaustion from a stressful week. or maybe something else entirely… regardless, you found yourself relaxing into him, into his hold, into his warmth. it wasn’t something you could really control. and even if you could, you weren’t sure if you would do anything different.

minutes passed. maybe two. maybe five. maybe twenty. you weren’t really sure. you could hear the muffled music still pumping through the speakers somewhere downstairs. dull footsteps and low voices passing outside the door every now and again. the soft glow from the still candle flickered soothingly over the pale walls.

a strange sense of calm had settled over you at some point. you weren’t sure quite when. all you knew was that if you listened hard enough, you could almost hear the steady beating of Chanyeol’s heart. his breathing had become slow and heavy, warming the side of your face with every exhale.

“are you…” you swallowed, throat unexpectedly dry, “are you asleep?”

you were met with silence.

sucking your lips into your mouth, you slowly turned your head. your heart faltered in your chest. “geez.” you muttered softly, a faint smile touching your lips.

he was knocked out cold, cheek smooshed up against the pillow, lips parted and puckered out, hair cast across the white pillowcase, a few locks stuck on his eyelashes. you lifted your hand carefully, gently brushing the silver strands out of his face. your fingers lingered on his skin, caressing ever so lightly over his cheek and jaw.

“beautiful.”

it took you a moment to realize that that word had just come from your lips. you jerked away like you’d been stung, eyes wide, and heart suddenly racing.

shit.

you were so fucked.

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self-loathing-angel-of-thursday2 · 2 years

Text

Beautiful Spouse’s Rewatch Thoughts SPN 01x08

Bugs

“I feel like they could have monetized this differently instead of being social outcasts.”

Reminded Spouse of HunterCorps! SalmonDean

“This is the Native American land disturbance one, right? I remember this one.”

“I love how they show how there’s bugs there by showing a can of bug spray.”

“As if there isn’t a whole ass crew of people - there’s just these 2 dudes.”

“It’s ok - he’s just going to be bones. Not quite. Still dead though. Nice”

“HELP COME HERE NOW. But the guy is in his car saying he’ll be right there.”

Look at that stupid face with that stupid smile

“It was JACKED yo”

“Isn’t that the first time that Sam mentions their childhood was fucked and Dean brushed it off. Does it take longer for Dean to accept it?”

I think Dean knows they had a shitty childhood but what is he going to do about it right now? It’s easier for early seasons Dean just to ignore shit.

“This looks like the same housing complex they fucked up in Tokyo Drift”

“I 100% agree with that but idk if I’d want to blow my brains out.”

“Think of all the HOA fees”

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Forgot about that shit. That’s sooooo bad.” Then laughed

“Did the guy look embarrassed? Way to assume everything. How white of you.” “Oh my god.”

“Who is that kid again? Oh yeah. Letterkenny. I remember you talked about it.”

“I’m going to assume you’re gay then going to punish my child now.”

“Bow hunting is pretty awesome though. Idk about killing animals but shooting things is fun.”

“Oh I gotta good song for this. You can link it once I find it.”

“I don’t quite understand insect people.”

“Oh that’s fake as shit. I’d be screaming because the FX are so bad.”

“It got the salesman first.”

“Let’s just walk over all the blood that hasn’t completed dried yet. Let’s move all the evidence. That’s fine.”

“Drive on the curb; no big deal”

🎶gonna go smoke weed in the woods🎶

“He’s playing with sticks in the woods.”

“Walking in the woods”

Laughed “how does that make any sense? If they were serial killers, would they actually say yes?”

“I feel like Larry also has a lot of money invested in this project, too.”

“College? Fuck College. You’ll be 18; you can do whatever you want.”

“Sam is part of the problem telling everyone to go to college; what a shitter”

“In a different time, the letterkenny kid would have made a better Sam. They look similar enough”

Told Spouse that Misha auditioned to play Dean

“It’s a skull probably. That’s probably not something you want to hold with your hands but ok. It’s not going to hurt you I guess”

“I dug up a cow skull once; it was weird. It was in the middle of the woods. I brought it home and Dad put it in the front yard. It was Weird.”

🎶bunch of skeletons in an unmarked grave. Masssss murder🎶

“I don’t understand the Munsters reference”

“Dean has rosier glasses about their dad. It’s not a bad thing, but I think he’s more of an optimist. He’s choosing to remember to the better things over the others. I can understand that.”

“This actor looks familiar. Idk who he is.”

“Why are we eating a dog eat trash? Then pan over to the Native guy.”

“Don’t forget we’re in a bad part of town since the dog is eating trash and there’s a Native guy standing around.”

“Jared’s dynamic acting at best. Every time I watch the show, it just gets worse to me.”

“What night would that be? Is that the summer solstice? What’s the opposite of the solstice?” Dean’s stupid lips.

“For what it’s worth, they gave him some dynamic dialogue and more of a part instead of just reading out of a book”

🎶you don’t break a curse - the curse breaks you🎶

“Way to be a douche Dean. You just caused all those rocks to hit the other cars in the parking lot. You know better Dean”

“Doesn’t this just fall through and there’s a million bugs or something?”

“Where do you get a million roaches for props? Those are real roaches. If you’re the props guy, do you just call the roach guy?”

“The dad thing points to how Dean learned how to deal with John”

Look how big Dean’s eyes are in this scene when they hear the bugs

“Idk if a bug can eat through the power lines but ok.”

Laughed at the bugs at the window “I remember laughing at that. I still find it funny, because bugs don’t usually suicide themselves like that.”

“A little bug spray will help I’m sure. You’ll be fine.”

“Is he doing the bug spray and lighter trick?”

“Might want to hold the flue down.” ‘Yeah ok.” “I think just spraying the bug spray would be more effective.” laughing at the whole situation

“Look how effective that flame is. Oh so effective”

“And that roof was new. Look how shitty that is. Someone fire their builder. Oh my god. I know we’re dealing with a biblical plague/Native American curse, but come on.”

“That sunrise came up quick. Wasn’t it just midnight?”

“Just a few thousand bees and maybe 2 bee stings. 3 or 4 on their faces and necks.”

“Hey he didn’t drive on the curb this time. Imagine that.”

“This doesn’t make any sense - DIY mover. Wouldn’t you rent it and move shit yourself? But next to the logo it says National Moving Experts. So are you hiring movers or moving everything yourself? Pick one.”

“Somehow…I think insurance will cover your white ass. It’ll be fine.”

“Way to throw away the terrarium kid.”

“Way to agree with him, Sam. You’re supposed to encourage the kid and not tell him to fuck off.”

“How many daddy bonding moments before we see John? We’re having like 2-3 every episode.” “We ain’t in Kansas anymore.”

#beautifulspouserewatchesspn #supernatural #supernatural s1 #supernatural rewatch #Spotify

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joshslater · 4 years

Text

Foreign Exchange

This is a re-release since the previous version got blocked for unknown reasons. I’m not going to bother to find yet another photo that doesn’t break the content rule, so you’ll have to imagine the lower part of a slim, white guy wearing red trunks with the outline of a massive penis. Or read the original story and more on my Patreon.

It all started in what was supposed to be a one week stay in Cape Town. I don't know what the airline had smoked, but a round trip from Europe sold for almost nothing during a few hours. Probably some clerical error in the pricing department. Whatever the reason, I shuffled some tasks around and manage to arrange myself a one week spring vacation. I had no idea of what to expect. Only thing I knew about South Africa was the Kruger Park, the worlds first heart transplant, excellent red wines, Apartheid and Mandela.

It started out amazing. I found a cheap place in Green Point, close to lots of the tourist places, and started to drink my way through South African wine bottles. It was on the third evening I made the wrong move. No, life altering move.

I was heading back to the hotel after some late evening sea side action. I had emptied a particularly good bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, rich with those mineral tones so prevalent in most South African wines. I was slightly sun burned, possibly lost and decidedly round footed when I walked up to two well dressed white men beating the shit out of black kid.

- Hey, stop that!

I said before my brain had fully reengaged. They did stop. One of the men stared right at me, eyes filled with disdain.

- What you say?

I didn't have time to answer him when something hard hit the back of my head with a thud and everything lost focus and disappeared.

When I came to everything was black and my head hurt like hell. I was lying awkwardly, hands bound behind my back, feet tied together, and some sort of bag tied around my head. The sound made me think I was in someones trunk, but I guess it could have been a van or a covered pick up flat bed just as well. In any event, the vehicle was running fast on what I assumed to be a highway. After a bit of struggle I concluded that I was not just bound up, but also tied down and couldn't move much at all. After a boring hour or so still drunk me slipped back into sleep.

Next time I woke up the vehicle was standing still. I was still as tied up as before, but I could hear someone speaking Afrikaan a few steps away. He came close, shuffled some things around, and then I felt a small prick on my arm. I barely had time to realize it was some sort of injection when I lost consciousness again.

Regaining consciousness was quite different third time around. I still couldn't see anything, but I could feel some swim style goggles around my head, probably blacked out. Now I was lying more properly on a firm bed or padded table. I tried to move, but like before I was tightly restrained. This time it felt more professional, like cuffs around arms and legs, and some kind of material pushing against the chest. And I was naked, I think. It was hard to determine, as the temperature was nice and I couldn't move, but I couldn't feel any clothes on my body. I tried to say "hello", but nothing came out.

This quickly became incredibly boring. I couldn't see or feel much. The smell was basically just some generic clean smell of faint detergent. With sounds there were a bit more variation. I could hear some HVAC rumbling once every 5 minutes, or so I guessed. In addition there was a constant low humming in the room. I could hear some faint sounds from outside the room. Perhaps infrequent cars coming and leaving outside the building.

By my estimate I was at least into the third wake hour when suddenly a door opened and I could hear a conversation between the two men who entered the room. They sounded quite far away, so the room was probably large.

"...so many in the database?"

"We use five key measurements combined into one value as sorting key. The circumference and length, both on flaccid and erect, are approximated into two cylinders. Balls are approximated as spheres. Then we just multiply the three volumes together to make the sorting key. First selection priority is of course bio-compatibility, but this size metric allows for fast selection within that set. It only brings candidates though. The final decision is more complex, of course."

"Complex how?"

"Well, let's ask the doctor himself. His coming here."

A third person entered the room.

"You talking about me?"

"Yes, we were just discussing the selection criteria"

"Ah. Well, since this is a demonstration we want to be bold, while being mindful of proportions and aesthetics. In addition to appearance we want to maximize as many of the secondary factors as possible from the paper. For this one we landed in using the Congo supply."

They were standing right next to me now. The "doctor" continued.

"So this is the subject. The first agent is being administered right now, as you can see. Any questions?"

I tried to say something. Anything. But only wheezing air came out.

"Is he trying to speak?", asked the first voice.

"No, he isn't. Come, let's look at the model", replied the doctor, and they left the room as quickly as they entered it.

6-8 HVAC cycles later I heard the door open again and several people walking into the room. I heard a women's voice close to me saying "Everything is green. Go ahead." and I again lost consciousness.

The room was barely furnished, completely white and bathed in light when I opened my eyes.

"Oh, how good. You are awake."

I heard a female voice in a strong South African accent. I turned my head and saw a fat, black South African lady smiling at me. I was super confused. I was in a hospital bed, but this didn't really look like a hospital, and she didn't look like a nurse.

"Wheh...", was as far as I managed on "Where am I" before my voice gave out.

"You need to drink a lot. Here, let me help", said the lady and gave me something that looked like a hospital version of a gym bottle. As I drank she continued.

"You had a traffic accident. Nothing serious. Just a concussion, so you were dismissed from the hospital to make room. This is a recovery home."

I was gulping water. Man, was I was thirsty. "Where are we?" I asked.

"Just outside the city, so still close to Johannesburg."

That's like at least 10 hours away from Cape Town. What the fuck had happened?

"What day is it?"

"It's Thursday today, dear. I'll go and get something for you to eat", the fat lady answered, and started to move towards the door.

Something just didn't feel right. It was Wednesday evening when I was kidnapped. "No, what date?"

"Thursday the 28th", she said from the door.

A whole fucking week.

I felt a sucking black hole in my gut. The lady seemed nice, but there was no way I would trust her right now. Perhaps she believed everything she had just told me, but clearly some things were not true. My head felt fine, as opposed to the last time I was conscious, but what about the rest? I didn't feel any restraints, just my body in a hospital gown, under some white sheets. In fact, nothing hurt anywhere. Just thirsty, still, hungry and a need to piss.

I could see a different door in another wall than the nurse had just left through. Presumably a private toilet for this small recovery room. A pair of slippers stood next to the bed, so I threw off the blankets began to sit up and swing out my legs. That's when I first felt it. It was weird feeling, familiar, but yet very different.

I quickly kicked my feet into the slippers and carefully, still a bit woozy, shuffled into the bath room. It was surprisingly roomy. Well, perhaps not surprisingly, given the number of people with casts, wheelchairs and whatnot passing through. But it had plenty of room around the toilet seat and sink, and a full length mirror next to the sink, presumably for wheel chair bound people.

I raised the gown from my knees to expose my front, and just stared for a several seconds to fully understand what I saw. My dick and balls were gone. In its place was the largest, most aggressively male genitalia I had ever seen, even in pictures. The massive dick went almost down to my knees, and thick as a can of red bull. And even though it was completely flaccid it was veiny as cabbage and the outlines of a massive head was clearly visible through the uncut foreskin.

Behind the dick were two softball sized testicles hanging low, but unevenly so. It was all topped off with a large bush of coarse hair. And all of it, the hair, the balls and the dong, where dark chocolate black.

