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whumperstorm · 2 months ago

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Supressing Fire - Part 3.5

Content: vampire whumper, defiant whumpee, mild violence, begging, crying

Two scenes from Keegan's captivity that aren't quite long enough their own chapters. Featuring Keegan trying to rebel however she can, and Kane earning his "Not As Much of a Jerk as You Could Have Been" Award.

Part 1/Previous/Next

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One evening, as Kane feeds, Keegan's eyes wander over his shoulder. She just barely suppresses a gasp when she sees it. Her little art project, taped to her punching bag and crumpled from numerous bouts of abuse by Keegan's fists. It was an excellent improvement to her self care routine, in her opinion. After Kane's generous donation of fresh bruises after she “sighed disrespectfully" last week. But one that should not have been left out after use.

Keegan rips her gaze away from it and stares a hole into the floor instead. Maybe he won't see it?

Of course he sees it.

"What is that?" he demands, stalking toward it and ripping the paper off--a crude portrait of what looks to be him. Scribbled in crayons.

"Um-" She says dumbly. "You weren't supposed to see that."

"It's not supposed to fucking be in my house!" Kane tears the paper in two, crumpling it and tossing it to the floor. "I thought this punching bag was supposed to make you better behaved, not a sneaky, disobedient little brat. Maybe I should take it away after all, if it's doing you no good!"

The best way Keegan knows to get out of this mess is to apologize. To show respect and beg Kane for forgiveness so he doesn't get angrier. That is not what she does.

"Oh come on, It's just a drawing!" She huffs. "I've been good haven't I? This wouldn't have bothered you at all if you hadn't seen it!"

Kane storms over and backhands her across the face.

"I will not tolerate disrespect!" he screams. "This is not what being good looks like! You will learn your place!"

The strike hurts. Keegan's head snaps to the side and she lets out a shout of pain, but she doesn’t back down. "My God, grow a fucking spine!!" She spits, standing up to tower over him. "I've been your perfect little pet for months! Since I can't knock your lights out, I used what I got. At least this Kane was nicer to look at!"

Kane shoves her, sending her toppling to the ground, then lands a hard kick in her side.

"You've improved. I'd hardly call you perfect," he spits. "This is exactly the problem with you. Nothing works. You know what? Say goodbye to the punching bag. Clearly, this isn't working." He goes to take it down.

For some reason, that sends a jolt of panic through Keegan's chest. More so than the abuse. She fights to get air back into her lungs and reaches out towards Kane.

"W-wait!"

It's not really about the bag. She has other amenities. But they're all generic. The bag is the only thing that's hers. A piece of her personality to light up her dreadful little prison.

She can't bear the thought of losing what little she has.

Keegan pulls herself up to kneel respectfully. "Don't take it, I-I'm sorry." It may not be enough now. Not after her outburst.

It's fake. So obviously fake, how she only deigns to respect Kane when she has something to lose. It only fans the fire inside him further. He needs to break her foolish pride.

He glares down at her. "Beg."

Keegan glares a hole into the floor. She hates him. She hates him with every cell in her body. But punching bag or not, she can't back out now. Any more rebellion and she'll be black and blue for days.

She hangs her head, face burning in shame. "Please... sir. I'm sorry. Please give me another chance... No more disrespect, whether you're present or not."

"Hmph. I'll believe it when I see it. Watch it, human. I'm the one in control here."

And with that, Kane leaves, slamming the door behind him.

Keegan lets out a breath when he leaves. Never has she felt more helpless and tiny. She can’t even exist in peace without the threat of Kane’s interference. Everything is a fight in this place. A fight she's bound to lose each and every time.

But, well... she glances up. At least she still has the punching bag.

She groans, flopping miserably back down into bed.

------

Things continue as normal from there. Kane still needs to violently discipline his human on a regular basis, but the frequency has gone down a bit. He wonders if it's really the punching bag, or just a coincidence. The fact that it seems to be making her behave better is the only reason he doesn't go through with taking it away.

Many months pass and they fall into a routine. Some days are bad, with a defiant human he needs to correct, and some days are good, with the human coming out and playing chess or watching movies with him, countering his debilitating loneliness.

One such good day, while they're watching a movie, the protagonist goes to celebrate his birthday. Kane usually skips this part, hating the sour reminder, but he doesn't want to raise questions from the human. He lets it play without comment.

In all honesty, Keegan hasn't thought about her birthday at all. She's had too much on her mind and no one around to remind her that it's coming up. But the movie scene has her realizing what month they're in. Her birthday is in three days. She’s hit with a wave of depressed bitterness.

It was nowhere near her birthday when she was kidnapped, so it's yet another reminder of how long she's been here. Not only that, but she's turning twenty-one. That's a pretty big milestone and she gets to what, sit in an empty room and sing happy birthday to herself? She won't even get a hug from her sister. She knows her hunting guild enjoys throwing surprise parties. She wonders if they'd have planned one for her.

Her thoughts spiral, and to her horror, she starts to cry. She hardly ever cries. She hates crying in front of others, and here she is sobbing in front of Kane of all people. She tries to hold it back, silent tears falling down her cheeks. She can't even excuse herself. She has to ask to do anything around here and he'll obviously notice her tears if she asks to leave. She sits there rigidly, until eventually a tiny, involuntary sob escapes.

Kane is so wrapped up in his own birthday-adjacent pity party that he doesn't notice the human crying until he hears her sob. He turns to her, caught off-guard. "What's wrong?" he asks. He hasn't been disciplining her, so he's not sure why she's upset.

Keegan is mortified. She hastily scrubs at her face to wipe away the tears, like that'll somehow make it less obvious. God he's actually asking what's wrong? Like he'd care about a human's birthday of all things. He'd probably get mad that she's even making a fuss about it. She can already hear his cruel comment. ‘You’re not a person. You’re food. You don’t have a birthday.’

"It’s- it’s fine." She dismisses. "Can I go back to my room?"

Kane turns off the movie. Something isn't right here. The human's never acted like this before.

"Tell me what's wrong and then you can go," he compromises. Maybe he's feeling soft because of the feelings thinking about his birthday dredged up, or maybe it's the disappointment at a nice night spent not on his lonesome being cut short. "You won't be in trouble."

Keegan puts her head in her hands for a moment, sighing. Even her own sadness doesn't belong to her. But, at least he said she won't be in trouble, and Kane has yet to lie to her. "It's not important. I just... realized my birthday is in three days." Her voice grows quieter as she speaks, mumbling by the end and looking away as fresh tears bubble up. "Can I go now?" She wants nothing more than to get away from this humiliating situation.

For the first time, Kane feels some sort of connection with his human, some sort of guilt for his actions. Here she is, unable to celebrate her birthday- because of him.

"You may go," he concedes, trying to process the unfamiliar emotions.

Keegan wastes no time, scurrying back to her room. She spends a while in the bathroom, calming down and washing her face. She doesn't even feel like using the punching bag, instead lying in bed wallowing in self pity the rest of the night. The conversation isn't brought back up in the following days, so Keegan hopes that's the end of it. The evening of her birthday however, she wakes up in an awful mood.

Kane, for the life of him, decides to do research. It's embarrassing, going to the library and asking for books on human celebrations, but he does it anyway. Most of what he finds is anthropological research on human religious practices, but he does eventually find something on birthdays. Human birthday celebrations seem to be similar to vampire ones in many ways, except for the cake. The cake is apparently a very big part of it, a large, sweet human food. Other than that, the customs of parties and presents are similar.

On the night of Keegan's birthday, Kane comes in and feeds from her as normal. Just because it's her birthday doesn't mean he doesn't need to eat. But after that... "I have something for you. Come on out." He turns to exit the human quarters, gesturing for her to follow him out.

Keegan endures the bite. Same bullshit as always. When Kane invites her out, she follows, curiously. She'd rather stay holed up in her room today, but Kane doesn't usually get her things she hasn’t asked for.

Waiting on the mug table is a large, elaborate birthday cake, the kind that must have cost hundreds of dollars. Next to it is a medium-sized gift wrapped in shiny paper.

"Happy birthday," Kane says awkwardly.

Keegan stares in utter shock. "You- what?" She looks at Kane, then back at the table. Is he serious? It can't be a prank. She can tell from here that the cake is real. But this is a man who has stolen her life away, and her blood, and abused her countless times over the past months. And who's now celebrating her birthday?

"...Why?" She asks quietly.

Kane glances briefly at her, then realizes he's far too embarrassed of his own sincerity to make eye contact, and stares forward at the table instead. "It's your birthday. It deserves to be celebrated."

"oh..." Keegan is tearing up again, but controls it better this time. It feels like a piece of her humanity has returned. She might be nothing but food here, and constantly referred to as "human" instead of by name, but she's still deserving of a birthday? That's a better gift than anything that could be in that box. She still doesn't understand why he cares, he’s the one who put her in this situation after all, but it’s something.

“Thank you…” She steps hesitantly towards it, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop, but when he doesn't stop her she kneels down next to the table. "Can I open it?" She asks, reaching for the gift.

"You're welcome. Go ahead," Kane encourages. This is weird. Vampires aren't supposed to celebrate their humans' birthdays. She's food. But... he can't deny her this. He just can't.

When Keegan opens the gift, she finds some very fancy hard cider inside.

"I wasn't sure... um. This was one thing I knew you liked that you didn't already have," Kane explains. "Just for your birthday. No refills."

She's not sure why, maybe the way he awkwardly explains himself, or how ridiculous the whole situation is, but it has Keegan bursting out into laughter.

She doesn't want Kane to think she's mocking him so she quickly sputters out, "This is great, thanks." She takes a breath to get control over herself then adds, "You gonna be able to survive my nasty alcohol blood?"

"I'll manage," Kane says, unoffended. In his eyes, she's only insulting herself.

The rest of the night is a peaceful one, spent doing whatever activities the human wants. Though Kane grimaces at the taste of her blood on occasion as she makes her way through the cider in the coming weeks, he makes no comment on it. It was her birthday gift.

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Taglist: @whumpsday @not-a-space-alien @anomalys-taxonomy @what-if-i-just-did @dragonqueenslayer6 @jumpywhumpywriter @writereleaserepeat

#my writing #last chance #keegan khatri #kane & jim #suppressing fire #woooo back to it!#part 4 on Friday!

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bigtreefest · 4 months ago

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Essie, saw that you reblogged this prompt post and was curious about how MountainRanger!Ari x Reader are doin', maybe considering prompt #3 or #4? or if we are to stir the pot real saucy and to the extreme -- prompt #7? 👀 (cause jealous ari kinda does something to me 🫣)

Mel! Oh, thank you so much for asking about Ari and Duchess, my beloved. I’d love to answer these for you.

#3 if they're happy? who will they want to share it with?

If Ari were happy, I think the first one he would go to tell is Duchess, he wants to share a life with her! I feel like it would be something that happens at work. Maybe he gets an award for his service. I would say that he’d call her right away, but the ranger station isn’t known for great reception on cell phones, just landlines and the radios. And he wouldn’t want to block the line with a personal call just in case. So as soon as he walks through the front door, he’s beaming at her, throws his bag down, and spills all about his day.

Duchess is pretty close with her mom, so I think that’s the first person she calls. And that’s on the drive on the way to the ranger station. As soon as she gets close and the connection starts to crackle, she’s ready to see Ari. No matter what the news, or who’s present, he’s picking her up and spinning her around, giving her kisses and telling her how proud he is.

Overall, I think the two of them just spend a lot of happy time together and with their friends, which I haven’t gotten into much. It’s smiles all around, really.

#4 if they're sad? will they go to anyone for comfort? if yes, who?

Ari has some hard days. It’s when the doubt seeps in again, no matter how much he knows he’s loved or how good his life is. Because the thing is, he’s afraid that could be taken away from him. Nothing in his life has ever been this good. There are some moments when he’s sad and heads to the bar in town. Sammy is there to listen, and to give a pep talk and some direction. That all really ends up leading him back to Duchess. Sometimes he’ll talk it out, sometimes it’s just silence. He doesn’t always want held, but he does want her presence, even if it’s just silence in opposite sides of the same room.

Duchess really likes to go for a drive when she’s sad. The cold mountain air feels nice on her face when she puts the windows down. She’ll take Ari along and he’ll hold her hand sometimes. And when they stop, she climbs between his legs and he just holds her close against his chest with his chin resting on her head. Again, there’s no need to talk, just silently comfort each other.

#7 if they're kissed by their ex?

Oooofffff. So here’s the thing, if Duchess is getting kissed by an ex, Ari isn’t blaming her at all because he knows she would never cross him like that. He’s pissed, though, at that guy who wouldn’t take no for an answer, the guy who he knows thrust himself on her. He’s pissed at himself for not being around to stop it. Say Ari was in the bathroom at his hometown bar and somehow Duchess got cornered, once he gets back and sees the sad and uncomfortable look on her face, he’s ready to fight. One punch and that jerk is down, end of story. Cops and other patrons aren’t gonna do anything because they know Ari was justified. Then, he’s leading her out by an arm around her shoulder and taking her home.

Duchess knows the same thing. If Ari’s ex is around, it’s because she came back to stir the pot and cause problems. She left him without a second thought, so why is she back? Who cares if she’s from around here? Doesn’t she have a new fiancé? Oh…it didn’t work out? Wonder why. I don’t think she’d go in for direct confrontation, unless she actively saw the ex lean up for a kiss, but she’s telling Sammy to get that lady out of here and never let her come back. I also think she’s taking Ari home, but it’s a little different. Duchess is going to remind him how good he has it just to drive the point home. We’re talking possible road head, and then riding him in some slightly possessive sex in their shared bed in her cabin.

Again, thank you so much for sending this. I’m trying to get back in the zone to finish up their main storyline!! They’re just so in love and need their happy ending! Fall weather should be good to give me the inspo for that.

Taglist: @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly

#bigger houses series #bigger houses ask #Ari Levinson #Ari Levinson series #Ari Levinson x reader #Ari Levinson x you #Ari Levinson fanfiction #Ari Levinson fluff #Ari Levinson angst #Ari Levinson smut #mountain ranger Ari #mountain ranger Ari Levinson #mountain ranger!ari #mountain ranger!ari Levinson #mountain ranger! Ari Levinson #mountain ranger! Ari #thanks for dropping in #Essie answers

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highwaytothedangerzone502 · 10 months ago

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Foxtrot Alpha Alpha - Chapter 33

Pairing: Hangman x Female OC

Word Count: 1973

Warnings: Talk of suicide, swearing

Summary: Hangman learned his lesson a long time ago to never show his true feelings when someone's words or actions hurt him. To do so showed weakness that could be exploited, and Seresin men couldn't show weakness. Of course, there was an exception to every rule, and Jake's always came in the form of women, three in particular: his mom, Juliette Kazansky, and the girl whose name he could no longer bring himself to speak. She was the girl that got away; she was his biggest 'what if' and his biggest regret; she would forever be the ghost that haunted his dreams. Jake believed that's where she'd stay, for he would surely never see her again after what he did.

Or so he thought.

Notes: This is the sequel to India Lima Yankee; I'm using the same callsign for the Female OC as in Ghost Story because I just really like it, but they are different characters; chapters in italics are flashbacks.

Chapter Songs: Tequila Right Now

****

Hangman

A consistent pounding in his ears roused Hangman from his deep sleep. He tried to sit up, but that only worsened it. He swiftly pieced together that it was the blood in his head making the incessant noise, not someone knocking on the door. God, death would be less painful than this. How hadn't he died last night with all the alcohol he'd had? It's not like Hangman intended to drink that much, but he kept making friends at the bar who kept paying for his drinks until they could drink no longer and left. But he had stayed. Stayed until-

Fuck. Although barely memorable, faces belonging to Rooster, Juliette, and Ghost flickered in his mind, along with the drunken ramblings he'd tried so hard to keep to himself, to keep quiet, even if they ate him alive because no one deserved to know his pain, but not because of his lack in trust in them. In fact, three of the four people he trusted most with that pain had rescued him from the bar that night. No. They didn't deserve it because they all had pains and worries of their own, none of which needed the added burden of his own problems that were far darker than anyone should ever know.

Hangman forced his eyes open and, through his blurry vision, recognized the white coffee table with aviator magazines neatly spread out on the surface, the built-in bookshelves with a myriad of pictures, books, and awards dotting the shelves, the navy blue recliner with the curled-up figure of Ghost-

At the sight of her, Hangman rocketed upward. The movement caused his world to spin, and it took all of his willpower to not throw up again. He remembered that from last night, too. So much hurling before they'd lugged him to the couch...

When his world stabilized, he tried to stand, but Hangman had hardly taken two steps before ramming his shin into the coffee table. "Fuck!"

Ghost jerked awake, staring wildly and dazed at him. When she comprehended the situation before her, she jumped up to help him.

Push her away. You're only hurt her more. It doesn't matter how much it hurts. Push her away. "Leave me alone," Hangman snapped when Ghost tried to rest her hand on his shoulder. He stepped out of reach, ignoring the pain wracking his body, both from the hangover and the run-in with the coffee table.

"Jake-"

"Don't," he hissed. "I'm fine."

A lie given away by his stumbling, and Ghost knew it, but she listened to him. To his amazement, she listened, staying perfectly still, eyes staring at him with nothing but concern. Why? The last time they'd been in the same room together, she'd rightfully stormed out on him, giving him what had been a final goodbye. Why change her mind so suddenly?

Unless...

He vaguely remembered he'd told her some of his reasoning for not seeing her in the hospital after the crash, but how much else had he divulged to Ghost?

She held her hands up placatingly. "If you want to leave, that's fine, but let me help-"

"I don't need your help," Hangman snapped. "I-"

"What's going on?" Juliette's calm, concerned voice floated from behind him. Hangman turned slowly to avoid toppling over. On Princess's heels was Rooster, eyeing the situation warily. They landed on Hangman, who braced himself for a snarky comment, but none came. That scared Hangman.

"I was just leaving," Jake managed to say, hoping they could avoid any more awkwardness if he ignored the truths he surely divulged last night. "Thanks for letting me crash here, and sorry for dragging y'all out in the middle of the night."

"Don't mention it," Rooster replied evenly. "You want breakfast?"

Hangman shook his head. "I should be getting back to my place."

"Why don't I give you a ride?" Juliette offered, moving toward the garage.

"No." It came out more sharply than he intended, his tone a knife in the tense atmosphere, but he kept it that way. He had to if he had any hope of leaving unescorted. "I'll walk. Sober me up."

"Hell of a walk," Rooster commented, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning against the door frame. Hangman refused to dignify him with a response, only rolling his eyes and moving to the front door.

"You either let one of us take you, or we call someone, but you shouldn't walk alone," Ghost said kindly. "I know my motorcycle might-"

"I don't want you trying to help me because of some stupid, drunken shit I might've said last night. You made it perfectly clear how you feel about me after that fight, so why don't you call Wolfie up about that wine and chocolate he promised you?" The color drained from Ghost's face, and Hangman knew he'd hit his mark. She posted her videos anonymously, possibly only a handful of people knowing about the account. Having not told him about it, Hangman assumed it'd rattle Ghost for her to know he had knowledge about the account she sang her heart out for. But it still wasn't enough to stop her from coming after him if he left. He had to strike lower, harder. Had to rub salt in the wound. Hangman had to keep her away from him. "You want to know what brought that drinking binge on? It wasn't my father's death. It was you. It was 'Forever and Always' after our fight the other night. It was 'Mr. Perfectly Fine' when I was here for the training detachment when I started having a thing for Juliette. It was 'Haunted' on the anniversary of Ghoul's death. It was 'My Tears Richochet' after your lunch with Jackie. It was 'All Too Well' and 'The Story of Us' after running into each other at the Hard Deck the night of Juliette's promotion celebration. It was 'I Forgot That You Existed' after you slept with Rooster. It was every fucking cover song directed at me. It was hearing the anger and hurt in your voice and realizing you not only never moved on from what I did to you but that you thought I stopped caring about you, that I forgot about you altogether, when that couldn't have been further from the God damn truth. It was realizing how low of an opinion you had of me. That's what sent me over the edge. Because I learned how to stop giving a shit a long time ago about what people thought of me, but you mattered. You always have and always will."

"You were never supposed to see those," Ghost breathed, voice barely audible.

Hangman's heart shattered. He might've gone too far, but he'd had to. They weren't good together. No. He wasn't good for her. Hangman did nothing but drag her down, did nothing but hurt her. Ghost gave him chance after chance, and he blew them every single time. She was too good to stop trying to provide him more opportunities to fix what he had broken, so Hangman had to end it for her. Ghost would move on from him, and that's all that mattered to him, whether he found the strength to move on from her or not.

"Yeah, well, I did." Hangman tore himself away from her and yanked the door open. Stepping into the bright sunshine, he called over his shoulder. "Leave me alone. That goes for all of you."

Slamming the door behind him, Jake strode onto the sidewalk with his head held high until the Bradshaw house could no longer see him. Only then did he sag against a stranger's white fence, letting the emotions and turmoil of what occurred just now and last night wash over him. Hangman had always been good at destroying things: flight records, enemy targets... now he could add 'relationships' to the list, too.

With an effort and lead feet, Hangman shuffled to his apartment, the long trek his personal punishment for treating his three friends the way he had. None of them had done anything wrong except see him at the second lowest point in his life, save Hangman from drinking himself into oblivion last night, and learn his deepest, darkest secrets.

It took him a good hour to walk the short trip to his apartment, but rather than heading to bed like his body screamed at him to do, Hangman forced himself to work out. Stripping off his shirt, he put on the boxing gloves and went to the punching bag, taking all his frustration and embarrassment out on the leather and sand, trying to punch away all his emotions. It'd take him until the end of his life to succeed with that endeavor.

"Dude, you've really got to start locking your doors," Coyote said. Hangman whirled around, wondering how long his friend had been there. As if sensing his question, Javy added, "I just got here, but judging by the sweat, you've been at it for a while."

Feigning casualness and masking the dark thoughts that might've been showing on his face, Hangman said, "I thought you would've been with your date still."

"No, we're taking it slow." Coyote looked him up and down. "You look like shit."

Hangman scoffed. If his friend only knew. "Nice to see you, too."

"Ghost texted me."

Shit. "About what?" Jake replied, dropping his gaze to his hands as he took off the boxing gloves.

"All she said is, and I quote: I fucked up. Hangman needs you. No other explanation, so I figured I should get here quickly."

Ghost's words were an exact echo of the ones Hangman had sent Juliette after their fight. God, why couldn't she stop caring about him? Why couldn't Ghost let his words ruin their relationship like he had wanted them to?

"What happened?" Javy prodded, moving aside when Jake stalked to the kitchen.

"I got drunk, said things I shouldn't have, and told her off."

"What exactly did you tell her?"

Hangman sighed, realizing his friend would only drop this once he told the truth. Again. So he did. Almost every nitty gritty detail, with the exception of the near-suicide jump into the ocean that Coyote had unknowingly saved him from. At the end of the story, Javy sat on the bar stool and sighed. "Wow, you really did tell everything. Even the letters?"

"No, not those." Miraculously, it had been the one secret he kept to himself. How that- over everything else revealed last night- ended up being the one piece he hadn't blurted out, Hangman couldn't figure out, but he wasn't complaining.

"Do you still have them?"

"No," Hangman lied, thinking of the stack of envelopes tucked away in a box on the top shelf of the coat closet, forgotten for most of the year except on the few days he found himself tempted to send them. "Even if I did, they wouldn't change anything."

"Why did you never give them to Ghost in the first place?"

Hangman shrugged, unwilling to admit he'd been too scared, too cowardly, to give the sheets of paper that contained every piece of his love to her, afraid she would read them and then wrench his heart right out of his chest out of pure spite for the pain he'd put her through. "Don't know. Didn't feel like it'd make a difference. I've never been good with words or actions anyway, so probably best I didn't give them to her. Most likely would've made it worse."

Coyote nodded but dropped the subject. "Whatever you need, I'm here for you, starting with telling you- and I mean this in the nicest way possible- you need a shower. You reek of alcohol."

And probably other shitty things. Hangman thought grimly. Nodding in agreement, he shuffled off to the bathroom.