I just stared in disbelief. Then tentatively I touched the penis. Yep, it was real and it was now apparently mine. Standing straight my hands couldn't even reach halfway down to the tip. My mind caught up with reality and was filling with questions. Who did this? Why did they do this? How did they do this? Isn't there organ rejection? Aren't you supposed to eat some sort of pills forever after receiving a transplant? Are there even any pants I can wear anymore? Did baller shorts just become underwear?

I went to the toilet and emptied my bladder. It worked fine. Better than fine even, as aiming just became a lot easier with such a hose, although using paper involved lifting. Lifting! I could feel that it was much more sensitive than what I was used to, and felt it starting to come alive. I quickly dropped it and went back to bed. Just as I did lunch arrived.

Once fed, and having checked with the care taker, Amahle, that she wouldn't be back for two hours, I decided to try out my new dong. Tissues were already on the side table. I sat up in bed, kicked off the sheet and had another look under the gown. I was again taken aback with the sight. It wan't just massive, but somehow everything, length, girth, balls, looked to be in proportion. I must admit that I haven't spent much time thinking about, looking at or describing cocks, but the first words that came to mind were aggressive, intimidating and virile. The black skin made it even more so, as the light from the window created contrasting highlights on the veins.

Carefully I looked at the border, where the black skin met my pasty, white body. Rather than a sharp line, as I had expected, there was a narrow gradient where one color blended over to the other. How on earth was this done? It looked like perhaps a decades old surgery where the scar had long since gone soft.

I resumed where we left off in the bathroom, slowly stroking it. It reacted right away, and apparently was a grower as well as a shower. Holy fuck was it massive. I just lied in bed and over perhaps 20 minutes had the best wank in my life. I have no idea whose dick I was giving a handjob, but this was clearly his loss and my gain. It was filled to the brim with nerve endings, making every stroke amazing. Or perhaps it was designed and grown in a lab somewhere? In that case, props to the cocksmith.

The head was leaking precum like crazy, sending small droplets of man lube for every noisy slosh of foreskin riding up and down the head. I was probably suffering from some sort of auto-erotic asphyxiation with so much blood displaced, but I managed to be amazed over how long I lasted, in the fog of pleasure.

When I finally couldn't keep it contained anymore, I erupted in rope after rope of cum going everywhere. On my chest, in my face, and some overshooting me all together. As I was catching my breath, sweaty and sticky, I was thinking about what to tell Amahle. Or if I should get up and do some attempts to clean up the mess first. I realized I had plenty of problems ahead of me. Cleaning up, getting home, ever wearing pants again, figuring out how to use toilets. But at least there and then I could not care less.

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dylanhawth · 4 years

Text

[ LORENZO ZURZOLO, CISMAN, HE/HIM ] shh ! DYLAN HAWTHORNE, the TWENTY year old SECOND year ANTHROPOLOGY major from HARTFORD, CT is known as a TOURMALINE around here. HE was invited to join because HE PUBLISHED A COLLECTION OF SHORT STORIES ANONYMOUSLY THAT GARNERED A BIT OF FOLLOWING AND RECENTLY STEPPED FORWARD AS THE AUTHOR, and now, they’re here to stay. HE reminds me of THE NERVOUSNESS OF A FIRST KISS, LEAVING SECRET MESSAGES IN LIBRARY BOOKS, DRIVING AIMLESSLY WITH THE WINDOWS ROLLED DOWN ON A WARM SUMMER NIGHT WHILE THE RADIO HUMS A PLAYLIST CURATED FOR YOU BY YOUR BEST FRIEND.

[ big ass bio ] | [ connections ] | [ pinterest ] | [ playlist ]

ooc.

omfg hello. i can’t tell you how excited and happy i am to be here. i was too nervous to apply for the last three months but i decided to stop being a Coward and just try. im SO happy to be here, it’s the highlight of my week tbh lmao. anyway i am mar, she/her, 24, est. i live in nyc and all i do is visit the planetarium and cry. i’m so fucking bad at these so im just gonna LIST things and hope you get the vibe. i am a pisces sun, scorpio moon. i prob have a napoleon complex a little bit lmao. my favorite social media site is goodreads and i get rlly sad when my friends rate books i love poorly dfljskdfs. i can touch my tongue to my nose. i eat a lot of persimmons. i have a favorite rock at my local park that i visit a lot. idk dfskjls. i’m v friendly tho so pls hmu. i send a lot of memes, and love making meme edits for the chars so im rlly sorry in advance if you guys hate that.

01. basics.

NAME. dylan h. hawthorne. ALIASES. dyl, hawth. AGE. twenty. HOMETOWN. hartford, ct. GENDER. cismale. PRONOUNS. he/him.

02. appearance.

EYES. green. HAIR. brown. HEIGHT. 6”0 BUILD. lean. BIRTHMARKS / BURNS / SCARS. a birthmark the shape of australia on his left thigh. TATTOOS. n/a. PIERCINGS. n/a.

03. habits.

ALCOHOL ? socially. SMOKING ? socially. HABITS. fidgets in chairs. cracks knuckles and back often. nervous laughter. chewing on pencils. talking to his plants. dogearing books. staring off into space and applying chapstick for a prolonged period of time. getting overly competitive about boardgames. stress cleaning. carries a book in his bag always. night owl. incredibly impatient when the internet is slow. creature of habit when it comes to menus, orders the same shit over and over again. LIKES. feeding the ducks at the local pond. the smell of the earth after a rainstorm. the way music sounds coming from another room. kissing. watering his plants. inside jokes. making wishes in fountains. discussing a recently finished book with someone. making handmade cards for friends on their birthday. fireworks. coming of age films. packages wrapped in twine. jogs. the way friday nights feels when you’re with someone you love. the feeling you get leaving the movie theatre. DISLIKES. being late. having too many coins on him. coffee with no sugar. when people speak loudly in the library. doing laundry. handshakes with too much squeeze. receiving voicemails. untidiness. golf. charles dickens. lectures with no student input. hot weather. confrontation. being caught in a lie. losing his umbrella. people who cheat during games. rainboots. bad table manners. humidity.

04. personality.

MYERS-BRIGGS. infp. ENNEAGRAM. the helper. ZODIAC. pisces. TEMPERAMENT. melancholic. ALIGNMENT. neutral good. ARCHETYPE. the lover. POSITIVE. empathetic. sensitive. intelligent. charismatic. easygoing. gentle. loyal. passionate. romantic. humble. supportive. gregarious. playful. diligent. NEGATIVE. deceitful. gullible. finicky. naive. obsessive. perfectionistic. secretive. timid. possessive. weak-willed. indecisive. cynical. indulgent. summary: basically, dylan is a love starved, people pleasing nervous wreck. big ass nerd who wants to be everyones friend, wants to be liked SO BAD. very charming and charismatic, comes off as fairly confident and comfortable at first. is able to make everyone feel loved and like they’re the most important person in the world, however lacks a backbone. is both romeo and juliet, and just as dumb as both of them too.

05. hc’s.

dylan was a football player in high school, believe it or not. he was rather good at it too, which is sort of jarring considering his pacifistic nature. however, he DID land on someone incorrectly at some point during his senior year, and broke their wrist. he quickly abandoned the sport altogether because of how guilty he felt.

touched on this briefly but dylan really… loves indiana jones lmao. like, it’s quite ironic given his absolutely inability to be a badass, and lack of suaveness. however, he admires indy’s lust for adventure. he also was obsessed with the mummy as a kid. both of these were incredible sources in his very irrational decision to sudden anthropology. however, he does really love and admire anthropology. his favorite ethnography is the spirit catches you and you fall down, which makes him cry like a little bitch every time he even thinks about it.

he’s the second oldest, but he is also baby. he is SUCH a big momma’s boy. he misses his mom so much. he writes to her often, and of course calls her even more. despite being six-foot tall, he still goes home and rests his head on his mother's lap, falls asleep as she runs her fingers through his hair. he often tries to find native english plants and flowers to press, and mail back to his mother in the form of bookmarks. has nEVER STEPPED ON A CRACK IN HIS LIFE, BABY.

just leaves a shit ton of notes in books in the library. some are riddles, some are poetry, some are commentary on the book, some are doodles. just depends on how he’s feeling for that book. he doesn’t tell anyone he does it, but he’s waiting for someone to connect the dots with his handwriting and writing style.

speaking of plants, his room is basically a big greenhouse. he has so many plants, and takes serious care of them all. he has a little humidifier in his space for them, marks down when he waters what plants, and has a label maker to label them all with a name. they are all named after shakespeare characters.

dyl is a doodler, so much so that he contributes to the school paper as a cartoonist. his cartoons are usually just random thoughts he has, but sometimes they get political and he works marxism into them. (this man loves marx.)

[ suicide implied tw, death mention tw ] he dresses like a victorian boy in love with his roommate who has recently died of scarlet fever and in his mourning, plans to disappear in the bog by the school by mysterious circumstances and become a ghost that haunts the college with his lover. like lots of gray and slacks and ties ands ties and sweaters, lol. also he has glasses that he never wears because he can never find them! catch him squinting in your classroom because he can’t see SHIT. too shy to ask you for your notes though, doesn’t wanna inconvenience you! but when he’s Out on the Town®, he fucking wears like, tacky patterned shirts that are expensive but ugly. someone please help him.

all about fun socks! he loves owning socks that have dumb little images on them. if you get him a pair of fun socks, he’d absolutely go nuts. his entire week: made.

he leaves his roommate limericks when he senses they are sad. tapes em to the bathroom mirror or leaves them in the fridge. also loves buying people presents. tiny ones. like haunted looking things from second hand stores, or your favorite chocolate. also is the sort of friend that has EVERYTHING in his bag, in case someone cuts themselves or has a headache. can be a bit of a mom himself. it’s the little things, y’know?

prob still in his emo phase. listens to way too mcr to not be lmao.

eco-friendly king, will not stand for you not recycling.

if you will allow him, he will attempt to have a secret handshake with you. he’s a child. is dying for someone to memorize the parent trap handshake and indulge him.

cannot sit still in a chair. fidgets an excessive amount, the bobbing of his knee and the squirming around. it just never ends.

bi. that’s the hc.

he’s a little bit in love with everyone he meets if you couldn’t tell, and it’s fucking disastrous.

he is based loosely off: patroclus ( the song of achilles ), ponyboy curtis ( the outsiders ), laurie laurence ( little women ), eduardo saverin ( the social network ), remus lupin ( hp ), oliver marks ( if we were villains. )

( @opalsmedia )

#opalsintro #intro #his background and things are in the big ass bio dfsklds but this is the gist of it lol

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sohin-ace · 4 years

Text

Jotaro - Sister

This is cross-posted from Wattpad and available on AO3.

Enjoy~

Y/N is Jotaro’s sister

I want to make clear that this fic is non romantic. I don’t write incest.

"Papa, since you're here, I have to show you Jotaro and Y/N's old pictures~" Holly cheered excitedly while dragging her father to the living room.

"Oohhh can't wait!" Joseph joined, enthusiastic to see some hidden treasures of his grandchildren.

The commotion of Holly and Joseph going through photo albums caught you and Jotaro's attention as you both walked past the living room.

"Look at this one, Papa! Their first time going to the beach together! Y/N was scared and Jotaro brought her a starfish!" Holly squealed and you furrowed your eyebrows.

"Uh, mom what are you doing...?" You carefully asked.

"Oh! I'm showing your baby pictures to your grandfather!"

You glanced at Jotaro next to you who had a pearl of sweat gliding down his forehead. Oh no...

"Oohh ohhh!!! This one is my favourite! Jotaro and Y/N taking a bath together~" You both flinched.

"Ooohhhh!!!! OH MY GOOODD!!! How cuuuteee~" Joseph cupped his face in his hands and was almost dying at the cuteness before him.

"You know! Y/N would always tell me this, 'When I grow up I want to marry Jotaro onii-chan!' " You blushed madly and gasped at the embarrassing memory.

"MOOOM!!!! WHAT THE HELL?! WHY WOULD YOU EVEN REMEMBER THAT???" Joseph burst into a fit of laughter while your mother had a sheepish look on her face.

"Yare yare daze..." Jotaro walked away with his hat resting low on his head, effectively covering his reddening face.

You were Jotaro's younger sister. Despite your age difference being negligible, your relationship was very complex. It changed and switched a lot throughout the years.

As children you used to be really close, nothing could separate you. You would share and do everything together, from toys, to beds and everything in between.You both took care of each other in your own way.

But as the years passed, Jotaro grew colder and more distant, which was to be expected from a male teenager who had been overwhelmed by feminine compagny, whereas you became calmer, more patient and less cheerful than before, trying to learn to not depend on your brother's presence as you used to in the past.

Despite your differences, you two still kept that unconditionnal kindness that seemed to run in the family.

Currently, you both lived your lives on your own ways. You couldn't really say you were close, or at least, not as much as before. You didn't think your relationship could progress any further from there, at least, not until a certain day.

You both walked out the door after receiving your usual goodbye kisses from your mother Holly, and went on your way to school.

You used to always make the walk to school together, but since highschool, Jotaro would just walk in front of you and leave you behind without even looking back.

The first few times, you'd run after him, calling him out to wait for you, but after a few days, you gave up and accepted to just make the walk on your own. You were used to him ignoring you even at school so you grew to not mind it anymore.

From his point of view, it was to protect you from having a stressful walk surrounded by fangirls, being the potential target of bullies who wanted to get to him, or to prevent you from being in the middle of a fight between stupid thugs who wanted to meddle with Jotaro.

But as you didn't know that, in your eyes you were just a burden to him. You didn't want to be the annoying clingy sister and as he was already very edgy, you left him be.