****

Tags: @lgg5989 @shanimallina87 @polikszena @summ3rlotus @icemansgirl1999 @supernaturaldawning @thedarkinmansfield @lyannaforpresident @lapilark @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth @simpofthecentury @shadeops21 @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @double-j @bradshawsandbridgetons @catsandgeekyandnerd @peachiicherries @multifandomcnova @fandomsstolemylife00 @bookloverhorses @mak-32 @midnightmagpiemama @luckyladycreator2 @ellamae021 @kmc1989

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gabessquishytum · 2 years ago

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i love imagining hob and dream as actors cause if you squint and don’t think about it too much dream can still be famous for playing a character named The Sandman. but anyway the two of them worked together on some film, they became friends but nothing more even though they obviously have some kind of tension going on. there’s an event (premier, award show, something) that they have to go to together and hob finally corners dream in the bathroom. dream tells him he can’t, he’s married, he’s straight (wrong), but even though he’s giving hob 100 reasons why he shouldn’t hook up with him right then, hob still sinks to his knees and sucks dream off anyway. and dream lets him.

afterwards they’d continue to have an affair, and they’d try their best to get casted together in future projects to have an excuse to be around each other more often (especially since dream is in denial and needs a plausible excuse for all this). it’s only when they’re in a romance together and they’re “playing up the chemistry” for the press that calliope catches on and there’s a big messy divorce with tabloids and paparazzi

Omg yes. I love that Hob is the seductress here!!!

Hob is less well known than Dream, but he's got a good little fanbase all the same. He could have anyone in the world, more or less. But he doesn't want just anyone, he wants Dream. Dream who is famous and rich and a huge star. For a while, Hob thinks that Dream might resist him... but eventually he gives in. He might be "straight" but he sure does cum hard down Hob’s throat that night in the bathroom.

It's difficult with Dream being so famous, but Hob is determined to have his man. They sneak around and fuck like rabbits when they can, go on subtle dates which could be seen as just friends hanging out. When they go for coffee, Hob will secretly be rubbing Dream’s cock through his jeans or jerking him off in the bathroom. He totally gets off on it, the secrets and the sneaking around.

They finally get to kiss in public when they do a romance movie together... unfortunately people start catching on that it's definitely more than acting. Dream makes all kinds of denials to the press but it's not exactly convincing when a picture of Hob happens to drop out of his wallet...

5 years later, Hob gets to marry the man of his dreams. All because of a blowjob in a bathroom. It didn't do either of their careers any favours, but Dream is happy to retire out of the limelight and Hob is happy to live his life as the notorious "other woman" who got to have his cake and eat it too.

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft

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tracingpatternswrites · 2 years ago

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Oh my god, we're done!

I'm so excited but also so emotional to be sharing the final chapter of mine and @squintclover's fic Of Protein Powder and PTAs. When we started this we had absolutely no idea where it would end up but it's been such an amazing ride.

I want to thank @theresthesnitch for organising the @mixed-up-writer-fest and for giving me the best writing partner and a great prompt.

Also a massive thanks to everyone who has been following along as we've been posting, who have been so encouraging and gracious with their compliments and feedback. It really does mean everything.

Last but absolutely not least - @squintclover! Rory, Rory, Rory. I honestly could not have wished for a better partner, I've had so much fun writing this with you and I'm in awe of your talent, your humour, your imagination and you writing. I'm so happy this fic has allowed us to get to know each other and I'm happy and humbled to be able to call you a friend. You are awesome and amazing and I 💛 you!

Okay, I didn't mean this to come across as an Academy Award acceptance speech but here we are 🤣 let's get to the good stuff!

Read the whole fic from the start if you haven't already.

Read the final chapter here.

Have a little teaser below the cut:

Sirius’ heart was hammering so hard in his chest that he wondered if Remus could hear it, if he could feel each heavy thud the way that Sirius could. Remus’ fingers against his cheek were cool compared to Sirius’ own heated skin. He felt like his whole body was burning and even though he tried to remain in control, he knew there was a flush creeping up his neck.

He held Remus’ gaze for a moment longer, saw the way they were glittering gold from the soft glow of the lights in the kitchen. He let his lips curl upwards slightly before leaning into the touch, turning his face so that he could brush his lips lightly against the palm of Remus’ hand. He heard the slight intake of breath as he parted his lips, pressing the ghost of a kiss against Remus’ fingers.

He smiled as they flexed, a shuddering sort of sound coming from above him and even though Sirius had never heard Remus make that particular sound before he knew instantly he needed to hear it again and again and again. He turned to look at him properly again, his own lips quirking upwards slightly at the expression on Remus’ face.

He rose gracefully, purposefully pulling himself up into his full height, making full use of the couple of inches he had on the other man. He put two fingers underneath Remus’ chin, and this time it was his turn to tilt Remus’ head, to force his gaze up and he felt a trickle of heat sizzle down his spine at the look he found there. He tightened the hold he had on the hem of Remus’ shirt, pulling him close enough so that he could surge forward and claim Remus’ lips in a fierce kiss.

His heart did a happy little stutter in his chest as he finally got what he had been thinking about for such a long time, his eyes fluttering closed as he moved the fingers at Remus’ jaw to settle at the back of his head. He wound his fingers into the soft curls at his neck, using that hold to deepen the kiss further, and he eagerly swallowed the soft sighs coming from Remus.

He was suddenly very aware of how little he was wearing in comparison to Remus as want surged through him, the silk robe offering little resistance to hide the way his dick twitched with interest. He felt Remus’ hands settle at his hips, thumbing the soft fabric for a moment before he tightened his grip. He ground their hips together lightly and Sirius was unable to hold back the strangled moan that tore from his throat.

Sirius forced himself to pull away but it wasn’t easy, especially not when he heard the protesting half-sigh from Remus, the little jerk of his hips as he chased the friction. They were both breathing heavily and Sirius felt arousal and want and need thrum through his body. He felt like he was a teenager again, and he could barely remember the last time he had been so turned on by so little.

“That was better than I remembered it,” Sirius blurted without thinking, then he blushed as Remus let out a low laugh.

“Better than when we were kids? I’d bloody well hope so, I’d like to things I’ve polished my skills a bit since the age of twelve.”

Sirius snorted, but he didn’t bother to respond, instead he simply kissed him again, his hands curling against Remus’ sides. He hadn’t lied to Remus, the way his body responded to being close to him, the way he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him, about doing this , since their almost-kiss before he had crashed and burned as he tried to ask for a date. He hadn’t understood why, and he had felt like a proper idiot when Remus turned him down, but speaking to Regulus and Dorcas had helped him understand things a little bit better.

To be perfectly honest, Sirius wasn’t used to being turned down. Granted, he hardly ever asked anyone out, but whenever he did he usually got a yes. He frankly couldn’t remember the last time he got turned down, whether it had been for a date or simply in a club wanting to pull. He couldn’t remember ever having felt as vulnerable as he had with Remus.

Now he could sort of see why Remus had done it though. He understood what had made him so worried, he knew how weird some people got around werewolves. He had known and met enough to have heard all the stories, and Jacob had told him a fair few himself back in the day. He knew that some people got off on the idea of shagging a werewolf, like a kink or a fetish.

It had been hurtful to realise that Remus might have thought that about him, but if the other man had been burnt enough times in the past it wasn’t an unreasonable assumption to make. He straightened back up, looking at the blush dusted across Remus’ cheeks, the slightly darker look in his eyes that sent shivers through Sirius’ body.

He wanted nothing more than to rip the clothes off him, to push Remus down on the table and have his wicked way with him right here in the kitchen. He swallowed thickly, lust surging through him again as Remus looked at him quietly, and he wondered if Remus was thinking the same thing.

“Merlin,” he groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I want to– you have no idea what I want to do with you right now.”

Remus’ grin took on a slightly sharper edge that made Sirius’ belly flip as his fingers tightened on Sirius’ hips.

“If it’s something similar to what I’m thinking about, I can’t say I’ve got any objections.”

Sirius just barely resisted the urge to jump him, and it was only really the thought of Harry coming back early that stopped him from climbing on top of Remus and fucking him right then and there.

“We need to– I mean– fuck,” Sirius huffed, sending Remus a dark glare as the other man gave an amused snicker, and he took a deep breath. “I don’t want you to think I just…that this is all I want. I mean,” he stopped, shaking his head to clear it slightly. “I mean, I don’t have any expectations or anything, and I don’t want you to think that I just want to fuck you.”

Sirius wanted to lick the flush that crept up Remus’ neck and he had to forcibly hold himself back.

“I don’t think that,” Remus said, then his grin took on a mischievous sort of tilt to it as he swept his gaze over Sirius’ body in a way that made his skin blaze. “Although I wouldn’t object if that was something that might be on the table…so to speak.”

Continue on AO3.

#of protein powders and ptas #opp&ptas #wolfstar #rivals to lovers #sirius black #remus lupin #sirius raises harry #remus raises teddy #singel parents wolfstar #get together #ao3 #read on ao3 #completed fic #muwf #mixed up writers fest #my writing #rory tag

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helldustedstories · 9 months ago

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@madefate asked: ❝ Just breathe, Moon Pie. Breathe. ❞ Bee demonstrates for Stolas with an exaggerated flourish, as one would an athlete on the ropes. Is that mischief in her eyes? Of course not. ❝ First of all, I still hold the award for best babysitter, so take note. And where's safer to have some fun than with me? Nothing's gonna happen to her. Sin's honor. ❞ Bee even goes so far as to make a pentagram over her heart. ❝ If the first party wasn't a rite of passage for any teen girl, I'd even invite you out, that's how safe it is. ❞

unprompted // always accepting!

Stolas hadn't been sure how to feel, when Beelzebub approached him about the idea of Octavia attending one of her parties. He'd wanted to go himself, when he was younger, when he'd still believed that the world could be fun, before he'd been so worn down by his own existence. Which was ultimately likely why he would agree, in the long run. He didn't want Octavia to have to deal with the same sense of crushing loneliness that he had, and with Bee looking out for her…, maybe she could make some more friends.

The prince takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, the way Bee had demonstrated just a moment ago. He knew his knee-jerk reaction was overprotective, wouldn't do anything good for Octavia in the long run; he just had to work through that initial feeling. It was just hard sometimes, coming to terms with how much she'd grown up, realizing that she was almost the same age that he had been when she'd hatched. He knew he needed to give her more freedom, needed to let her experience things for herself, that he would be there if she needed him…, but the idea of her getting hurt terrifies him.

Which is why it is a good idea to let her attend her first party with Bee. She'll look out for her, keep her safe. And hopefully Octavia will be able to have some fun. Satan knows she didn't get enough of that right now, which he knows is his fault.

He offers Bee soft little smile, and a nod. "As long as you're looking out for her…., I know she'll be okay," he finally responds. "But if anything happens, I will be there immediately," Stolas adds, squaring his shoulders. She was one of the Sins; she could get hold of him if she needed to, and there was nothing that would keep him from Octavia if she needed him.

#madefate #madefate : bee #ᯓ★ stolas : answered #ᯓ★ stolas : ic #[he's trying so hard to be a good dad but he worries about his bby]#[I love this so much]

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vvatchword · 7 months ago

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Reading BioShock: Rapture (Part 4: Going Down)

<- Part 3: The Prologue's Prologue || Back to the Beginning || Part 5: Three Old Men Jerking Their Milk Sticks ->

This section covers the end of the prologue and part of Chapter 1, the introduction of Bill McDonagh.

I created a tag called “vv reading” if you want to block it. I had a nightmare of cluttering up the BioShock tag with nitpicky grouchy bullshit. Let’s not pull a BioShock: Infinite hatewank, right? If you like this book, blessings upon thee—but begone. I don’t want to rain on your parade.

I think I’ve gotten past the foundational part, so hopefully only like… five more of these. (Note from Future Me: you stupid asshole.) Again, I’m not doing this solely to be an ass, I’m doing this for my own personal research, and the only way I can get through it is by complaining. I’m also doing this because I have a friend who hates this book as much as I do and wants to see me rip its spine out through its throat.

For I hate BioShock: Rapture. I hate it so much. Every time I think it’s about to settle into a comfortable rhythm, it flips over and does something no one but an alien from another planet would think to do.

That said, it’s not boring-bad, it’s just insulting. Sometimes it grows so uniquely fucked that I find it fascinating—in the same way you’d find roadkill fascinating. What was it supposed to be? What did it do? How did it get here? Where was this part supposed to go? Everything is just so wrong. Let’s poke it with a stick.

How was author John Shirley giving confident interview after confident interview with people who loved his work? I mean, with interviewers who called him a Renaissance Man? Who are these people? How much and what do they actually read?

I’m telling you what: I am clearly not half as confident as I need to be. I could write circles around this man. I have written roughly 22 novels that looked very like this one, and I kicked each and every one of them into an endless pit. Maybe I should have been beating down publisher doors with that shit. Here, take my deranged Twilight rewrite. The plot is broken, the protag pisses herself, and a werewolf gets eaten alive. I described fucking a vampire as riding an ice pop. Maybe I could have won a fucking Bram Stoker Award.

I am no longer rolling eggs. I am lobbing them. Inshallah they are hard-boiled.

Prologue’s End

To sum up the rest of the prologue: Andrew Ryan thinks about how cool it would be to build Rapture and then flashbacks to his childhood during/after the Russian Civil War.

That’s right: 1945 Andrew Ryan has already thought of Rapture. He knows exactly what he wants to do. The blueprints are literally on his desk with the photos of nuclear holocaust. This is stated in the Prologue and it’s over in a handful of pages.

Can anyone say “anticlimactic”?

I wanted to hear about how he got the idea. The idea of building an entire city underneath the ocean is weird, okay? I want to know how Ryan decided on a city of likeminded individuals instead of fucking off to an island by himself. I want to see who he mingles with and how they impact him, I want to see what he interprets as a friendship, and I want to peer in on his enemies.

All we’ve seen are the signs of what hurts Ryan, and we can’t confirm whether or not his fears are warranted.

What exactly inspired Ryan to take this dramatic act of self-harm? For it is self-harm: it is the destruction of all he has ever worked for. He is a canonical cheapskate, and it’s for very good psychological reasons.

What makes a PTSD-ravaged cheapskate spend? What makes a libertarian offer his labor and dreams up for other people to touch? It’s got to be insane and dramatic. And, my siblings in hell, if I’m about anything, it’s drama.

Instead, we start in media res. And it’s the worst kind: it’s a summary of all the things we should have read about, but didn’t.

Here’s a list of undisclosed events that produced Rapture according to the prologue alone:

Andrew Ryan’s philosophy and how it evolved over time

The birth of Rapture’s concept

Choosing Rapture’s name

Why build Rapture under the ocean?

Why a city?

Why invite other people?

Meeting the architects of Wales & Wales

Choosing Wales & Wales

Trusting Wales & Wales to draft the blueprints, and all the creative, financial, and logistical decisions that entails

Government bad (specifically, how it is bad). Experience with the Soviets is not enough—Ryan spent a long time in the United States. How was he failed by the USA specifically? “Taxes bad” are also not enough. I mean very specifically. I mean the events and major players, not “vaguely referenced Titans lurking somewhere on another plane of existence.”

Society bad (and how it is bad). Specific events. Specific people. Specifically.

Each of these questions should be answered explicitly. Many of them require more than one chapter. Some of them require the entire book. Show your answers. Through writing. Through chapters. Chapters and chapters and chapters and chapters and

Manprose

The flashback to Babby Ryan is fine. The prose is awkward—its flow is shitty, almost emotionless, and lurches from sentence to sentence like a Frankenstein—but on the whole: fine. There are some nice images in here of people waiting for a train and a great image of the train itself.

His father’s breath steams in the air… the train steams as it approaches, a big dark shape hulking toward them through the grayness, a single lantern above the cow-catcher projecting a rain-scratched cone into the mist.

This is pretty great! It draws a comparison between father and train and it is a distinct picture of a place and time—you can feel and see this scene perfectly.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t continue. It’s a little island of relief in a sea of clunky manprose.

“Manprose” is a word I use for literature written by men—usually Silent Generation and Boomers. It is typified by dry, almost journalistic phrasing—spare, clean, only as many words as you need and no more. Geometric and literal similes, metaphors, and adjectives are used, and only as necessary—no flowery prose or flights of fancy or appeals to an ideal. Emotional vulnerability and interpersonal intimacy are subdued or completely absent. Emotional excess is often a signal that a character is untrustworthy, weak, gay, a child, or a woman. Lauded qualities are stoicism, silence, sacrifice, suffering, physical strength, traditional values, and technical capability.

Themes revolve around war and/or struggling against nature, societal ills, broken systems (often new ones), and “untamed” alien cultures. Most characters are men—specifically white, heterosexual, cissexual men; almost none are women (or otherwise). This contrast grows especially obvious when crowds and strangers are discussed—because all bit characters tend to be the author’s idea of The Standard Man in different costumes. When women are written, they are usually by stereotype and for utility’s sake, often as tools of the plot or objects of romantic or sexual desire. Male characters will have every role under the sun; female characters will fall into a strict hierarchy of acceptable female pastimes and traits. Women are sometimes so sidelined that there might be accidental homoerotic undertones.

Yeah, being a woman in manprose is generally not great. Femininity is there to be derided and fucked. If you’re fuckable and pretty, you’re a grade-A woman. On the other end of the spectrum, wives often don’t understand their husbands—often to such a point that you’re not even sure why the characters are in a relationship to begin with.

I haven’t mentioned the nonbinary part of the spectrum because that shit never comes up. I can only think of one example, and it’s for symbolism’s sake (A Voyage to Arcturus by David Lindsay, 1920). The gender binary was overwhelmingly the only way that Western culture saw anything for hundreds of years. Thus, for the purposes of this essay, I’m going to talk about women in an outdated, limited sense, because that’s the way manprose refers to them.

I’d call the works of Ernest Hemingway, Orson Scott Card, Isaac Asimov, Philip K. Dick, Ray Bradbury, and Frank Herbert “manprose.” Ayn Rand writes something close to manprose. (Her women are too equal to men to qualify.) I don’t count HP Lovecraft because he talks too damn much. He’s too invested and passionate and obvious about what impassions him. That said, a lot of Lovecraft’s friends write manprose.

My theory is this: men from the Silent and Boomer generations—and men from similar backgrounds, usually conservative and poverty-stricken ones—were often punished for exhibiting emotion at young ages. “Boys don’t cry” was used even during my childhood (the 80s and 90s). Men from these cultures mock each other for showing feelings or preferences with too much vivacity. Friendships with other men appear careful and surface-level from a female perspective, while relationships with women (usually in maternal or romantic roles) often take care of their emotional needs. These men might have entirely different “gendered” worlds—those of their wives and those of their male cohorts.

Such men often strike me as myopic and socially stunted, for something about their upbringing has made them incapable of empathizing with other people’s needs and wants—perhaps because being emotionally vulnerable means revealing oneself, and in a masculine social setting, any vulnerability is an invitation to attack. In other words, what you don’t practice, you don’t understand.

The fear of “cringe” is male-coded to me for this reason. Don’t show what you love, whatever you do. Don’t show what you feel, or someone will use it against you. Become a white wall, for to give someone what you love is to give them a weapon. Toxic masculinity is a power-play dynamic that nobody signed up for. It’s a product of traumatized societies and traumatized people. It’s the product of children under attack by those they love and trust.

This particular behavior is not as prevalent anymore—thank god, we are finally allowing men to safely experience their feelings, and I think that men are becoming more cognizant of how being all clammed up and hypervigilant isn’t psychologically healthy.

Look here, friend. If someone’s making fun of you for enjoying your life, you kick that motherfucker to the curb. Literally fight them if you have to. I don’t care if you like Thomas the Fucking Tank Engine at the age of 58 or write the world’s most unhinged fanfiction about My Little Pony. Protect your goddamn happy place. It’s the place that keeps you sane, and in the end, when you are alone, can be the difference between life and death.

All of this considered, manprose is not always a bad thing. Like any style, it can work quite well, and it’s an interesting view into the writer’s psyche and culture. Its treatment of women is not always great, but it’s also not always bad. The fairest thing you can say is that it’s a gradient.

TL;DR

Shirley reads like manprose to me. There’s not much emotion. Descriptions are usually spare. Most of his scenes are just images and don’t have a lot of emotional oomph—they’re moving images outside of static human beings, and when human beings exhibit emotion, it tends to be matter-of-fact. Most characters are stereotypes of the flattest and most embarrassing sort. Female background characters are rare and the three speaking parts I’ve seen (up to Chapter 3) occupy stereotypical roles and behave stereotypically. They fell into the Wife/Mother and Whore dichotomy, which is typical of manprose.

I’m a little nervous about what I’m about to see, but it’s early yet, and two of the characters were small ones. Most of the bit characters we see—such as sailors—would have been solely male at this time.

At this point, I’m holding my breath, because this story could go any kind of way.

I’m Just a Poor Boy (1918-1923)

Oddly, there is no year or place given for this flashback sequence.

Oh why am I saying “oddly” we all know why

I can’t give you much in the way of historical perspective. It’s been a minute since I’ve read about the Russian Civil War. All I can tell you for sure is this:

The Bolshevik Revolution was a huge fucking mess. The entire Russian Civil War was a huge fucking mess. Any attempt of mine to condense it into a paragraph would be criminal. However, I think it’s pretty safe to say that this section would occur anywhere from 1918-1923. I’d have to do some extra research about the revolution and Minsk to be very sure, because the Reds took power in a chaotic, fragmentary way.

Coincidentally, if you want to see a first-hand experience of the years following the Russian Civil War, read Ayn Rand’s We the Living. It’s a dramatized version of her experience and it is fascinating. You don’t have to be terribly wary; Rand became a worse writer as she aged, and We the Living is her best offering. It’s from before she stuck her whole head up her ass.

A little off-topic, but I hate how Shirley’s Ryan calls the Bolsheviks “Bolshies.” Andrew Ryan is proper as hell. He calls them “Bolsheviks” and every time he does he rolls the word out with so much tangible hatred that a bird explodes.

In any case.

Young Andrew Ryan, his father, and his aunt and uncle are running from the Reds. The aunt and uncle beg for help. Ryan and his father only have enough to save themselves. In the end, Ryan and his father board the train to safety while soldiers kill the aunt and uncle just outside. It's a reminder that you don’t have to outrun the bear if you shove your friend down first.

Since I smelled manprose, I paid special attention to any mention of women. Ryan’s aunt is painted as pathetic—her standout trait is that she flails around like Kermit the frog—but she has more color than her husband, who just kind of exists. I’m pretty sure this was an accident—the side effect of paying attention to the woman’s emotional state while ignoring the man’s. The only other female character is a bit part in the background—a woman trying to lift someone’s spirits. All male characters are typified by their work (a man selling tea, for example).

This is also where I realized Shirley was trying to write prose that is reflective of its POV characters. Andrew Ryan is a child, so Shirley doesn’t use large words and the prose is simplistic. This is fine. At least Shirley tried. I suspect this sequence was written first. I can’t tell you why. Maybe because I felt something.

I became more aware of Shirley’s style as I went, noting his constant ugly run-ons and hatred of commas. Run-ons aren’t always wrong. Many competent writers use them for various reasons, often for stylistic flair. But that’s not what’s going on here. There’s no art or rhythm. These are just lists.

I suspect that Shirley writes like me (she said through gritted teeth). I have this quirk where I will write an entire paragraph without verbs or subjects because I’m so busy describing something. Unfortunately, this usually doesn’t work long-term; the end result is awkward and ugly and excessive, and the flow and rhythm is all wonky, and I’ve lost the point somewhere in the second prepositional phrase. I always have to come back and fix it.

He never went back to fix it.

This is because he won the Bram Stoker Award. Once you win the Bram Stoker Award you become perfect. That’s why everyone longs for one of their own. That’s why there are legends of the travails of writers struggling to be seen by its legendary panel.

Is that award even still a thing or

Chapter 1

There’s a quote shared right before Chapter 1.

The parasite hates three things: free markets, free will, and free men. —Andrew Ryan

This is very nice, but… why is this here? Isn’t writing Andrew Ryan your job now? Why not work this into the prose somehow?

Back in 2011, every time I tried to get into this story, the quotes would knock me out of it because I would remember how powerful Andrew Ryan was in-game. Then the prose would kick in and I would suffer a violent physical rejection, like: “’Tis not HE. This be but crude conjecture!” (Because I’m a time traveler. from hell)

On the first page of the prologue, the year is explicitly given. Context clues make it unequivocally clear the prologue occurs in 1945. Unless Western history is utterly alien to you, you have an idea of when the USA flattened Nagasaki and Hiroshima. (This is when I sullenly recall that this was probably written for the lowest-common denominator, aka people who failed their history classes.)

And this is what Shirley does on Chapter 1.

Almost a year later…

Like it’s a TV show and there’s a title card.

I hate everything about this. This is a book! It is literature! The time could be worked into the narrative itself. Even if you didn’t, the year is literally already up there! Under the setting! Do you think I cannot add, sir? Do you think my memory is garbage? Well you’re right but it’s not THAT bad.