You continued your lone walk to school, your brother long gone before you and already out of sight. You heard voices behind you and you flinched.

"Oohh isn't that Kujo? Hey yeah it's her! Kuuujoooo~" You kept on walking, but they caught up to you.

"Hey, hey, babygirl, don't ignore us like that~ What's the matter, where's your big brother?" One of the guys said, sliding an arm around your shoulders and leaning a bit too close to your face.

"Yeah, where's your big strong bro? Not very nice to let his sister all alone in the street. It's okay though, you don't need him, we'll take care of you~" The other snickered, towering next to you and taking a strand of your hair between his fingers, playing with it as you looked down.

These two guys again, for some reason they had this weird obsession with you and just wouldn't take the hint.

"...Please go away, I don't have time for this." you quietly said, not even bothering speaking up. They wouldn't listen anyway, but you still tried.

"Don't worry sweetie, you're okay with us, we'll protect you!"

"I don't need protection, go away."

"Awww, don't be like that~ It makes me want you even more." The shortest slid his hand from your shoulders down your arm and laid it on your waist.

You sighed and swatted their hands off of you. "Shut up, you're so annoying!"

"Ooh she's trying to act all tough like her bro, how fucking cute!" The tallest one then forcefully grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him.

"LET GO YOU PSYCHO!" You pushed him as hard as you could, which sent him stumbling over a nearby parked car.

"You asked for it you stupid bitch!" He then slapped you hard across the face, so hard, the impact made you lose balance and you fell down on the ground, dropping your schoolbag.

"Dude! Stop, that's too much!" the short one quiered, overwhelmed by the turn of events.

"SHUT UP! I gotta teach her a lesson. Get up, Kujo."

He didn't even let you react and pulled you up by the arm, slamming you straight against his chest. You struggled, but he locked you firmly in his surprisingly strong arms. "So what are you gonna do? Where's Jotaro now, huh?"

"I'm here, motherfucker."

They flinched and both their jaw dropped. They slowly looked up to see the huge form of your brother, standing so tall he was blocking the sun behind him and casting a shadow over you three.

"J-j-j-.....JOTARO???!!" the shortest one stuttered, shaking like a leaf and sweating bullets.

"...What the FUCK do you think you're doing to my sister?" Your behemoth of a brother growled.

Before they could even retort, Jotaro grabbed you and abruptly snatched you out of the boy's hold, making you stumble against him and he caught you effortlessly in his arm. He sent a murderous glare to the two boys and they whimpered, taking the warning very seriously.

"I-I-.... Shiiit!!! I'LL COME BACK FOR YOU KUJO!!!" The tall one stormed off with his friend following close behind.

"Yare yare daze..." Jotaro sighed in annoyance as he turned towards you. "Are you okay?"

You nodded quietly, looking down at the floor. He harshly held your chin in his large hand and lifted your face up, inspecting your bruised cheek.

"Tch... That asshole...Can't wait to dance on his fucking grave." You put a reassuring hand over his arm and he relaxed slightly, letting you go.

"Don't. It's not worth it, Jojo. Let's go, Mom will be worried if we're late to school again."

You spoke softly and he stared at you in silence, not moving an inch, but before you could question him, he started.

"Stop looking at me like this."

"Huh?"

"I can't bear that melancholic look on your face. Wipe that out."

"That... That's just my face, Jojo..." You trailed off softly, quite confused with your brother's shenanigans.

"I know I made you like this."

You stared at him for a moment, then looked away, silently. Maybe you were colder than you used to, but you wouldn't put the blame on him, after all...

"I made you like this too..." You replied, looking off to the distance. "Your stone cold glare...Your burning hate for girls...It's all me, isn't it."

He fell silent. Your silences spoke more words than any of your actions, this is how it came to be. You finally looked up at him, both sharing the same stare.

"You're one to talk about a cold glare. Just look at you."

As he said that, Star Platinum manifested in front of you, surprising you as you let out a tiny gasp. He then held your cheeks and tugged slightly on them, forcing a smile out of you.

"Oh...! The spirit's back!" You were too fascinated by the weird spirit that started following your brother to even care that he was childishly playing with your face.

Jotaro cracked a tiny smile at the interactions of his Stand and his sister. He couldn't understand you sometimes, but at the end of the day, you two weren't so different.

The tall male pulled out his pack of cigarettes and brought one to his mouth before lighting it up.

"Girls are fucking headaches..." You looked up at him, deadpanning as Star Platinum and you were squeezing each other's cheeks.

"But your my little headache." He mumbled under his breath before puffing a thick cloud of smoke.

You wanted to scoff at his weird confession. Oh great. He didn't hate you as much as the others. How cute.

You looked down, your features softening into a smile as you held onto Star Platinum's arm who was now playing with your hair.

"Let's just go now, Jojo."

The moment you both started walking he noticed you wincing and limping a bit.

"Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah... It's nothing, I just scraped my knee when I fell earlier." you tried walk again, but winced at the pain from the open, bleeding wound on your knee.

Before you could even step any further, you saw your brother crouching in front of you, his back turned towards you.

"Climb."

You stared at him in utter confusion. "It's okay Jojo I ca-"

"Yare yare daze, I don't have all day. Hurry up." He pressed on and you couldn't fight his stubborn nature.

You leaned over, putting your hands on his shoulders and let your legs rest on either side of his waist as he steadied them with his hands. He effortlessly hoisted you up and walked you both to school.

It felt so nostalgic, being carried by him. The world was so much more beautiful from the view of your brother's height. You didn't care for the view though, as you leaned further against his back, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your head on his shoulder.

"Just like old times... Right? Oni-chan..." You uttered quietly, calling the name you stopped calling him for years now.

He chuckled lightly, which was also something that you didn't hear in years.

"Yeah... Just like old times. Except now you're cheesy as shit. You're starting to sound like Kakyoin."

"Hmm? What's wrong with Kakyoin? I like my men cheesy." You purred.

He immediately stopped in his tracks and turned his head to glare at you. He suddenly felt angry as his brotherly instincts kicked in.

"...Take that back right now."

Bonus:

You were walking out of the nurse's office with Jotaro.

"See you later." He turned the other way towards his classroom.

As you were about to walk away yourself, you turned around to be met with a group of girls blocking your route.

"Y-you're Y/N Kujo, right?" Started a shy-looking girl.

"Oohh you're Jojo's sister? Cool!! Could you give him my number~?" added another one, excitedly.

"Actually, you do look like him a little bit!" Continued a third one, as they all interjected one by one.

"What? Noo they look nothing like each other, what are you saying!"

"Hmm they do have a.. Family likeness, kinda? Maybe it's the eyes, or the lips, I'm not sure, but there's definitely something!"

"Now that you say it, they do have the same cold frown on their face." they all giggled and your face was red with annoyance.

"Get lost. All of you. This is why you don't have boyfriends." And just like that, you stormed off, leaving the girls in a love-struck daze.

"Waaahh~ she's so cool~"

"She's kinda cute when she's angry."

"She could insult me all day~"

"Being hot runs in the family, so unfair~" they all squealed to themselves as they watched you leave.

Brothers kinda suck, but they're also a blessing.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo #jjba #stardust crusaders #jotaro #jotaro kujo #writing #x reader #reader insert #family love #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo part 3 #part 3 #jotaro x reader #jotaro kujo x reader #non romantic #sister reader

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lcnelyinthesky · 4 years

Text

that time - kenma x reader

a/n: good evening! i feel like i haven’t written in ages, but maybe i kinda wish this wasnt the piece i was coming back in with. in any case, here she is.

based on that time by regina spektor

genre: angst

warnings: heavy mentions of drug use and suicide.

word count: 1.4k

Do you remember the time when I found a human tooth down on Delancey?

It was a perfect spring day. The flowering trees existed in all of their beautiful glory, painting the green grass with splotches of pinks and purples. You walked around a park, looking to meet up with your boyfriend Kenma.

Hey, remember that time we decided to kiss anywhere except the mouth?

Your boots clunked around your feet with every step you took. The legs of your baggy jeans rubbed against themselves as you walked, creating the slightest vibration. The light cotton of your shirt melted into your skin. Your hands found each other behind your back, fingers interlocking. You looked around at the trees and benches and people in dark clothes as you strolled along the paths.

Hey, remember that time when my favorite colors were pink and green?

You remembered the past fondly, a small smile creeping to your face as you thought about the first time you met your kitten. You were at a party with your friends, passing drunken stories around the circle you had formed together. Your pastel pink shirt was tucked into your olive green pants, the fabric held together by a grey belt with a chain attached to the loops. You moved the silver links around in your fingers when a group of guys came in, a particular one catching your eye more than the others.

Your fingers anxiously fiddled together while you dug deeply into the yellowish eyes of the man standing above you, who proceeded to shoot you a coy smile. He sat down next to you, maroon fabric of his shirt folding as his posture faltered.

He took a liking to you instantly, both of you clicking as stories continued to pass around the room. You giggled as his face turned red every time a so-called “Kuro” poked fun at him.

Hey, remember that month when I only ate boxes of tangerines?

You were just broke college students, but you made it work. Your shared, albeit small, income covered the rent of a tiny studio apartment and you figured the rest out somehow. None of that really mattered though, because you’d take waking up in his arms, engulfed in his cinnamony scent, over a dorm any day. He was always so cute in the morning. His sleepy eyes told you they loved you without him uttering a word. His hair would be in every single direction but he wore it so well.

So cheap and juicy, tangerines.

Kenma spent most of his time at home. You’d carry him to bed after he passed out at his post, eyes glued to a monitor. You’d lay his exhausted body in bed before you went to shower, and when you’d come back to him, his position would have changed entirely. You’d climb in next to him and face him while he slept. The scent of orange on your breath became something that could never fail to lull him to sleep.

Hey, remember that time when I would only read Shakespeare?

You were always one with spurts of energy, whereas his energy was constant and unwavering. You’d randomly tell him something you wanted to do and he’d laugh, causing a flame that allowed you to actually get it done.

“I’m gonna memorize Lady Macbeth’s monologues. All of them.” You looked up from your phone at your boyfriend. His gaze met yours as his mouth twisted into a smirk and his eyebrows raised.

“Definitely, baby. I’ll learn Macbeth’s and we can be them for Halloween.” He laughed at you slightly, but it was all out of love. It always was.

Hey, remember that other time when I would only read the backs of cereal boxes?

You sat at the kitchen table in a trance, staring down the box your breakfast came from. Kenma walked in, sleepily trudging towards you, and asked what you were doing. The words came in one ear and out the other, an empty haze going over your brain. He went to the kitchen and tried to hide the clinking of a pill bottle with a story about a woman he saw in the park. He swallowed something mint green with water, before asking you--once again--about your blank stare.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Kenma walked over to you and placed an arm around your back, bringing you back to reality. You shook your head and looked up at him, asking flirtatiously if you could join him in a morning shower. He stuttered out an “okay”, but that’s when the worry started.

Hey, remember that time I tried to save a pigeon with a broken wing?

“Kenma! Hey!” You shouted, panicked in front of your apartment complex, a bird in your hands. The sky was a pale grey that contrasted heavily with your bright yellow shirt. The terrace attached to your living room had someone standing on it now.

“What the hell is that?”

A street cat got him by morning, and I had to bury pieces of his body in my building's playground

You wore black the next day. Something in you became used to the lack of color. It wasn’t exactly a change in personality, and it sure was subtle. Kenma never noticed when your closet’s colors started to fade. Nothing confused him when you left your pink shirts at the laundromat on purpose. Yet he was so observant elsewhere.

I thought I was going to be sick

But maybe something went too deeply into his brain, occupying his every thought. Nothing really seemed too different because his focus was always deep in a video game, but then you beat him at Mario Kart.

Hey, remember that time when I would only smoke Parliaments?

He wasn’t as sharp with a controller in his hands. He stopped falling asleep at three in the morning, sometimes turning in at as early as ten. He started spending more time away, walking down the alleyways between office buildings before and after his normal desk job.

Hey, remember that time when I would only smoke Marlboros?

You woke up at seven one morning to an empty bed, knowing you fell asleep next to your boyfriend at twelve the night before. You rubbed your eyes and stretched your arms, walking twenty feet to see a blob of dyed blond hair and plushy black fabric.

Hey, remember that time when I would only smoke Camels?

The bags under his eyes were deeper and darker than you had ever noticed them. His eyes fluttered open at the soft touch of your hand and he groaned at the brightness of the light.

Hey, remember that time when I was broke?

“Shit, y/n. My neck hurts.” His arm reached around to massage the back of his neck, wincing his eyes shut at the light movement.

“What’s this about, Ken?” Concern littered your face and nipped from your voice. He came back to reality slowly.

I didn't care; I just bummed from my friends

“I- uhm. I got too warm and had to sleep on the couch. Sorry, baby.” He seemed genuine. He put on a genuine face for you. The stutter made you doubt him.

Hey, remember that time when you OD'ed?

You were still strolling about a park, waving hellos to birds as they flew by. The black denim of your baggy jeans rubbed together, creating the slightest vibration. A tear fell from your squinting eyes at the memory. The happy facade you created fell quickly and all at once.

Hey, remember that other time when you OD'ed for the second time?

You were looking to meet up with your boyfriend Kenma at the usual spot. He would be sitting there happy to see you, ready to push your hair from your face the second you sit down next to him.

Well, in the waiting room while waiting for news of you

Plot 34D. There were always flowers placed in the small vase. Kuroo came every three Thursdays. You typically went on Saturdays.

I hallucinated I could read your mind

“Hey, Kenma. On the way over here I was thinking about that one summer I only ate those tiny oranges! Remember how you always said they reminded you of your friend Shoyo?” You giggled, tear falling onto the well-maintained grass. “I stole one from a little farmers market in town and ate it right there. You would’ve scolded me so bad.”

And I was on a lot of shit too, but what I saw, man, I tell you it was freaky

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starshapedkookie · 5 years

Text

“i’d rather be dead.”

PAIRING: jungkook x female reader

GENRE: smut, angst, jungkook is a fratboy but it’s not a frat au

WARNINGS: unprotected sex! protected sex! oral! (f. recieving) fingering! pretty vanilla sex tbh. swearing! smoking! cheating! (pls guys don’t cheat i know jungkook seems like a bad guy but he’s really not, he’s a sweetie)

SUMMARY: Your relationship with Jeon Jungkook was complicated, if you could even call it a relationship. Despite your obvious feelings for one another, a major obstacle stands in the way. As selfish as you both of you might be, there’s nothing that could keep you away from each other and Jungkook himself begins to question what’s right and wrong.

[12:42 AM] you up?

Your eyes have been scanning the text message now for at least five minutes—maybe even ten. You nearly roll your eyes. After all this time you think that he would pick up another expression that was less typical.

[12:48 AM] yup

You answer him shamelessly. You hate to admit it, but you’ve been waiting for this—for him—to contact you all night. It’s become somewhat of a regular occurrence now.

[12:50 AM] let’s go for a drive

Your eyebrows furrow at your phone. You bite your lip hesitantly before responding.

[12:51 AM] alright, pick me up in 10

You hop out of your bed to straighten yourself together. You throw on a fresh pair of underwear, leggings, and a spritz of your favorite vanilla scented perfume. Thankfully, your classes the day before didn’t wear you down too bad so your makeup free face looks decent. You leave your room quietly, not wanting to wake your roommate at this hour. As a pre-med major, she valued sleep a lot more than you did. Just a few minutes later, your phone dings.

[1:02 AM] i’m here punkin

You want to outwardly gag at his pet name for you. He only uses it when he wants something, but as usual, you’re willing to give him anything he wants—nickname or not.

You leave your apartment complex and find his black SUV parked on the opposite street. You quickly check the roads before running across and opening his passenger door. It’s a little too chilly to be parading around town this late at night, but both of you knew that it was worth it.

“Hey,” you greet him as you buckle up. Your eyes glance over to him. His own eyes are set right on you.

“Hey,” he half smiles, a playfulness to his tone. His eyes linger on your face for a few seconds before he turns his attention back to driving, pulling away from the curb. Fuck, you think to yourself, why is Jeon Jungkook so fucking hot.

“This is new,” your tone is distinct. Jungkook had never taken you out for a drive this late. It didn’t bother you at all, but it was quite strange as he was a creature of habit—a trait you’ve picked up on over the course of knowing him.

Jungkook lets out an exasperated laugh, “What? You don’t like it?” He glances at the side of your face. He notices the bags under your eyes but doesn’t say anything.

“I never said that,” you retort, “It’s just… normally we’re at each other’s apartments, not out driving at one AM,” you find it in you to stare at him now. Like you, he looks tired, exhausted, drained—all the synonyms you could think of. His face looked drier than usual and even in the dark, you could see the faintness of blue underneath his eyes.

“I’d figure this would be a nice change in scenery,” he shrugs and there’s a smile hidden on his lips, though it doesn’t fully show through.

You let out a quiet chuckle and then the car goes silent. You spare him another glance and his eyes meet yours for a split second before turning back to the road. Your foot bounces anxiously on the floorboard and it feels like something is wrong with him. Should you ask him? Is that overstepping your boundaries? Fuck it.

“You okay?” You ask him. Jungkook doesn’t seem to expect your question the way his eyebrows furrow quickly. His mouth presses into a firm line before nodding his head.

“Yeah, uh,” he pauses, “Just a rough day of classes is all,” he mutters, scratching his head aimlessly.

For some reason, you don’t believe him—but you drop it.

“How was your day?” He asks you and a small giddy sensation erupts in your tummy—you loved when he asked about the little things in your life—despite your situation together, it was always nice. Nice because well, it made it seem like he somewhat cared about you.

“Slow, boring, what’s new,” you sigh, rubbing your hands along your thighs nervously. He made you nervous. You had no reason to be nervous around him—yet, you absolutely did, you just tried not to think about it. You had no business being here with him at this hour, but here you were.

When Jungkook doesn’t respond again, you know for sure something is up.

“Where are we going?” The question slips from your mouth, a little attitude coming out with it. You hated when people say they’re okay when clearly they’re not. You had no reason to care about him this much but you did and it made your fists clench in your lap.

He shrugs, “Where do you wanna go?” His brown eyes look at you once more. Without a warning, he rests his right hand down by your knee, giving you a small squeeze. You inhaled deeply before swallowing your dry mouth.

“Pull over,” you tell him, “Up in there,” you point up ahead of you, into an empty parking lot.

“You’re really making me pull into the campus library lot?” Jungkook halfway groans and when you give him a glare he holds his hands up, “Kidding! I’m kidding,” he laughs deep from his chest.

You watch the way his hands turn the wheel in the lot, the veins sticking out from underneath his hoodie that’s pushed up on his arms. The sight makes you squirm in your seat. Your foot stays nervously bouncing as he puts his car in park, keeping the engine on for some warmth due to the chilly weather outside. You fiddle with your hands aimlessly. You don’t think he’s ever been this quiet—and that’s saying a lot since he’s one of the quietest people you know.

You can hear his breathing—it’s heavy and ragged. You look over at him and his eyes are closed, his hands still gripping the steering wheel tightly. You unbuckle yourself and turn your body towards him hesitantly.

“Kook, are you sure you’re okay?” You ask him once again, “You’re kind of worrying me…” you trial off your words, unsure else of what to say. He opens his eyes, looking straight ahead before he aims his attention towards you.

“Fuck,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair harshly, tugging at the roots. He closes his eyes briefly again, exhaling a sigh before looking back at you, “I-I’m sorry, it’s just—“

He stops himself from finishing his sentence.

You reach over and grab one of his hands, squeezing it tightly, “It’s okay, what’s wrong?”

He looks down at your hand overtop of his, “It’s just… it’s getting harder on me each day,” he tells you honestly and you immediately know what he’s talking about. Or in fact—who he’s talking about. “It’s so hard for me to keep lying to her,” he exhales, biting his bottom lip nervously.

Every time the topic of her came up, you wanted to vomit. Not because you didn’t like her, but because you felt like an absolute bitch—and you were being an absolute bitch—but Jungkook was also an adult who could make his own decisions.

“Then stop lying to her,” your words are severe, unfriendly even. “You’re being selfish Jungkook.”

He lets out a sarcastic laugh, “And you’re not?”

Your face falls at his words and he immediately regrets saying them.

“Shit, I didn’t mean it like that,” he grabs your hand tighter before you can pull it away. “Y/N I’m sorry okay.”

“Jungkook, you can’t keep doing this to yourself,” you think you’re telling him words of wisdom but in truth—he was right. You were selfish. You wanted to have him. You wanted to call him yours. You knew it was wrong but you couldn’t stop yourself even if you wanted to. But you knew that he needed to get his shit together or more than one person might get hurt.

“I know,” he says, “It just stresses me out, we’ve been together so long… I don’t know what to tell her,” he shakes his head in frustration.

“I’m not going to sit here and tell you how you should break up with her if that’s what you think Jungkook,” you meant it too.

“I’m not asking you to,” he says, “I just don’t want to hurt her.”

You swallow deeply, “Jungkook you have to be honest and tell her exactly what you feel. She may get hurt, you may feel hurt, but we both know this isn’t good for you.” Or you.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this shit,” he breathes heavily, “It’s not fair to either of you.”

You don’t say, you tell yourself. It was like going in circles with him. One second he tells you he wants to be with you and then another he isn’t sure what he wants. You remain silent, your eye contact not breaking away from each other. You purse your lips inward, letting out a deep breath. You instinctively grab for his hand again to which he gives it to you willingly. His face studies your own, his brown eyes fleeting with a devilish innocence. Devilish innocence—oxymoron for sure—but that was Jungkook.

“Do you want me to take you back home?” His voice erupts the silence. Your eyebrows scrunch at him, not expecting him to say that.

“Home?” You mutter. Jungkook’s face relaxes and you bite your lip, “You… don’t want to…?” Your words are hesitant, unsure if you’re actually even talking to him. He raises an eyebrow at you, a small smirk spreading over his lips.

“What? Fuck?” He replies quickly, licking his lips in the process. “Of course I’d love to fuck you Y/N, although a car isn’t really my favorite setting for that.”

“I—“ you stop yourself from talking before you give him a mischievous look. “I mean I’d hate to have you drop me off with that problem in your pants,” you bat your eyelashes at him almost desperately. He visibly swallows and he shifts his body in the seat uncomfortably.

He rolls his tongue on the inside of his mouth before chuckling, “All you gotta do is ask punkin.”

You’re too far away from him for your liking so you take it upon you to shift your weight towards him, leaning on your elbow on the middle console. Jungkook follows your lead, his face now just mere inches from your own. His eyes bore into yours and you can smell hints of his cologne he probably put on early in the morning.

“You know I hate that nickname,” you pudge your bottom lip out in a pout. Jungkook captures your pout with his own lips for split second.

A laugh rumbles from his chest, “Well it’s not going anywhere, punkin,” he emphasizes it once more before he kisses you again. Your lips mold with his easily, having kissed him numerous times now. You feel your body heating up quickly, in between your thighs already aching for some contact. Jungkook deepens the kiss, holding your neck in place, your own hands fumbling to hold a side of his sculpted face, tugging his hair at the base of his neck. You let out a small whine when he breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down the side of your face onto your neck, just behind your ear. He takes his time, his lips gentle, his teeth nipping at the skin to elicit responses from you.

“J-Jungkook,” you breathe out.

“Hm?” He mumbles, his eyes taking a short glance at your face.

“Touch me,” you command, your voice breaking off at the end. He meets your lips again with his own, his own pants becoming too restricted himself. Both of you are hungry, aching for each other where you need each other the most.

“Where?” He asks, his forehead resting against yours, your mouth chasing his back. He pulls away and you groan. He’s in one of those moods—to tease the shit out of you.

“Jungkooook,” you whine, gripping his sweatshirt with a full fist.

“Punkin, you’re needy tonight huh,” he smirks, pecking your lips again, his left hand trailing from your neck down to your waist to pull you closer despite the console that separates the two of you.

“Shut up,” you mumble, “Says the one who texted me at one AM wanting to fuck,” you cock your head to the side and he follows, chucking again.

“You know I would take your pussy everyday if I could, punkin,” he responds and you’re starting to get impatient. With a deep breath, you grab his hand and put it right where you need some friction. He lets you press it fully against you and you sigh, immediately feeling some relief through your leggings—though you know it won’t be enough in a few minutes.

Jungkook closes the gap again, your lips attacking each others in a frenzy. His hand palms you carefully through the material and you press your hips outward to feel more of him and he groans in the back of his throat, feeling how wet you’re already getting for him.

“Spread your thighs a little more,” he says and you do as you’re told in the seat, feeling slightly uncomfortable but that is the last thing on your mind at the moment. Unexpected to you, his hand moves to the inside of your pants, his fingers now brushing against your bare pussy.

“God,” he groans, able to feel all of your wetness now, “I bet you could take me right now huh?” He muses, his fingers sliding up and down your open folds. His thumbs moves to find your clit, rubbing the area with some tough friction—a whimper coming from within you. He knew your body and exactly how to work it, which is one reason why you couldn’t step away from him. It was just another reason to be infatuated with him.

You bite down on your lip when his middle finger dips into you down to the knuckle, “Fuck, Jungkook—“ your are cut off when he puts in another digit, the stretch feeling familiar and all too good. You grab his wrist to keep his fingers deep inside of you. He watches as your face contorts as he begins to move them in and out of you slowly, a small moan leaving your lips which causes his pants to twitch. He buries into your neck again, kissing the soft skin, biting and sucking the area a little harder this time. His thumb continues to work at your sensitive clit as his fingers press in and out of your tight walls and your mind is starting to become fuzzy, overloaded with thoughts of him. Between his small kisses against your neck, his deep breathing, your deep breathing—it’s all becoming too much. A familiar tightening rips through your lower belly and you gasp as he hits the g-spot deep within you, his thumb rubbing relentlessly.

Your head falls against his, your chest heaving up and down, “Jungkook I’m g-gonna come,” you manage to let out in a strangled breath, his fingers doing enough to send you over the edge.

“C’mon Y/N,” he groans into your shoulder, “Come on my hand, wanna feel you dripping all over me,” he says looking up at you again. You close the distance quickly, your hand pulling him impossibly closer to you. Your tongue dips into his mouth trying to conceal the ministrations from your lips.

“Ah—shit—“ your orgasm hits you suddenly, thee built up tension bursting all at once. It’s a strangled whine that comes from you, your forehead falling forward to his chest, your whole body shaking, your vagina tightening as he lets you ride out the high on his fingers.

He pulls them out of you slowly, the stickiness covering his entire hand. Once his hand comes out of your pants, you grab it as you feel yourself recovering quickly. Without a warning, you take his fingers into your mouth, sucking long and slow on the digits, tasting yourself on his slender hand. Jungkook marvels at you, his lips parted at the sight. He bites his lip hard, his hand instinctively going down to palm him through his pants. He’s hard—so fucking hard—and he needs to fuck you as soon as possible.