The black ballpoint pen is me from 2011. No, I don’t remember why I drew a >:3. Yes, that's part of why the page is embarrassing. The “p11” refers to the first page of the prologue. (Chapter 1 is on page 25.) For reference, I have the first-edition paperback. (Wait. Are there more printings than this? Tell me they didn’t print this more than once.)

The number in the margin is where I started numbering the shoehorned British slang. I would call it “cockney” but I have absolutely no faith in Shirley’s capabilities. I choose to believe this opinion by UK reviewer Joe Martin, who noted: “Bill McDonagh, Ryan's lead engineer and the sympathetic underdog of the novel, has so many unbelievable English archaisms shoved into his mouth that he ends up looking like a parody of himself.”

And why stop there? Almost every single character speaks like this. Dialogue has been funneled through stereotypes and dim memories of film noirs. Nobody feels real. Nothing feels grounded.

I think if there’s anything a writer should take from reading BioShock: Rapture, it’s to go find videos of someone speaking a regional dialect and note, when written out, how much English just… sounds exactly as you expect it to. Regional affectations are far more subtle than a bunch of oddball words. There are mannerisms, colloquialisms, unique phrasings, social and cultural expectations, and word meanings and pronunciations that are only slightly different. In addition to this, there are differences between individuals, and everyone speaks English differently depending on who they’re talking to.

Long story short, I’d expect for McDonagh to speak to Andrew Ryan cleanly. He might insert more particles and fewer contractions. It might be easy to miss that he’s a low-class Brit from text alone.

Of course, you can go too far in the other direction and create a different kind of inaccuracy. In UK author David Mitchell’s The Bone Clocks, there is a section set during the second Iraq War with an Oklahoman Marine as an antagonist. The words Mitchell put in that kid’s mouth were unbelievable—not only because they were so proper and intelligent, but because he got the culture completely wrong.

You can’t win is what I’m saying.

Should you not try? Well… also no. Nobody will like you either way but they’ll like you less if you just didn’t give a fuck. Just try. At least you might make someone laugh, and that’s pretty special, too. Now they feel better about themselves at your expense. That’s something. You don’t know about it so nobody’s hurt on the whole. Entertainment’s only sin is being a boring son of a bitch.

RIP My Brain

We begin Chapter 1 from the perspective of Bill McDonagh, who is heading up an elevator to the ritzy Manhattan apartment of one Andrew Ryan.

Bill McDonagh was riding an elevator up to the top of the Andrew Ryan Arms—but he felt like he was sinking under the sea.

???????????????????????????

This is as much a non-sequitur as it looks. This is the first sentence. There is no description before or after it to suggest how going up in an elevator feels like going down in an elevator… into the sea…?

This is where my brain locked up and I had to leave for an entire week because I don’t have the capacity to understand a) how this got past any kind of editing process, b) why Shirley wrote it this way, and c) what this is attempting to communicate. I came back to the book twice and both times was hit by this deep revulsion that said: Go. Go and touch grass. Swear at that live oak. Outside in the sunlight. Swear at god and feel pain while aphids jizz all over your car.

I mean. I get that Shirley wanted symbolism and foreshadowing. By meeting Andrew Ryan you sink under the weight of the ocean, sure. Problem being, nothing in the prose suggests the sea. Other problem being, that direction shit is giving me an aneurysm.

Are we going to talk about how symbolism works now. Am I really going to try and

We Are Going to Talk about How Symbolism Works Now

Symbolism in English literature is a huge subject and I am not that well-versed in it. Like tension, this is not something I have often put words to. Lord knows there is an entire world of literary criticism out there I have neglected by simply running into books face-first while screaming. In other words, we can think of this as a mutual learning experience.

Here goes. Pour one out for me. In my eye. In my fucking face

A symbol stands for something else. That’s it.

This is vague out of necessity: almost anything in-story can be a symbol, and a symbol can represent anything you want. A symbol can be a word, a phrase, a chapter, a character, an item, a setting, a plot point—yes, an entire event! You name it, it can be turned into shorthand for something else. Usually that “something else” is a larger theme or an invisible quality.

You can, in effect, tell multiple stories simultaneously, one layered on top of the other.

BioShock does this very successfully. On top of the story of a sleeper agent being used as an assassin is the spiritual gnostic journey of ascension. This spiritual journey is simultaneously one for Jack Wynand and for the player. The physical world of Rapture represents Andrew Ryan’s body, Objectivism, the Earth as a whole, and the physical realm (as juxtaposed against a spiritual or unattainable ideal). On top of the spiritual gnostic journey is meta commentary on how FPS’ narratives are limited by their natures: all you can do is kill, and all you have control over is how you kill. The game’s infrastructure and narrative is unalterable by the player.

Additional elements symbolize BioShock’s larger theme: how trauma causes toxic feedback loops. The Little Sisters and Jack symbolize the traumatized-of-the-future, while Dr. Yi Suchong and Dr. Brigid Tenenbaum symbolize the traumatized-of-the-past. The message—the theme of BioShock as a whole—is that trauma does not necessarily make you a better person. Sometimes trauma just hurts you. Worst of all, trauma can turn you into a monster. All of these characters have been severed from their pasts, their families, and their cultures, and because they cannot remember, they are destined to visit their agonies on future generations. In Jack’s case, he’s already started.

Let’s try something a little simpler, because that’s pretty heavy, and BioShock becomes a maze of alternate meanings so fast and so intricately that it can be mind-boggling.

A common symbol for “truth” is “light”—the “Eureka” moment, if you will. So a character might step into the sun, or light a fire, or switch on a lamp, but they aren’t just experiencing light—they are also comprehending the truth. Plato’s allegory of the cave uses this symbol: individuals stuck in the cave do not understand the true nature of reality, while someone who has stepped into the sun can. All of this said, not every element in a story is a symbol. Half of the art of reading symbolism is knowing what is and isn’t symbolic. This involves looking for commonalities and patterns and is too large a subject to discuss here. (Authorial intent not required. That’s right: symbolism can be accidental. Enjoy.)

Symbolism in BioShock: Rapture

So far, there have been a handful of awkward, artless attempts at foreshadowing through symbolism. One is from the prologue. Here, Andrew Ryan throws the photos of nuclear destruction across his desk:

The city lights were caught on [the photos’] glossy surface, as if somehow the thrusting boldness of the New York skyline had itself destroyed Hiroshima.

This one is awkward, but at least it makes sense. It’s also literal—Shirley tells you exactly what he means.

Of course, there’s an artistic reading here that is also pretty cool: the New York skyline is evocative of Rapture’s. Rapture’s fate is told in Hiroshima’s ruins; even in its fetal state, Rapture has already failed, and will perish because it is built on faulty logic; Rapture exists in an eternal state, both built and decayed; the seeds that will cause World War III are already planted in Andrew Ryan, and he will take them down himself.

Builder and Built. Destroyer and Destroyed. A circle’s points meet.

I have no idea how much Shirley may have meant, but I suspect it’s a happy little accident.

This one didn’t get my hackles up. This one made sense. It’s graceless and obvious, but it belongs here. First, there’s the close association between Rapture and the city of New York. They look similar; they’re built on similar foundations; they’re extremely American, with all of the flaws America has, and were born from similar urges. New York was a famous harbor for immigrants, as Rapture itself will be.

Similarly, there is blood on both their hands—some the natural outcomes of human society (all societies sacrifice someone), some from their rapacious roots, some because capitalism.

Secondly, New York is one of the most important cities in the United States, if not the world. It’s more an economic and cultural powerhouse than a military one, but there’s a certain delectable edge in using an economic and cultural setting here. It is largely for economic and cultural reasons that Rapture is founded. It is for economic and cultural reasons that it descends into anarchy.

With all of this in mind, let’s revisit that fucking sentence that I wish I could shoot 300 times with a gun. For context, I will include the sentence that follows it. It’s the first sentence of the chapter, so nothing precedes it.

Vivisecting a Shitty Simile

Bill McDonagh was riding an elevator up to the top of the Andrew Ryan Arms—but he felt like he was sinking under the sea. He was toting a box of pipe fittings in one hand, tool kit in the other.

First of all, what’s the purpose of this simile?

There are several possibilities. The first is foreshadowing Bill McDonagh’s entrance into Rapture.

The second is the foreshadowing of an unstoppable tragedy: Bill McDonagh falls into Andrew Ryan’s sway and, in effect, his grave.

The third is to conflate Andrew Ryan and Rapture—Rapture as an extension of Andrew Ryan’s body.

Finally, there’s a larger concept at play. I told you that Rapture lingers in an eternal state. I am not just saying that because it’s artsy (although it is). I’m telling you that because it’s based on a spiritual and philosophical premise—that the physical world exists alongside the spiritual one, and that the physical world is an imperfect copy of that spiritual ideal. According to the narrative, Rapture was born broken because it was fabricated from half-truths. It could never attain perfection; it fell for the lies of the worm. Now it exists in a state of undeath, as it were—a punishment for attempting a physical perfection instead of a spiritual one.

So it’s obvious from context clues what Shirley meant to say. Unfortunately, it fails completely.

There are two senseless parts here.

What about any of this makes you think of the sea?

What about going up made McDonagh feel like he was going down?

We Saw No Sea

Symbols need to be set up. You can’t just trust that readers will make the connection. There are multiple ways to do this.

You might imply qualities that the deep ocean specifically possesses: depth, darkness, sea creatures, water, pressure, coldness, extremes. You might display the sea’s qualities literally in some way—perhaps the elevator opens up and there’s a grille with fish on it or the walls are aquariums or there are dark windows that don’t look out onto anything. You might use words and figurative speech that invoke the ocean, such as “dive” or “drown.” For example, Ryan’s cold mien or the pressure of working for one of the most powerful people in the country.

Whatever you do, you should include several elements of the deep sea to drive home what you’re trying to invoke. There are ways to do this subtly—perhaps stretch them throughout a chapter or scene, or imply similarities through whole sentences or paragraphs as opposed to singular words—but if you want to make it stand out, you can be artless as balls. Who’s going to stop you?

Shirley follows that sentence with a description of McDonagh’s tools. So the answer to that question is “yourself.”

A Is Not B

Ask any schoolchild what the opposite of “up” is. They will say “Down!” So how did a sentence that says “going up is like going down” pop into existence?

I suspect that Shirley is referring to a peculiar sensation where you lose sense of which direction your elevator car is moving. However, you can’t trust that the reader understands that right away—this is far from a universal experience. For this concept to work, it has to be explicitly described.

I also don’t know if that’s what Shirley meant. Maybe he thought he was being artsy—that he was inverting the meanings so that right-side up is wrong-side down, or that McDonagh was passing into some kind of unreality (BioShock qualifies as magical realism). If so, Shirley didn’t set up for this meaning. This sentence is flat, technical, describes a physical action being taken in a physical world, and does not imply that “up” and “down” mean anything other than “up” and “down.”

Moreover, as this is a simile, it doesn’t imply an exact or specific experience. It implies a similar experience. It literally implies that “up” is similar to “down.” In what way? That both imply movement?

I assure you that nobody in the whole world has read this sentence with this kind of depth because they are sane and have meaningful things to do with their lives, and the fact I am attempting to make sense of it at all is to imply that I accept this work in good faith (I do not).

Which leads to the following paragraph that I actually typed with my own two hands:

How the actual hell is going up like going down? I can’t believe I’m saying this, but “up” and “down” are not relative except in space and bizarro-land.

The real question is: How did this happen? How did anyone think this was okay? Did John Shirley fight for this stupid line? Does this imply that there wasn’t an editor? I’ve noticed a ton of typos—mostly incorrect capitalization—and I’m only in Chapter 4. Take a little pride in your work, jesus christ.

The only major theme I’ve noticed in this whole stupid story is traits canceling each other out and the strangulation of any kind of meaningful tension at every possible moment. So this nonsense sentence is fitting and follows a pattern, but it’s also the kind of pattern that makes me go insane. This is like… non-Euclidean geometry. Non-Euclidean English? Oh god. Just typing that phrase made me 20 times dumber than I already am.

This book represents an eternal and unchanging present where things just exist and nothing means anything and everything simultaneously. I hate it and I am fascinated to an equal extent. This book was born in the deepest voids of extrastellar space to amuse Azathoth.

Shut Up Shut Up

I don’t care about that sentence anymore. Let’s move on.