“Fuck, m’here,” he chokes out grabbing your body to pull it over the middle console. Jungkook was strong and he made sure people knew that. You let go of his fingers to aid him in helping your body climb over to his lap. You perch on top of him, grabbing his face to kiss him, grinding down on his dick that’s up in his pants. The contact feels good. You’re still sensitive but it feels so good.

“Fuck,” he hisses, “Take these off,” he pulls at your leggings and underwear and you do as he says, trying your best despite the crammed space. You manage to get one leg of your pants off which is good enough for you and him. Your hand finds its way into his pants, feeling his thick and hard cock through his underwear against your hand. He places a sloppy kiss on your jawline, his breath uneven and shaky as you start to pump him along his length. He nips and licks, his hands finding your breasts in the process. God, did Jungkook love boobs—specifically your boobs. He squeezes them as he watches the way you give him a hand job between your bodies.

“I wanna feel you around my cock punkin,” he mumbles biting your bottom lip and he groans when you give him a rough tug on his dick. “Right n-now.”

“Whose the needy one now?” You remove your hand from his pants but he grabs your wrist, his eyes reading you with a sadness.

“Fuck please Y/N,” he moans as you grind down on his thighs once again, “Fuck yourself on my cock, you always look so pretty doing that,” his hands grip your waist tightly, holding you in place over his dick.

You whine at his preposition licking your lips, your wetness staining his grey pants the more your sit on nothing.

“You wanna do that?” He asks you innocently and you nod quickly.

“Yes, y-yes please, fuck—let me fuck you Jungkook,” you’re begging him and he gives you a soft smirk.

“Sit up,” he demands and you do, watching him as his hands pull down his sweatpants and underwear, his pretty dick popping out, finally free. Your mouth waters at the sight—he’s thick and veiny and he always fills you up oh so good. He’s so hard and pink, pre cum dripping out of his tip. “Take your shirt off,” he adds and you follow so, throwing it to the back of his car.

Jungkook is pumping his dick slowly and torturously, fumbling around to find a condom. You find one before him and grab it, opening it carefully, his eyes on you the whole time. You roll the condom down on his length and he sucks in a breath at the touch. You grab at his jaw once you are done, pecking him on the lips lightly.

“Let me sit on you Jungkook, please,” you breathe out and he nods feverishly, grabbing hold of his dick, sliding it up and down your wet pussy to coat himself better. Your jaw drops at the sensation, your hands falling down to grip onto his bony shoulders. He finds your entrance, his tip begging to be swallowed by you but he hesitates, only pumping the tip in and out of you slowly.

“Oh god,” you breathe, “Fucking hell Jungkook, hurry up,” you groan at the feeling, his cock twitching in excitement.

He finally begins to push inside of you—slowly but surely—his chest tightening up, a low moan escaping his mouth. He watches himself disappear inside of your dripping pussy, the warmth encasing him all at once. You let out a whimper of joy—relief even—as he continues to push up inside of you, his hands gripping your waist so tight you think he might leave marks.

He stops pushing to let you finish doing the job, your hips sinking down on him fully, bottoming out all the way inside of you.

“Fuck Y/N,” he heaves heavily, watching how there’s no space left between either of you. Both of your jaws fly open when you adjust yourself to be more comfortable against his thighs. He’s so thick and big and he’s perfect for your insides. Sometimes you think you can feel him in your guts, rearranging them over and over again.

You don’t realize it until he says something, but you’re clenching around him tightly and then unclenching in small bursts.

“Shit, punkin, stop doing that—I-I don’t wanna come yet,” his words are ragged and breathy. He’s about to fucking lose it against you.

“Nmh,” you mumble, “I-I can’t h-help it, K-Kook, you’re so big and h-hard,” your whines are strained and Jungkook throws his head back against the headrest, closing his eyes, trying to contain himself.

“Fucking hell, ride me punkin. Move that pretty pussy,” he bites his lip hard and you begin to lift your hips slowly, backing off his length. Your head falls forward and you watch yourself leave his cock and you settle back down slowly, a faint noise coming out of your lips. You start to find a steady pace against his rock hard length and Jungkook watches you with hooded eyes, droopy and heavy, his mouth drying out as he can’t find it in him to close it. As the moments go on, he spreads his legs out even further to allow you the most surface area as possible and you’re starting to pick up the pace, starting to get greedy for more.

“God you take my cock so fucking well,” he seethes through his teeth, his hands fumbling around your breasts, your stomach, your waist, your neck—everywhere he could touch.

“So well Kookie,” the nickname escapes from your mouth and Jungkook smiles, knowing you only say it when you’re feeling really good. “All for you,” you grind up and down on him, your clit brushing against his pubic hair, bubbling the nerve endings enticingly.

As you go faster, you’re not getting all of him in you so you slow down once again to fill you right back up to the brim. Your hands are clammy against his shoulders and you feel another orgasm approaching quicker than you would like.

“Kookie, I—can’t,” your tone breaks and he nods, understanding you completely before he grabs your hips tightly, beginning to thrust up into you matching your pace. You wish badly his sweatshirt was off, wanting nothing more to feel your chest against his but the way he fucks himself into you, it’s alright if it’s on. His mouth attaches to one of your nipples, sucking and kissing at the sensitive bud, heightening your incoming orgasm.

He begins to fuck up into you faster, signaling he’s just as close as you are. Your arms have given out and you lay against his chest, entangling your fingers into his dark locks. You don’t even think you’re in reality anymore when the wave of your second orgasm hits you. It’s stronger than the first one, your legs and core absolutely shaking. Your pussy clenching and unclenching around him once more is his breaking point.

“Ah—fuck! Jungkook!” Your voice comes out as a halfway scream, pleasure overwhelming all of your senses.

“C’mon, that’s it, that’s it,” he fumbles to speak coherent thoughts, his eyes closing in pure pleasure as he feels himself start to unravel. He rams himself up as far as he possibly can and then he’s a goner—his own orgasm hitting him at once. “Fuck—fuck, fuck!”

His name leaves your lips in a repeated melody and he shuts you up with a kiss which takes you by surprise. He kisses you hard and rough as he fucks out his high with a few more strokes into you, both of you holding each other as close as possible. You’re the one to pull away from him, your foreheads sticking together from sweat. You let your face fall into the crook of his neck, his own nuzzling in your shoulder, kissing the skin gently. Coming down from a high was always nice but it was the worst part at the same time—it meant your time with him was over. And you hated that.

The windows are foggy and the air is suffocating. You pull away from his chest, slipping his dick out from inside of you. His eyes are closed and you aren’t even sure he noticed what he had done. Kissing while orgasming was not something either of you did—it felt too intimate for your situation. Both of you had done it when your relationship first started but you had to put a stop to it—like you said, it was too intimate.

You crawl off of his lap back into the passenger seat, pulling your pants back up. Jungkook awakens from his daze, glancing at you before he himself takes the condom off and tugs his pants up. You find your shirt behind you and slip it on quickly, the car falling into a silence.

“Y-you ready?” Jungkook says, his voice somewhat trembling. Maybe he does know what he did? You glance at him with a small smile.

“Yeah, I’m tired,” you tell him and he nods, grabbing your hand to intertwine your fingers.

The ride back to your apartment felt long, it felt hot, it felt—suffocating. And despite knowing exactly what Jungkook did and how awful you should feel but once again—you don’t.

The next time you see Jungkook is four days later on a Tuesday. You’re in one of the campus cafes with your roommate Mina when you see him walk in with her hanging off of his arm. They’re smiling and laughing and it fucking hurts. Mina notices the way you’re glaring at them. She snaps in your face.

“Hey! Dipshit! Stop staring,” Mina scolds you in a whisper.

“What?” You break off your glare, “Huh? I wasn’t staring.”

She gives you her own glare, “If you aren’t staring then what are you doing?”

“Observing,” you answer simply, taking a huge gulp of your iced latte.

“You’re burning holes into his chest, don’t look so obvious,” she scolds you again. “Do you want to look suspicious and get caught?”

“I’d rather be dead,” you say impassively.

“Well, then stop fucking staring,” she seethes with somewhat of an annoyance.

You somewhat pout, “I can’t help it Mina.”

“You know exactly what I’m going to say.”

You bite your lip nervously, looking away from her. Mina loved you having been your best friend of many years and she wanted to see you happy. But the situation with Jungkook, she was torn. She saw how happy Jungkook made you, but she inwardly wished you hadn’t pursued him until he was relationship free. Being a home-wrecker wasn’t something Mina wanted you to be. She knew you were better than that.

“Y/N you know this isn’t healthy for you,” she says, taking her own glances at Jungkook and his partner.

“He’s a grown adult,” you tell her, “He can make his own decisions.”

“Yeah, well,” she keeps her voice down, “When is he going to actually leave her? He’s been telling you that for two months you know.”

You purse your lips, “He said he doesn’t want to hurt her.”

“He’s hurting both of you playing each of you like a little toy,” she mutters in a venomous tone.

You bite your lip again—she’s right. More than right. She was always the more logical one out of the two of you.

“If he doesn’t grow some balls and actually fix the mess he’s made, you need to tell him to fuck off instead of fucking him every chance you get.”

You feel your face heating up in what feels to be anger at Mina’s words. However, the more you sit there, watching Jungkook and his girl talking as if you don’t exist—it’s not anger—it’s sadness.

It’s been two weeks since you’ve seen or spoken to Jungkook. It’s the longest you’ve gone without seeing him—and his dick—since you first met him a few months ago. It’s weird to say the least. You had not realized how much you actually thought about him daily once he stopped contacting you for whatever reason. You stared aimlessly at your phone each night, waiting for his typical ‘you up?’ text message. It never came. Neither have you. It’s partially why you’ve dragged yourself out to a frat party on a Saturday in October. If Jungkook wasn’t going to satisfy you—someone had to. Mina agreed to come with you, however you haven’t seen her since you both walked into the door.

You’re currently seated at the makeshift bar, a little too close to a hunky guy named Park Jimin. You’ve known Jimin for awhile now, having met him two years ago at one of these parties. Turns out—he’s your major too which aided in having someone to sit beside of in class when you were desperate.

“How you’ve been? I haven’t seen you out in awhile,” he takes notice of how your breasts perk up in your skimpy dress, but he doesn’t stare—Park’s a gentlemen.

“Yeah,” you say, swirling a finger around in your drink, “Just been busy, you know,” you shrug.

“I get it,” he responds, taking a swig of his beer. “I thought maybe you had snatched yourself up a boyfriend there for awhile,” he chuckles, his silver earrings swaying as he turns is head fully towards you.

You scrunch your face up, “No,” you laugh, “What made you think that of all things?”

“You’re beautiful Y/N, anyone would be lucky to snatch you up,” he says and you think he’s bluffing to get into your panties, but with his genuine smile, you know he means it.

“Park Jimin how you make a girl swoon,” you take a huge gulp of your vodka tonic, your palms sweaty. Inside—you feel bad. You feel fucking bad for talking to Jimin. You’re not dating Jeon Jungkook yet he’s clouding your mind as if you’re the one cheating on him. The fucking irony.

“You wanna go dance?” He asks you, resting a hand on your thigh. You glance at the hand and you suddenly feel a little less vulnerable and comfortable.

“Sure,” you smile, “Lemme finish this,” you say before tipping the liquid back into your throat quickly, chasing the bitter taste of vodka down in a frenzy. All you needed was some liquid courage in your veins and you would loosen up and hopefully—stop thinking about Jungkook.

Jimin extends a hand for you and you take it, squeezing it tightly as he drags through the bodies and bodies of people pressed up together. You get whiffs of cigarettes, weed, Juuls and more as you pass through everyone, not daring to let go of Jimin’s hand.

Both of you finally make it to the dance floor and he turns your body to be flush against him, your back pressing to his chest. His hands hold your waist tightly while your own hands cover over them. The upbeat R&B song has both of you swaying in sync. Lucky for you, Jimin was a dancer for many years so he knows his way around his body and how it moves. The thought turns you on. The song has everyone, including the both of you, screaming the lyrics out-loud. You feel yourself being less uptight and you grind your ass back into Jimin a little harder to test the waters with him. He obviously enjoys it as he presses his thigh in between your legs. The friction catches your breath and you bite your lip as you look back to him with a small smile. His breath fans across your lips and he licks his lips before slowly, pressing them against your own. His lips are soft, plump, luscious. A stark contrast to Jungkook—you remove your lips from Jimin quickly, your chest tightening.

“You okay?” Jimin asks in your ear over the music with concern.

You look at him with wide eyes wanting to slap yourself silly. “Yeah, s-sorry,” you shake your head leaning back into his chest once again. Jimin wants to kiss you again but he doesn’t yet, unsure of why you pulled away. Jimin nuzzles into your neck as both of you continue to dance along to the beat. Jimin’s arms snake around your waist protectively wanting to make you comfortable.

You obviously had not had enough to drink since Jungkook is still on your mind and is still—right there. You freeze when your eyes meet the familiar doe eyes in the corner of the room, a red solo cup in hand, by himself.

Little to your knowledge, Jungkook had been watching you as soon as he spotted you come in with Park. He refuses to break eye contact with you. He’s drunk and alone and he has to see his girl grinding up on one of his older frat brothers? What a fucking great night, he thinks. He downs the rest of his drink and throws the cup away before leaving the room. He needed some goddamn air.

Your eyes watch as Jungkook’s back turns the corner and leaves the room. You feel sick and you’re sweating much more profusely now. Fuck, you think. Why was Jungkook alone? He’s always with her at these things?

As much as you want to stay with Jimin—you hadn’t spoken to Jungkook in two weeks and it was slowly killing you. You couldn’t waste this opportunity. It might be your only one at this point if he wasn’t going to contact you anymore.

“Jimin, where’s the restroom?” You turn around quickly to meet his gaze.

“Um, down the hall at the very back on the right,” he says, “I’ll come with you?”

You shake your head, “No it’s fine. Thank you though,” you give him a reassuring smile before turning on your heels to walk away from him. God, you were such a shitty person.

You scan each room quickly as you pass them one by one, not seeing the familiar black mop of hair anywhere. Your heart is racing and you nearly trip over your heels and people every other step. You curse to yourself when you get to the back near the bathroom and haven’t spotted him but you realize a door that’s open, leading to the outside backyard.

You quickly rush outside, seeing plenty of people that aren’t Jungkook. That is, until you look all the way to your left, spotting a heavy head of black hair, a toned back facing you. You relax in your shoes and wipe your palms on your dress nervously. Fuck. You had no plan. What the hell were you going to say? Were you going to be a bitch about him not talking to you? Were you going to be nice?

You make your way over to his sitting frame on the steps. You stop right behind him for a brief moment before sitting down beside him. Jungkook slightly jumps and when he sees who it is, he turns his head away in annoyance. You notice he’s smoking some type of e-cigarette. He takes deep inhales of the vapor, holding it in a few moments before blowing it away in front of him.

“Kook?” You ask him hesitantly. His head turns to you slowly, his brown eyes meeting yours. He doesn’t say anything. He does however offer his vape. You grab it, inhaling a short amount before handing it back to him.

He chuckles before licking his lips, “I didn’t think you’d ever go for Park punkin,” as soon as he speaks you know he’s drunk, a little too drunk.

You ignore his comment with an eye roll. “What are you doing out here? By yourself?” You ask.

He gives you a small smile, “I’m getting fresh air,” he says with an obvious tone.

“By inhaling nicotine?” You raise an eyebrow at him, “Sounds about right.”

He doesn’t say anything else as he continues to puff on the vapor. He still didn’t answer your question.

“Is she here?”

Jungkook physically tenses up before clearing his throat. “Nope.”

Your furrow your eyebrows, “Oh…”

“I broke up with her.”

There it is. He lets it out there. His voice is monotoned, stable. He’s looking straight ahead. He’s fidgeting with his nails too.

“Oh,” you repeat, unsure of what to say. Jungkook looks at you from the corner of his eyes before turning his full attention on you.

“It fucking sucks,” he says. He’s much calmer now, almost somber. His eyes are sad. You want to look away from him but you can’t. “But you know what’s just as bad?”

“W-what?” Your tone is shaky.

“Seeing the one person who can understand me right now all over one of my brothers, grinding her ass into his dick in front of everyone.”

Your mouth parts open and your jaw clenches soon after. You narrowed your eyes at him, feeling slightly angry at his comment.

“Jungkook don’t even start this shit on me,” you tell him with ferocity. “You haven’t spoken to me in weeks.”

Jungkook wants to come back with a smartass comment but he refrains. He may be drunk and annoyed, but he doesn’t need you mad at him. If anything, you are exactly what he needs right now.

He shakes his head to himself, “Fuck Y/N I’m sorry,” his eyes are searching yours deeply, “It’s just… these past couple weeks have been hard and confusing, I feel kind of lost, I—I’m s-sorry okay?”

He sounds overwhelmed. Like he’s in need of twelve hours sleep. His eyes are tired yet they still hold the stars that you so adore. You place a hand on his face.

“You could have called me Jungkook, you know I’m here for you,” your words are honest. He keens into your touch before letting out a deep breath.

“I-I know,” he pauses, “But I thought just being by myself would clear my head a bit more, you know?”

You nod slowly even though you don’t fully understand. He takes your hand away from his face and holds onto it tightly.

“I’m still confused if I’m being honest,” he almost laughs. “I just need some time…”

You chew on your bottom lip, “Take as long as you need Kook,” you say. You mean it. You should have known this would be harder on him than you imagined. You wouldn’t know—you have never been in a relationship as long as he has. Well had. You should feel elated, but seeing him so down makes you feel that way too.

“You’re too good for me punkin,” he looks down at your intertwined hands. No, you think, you’re too good for me. You scoot closer to him, leaning your head on his shoulder. It’s too cold to be sitting out here but his body heat is enough for you at the moment. He leans his head on yours before kissing your head.

You glance up at him and without thinking, you press your lips on his. He captures them gladly, missing the feeling of yours on his own. He deepens the kiss which elicits a small moan from you. Your hand pulls on his hair, tugging him closer to you. His tongue dips in your mouth and the growing need to have him increases to 100.

“Come on,” he says, his voice deep and low. You follow him as he pulls you up from the stairs, leading you back into the house. You almost feel embarrassed when he pulls you into the bathroom you were supposed to be going to but all the shame goes away once he locks the door and presses you against the door.

Your lips meet each other in a hurry, the rush of everything hitting all at once. His hands roam your sides all the way down to your ass, giving it a good squeeze. He picks you up and sets you on the counter, your legs spreading naturally for him to stand.

“Kook,” you say as he trails his lips down your neck, to the center of your chest, “Are you sure?”

He looks up at you, pecking your neck gently, “I’ve never wanted anyone more than you punkin,” he’s being honest. Your face heats up at his comment and you nod eagerly watching him as he trails his nose down over your clothed stomach, inching closer and closer to your center. You’re aching for his touch and he can sense it by the way your jump when his fingers drag along your thighs.

He shoves your dress up to your belly button, leaving his face in front of your lace thong. He shoves his nose into your center, taking in your scent. His mouth waters and you drip at the sight. He licks you through the thin material once, twice. He can’t wait any longer as he pulls them down to your ankles quickly.

“Jungkook,” you whine pushing your hips off the sink to meet his mouth. His firms hands push you back down on the cold counter and he lets out a small laugh.

“Patience punkin,” he smirks before agonizingly presses a kiss onto your open pussy. Your whole body shutters as he begins to eat you out slowly but surely. He takes long languid licks from your bottom to the top, pressuring your clit more than anything else. Your hands fly to his hair to shove him further into you, your jaw dropping as he licks and sucks and kisses as if he’s drinking water after being in a drought.

“I love the way your pussy tastes,” his mouth vibrates against you and your head throws back, hitting the mirror in the process. He starts to dip his tongue deep into you and you feel like screaming and you almost do.

“Fuck! K-Kookie, oh my god” you whine as your hips want to naturally buck up into him but his firm grips stops you. You watch him with hooded eyelids as he moans and groans into your sloppy wetness. He inserts a finger to your surprise, then a second as he continues to work on your clit trying to rile an orgasm from you.

Your bundle of nerves starts to pulse and you know you’re close to coming. His fingers pump in and out of you at a relentless pace, his tongue working on you like a professional and you feel yourself tipping over the edge when he pushes you further into his mouth.

“Oh fuck—“ your voice is strained and whiny as you feel yourself come undone. He finally lets go of your hips and you ride out your high on tongue slowly, your whole body shaking from the intensity.

Jungkook looks up at you, satisfied with his work before he rushes to place a kiss on your lips. You kiss him back, palming him through his pants feeling him harden as you stroke him gently.

“Fuck I need to be inside of you,” he says breaking the kiss. You fumble with his belt and zipper, hurrying to push down the material. He springs free and he grabs his beautiful dick giving it a few strokes before lining it up with your entrance. “I don’t have any condoms—“ “It’s fine Kook,” you reassure him, “Just please fuck me already.”

He pushes into you without another warning, bottoming out all too quickly. He lets out a loud grunt as he hits the hilt, grabbing one of your thighs up to get him even deeper. Your body shakes as you still haven’t recovered from your orgasm and you feel him all too well. He’s filled you up completely and he wastes no time in moving, finding a steady pace for the both of you.

His hips snap against yours as the both of you fight to stay quiet in the tiny bathroom. You press your pelvis out to met his thrusts each time and you wrap your hands around his neck to hold his face close to you. His eyes meet yours and he’s burning a hole into you. You’re doing the same, unable to look away.

“How are you always so fucking tight?” He muses, slamming his hand behind you against the mirror to hold him steady.

“O-only for you K-Kookie,” you stutter out feeling another high coming in close. Jungkook’s pace picks up and he’s slamming into you, both of you now unaware of how loud the two of you actually are. His hand meets between your bodies rubbing at your clit vigorously. “Ah—Jungkook, I can’t,” it’s all too sensitive.

“Yes you can baby, I know you can. Do it for me,” you don’t know how he’s making coherent sentences but it only makes you want to orgasm again even further. Despite how uncomfortable the position is, as Jungkook continues to rub you, your high is right over the hill if only—

“Oh fuck—fuck,” Jungkook says, “I’m gonna come, come with me baby, come with—ah!”

You both reach your highs at the same time with strangled screams and curses. Jungkook pumps his hot and wet cum into you fucking himself down from his orgasm. Jungkook’s lips find yours and you sigh into his kiss, feeling more content than you had ever before. Jungkook goes limp inside of you, exhausted and drained. You continue to kiss each other until you decide to pull away slowly a string a saliva connecting the two of you.

“Ew!” You say in disgust as Jungkook lets out a glorious giggle. Of course he’d fucking giggle at a string of spit.

Jungkook leans against your forehead and you keep his head tucked between your hands. You give each other a smile knowing this time, you won’t have to leave each other after this, or so you’d hope. He pulls out of you, stuffing his sticky dick back into his pants.

“Y/N,” he says and you let out a ‘hm?’ “I want you to know… I’m a good person,” he continues and he closes his eyes as if he’s shy at what he’s saying.

“Of course I know that Kook,” you look at him with concern. Why would he say that? You caress his face gently and he looks at you with sad eyes—lonely eyes.

“I just hate how we had to meet,” he mutters, “I hated our circumstances… I don’t know I—“ he stops, “I just don’t want to you think I’m a bad person for what I did.”

You know what he’s talking about. The cheating. You hated the word. Possibly because it confronted what you were actually doing with him. Now, you guess, you weren’t anymore. Doesn’t make it any better.

“Jungkook nobody is perfect,” you tell him, “I don’t think you’re a bad person at all. In fact, you’re one of the most caring people I’ve met. You honestly care too much about what people think about you,” you try to laugh to lighten him up.

He gives you a small smile, “I know… I just don’t want you to hate me.”

“I could never hate you Kook,” you smile, “I promise.”

He gives you one last smile before kissing you again.

“Come on,” he breaks away, “Let’s go home.”

However, at this point, you weren’t sure what ‘home’ exactly meant.

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roxannarambles · 4 years

Text

Firewatch Review: Where There’s Smoke

This is a repost on a new blog. The original post was on Mar 4, 2016.

Contains major, major spoilers including endgame. Do not read if you haven’t played!

When I first started into this game I thought it was a horrifically depressing introduction. It opens telling a tale of a man and a woman who fall in love and it’s a lovely story and then the woman falls ill from a rare hereditary disease and slowly gets worse and loses her career and the man loses the wife he knew and struggles to care for her and it’s fucking awful. Then the game opens with the man– you– taking up a summer job in a park near Yellowstone. He’s done this to get away and have some time to think about his life.

He works in a watchtower. Lone rangers station in these towers to watch the horizon for signs of fire. He has little to do but keep an eye out and sit alone in his station up there. His only company is his supervisor, in the nearest watchtower over, whom he speaks to via walkie-talkie. (these are the days before cell phones) Her name’s Delilah.

All I was really told about this game is that it involved exploration and was story-centric. And that’s an accurate description. And while it starts off with a rather depressing backstory, the main part of the game is not all bleak and bleary. It is a story about the interaction between Henry and Delilah. There is a mystery plot involved in the game as well; the game starts off with small park dramas and tasks to ease into things, then develops a mystery, which eventually gets rather intense. But entwined with this mystery story, always central and foremost, is the character-driven plot of these two.

The voice acting is fantastic, and the writing is excellent, so it carries well. Dialogue writing is certainly not everyone’s strength, but the writers here did a very good job. The two characters have excellent chemistry; it flows naturally and is very enjoyable. The quips and interactions are fed in small bits steadily throughout the game as you explore, providing an enjoyable regular stream of interactions. It’s a satisfying blend of exploration and conversation.

The game is atmospheric and beautiful to look at, and that’s not something to dismiss either. Those factors really do add something special to a game.

And here’s the thing. I fell in love. It was such a compelling story. And the characters felt so real. I found myself deeply engrossed in the mystery and unable to stop. I found myself deeply emotionally invested in the characters and I truly cared about them. They were relatable human beings. And I loved Delilah. She was the light in the dark. The beacon in the middle of the loneliness. My lighthouse; my watchtower. Quippy, caring, flawed, human. I shared my troubles with her, and she listened.

Early on in the game, one of the conversation responses caused Henry to say something that annoyed Delilah and kinda offend her a little. I had accidentally overheard a phone conversation she was having (she left her walkie-talkie button depressed) and it sounded like kinda maybe she had been talking about me? So I asked her, were you talking about me? She was confused and surprised at the accusation and no, it had just been a conversation about work, and besides, was that really any of my business?

So the good mood killed, she stepped out for a while and I couldn’t talk to her anymore on the walkie-talkie. ‘Cause she was annoyed and didn’t feel like talking. And the thing is– I felt so bad. Like, I really felt sorry and wanted to apologize and felt I’d been a bad person for accusing her of that, and I wanted her to like me. And I didn’t want to be left alone. It was hauntingly quiet, unlike the rest of the game, when Delilah wasn’t there for company. I think this plot point was especially effective because it was in the middle of what had been at that point the deepest conversation we’d had so far, and we had been really bonding and sharing. But now I’d screwed it up.