They had looked at him with only the faintest interest when he’d walked into the Feeben, Leiber, and Quiffe Engineering Firm.

Oh. Oh I’m not laughing at that.

It’s funny how sometimes I see a nasty joke and I’m like huhu, u guys and me will get along great, but in this case the chapter started with “Almost a year later…” and a sentence that is so bad that I inaugurated a folder in my Writing Chest called “Worst Writing.”

See

My friend Salty, who also hates this book, told me that this kind of writing is typical, so I decided to turn it into a text file of its very own. This is where I will go for schadenfreude.

Bill heard them say it, through the door, after they’d dismissed him. “Another limey grease monkey…”

“Limey” is ancient-ass British slang for “Englishman.” Just one problem: the people who said it are explicitly New Yorkers and turned McDonagh down for an engineering job because of his accent. So is the speaker a judgmental American using slang from another continent (nani?), a British person being classist (while committing the same verbal sins lol), or McDonagh casually recounting the memory to the reader with a personal twist, the way he might to strangers at a bar?

All of these are wrong. I’m not sure I have the energy to tackle them.

Just kidding! Snobby indignation gives me superpowers!

The first two choices’ failures are self-explanatory. That last one is probably what Shirley intended. Remember, he’s writing prose that sounds like what his characters would say. He probably thinks putting quotation marks around the sentence implies that it is said and thus an opinion. This is correct. What is incorrect is the outcome: it’s unclear who has said it. The reader’s first thought, as they whip through sentences with the speed of a furious marmot, is that the interviewers explicitly stated this.

Shirley is writing third-person limited. In other words, he’s writing like a journalistic godlet from just outside Bill McDonagh. We’re limited to McDonagh’s viewpoint—we can see inside McDonagh, but we can’t see what the New Yorkers are really thinking or feeling. All we can see is how they act and speak.

Moreover, there are two levels here: Bill McDonagh’s opinions and observations, which may or may not be accurate, and the prose, which serves as a more neutral touchstone. The prose is more neutral in practice because the reader has to have some sense of what bedrock reality is. I say “more” because there’s always a bias toward the POV character in third-person limited.

I think of the bedrock reality as a faint thread running through a narrative. There’s what happened—this real, tactile event—and there’s how it is interpreted, and multiple viewpoints with multiple readings all fractaling out.

What I’m saying here is that I expect for the prose to tell me the truth about what certain characters actually said. I should not have to ask if an event actually happened or not… unless, of course, that’s the intent. And I don’t think it is, given the prose’s general style.

For clarification, you can have questionable realities in fiction. First-person is this way by default. But this is third-person limited, and it’s not particularly clever. Therefore, this is a fuck-up.

Also: “Another limey grease monkey”? They’re being inundated with British engineers? That’s a problem you can have?

I hate this book.

In Conclusion

I had to stop here. I’m not done telling you how I hate Chapter 1. I thought I could cover Chapters 1 and 2 here. That’s how goddamn optimistic I was. But I keep finding weird shit, and I have to ask myself over and over: “Wait, why does this annoy me? Is there a reason or am I mistaking my preferences for rules?”

This project is enlightening for me in a way I never expected. I keep having to ask what I think quality prose looks like. That’s a valuable exercise in itself. See, I’m terribly limited: I don’t know all the proper lit crit terms, I don’t study theory—I picked all of this up in the wild, and it’s to my detriment. How the hell do I research any of this? I feel like there’s a vast ocean of knowledge and I am stuck on dry land, examining a pipette. I have passed a certain threshold where most advice for creative writers is useless to me. I don’t really know where to start.

But just having to put my ideals and experiences into words, and being able to identify why certain elements bother me, is an extremely valuable exercise. So… this isn’t useless, and getting sassy has a purpose.

Long story short: if you know anything about more advanced writing advice, or books on literary criticism that might be good starting points, send me a line lol

Next time I’m gonna talk shit about Frank Fontaine because hoo boy it is embarrassing

<- Part 3: The Prologue's Prologue || Back to the Beginning || Part 5: Three Old Men Jerking Their Milk Sticks ->

#vv reading #bioshock #bioshock rapture #rants #reading #writing #long post #essays #vvatchword #not my best work but I had to get past that stupid sentence

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giggly-squiggily · 2 years ago

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Bruuh when I saw that you read/re-read Chronicles of Vladimir Tod, I was like 'yaaaas'. I started re-reading it again (literally bought all 5 books), and I am literally dying for a ticklish!Vlad and tickler!Otis fic!

It has been 89 years...but finally, on this day...I have done it! I have written this fic! :D @nutzgunray-lvt I believe this was you? If not well- here you are anyway! :D I haven't read Vladmir Tod in so long, so this was a blast to write. I hope you like it!

“Vladimir.”

“What-hey!” The mentioned boy yelped when Otis’ hand came around him, snagging a cookie off his plate. “What the hell, that was mine!”

“Uncle Tax.” Otis grinned around a mouthful of chocolate goodness, shooting a wink as his nephew pouted.

This was a running gag for them- the notorious “Uncle Tax.” Well- it wasn’t THAT notorious. All of Otis’ antics were fairly minor, ranging from stealing a sip of Vlad’s drink (“It’s O-negative!”O) or borrowing one of his many t-shirts (“Were the same size, Vladimir, and besides- how often do you see a vampire walking around with a ‘I went to Slayer School’ T-shirt?”). Really- Vlad didn’t mind them all that much.

But when it came to Aunt Nelly’s famous cookies though…

That’s where the line is drawn.

Watching his uncle with the grand stink eye of all the Tod bloodline, Vlad turned back to his plate and carried on his way, one cookie unburdened. He’d get his revenge in time. For now- let it seem he’s just being a bratty teenager over sweets.