Eventually Delilah forgave us for our rude question. And I cannot tell you how much of a relief it was. Heck, I thought I’d lost my chance and it would never be brought up again and I’d never have a chance to apologize, but she brought it up later. (She actually apologized for being so snappish over it, and said she knew what it was like to get too lost in your own head out there and start imagining things.) I felt so much better knowing we were cool again. It was that delicate part of a budding new friendship, you know, and I didn’t wanna mess it up. I really commend the game for including the callbacks to previous conversations. It enhanced the feeling of history between us and internal consistency throughout the story.

There have been many people online complaining about the way the game ultimately ended. In my humble opinion, those people are missing the point of the game. Indeed, with games like these, that have a somewhat open-ended conclusion (and there’s plenty of stories that fall into that category), how you interpret the ending and its meaning says a lot about the person who played the game. The whole point of an open-ended conclusion is for a person to think and draw conclusions, after all, but many people seem to fail to realize this.

One game that comes to mind is ‘Presentable Liberty,’ a game that you spend in a prison cell for the vast majority of the time, reading letters that are delivered to you. It had a very open-ended and nebulous ending. But that game made so many people think, and I think Firewatch makes you think a lot too.

I won’t lie, of course; I do somewhat understand where the critics are coming from. In some ways the ending did feel anti-climactic to me. It felt like it was possibly building up to something and that payoff never came. Yet … that experience in and of itself was fascinating to me.

Let me explain in detail. First of all, I reached the conclusion of the mystery plot. Plenty of people bitched about this online as well, but I loved the way it concluded. The plot was suggesting a very exciting but rather typical video-game story where a government conspiracy was uncovered that was studying human subjects (perhaps a psychological study of the effects of isolation in people), and Henry and Delilah were the subjects in these nefarious privacy-violating experiments. However, this “plot twist” of a secret government study ended up being a false twist. Instead, the story ended up in a less typical direction. As it turned out, the group of mysterious people behind all the spooky hijinks wasn’t that at all … it was one man. One lonely, desperate man living as a hermit with a tragic, awful secret he was hiding about an accident during his job as a fire watch. It was our fears and paranoia that had conjured up this imaginary, yet very real-feeling plot of conspiracy and subterfuge.

And I loved that. I loved that it was something driven by a simple lone man who was guilty and afraid. I loved that was the explanation, that it was something so prosaic rather than fantastic and fanciful. Like the best horror stories are about man as being the worst monster instead of werewolves and vampires, this showed the best mysteries were about human loneliness and desperation and guilt rather than complex conspiracies or extraordinary mojo. Indeed, you felt bad for the man who had been unintentionally tormenting us this whole time.*

After this conclusion to the mystery plot, hot on its heels– literally, because you were being chased by the spreading wildfire– was the conclusion of the Henry/Delilah plot. I was rushing out of there to rendezvous with a rescue helicopter so I could escape my post before fire consumed everything. They landed near Delilah’s watchtower, before I had made it to the rendezvous point– I’d been busy tracking down the ending to the mystery. She told me the helicopters would make another pass for when I got there, but … she might just leave now since the current copter was there.

“Wait for me,” I said into our walkie-talkie. I wanted to leave with her. Together. She was very reluctant when I begged this of her. But she finally relented that ok, ok, she’ll wait. I hollered I was on my way. I rushed as fast as I could.

I finally reached the spot– it was Delilah’s watch tower. The point in the distance I had always gazed upon but never had been to until now. But something didn’t feel right as Delilah was oddly silent on the walkie.

I entered the empty watch tower. I saw a small sign, “Pork Pond” attached to her wall and smiled faintly. I *knew* she had that sign. I put on the radio headset and called.

Delilah answered, in a tone that made it clear she knew I wouldn’t exactly be pleased to be listening to her voice over the radio waves yet again instead of seeing her standing there. She asked me not to be mad.

“I’m not mad, I’m just …”

“Disappointed?”

And yes. I was. That was it exactly.

It hurt. I genuinely felt sad and hurt that Delilah had left without me. It felt like she abandoned me. She stammered about having not want to meet me in the shadow of that poor dead child I had just learned about, but … it still hurt. After all we’d been through the least she could have done was waited. And you’ve no idea how much I had wanted to finally meet Delilah in person, dang.

But I pondered it after, and it made a lot of sense, her actions. She had been afraid to meet me in person, I think. It would have made the whole thing even more real, you know? If it was just over the walkies, fine. But … in person would have made it too real. Delilah was afraid of getting attached. Not just because she had had her heart broken by her long-term boyfriend and was afraid of getting close again to someone, but probably for more practical reasons too. Henry was still married, for Pete’s sake, and in a very complex situation with his sick wife. Any smart girl would want to avoid getting involved with a guy who’s still married. So her early departure and lukewarm response to me asking for her to come with me back to Boulder, well, it made sense.

As much as it had hurt for her to not wait, I understood and forgave her for it. In a way, I suppose, it may have made it easier for us both not to face the anguish of a relationship not working if we never saw each other in person to begin with. But … fuck. Had it been me, I would have wanted to see her in person anyway. I would have asked her to wait. At least for a goddamn hug.**

We spoke on the radio as I waited for the helicopter to swing back around to pick me up. We talked about our future plans. We both didn’t know what they would be. Delilah thought I should go back to my wife and do my best to make things right. Somehow.

And it ended once we were pulled into the helicopter.

People online whine that this ending was a 'cop out,’ not a real conclusion. I don’t believe that. I think the entire point was that feeling of uncertainty about the future and that missed chance at getting together with Delilah. Life is uncertain so often. We don’t know how to fix things, what to do, and what things mean. It’s our search for meaning that is so valuable. This game was a reflection of life experiences many can relate to. Not necessarily all the details– a wife that fell ill with premature dementia– but the general themes? Absolutely. This story is about people struggling to cope with loneliness, seeking to connect with others, struggling to deal with hardships in life, seeking purpose and meaning, seeking direction. And it does not provide solid answers at the very end, but that’s OK. It doesn’t have to. It’s OK if the players can provide some of the answers. Sometimes asking the questions is as valuable as providing the answers in a story.

And yeah, sometimes the guy doesn’t ‘get the girl.’ Sometimes relationships don’t work out. (Especially if the guy is still married and needs to deal with some shit before either staying with his wife or breaking up and pursuing something else.) That doesn’t mean our connection with Delilah that summer didn’t have meaning or purpose or value, just that … such things don’t always have a future as a long-term relationship.

I earnestly believe the ending to this game was fine as-is. I might even say it was a perfect ending. Although I admit I desperately wanted to meet Delilah at the very end***, I’m pretty sure my sense of diappointment and feeling of sorrow at not seeing her were kind of exactly the point of the story. All in all, it ended on a tone that was sad and nebulous, but not deeply depressing. There was still a sense of hope about things, and I think that’s important.

(Amusingly, much later I learned there is an option at the very end to NOT enter the rescue helicopter. It leaves without you if you wait long enough, implying suicide of your character Henry. Much darker option than the one I describe above. But again, in stories like these, it depends on player’s reactions, input, and interpretations too, and fortunately most do not have quite that bleak of an interpretation of the tale– and quite that bleak of a choice.)

So many of us sit alone in our own watchtowers, isolated, searching for any meaningful human connection we can come across. I think the themes of connection and isolation were masterfully explored in this game. You really fuckin’ felt it, you know?

And to me, it’s noble. That human beings stand in this intense loneliness but continue that search, and they sometimes find somebody. It may not always end well, but that doesn’t mean you should stop the search and that you won’t find another. Or even rekindle old flames.

Either way, you shouldn’t stop searching the horizon.

————–

Footnotes:

* That’s not to say the dude wasn’t guiltless in his actions. I think it was rather awful of him to just leave his poor kid’s body down in that hole instead of facing up to what had happened, going home, letting people and loved ones know what went on, etc. Also pretty stupid of the guy to pressure his son into doing that dangerous rock-climbing when the kid didn’t have the skills. But, ya know, you felt bad for him too.

** I should note, I have no idea if Henry should break up with his wife Julia (& tried things out with Delilah) or not. I had no opinion on it because who knows? Choices like that are friggin’ complex. Seriously.

*** And yes, I realize the game never had a model for her character anyway, so from a technical standpoint it would have been impossible, but it’s best to use in-story explanations for events, not technical explanations.

#firewatch #game reviews #mystuff #spoilers

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honeymoonjin · 4 years

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day 11 & 12

With Festa in full swing last week, I feel like I didn’t have a chance to breathe let alone sit down long enough to articulate a review worthy of Day 11. I shall endeavor to do my very best to make up for that here. And, upon reading the start of Day 12, I am actually kinda glad I waited because I think that it gave me time to put both chapters into perspective.

Day 11 was a very emotional one for Jungkook and I feel like we got to see those emotions coming to a head in this chapter. On the whole, Day 11 was such a fun, lowkey entry that I wasn’t really sure if I would have anything coherent to offer beyond high pitched squealing accompanied by the occasional swoon and cooing. But after seeing the tension and subsequent squabble that transpired at the breakfast table on Day 12, I see that perhaps there was more to ruminate concerning the feelings that Jungkook had experienced in the confessional booth. It’s so interesting from a writers perspective that you chose Jungkook to be the one to reiterate the whole point of the show; he’s younger, thus perhaps conventionally he’s a bit more emotionally immature than the rest of the guys. And yet, from the beginning, none of these guys have ever been portrayed as stereotypical or conventional; you have always expertly reminded the audience that each of the contestants (including our lady!) is more much complex than what meets the eye. It’s one of the things that I love so much about this series; none of the characters are ever “too perfect” and it’s those candid moments of vulnerability or weakness that truly makes this story stand out from a lot of other stories that I read. So to choose Jungkook as the person to make those “bold” comments and to have Namjoon be the one to call him out for being insensitive makes me feel like Jungkook’s response was much more complex than what it seems at glance. Like, it’s pretty obvious that Jungkook likes and respects our lady and perhaps he realized his indiscretion just a little to late but now he’s put on the spot, he’s been called out in front of everyone, and beyond the fact that he probably feels like shit for saying what he said and inadvertently hurting our lady in the process. He’s probably also hella embarrassed. I wonder too if maybe Jungkook is also ashamed that the person who called him out was Namjoon, someone who I want to believe, he respects and perhaps maybe admires a little. And despite the fact that I chuckled a little bit when our lady noticed that Jungkook was “staring at his pancakes like he’s trying to make them burst into flames”, I realized that he might also be both angry and disappointed in himself for his behavior. *sigh* Boy, you were so right all those weeks ago when you said “emotions are messy”. Anyway, that’s my roundabout way of saying, I liked the breakfast scene. Haha! Drama is inevitable; I love that you don’t shy away from presenting conflict for them to overcome. It offers opportunities for character growth and character exploration and I really appreciate that!

Speaking of character growth, Namjoon got a chance to really flex those skills he acquired from “Hoseok’s School of Sexual Prowess”. That scene left me melting! Melting, I say! I’m not sure if you noticed but I make it a point to not reveal who my actual bias is in these reviews because I feel like I want to give all of the guys a chance to win me over for fan favorite. What I will say though is that you kind of hit on a lot of my personal preferences with Namjoon’s scene. Beyond the fact that the scene was really, really hawt, it fulfilled me on an emotionally intimate level, so it made the scene extra special. Bravo!

And I suppose Jimin also deserves a standing ovation for that amazing show he put on. Holy smokes that was so hot. From the light banter and quips at the beginning of that scene to Jimin actually owning that entire lounge! And as amazing as the show (plus subsequent private scene with our lady afterwards) was, my favorite bit might be the exchange between Jimin and Hoseok, another scene that filled with tension and new revelations! It might actually be the most fascinating scene because it gave a glimpse at something rather unexpected; something has transpired between Hoseok and Jimin. I might be reading too much into the exchange but it feels as though something has happened away from the cameras between them. Because it feels like there has been a shift from blatant hostility between these two to something more akin to a genuine understanding that this is now a battle for power and control. I could be reaching but I feel like, at the very least, there have been words exchanged between them! It made the scene all the more intriguing! I loved every moment of it. Oh! Speaking of which, what is up with Jin?! When Yoongi asked Jin to speak to Kookie about what had happened that morning, it seemed he was a bit apprehensive to take up the task. I know that there might not be anything more there than just the fact that Jin might not want to be the one to have to broach the subject with Kookie but I feel like there’s more there than what meets the eye as well… my theory is in it’s fetus stage though, so I feel like I’ll hold back on my thoughts concerning Jin for now. And Yoongi, for that matter! I feel like there is something more there as well. AH! Too many theories to juggle! I will let you know what my thoughts are about it once I have gathered more adequate information.

I still feel guilty for not being able to give you a full length review of Day 11. It really was such a great, light day. Jungkook’s scene left me all hot and bothered to the point where I spent the entirety of the week, searching up Jungkook smut fics to fulfill my Jungkook fix that that chapter evoked in me! Not to mention that the boys getting up to antics for a whiteboard that in the end they didn’t really need just made me all the more baffled by their behavior. It was fun, hilarious and just what I would expect from the guys.