It was as Uncle Otis taught him; diversion is the best sneak attack.

~~~3 weeks later~~~

“Oo, are those what I think they are?” Otis’ breathed in the warm smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, all but floating into the kitchen. Nelly had already gone to work, it seemed, a note on the counter letting the boys know she’s doing a double shift and how to heat up the dinner she left.

Also, on the back of the note- a clear instruction: “No cookies before dinner, Vladimir.”

“Good thing I’m not Vladimir, then.” Otis snickered in delight, carefully picking at the plastic wrap around the plate of sugary treats. He was pretty sure his mentioned nephew was over at Henry’s tonight, meaning he’d have the house- and these delectable treats- all to himself. For a brief moment, he considered leaving a few for Vladmir to find in the morning.

And then he thought about the sass the younger vampire had been giving him the past couple of days and decided against it. Can’t award bad behavior afterall. Giddy in mischief, he brought the cookie to his lips, taking a bite.

And immediately spit it out into the sink.

“Pfft- Oh god! Oh my word!” Otis grabbed the sink hose, rinsing his mouth out in a desperate attempt to rid the salty catacomb he bit into. What happened? Nelly’s baked treats were never this salty! It was as if she went mad and forgot sugar exists! How could-

“Well well, look what we have here.” Otis froze, eyes widening at the sound. Turning slowly, he found Vlad leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and brow raised. Something smug was in his eyes despite his expression being flat. “Uncle Otis- to spit out Aunt Nelly’s hard work like that- and into the sink. How shameful.”

“V-Vladmir! I thought- it’s not- why aren’t you-” The blonde sputtered, looking at the front door and back to the young man watching him.

“Henry’s out visiting his cousin this weekend.” Vlad jerked his chin towards the plate. “And I lied. Aunt Nelly didn’t make those cookies. I did.”

“What?” Otis reeled back in shock, betrayal cutting into him like a stake.

“Yep. I used her recipe, but I accidentally mixed up the sugar and salt.” There was nothing accidental in that tone. “Maybe I dropped an additional cup in there too for good measure- I’ve never been much of a baker.”

“You poisoned me!” Otis declared in horror, backing away into the stove. “Why, Vladimir?”

“It’s like you’ve taught us in class, Uncle Otis. If you unfairly tax the people of a country, they’re gonna fight back.” Vlad let his lips quirk up in a small victorious smirk. “Your Uncle Tax has reached a high point it shouldn’t have crossed.”

“Oh…so this is how I die…” Otis sank to the floor, a hand grasping his chest. “Betrayed by my own blood, at the mercy of my greed.” He closed his eyes, letting his head fall forward. “Eu tu, Brute?”

“Liberty, freedom. Tyranny is dead.” Vlad replied, fighting down a grin as he watched his uncle fake-twitch in death. “You weren’t even gonna share, either. I could hear your thoughts without even having to read your mind!”

“So it seems…I’ve been bested.” Otis peeked up at him through blonde locks, a smirk of his own starting to form on his lips. “But alas, I am no mere mortal Vladmir. For I…am a god!” He was across the room in seconds-

The space Vlad once held was empty. Looking up, Otis turned to the living room, finding the younger boy on the defense.

“What kind of death scene was that?” He cried, yelping when Otis sped towards him again, just evading an outstretched hand. “What are you, a zombie?”

“No, but I am a vampire! A vampire who feeds off the betrayal of his own!” Otis darted again and again, each time just missing Vlad but getting closer. “And you’ve proven to be quite the feast I’m looking for, Vladimir!”

“You’re so freaking- AH!” Vlad yelped when the back of his hoodie was snatched, stopping him from bolting around the couch a third time. There was a tussle, limbs flailing and the world spinning. Finally, Vlad found himself pinned to the couch, eyes wide as Otis loomed over with long, wiggling fingers. “U-Uncle Otis! You don’t need to dohohoho this!” He giggled out, trying to squirm away.

“What’s so funny? I never thought you’d be the type to laugh in the face of death, Vladimir.” Otis smirked, all teeth before he attacked, hands flying over his Nephew’s torso. Vlad arched before letting out an honest to god scream, the sound dissolving into relentless laughter as he flailed and kicked beneath his uncle’s cruel clutches.

“GEhahahahahahhahahha! Whahahhahit! Whahahhaait Uncle Ohoohohohotis I’m shahahhhahahrry!” He cried out, cheeks already flushing a pretty shade of pink as he laughed. “Coohohoohohme on, quuhuhuhuhuhuit ihihihiihihihiht!”

“What? You’re sorry? After all that planning? My you give up too easily, Vladimir!” Otis chuckled alongside him, his fingers finding that awful spot along his lower ribs just to hear those adorable bird chirps. “Then again, this could just be your way of sneaking away for your next line of attack!”

“Maahahahhahybe it is, mahahahhaybe it ihihihihihisn’t!” Vlad wheezed around a snort, his hands shooting down when Otis prodded at his belly. “Nahhahahaha doohohoohohon’t!”

“Ah, so a non-answer eh? I know how to handle these!” Otis shot his hands up and under Vlad’s hoodie, further driving his nephew into hysterics as his fingers danced across his belly. “Now, are you ready to give up, Vladimir?”

“GHEHAHHAHAHAHAHA! OHOOHOHOHOHOHTIS PLEHEHEHEHAHAHHASE!” Vlad squealed, his laugh going near silent from just how ticklish everything was.

“I’m waiting, Vladimir.”

“FIHIHIHIIHNE FIHIIHIHIHINE YOU WIHIHIHIIHN! I GIHIHIHIIHVE UP!” Vlad cried out, gasping for air when Otis retracted his hands, ending his tickling. The smaller vampire curled into himself, rolling onto his side and falling off the cushions. “Gahhaha…ahahaha…mehehehean!”

“So is tampering with goldy relics.” Otis reminded, making his nephew giggle. “Did you really do that because of the Uncle Tax thing?”

“Hehe…heh…y-yeah?” Vlad rolled onto his back, pushing his bangs back with a tired hand. “And I’d do it again too.”

“Pfft- a true rebel in the making.” Otis laughed, poking Vlad in the belly before standing up, offering a hand. “Really though, I am sorry if I pushed it too far, Vladimir.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry for eh…poisoning you.” Vlad snorted sheepishly, smoothing out his clothes. “Though it was kinda funny watching you rinse your mouth out with the sink hose.”

“It’s quite- hey!” Otis mock glared as Vlad cackled, shaking his head. “Fine fine, all is forgiven. Now, come help me put in dinner. We’ll make a proper batch of cookies after all our hard work.”

“Sounds good! I’ll add the sugar!” Vlad grinned, doubling over in mirth when Otis gave him a stink eye. “I’m kidding!”

The second batch turned out much sweeter.

Thanks for reading!

#V.T #tickle #tickle fic #Vlad/Tod #Otis/Otis #I love making them dramatic akljerjkajrkaejkr #Might be slightly out of character but eh- for the tickles!#I want cookies now ajejrajkrjkarjka

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reefer-reelz-n-reviews · 1 year ago

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Scream 3 (2000)

Smoking: Splatter

This is the 3rd movie in the franchise and they are making the 3rd movie “Stab” during it.

Something that I guess I wouldn’t have thought of. The Voice is the same (at least in the first 3 movies) played by Roger Jackson.

I will say unlike the first 2 movies this movie doesn’t have as famous of a person dying. I’ve never seen Kelly Rutherford in anything else. At least that I know of. Maybe to others she is, I just looked at her list and she was on a show called Melrose Place. I’ve heard of it, but never seen it. She was also in the original Gossip Girl. Which I’ve seen but I don’t recognize her 🤣

I wanna know what Neve Campbell does to afford a house that nice in the middle of no where with all the security that she has. I don’t see how a Women’s Crisis Center would pay for that. I guess in the 2000’s it was a bit cheaper because it totally isn’t now. Especially in California.

Courtney Cox’s bangs… she let a 4-year-old do her hair? Looks awful, just like that meme about it 😂

We’ve got Kenny from the Cosby Show! Welcome Deon Richmond to your death 🤣 well I’m pretty sure he does lol. We will find out for sure in a little bit.

Tell me how I forgot that Jay and Silent Bob are in this!?! My favorite stoners! “Who smokes the blunts? We smoke the blunts!” 🎶🎶

Why is the ghost face make that is huge and hanging a lime green color? It’s supposed to be white…

Jenny McCarthy-Wahlberg drops an award on the floor and breaks the head off. I laughed so hard 😂 foreshadowing? You’re literally on a movie lot and she’s trying to use knives to attack the killer, then she is surprised they’re fake. Like come on JMW.

Hmmm David Arquette’s bad arm switched… In the second movie it was his right arm… now it’s his left.

Love that Patrick Warburton is in this! Kronk is THE BEST! He’s a bit of a jerk, but I mean he’s a security guard for famous people, so I’m sure he’s a bit jaded. Hehehehe he steals the larger change from DA. Takes a frying pan to the head and a knife to the back. Still walks around and then dies in front of everyone.

Tells you how old this movie is, Parker Posey has a fax machine in her house 🤣

The eternally beautiful Carrier Fisher, even in the movie she talks about Princess Leia. Though she is stating that she didn’t get the part, but you know she did 😂 made a joke about sleeping with George Lucas, wonder how much basis there is for that? I know that he convinced her that in space there wouldn’t be a need for bras. So, who knows, maybe it is true 🤔

If this is about Stab 3, then why is the set up almost like exactly as the deaths in the first one? You had blood on the doggy door in the garage door for Rose McGowan’s death…

NC is carrying around pepper spray… if the killer is wearing a mask then how would it penetrate? Though I guess if it is some kind of soft cloth with holes it would make sense it would go through. But IDK seems suspicious to me.

Patrick Dempsey is really good at playing creepy and suspicious. I’ve heard that really, he’s a dickhead. Which I could totally see that. He kind of gives off dickhead vibes.

Snack time! Apple Pie, with whip cream and chocolate sauce 🤤

DR gets stabbed in the stomach and tires to run away. Nice little flip on the rug. Then over the balcony to die when he hits the ground. At least his wasn’t like a super easy death, right? He had a semi fighting chance.

So out of all the times through out the series that the killer gets knocked out this movie is my favorite. He is laying at the bottom of the stairs and as he’s, I guess dreaming, he goes, stab stab around him 🤣

Don’t understand why when PD opens the door, he has the gun come out first. Like what are you going to do? Shoot blindly? Risk hitting RC instead?

Just realized I haven’t even mentioned who the killer is in this. Maybe I will just leave it a “secret” even though I said what I did about the first one 😝 oh well.

🤣 She mentions Stab 3 and then stabs the killer a 3rd time.

Alright, that’s all for this review!

Toke on! 😶‍🌫️

-RRR

#roger jackson #Kelly Rutherford #neve campbell #courtney cox #Deon Richmond #jenny mccarthy #david arquette #patrick warburton #parker posey #carrie fisher #patrick dempsey

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humanoidalien27 · 2 years ago

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Content warning: Sebastian being Sebastian

.....

Chapter 4

Sebastian's Wand

You were prepared for Draken to show up and even ask for you and Ominis to produce your wands, a fact which you were grateful for Sebastian's wand and that Draken hadn't seen yours before.

"What is this about?" Ominis asked politely once Draken said you could put your wands away.

"We had a prison break at Azkaban. A Sebastian Sallow and Mr. Williams escaped. I came here first because you have ties to both of them."

You screwed up your face at the accusation. "I'm trying to become an auror. That's to put dark wizards away. Not let them out."

You made sure your tone voiced disapproval, getting him to nod. "As you two still have your wands, I can see I was wrong. Good day."

You glanced at Ominis as his brows pinched and Draken disapparated. "A wand? How'd Sebastian get a wand?" His head moved your way when you didn't reply. "You didn't-"

"I know, but it was impulsive. Something he always brought out."

Hearing you sigh, he lightly patted your shoulder. "I understand, if he was telling the truth, I hope he finds out what he needs. If he's lying, you're going to get into a lot of trouble if they find your wand. Speaking of which, how do you have an extra wand?"

"I actually had four. I have Fig's, Miriam's, mine and... Sebastian's."

"You actually have his wand?"

"I picked it up that night. I never got the chance to give it back," I answered softly, looking at it.

"So, Sebastian's now on the loose. We have no idea where he is or what he's doing," he said, pausing for a second. "No, that was pretty much normal."

You laughed, knowing he did that to lighten the mood.

"Just do me a favor and don't get involved with whatever he's doing. I don't want to lose another friend."

"I can't promise that, but I promise to try."

"Alright, you said you were taking a trip to Hogsmeade today?"

Glad to get off the subject of Sebastian, you nodded. "Yes, I'm meeting Natty and Poppy today. They've been excited about this the whole week. Christmas break only comes once a year, so I decided to indulge them."

He smirked. "You have too many presents you bought for them, don't you?"

"That too, but you're not allowed to complain, you knew I was like this before moving in," I teased, earning a laugh.

"Pack rat of the year award goes to you, every year. Does your dormitory look as bad?"

You let out a scoff. "No, that would set a bad example and ruin my reputation."

"What?" He snickered, shaking his head. "You're not afraid to ruin your reputation when it comes to me?"

"No? You're family, I don't have to. You know pretty much every bad habit of mine and you stayed-"

"Coerced," he clarified.

You narrowed your eyes his way, not that he could see it. "Jerk."

He smirked. "Just be careful, alright?"

"Yes, dad. I'll look both ways before crossing the street. Check my surroundings to make sure I'm not followed."

Giving a deadpan expression for calling him "dad", he nodded, thanked you and then waved you to leave.

If only you knew how those words should have been guidelines for the day.

Natsai and Poppy almost scolded you for buying them too many Christmas presents, but it was hardly that much, maybe six each.

It was nothing compared to the presents you bought for Sebastian that you knew you'd never be able to give him and you still got them anyway.

You couldn't help yourself, everything that reminded you of him or you'd think he'd like, you'd buy.

Ominis scolded you the first time he found them, but then calmly explained that you were only hurting yourself, so you got creative and used an extending charm, to hide them in the bag you kept in your pocket alongside your wand.

Ominis was a smart man, he'd put it together, if he hadn't already.

You knew why you were annoyed at the manipulation Sebastian put you through, why you took a chance and gave him your wand in Azkaban. You loved him, a feeling that hadn't gone away in the months he'd been locked up.

You didn't know if that was naivety on your part for falling for someone who played you so often or just hoped he'd been serious at least once. But, in the end, the silence was your answer.

Something poked you hard in the shoulder, making you jump, before you saw Imelda smirking at you.

"Weren't you doing a race today?" Poppy asked, barely drawing her gaze.

"Had to come back," she answered simply and held out her hand. "You dropped your wand."

Instantly understanding this was Sebastian, you quickly grabbed it from him.

"Oh, thank you."

"No problem," he said slipping into the booth beside you. "So, I feel like we haven't spoken in a while. How are things?"

Poppy laughed. "We spoke this morning. You told us you were going flying, remember?"

"It was cancelled, my opponent didn't show up."

Surprised by how nonchalantly he said that, Natty and Poppy side glanced.

"So, anyway. How're things going between you and Ominis?"

Confused, you looked at him. "Ominis?"

"You're living together, right?"

Poppy laughed softly. "If I didn't know Imelda, I'd think you were jealous."

You sent him a warning glare.

"Not at all, I'm just curious, you know."

Rolling your eyes you stood. "Well, I'm going to head back home."

"Yes, got to make it back home before Ominis gets there first."

Ignoring that, you walked outside after saying goodbye to Sirona.

It's like nothing changed in those months. Of course he'd go right back to fighting with you.

Shaking your head, you moved to head out of town, barely making it half way before you were grabbed and pushed into an alley.

When you spun, you saw Imelda behind you, taking a few steps back.

"Sorry, I needed to get you outside."

Casting a glance around, seeing nothing suspicious, you narrowed your eyes at him.

"Why? And why attack the friendship between Ominis and I?"

"Well, a man and a woman living together usually ends in one thing happening-"

"Oh, grow up Sebastian. Ominis is like a brother to me."

He raised his hands and sighed softly. "Alright, alright. But I need your help."

Crossing your arms, you sighed. "For what? I thought you were looking into the whole innocents in Azkaban thing. Why come to me?"

"You're an auror in training, you can grab the things we need to prove it."

Wondering who "we" meant, a familiar man moved out from under a cloak, making you jump.

"My apologies," he whispered, though amused.

Pressing a hand to your chest, you looked to Sebastian as he changed back to his original form.