To make up for not having anything for last week, I would like to take the opportunity to tell you about me loving this amazing story so much I nearly force-fed my best friend to read it with me so that I would have someone to fangirl with. Let me tell you a little bit about her. See, she doesn’t consume fanfics with as much verocity as I do. She is a very casual fanfic reader and if she does (which is rare in it of itself) she only ever reads MxM. Period. So when I told her the premises of “The Gentlemen” she was curious enough to read the contestant profiles. But I must say, from Day 1, you had her HOOKED! She would text me screenshots and emoji filled fangirlings in the wee hours of the morning (the only time she had to read at all) every single thing she loved about each chapter and it brings me so much joy that she was really dissecting and appreciating all the little things that I too loved about your story! We would have long, deep discussions about her prompt theories, her favorite members, tiny details that you’ve so expertly woven into the story (like Jimin’s tattoo for example, which is something she is obsessed with, btw) all of her favorite traits that our lady of the house has. It’s been so blissfully fun having this to share with her especially since I have her to thank for getting me into BTS in the first place. So, please know that you have a secret fan of “The Gentlemen” who would like you to know that she has been enjoying herself thoroughly and that she looks forward to your updates just as much as I do now!

Anyhoo, I think I’ve prattled on long enough. Thank you so much for your continued hard work and dedication to this series! This was such an amazing chapter I cannot wait to see how everything unfolds; it feel as though these last 2 chapters have planted some major seeds (no pun intended!!); I look forward to see what it sows in the coming days. 💜 Jan

Oh my gosh! In all of my ramblings, I forgot to say "shout out to Lady Mango! You go get that stake, girly!" Also, YAY Grandma Park!! Heck, that entire exchange in the bathtub made me uwu so hard my heart is just a pile of mush rn! Also, also!! Jin x Tae is lowkey underrated, so thank you for that! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*✲ﾟ*｡⋆ I lub u so much!! kthnxbye

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i’m not ashamed (okay, maybe a little) to admit that i kinda teared up and did a happy lil dance when i saw the email that you’d sent in a submission fksdjfkds i figured you’d probably been busy with life or with the mountainloads of content bighit is giving us these days so i was content to wait patiently, and it just made it that much more exciting when i saw this come in !

thank you, as always, for being so sweet and articulate and thoughtful in your reviews of the chapters. often you point out things that make so much sense that perhaps i hadn’t even noticed when writing. other times you hit an idea that i’d slipped in right on the nose.

jungkook definitely is having a pretty tumultuous time on the show. for him, i imagine he feels like he’s the only one having a difficult time ironing out his feelings, or that if anyone else is struggling too, that they’re acting like nothing’s up. i also feel like jungkook’s competitive streak comes through in unexpected ways. of course he feels proud of his sexual prowess and kinda wants to showboat a little bit, but i think there’s an aspect too where he needs to be the one that’s always bolder than the others to assert his position. writing the namkook scene i kind of drew on that feeling where you’re fighting with someone you care about or think highly of, and even as you realise you’re wrong, you don’t want them to think badly of you and so you desperately scramble for a way to come out on top or prove you’re in the right. there’s also def a degree of him trying to convince himself the show is just about sex and that the rest doesn’t matter. he certainly doesn’t feel that way inside, but we see him vouching from that position so fiercely in d12.

i’m glad you liked the namjoon scene !! one day i’ll figure out your bias fkdsjfksdjk you do such a good job at analysing and discussing everyone equally that it’s difficult >.<

it’s so fascinating to hear your jihope theory that they’ve spoken before. i must keep my silence on the details BUT there will be a very important scene between them coming up in the next few days of the show that i think will really change things between them and also how the readers see them. i’m super excited to write it !

beyond that, i’m happy you noticed something about jin in this chapter.... yn and jin still haven’t resolved their issues yet, plus here we are having jin not respond that well to being asked to counsel one of the members, something he always stated he was happy to do,,,,, hmmmm 0.0

i love hearing your theories so much !!! i eagerly await getting new content out so i can see how they shift and change from release to release

and also you really don’t need to feel bad ! there’s never any obligation to write out a long review for every chapter, but you do so anyway and that means a lot to me xx if you’re busy one week you don’t have to force yourself to make time for it. we have over 50 chapters, so we’re in for the long haul ! there’s really no rush

ahhhh that’s so cool to hear about your friend! it always warms my heart hearing stories of people that got their friends to begin reading and stuff, honestly even the thought that people think about tgm outside of reading it blows me away, it feels so special that it’s something y’all wanna share and discuss w your loved ones xx

YES LADY MANGOOO i love adding little slips of her in the chapters, i know she doesn’t factor into the main story that much but everyone can rest assured that all of the members of the house (okay, and probably our three on-site producers too) spend a lot of time with her, walking her and cuddling her and playing with her. tae is probably currently trying to teach her some commands, but of course the only one she’s got the hang of is lie down jskfjsd

(finally YES taejin is such an underrated duo i love them)

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boboricha · 5 years

Text

Rating: T

Words: 1.8k

Pairing: Gen

Summary: 5+1; 5 lives Kuwabara lived and 1 time he isn’t alive yet. A reincarnation fic.

He’s trying to keep his breathing under control. If he doesn’t, he’ll bleed out. Then he won’t be any good to anybody. Especially not these poor kids, these kids who have lost their mother and father to these fucking demons.

In his chest, his heart aches for them, for everyone who had to suffer in this life.

It aches for the older sister that never was given the chance to marry, have children, and grow old.

All because of one man’s god complex.

Inhale, exhale. Concentrate. Find the blood vessels. Stop the bleeding. Can’t die yet. Not until these kids are safe.

Gripping his katana tighter, he locks eyes with his enemy.

A man mustn't run from a battle.

Racing forward, with a blade colored gold, he goes to sever the demon’s neck.

He hopes, in a future life, for the power to cut through anything.

II.

Kurama blinks as he stares down at the manga that depicts four characters ready for battle on the cover page.

If he were anybody else, he wouldn’t have thought much of it. Even Yusuke or Hiei would have probably never spared it a second glance. Honestly, for a second, he even thought it was a stretch to think that it could be the four of them together. Maybe he’s getting sentimental after all these years, wishing for the four of them to reunite and take on the evils of the world like the good days.

But no, the nine-tailed fox character with squinting eyes and a sultry smile resonates with him.

So he picks a copy up and takes it with him to Yusuke’s ramen restaurant.

By the time he’s finished reading it, he’s sure of it.

This is their story.

Of course, it’s a stitched-together tale. The works of editors and other influences are clear. Obviously, there are embellishments. It’s a telephone version of their tale.

But it’s their tale nonetheless.

With trembling hands, Kurama takes a closer look at the authors and can’t help but let out a wet laugh.

Yusuke pops his head out of the kitchen and looks at him curiously. “What’chu laughing about over there Kurama?”

Kurama lifts up the manga and points right at the names of the authors with a bright smile.

Written by Kawahara Kazuko and Kai Yumi. Drawn by Kawahara Kazuko.

III.

Yusuke is bored as hell.

To be fair, that’s how he feels most of the time nowadays.

Fuck demon lifespans.

That’s how he ends up wandering around town aimlessly, trying not to think about how the lack of a need to care about time feels more like a noose than the freedom it’s supposed to be.

He’s passing by the edge of a new park when he hears a vibrant sound from a violin.

Then there’s the strike of the keys on a piano.

A duet.

Yusuke could care less about music, especially classical shit (that was definitely more up Kurama’s alley and back in the day, especially during a study session).

But something is pulling him forward.

He sees them in a little stadium at the center of the park and every fiber of his being knows these two auras.

Her hair is black this time, but her eyes are a warm brown like the first time he met her. The violin is nestled under her chin and her fingers dance over the strings, her body swaying with the song. She might be taller than him this go around.

His hair is blonde (and though Yusuke misses that vibrant orange, he’s still glad to see his friend’s hair still sticks out like a sore thumb). Unfortunately, it’s not coiffed, but cleanly cut. His jaw is softer but his cheekbones are as sharp as ever. His frame is still as huge as ever, and his long fingers show mastery over the piano keys.

He knows jack shit about music, but even he can tell they’re no amateurs. The crowd that’s settled around the little stage tells him as much.

He feels his mouth go dry and his throat threatens to close up.

Yusuke’s never been so glad to have been bored.

IV.

Hiei’s been trailing him for a couple of days now.

Honestly, he’s disappointed. Back in the day, at his best, Kuwabara would call him out for being a stalker in a matter of minutes, even when he suppressed his energy. It had become a bit of a game, not that Hiei would ever admit that. Obviously, this reincarnation would require a significant amount of training before he could be half the man he used to be. Hiei is both annoyed by the idea and anticipating it.

So far, all Hiei can conclude about this Kuwabara’s life is that it is quite bland.

The boy goes to school, hangs around with his adolescent friends playing catch or going to the arcade, then goes home to diligently study before going to bed.

He lingers in the shadows as another day goes by. Orange and pink bleeds into blue as the sun starts to set in the distance.

In a minute, Kuwabara will make a sharp right and keep... that’s not a right.

Hiei leaps off his branch to follow.

When he sees the teen’s destination, the fire demon can’t help but think that really, he shouldn’t have expected anything.

The human opens the door to a pastry shop, and a bell jingles to welcome his presence. From the large window, Hiei observes as the reincarnation moves behind the counter and puts on an apron before disappearing into the back of the store.

Assuming that it would be a while before this Kuwabara came back from his apparent job, Hiei chooses to take a nap.

It’s about three hours later that the high school student leaves the pastry shop, waving goodbye to the owners. A bag, no doubt full of extra sweets, hangs off his arm. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he whistles as he heads toward what Hiei knows is his home.

Right before he crosses the threshold, Kuwabara turns, digging into the pastry bag, pulling out a delicately made cupcake. He bends to place it on the ground before straightening up and looking directly at where Hiei is hidden in the brush of the trees. There’s a smug look coupled with a wide grin and if there was any doubt in his mind before about this being Kuwabara, it’s gone, replaced by the feeling of wanting to murder the buffoon.

As if feeling his malicious intentions, Kuwabara cackles.

“You’re not as good as ya’ think, ya’ stalker. I’m a nice guy though. So I’ll let ya’ have this as a consolation gift. It’s handmade by yours truly. See ya’ round.”

With a final smirk and a two-finger salute, the cheeky fucker is gone.

The cupcake is terrible, he tries to tell himself.

He’s fucking eleven.

Yusuke, for one heartbreaking moment, wishes he didn’t find him this time around. There are no locks of hair for Kuwabara to even attempt to coif. He’s the smallest he’s ever been in all his lives. His parents have to wheel him around.

When he tells Kurama and Hiei about it, they go seek him out on their own terms.

Hiei comes back looking shaken and absolutely furious. The fire demon is ready to rip open the heavens to tear Koenma a new one.

Honestly, Yusuke would be right behind him the moment he tried.

“He reeks of death,” Hiei mutters.

Kurama goes and comes back with pained eyes. He’s clenching his fists so hard they’re trembling.

“I visited him while he slept. He… he’s so frail. He only has a couple of months left.”

Yusuke wants to punch something. But how the fuck do you punch cancer?

So Yusuke settles for just… loitering around the hospital. He smokes outside the door and gets yelled at by the nurses.

Kurama keeps visiting while Kuwabara’s sleeping. He leaves flowers.

The stubborn bastard doesn’t admit it, but Yusuke knows Hiei’s taken up residence at one of the hospital’s tallest trees.

It’s only three months before his aura flickers away like a candle blown out. It feels like a stab in the gut in a way the other times Kuwabara left them doesn’t.

It’s not even a couple of hours after that, that a cat is nudging Yusuke’s leg, a letter tied to its collar.

Thanks for keeping me company. I missed you guys. See you next time.

“You ass, took you long enough.”

“Shut up Urameshi. You know how many times I’ve had to go through this shit? You can deal with waiting a couple of years.”

“You look well Hiei.”

Yusuke’s arms are crossed, and he’s tapping his toes against the ground. Kurama’s leaning against a tree, fiddling with a rose petal. Kuwabara is sprawled out on the floor, gazing up at the clouds in the sky.

“Hmph, I suppose you expect me to apologize for not perishing earlier?”

“Urameshi’s just pissed that he died earlier than you.”

“What was that you piece of shit -”

“It’s comforting to know that even after all these years, you two still get along like peas in a pod.”

“Enough of this prattle. Isn’t there somewhere we have to be?”

“Oh my god, yes, finally. Let’s go.”

Kuwabara lurches himself up into a sitting position. “You just got here! Don’t you wanna, I dunno, look around or whatever?”

“Smell the roses?” Kurama remarks cheerfully, choosing to ignore the exasperated looks on his teammate’s faces. But then he turns more pensive, before stumbling upon an epiphany of sorts. A self-satisfied, knowing smirk is directed towards the shortest member of the group, causing Hiei to bristle.

“Ah well, there’s always next time,” Kurama lends a hand to Kuwabara, pulling him up. They start walking together towards the end of this realm. It’s not long before they stand together in front of a blinding light. “Really Hiei, after all these years, you could stand to be more honest with us.”

“Shut it fox, I will cut you.”

“Huh?” Yusuke and Kuwabara both look at Kurama curiously.

Kurama’s face is damn smug at this point. He cups his hand over his mouth to mock whisper to the two former delinquents. “He’s just eager for all of us to be reborn at the same time. He missed us.”

“You’re an absolute fool if you think that’s the case. If I’m eager to do anything then it’s to get away from the lot of you as fast as possible!”

They’re laughing and wrapping themselves around Hiei as they walk into the light.

#yyh #yu yu hakusho #kazuma kuwabara #yusuke urameshi #kurama #hiei #bc the fact that kazumas the only human gives me loads of both angst material #and just in general ideas about different lives he lives #the +1 isn't really kuwa focused but more ot4 oh well #tears in time and space #can you see my other anime influences lol #sorry i had to churn this out the muse was getting to me #baufic

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