"Look, I'm already under suspicion for just having ties to both of you."

Startled, Sebastian looked to Felix. "Both of us?"

"Yeah, he killed my mother."

Felix's eyes flickered closed as he sighed and moved to try explaining.

"I'm not broken up about it."

Their eyes widened in shock, before Sebastian babbled out random noises, before shaking his head. "Why would you-"

"Not the time Sebastian. Anyone could be around and recognize you," you said quickly, knowing he'd be curious about it being you never spoke of your past before.

Felix held out a piece of parchment. "This is the location of the documents and the password to the safe. Once you're safely away, read them and you'll know we're telling the truth."

Staring at Sebastian for a moment to gauge how serious he was about this, you took the parchment.

"Fine."

He visibly deflated and smiled. "Thank you."

Nodding, you reached into your pocket and took Sebastian's wand out.

"You did keep it," he whispered taking it carefully.

"You should go before you're seen."

You jumped when Sebastian rested his hand on your shoulder. "Thank you, I'll be around."

You nodded as Felix let him climb under the cloak.

.....

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#hogwarts legacy #fanfiction #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #hogwarts legacy fanfic

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tonysslut · 3 years ago

Note

Hi. Could you please write a smut with 4 and 9 of prompt list for Chris evans?

Hi, my love! Here you go, I hope you enjoy!

summary: Chris can't keep his hands off you Warnings: Smut (Minors DNI), thigh riding, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, rough sex.

Word Count: 1.6k

You take one last look in the mirror, fixing your hair and making sure everything was in place, especially your dress. It was a fairly simple black dress, with two slits on either side, showcasing your legs which you knew would drive Chris insane. With the slits being up so high, you and your stylist decided to just go commando, it was a bit risky but it was the most comfortable way of wearing the dress.

Once satisfied with how you looked, you made your way downstairs. Chris sat on the couch, watching some football game while he waited for you. Running your hands over your dress one last time, you slowly stepped in front of the TV.

“God baby,” He says, throwing his head back. “Are you trying to kill me?” he reaches his hands out and you grab them, letting him pull you closer to stand in between his spread legs.

“You like it?” you smile, feeling a small blush creep on your cheeks.

“I think we might skip the Awards.” he teases.

You playful swat at his shoulders and notice his tie is undone, so you grab it and start putting it together. He moves his hands and runs them up and down your thighs, slipping them under the expensive fabric and grabbing the back of your thighs. He brings them up higher and stops when he notices you aren’t wearing any underwear.

“What’s this?” he smirks, fingers ghosting over your cunt

“It’s more comfortable going like this,” you say, straightening his tie and giving him a quick peck on the lips before pulling away. Looking outside you notice your ride waiting for you.

——————————————————————————————————

Once situated in the Limo, you laid your head on Chris’s shoulder and stared out the window as his fingers danced along your waist. Taking advantage of how distracted you are, he starts to slowly make his way down to the slit on your dress that showcased your bare hip, fingers mindlessly going under the fabric.

“Chris” you warn. Looking at the driver and seeing him not paying any attention to you two in the back.

He ignores you and ventures lower, brushing over your cunt, putting pressure on your clit. A moan slips your lips but you quickly cover it up with a cough, you look over at him and see him trying to cover the smirk on his lips with his hand.

He rubs slow circles on your swollen clit, purposely drawing it out, waiting to see how long it takes before you snap. Which doesn’t take long, his teasing always drives you insane.

“Excuse me, sir? Could you please roll up the partition?” You watch the driver nod his head and press the button to roll it up.

As soon as the partitions closed Chris has his lips on you, grabbing your hips and getting you to straddle his thigh. You bit your lip to conceal your moans as he kisses down your jaw, moving your hips to grind on his thigh.

“Chris, your pants.” You whisper yell, not wanting the driver to hear.

“Don’t care.”

You would’ve said something back but the way he was guiding your hips felt delicious. Chris’s lips make their way down your neck, sucking where your neck meets your shoulder. You throw your head back at the feeling, not caring about the mark it’ll leave. Starting to move your hips on your own, desperately chasing your high.

Chris flexes his leg and a moan slips past your lips, his hand instantly coming up to cover your mouth.

“You wouldn’t want the driver hearing how much of a whore you are right?” he whispers, moving his leg with your hips to intensify the feeling. You instantly shake your head. “Well go on then, make a mess on my thigh, baby.”

His words spur you on, speeding your movements up as Chris kisses you again, swallowing the moans you can’t keep down. You weave your hands in his hair and tug on the blonde strands as your orgasm washes over you, hips jerking in oversensitivity.

You don’t even have enough time to catch your breath before you start seeing the flashing of the cameras, letting you know you’ve arrived at your destination. Climbing off of Chris’s lap you quickly try to straighten out your dress and hair, looking over and seeing your boyfriend doing the same.

The door swings open and you step out, Chris following close behind you. He places his hand on the small of your back and guides you towards the red carpet, his manager making a beeline towards you, eyebrows furrowed.

“What the fuck happened to you guys?” she says frantically ushering the both of you towards a small room. You and Chris both look at each other and your eyes widen when you notice the smeared lipstick on his lips.

“We look fine, what’s the matter?” Chris says nonchalantly, you shake your head to try and get him to keep quiet.

“It looks like you two fucked on your way here!” She says looking down at the wet patch on his pant leg. “I don’t even want to know what happened, get cleaned up and go.”

A small makeup team comes to clean you two up, fixing your lipstick and taming your hair before sending you back off to the carpet. You do the usual, smiling for the camera, moving in whatever direction they ask you to, a quick kiss to drive the fans wild.

You were about halfway down the carpet when Chris started lowering his hand, placing it on your ass, and leaning into your neck.

“If we weren’t in public right now I’d have my head between your legs” he whispers, tugging on your ear lobe before coming back up and flashing a smile to the cameras.

You audibly gasp, not expecting his words at all. Sending him a small glare when he looks back down at you, knowing your reaction is gonna be all over Twitter tomorrow morning. You shake your head at how he’s just pretending nothing’s happened.

Once you’ve taken enough pictures, you finish walking the carpet and start to make your way into the building, taking a seat in the first few rows since Chris was presenting an award tonight. He kept his hand on your thigh throughout the first half of the awards, bringing it up dangerously close to your cunt, causing you to constantly shift to try and escape his touch.

There was a small break before Chris went on so you took the chance to make a quick trip to the bathroom, just as you were about to shut the door, a hand comes up to stop you. Pushing the door open, Chris walks in and locks the door behind him.

“W-what are you doing in here?” you breathe out a laugh, confusion obvious in your tone.

He grabs your hips and spins your around, shoving you against the door, and pushes his hips against you to hold you in place.

“Been thinking about that pretty cunt of yours wrapped around my cock since I first saw you in this dress,” he says against your lips. “Now I’m gonna bend you over the sink and fuck you before I go on stage, understood?”

Without giving you time to take in his words, he flips you around and bends over you the sink, pushing your chest down to keep your ass up. You hear his belt coming undone, the zipper being pulled down, and a groan that vibrates through his chest. Looking over your shoulder, you see him stroking himself, head thrown back as the veins in his neck poke out.

He moves the fabric on the dress to the side before lining up and pushing into you. There’s nothing gentle about his movements, just a brutal, animalistic pace. You cover your mouth with your hands to try and silence your moans, the sink holding you up squeaking as he thrusts into you. The line between pleasure and pain blurs but you love it.

Suddenly, there's knocking at the door. You widen your eyes as you look back at Chris, he just sends you a smirk and starts fucking you harder.

“Chris? You’re on in 5 minutes. Hurry up!” It’s his manager again, you mentally facepalm knowing you were in for a lecture after the awards.

“Almost done!” he breathes out.

He threads his fingers through your hair before pulling you up enough so your face is in front of the mirror. Maintaining eye contact as your orgasm approaches, a chill runs up your spine, toes curling, mouth dropping to an O shape.

“Gonna cum pretty girl? I can feel you squeezing me.” he groans, bending his knees to reach deeper inside you.

Your legs shake as you come undone, trying to maintain eye contact with Chris through the small mirror but the pleasure coursing through you makes it impossible. He tightens the grip he has on your hips, you’re convinced it’ll leave dark bruises, using you to chase his high.

A few more thrusts and he drops his head on your back, groaning as he spills his warm, thick seed inside you, slowly thrusting in and out to make sure he fills you up completely.

“Chris! Now!” you hear from the other side of the door.

He curses and gently pulls out. Placing loving kisses on your back as he tucks himself back into his pants.

“Wait for me here, I’ll be right back,” he mumbles and rushes out of the bathroom.

You look at yourself in the mirror and realized how fucked out you look. Your makeup is completely smeared, hair going in all sorts of directions, and Chris’s cum running down the inside of your legs.

#chris evans #smut #relationship #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfic #chris evans x girlfriend!reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans smut #chris evans x female reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x you #chris evans fic

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bangtangalicious · 4 years ago

Text

death valley (m) | part 1

summary: welcome to death valley. once you’re in, there’s no telling whether you’ll make it out alive. a summer internship turns wild with blurry nights of dangerous men, dirty money, and extremely hot sex. you soon get caught in a savage game of greed, power and obsession, only to find out that you are the grand prize

I wanna see your animal side. Let it all out. I wanna see the dirt under your skin. Need your broken promises.

pairing: ot7 x reader smut ft: stranger!taehyung x reader, songwriter!hobi x reader, rockstar!jimin x reader

genre: smut, mystery, gang!au, rockstar!au, fightclub!au, eventual yandere

wordcount: 7.8k

warnings: explicit & multiple smut scenes, rough sex (hair pulling, light smacking, scratching, spitting, etc), toxic behavior, power dynamics, heavy drug abuse, penetrative sex, exhibitionism, gunshots (sounds, no one gets shot), traumatic themes, mentions of police, blackmail, degradation, whiny/horny reader, tittie fuck, oral sex (f and m receiving), 69ing, implied prostitution, every yoongi moment seems like its fresh out of a kdrama lol dom!jimin, switch!taehyung, dom!hobi, switch!reader

(disclaimer) this is a completely fictional. this is not an accurate or realistic portrayal & it does glamorize drugs but i do not condone these behaviors. please read with caution!

You hear the bass pounding through the speaker system at Jimin’s penthouse apartment. It was exactly what you would expect from a young star like him. Posters of famous artists classily displayed in a neat row across the wall, records on display, awards and guitars pretty much everywhere. On the table were empty bottles, crumbled up wads of rolling paper, pills of various shapes and sizes.

Next to it was a sleek white couch where you find yourself, gripping onto the backrest tightly, your skirt lifted and panties down at your wobbling knees, barely able to hold yourself up.

You bit back a smile at how easily you could tell Jimin was a guitarist. The callouses on his fingers were a dead giveaway as they molded the skin of your ass. You felt his throbbing, hot cockhead against you every now and then, causing your legs to spread even more in anticipation.

You hear him spit into his hand before then cupping your core, painfully dragging two fingers down your folds. He pulled your sides open and watched the glistening mess that decorated your cunt. The next thing you knew his cock was pushing into you. He was not slow, not caring as you winced at the sudden intrusion. You heard him let out a low groan, harshly jerking your hips back so that he could fit in as far as possible.

Jimin had demanded you start taking birth control, giving you his black card to keep & pay for expenses. You thought it was kind of funny, he was hellbent that you two had protection but did not want to use a condom no matter what. Hypocrite. You thought to yourself.

“Pussy so fucking tight SHIT” He pounded into you, moving your hips back as he flexed his forward, watching the way your breasts were bouncing under you at the impact. One of his hands snuck up to grab the back of your neck, holding himself steady while the other reached out to grab his joint.

You rolled your eyes, pussy clenching as you waited for him to take a hit. You were glad that he only ever took you from behind now. Looking into those shot eyes would have just made you feel pathetic.

He never kissed you. He never touched you with any care at all. You honestly weren’t even sure why you kept showing up. At first it had been exciting. Park Jimin wanted to hook up with you. But you didn’t realize just how horny this guy was. By now you’d done him in more places than you’d ever care to admit.

He cursed out as he came inside you, a feeling you were still trying to get used to. Not a virgin in the slightest, you had always made them pull out. Then again, usually you were calling the shots. But not here. Not with the famous rockstar Park Jimin. He pulls out and smacks your ass one last time, causing you to collapse into the couch.

“How do you still feel so damn good baby girl?” He chuckles, watching you weakly try to compose yourself. He tosses a few pills at you. “Try this”

You failed to catch them and they landed across your lap. You shook your head. “I’m good thanks” Jimin pulled his sweatpants back on.

“Just try it. They’re painkillers. You’ll feel amazing” You snorted in amusement. You could see the irritation in his reddened eyes. He ran a hand through his hair and scoffed, looking away from you momentarily. “The fuck you think you are saying no to me huh? Take the damn pills slut”

“Painkillers my ass” You fixed yourself up quickly, grabbing your purse and trying to make way for the exit. Jimin grabbed your wrist tightly before you could leave.

“Wait...take this...it’s windy out” He threw something towards your face. You caught it, realizing it was his leather jacket. You simply dropped it onto the floor flipping him off in the process.

“Wouldn’t be caught dead wearing anything of yours” You said scornfully. Jimin opened his mouth to retaliate but you were already gone.

As you closed the door behind you, you let out a heavy sigh. At times you couldn’t believe you used to idolize this guy so much. Sure he was dripping sex, but you had never met someone whos personality was so spoilt and bratty. Even at work, you dreaded the days where Jimin would come in to record. He would always be so condescending, acting like everyone else knew absolutely nothing about music.

You asked Hobi, the assistant producer and head songwriter working on his album, if you could be reassigned to a different project. When Jimin heard, he hadn’t taken it well at all. He stormed the hallway and made it to the conference room where you and your colleague Namjoon were eating lunch.

He didn’t spare a glance at Namjoon, just snapped his fingers at you and motioned for you to come outside. Once he had you to himself, he went off.

“Why’d you move projects?”

“Because you’re an asshole and I don’t want to work with you. Why do you even care?”

Jimin cracked his knuckles, “Bitch” He gritted angrily, “You have a lot of fucking audacity complaining about me like that. What do you think huh? You think your fucking company is gonna protect you from me?”

“And why shouldn’t she think that?” You spun around to see the head producer, Min Yoongi, holding his clipboard as always as he walked towards the two of you. Ever since the day you had joined the company, you had been absolutely starstruck by Min Yoongi. He was just so...you couldn’t even put a finger on it.

Seeing him made your whole body tremble in excitement. When he looked at you with those pretty eyes of his, you would feel breathless. He always looked insanely hot at work, wearing a partially unbuttoned dress shirt with his fucking jewelry, chains, rings and earrings that you thought were the hottest things ever. You could tell that behind those silk shirts there was a tattoo on his back, one you could only dream of seeing when you pleased yourself at night. He did not give a single fuck about anything, it was so blatantly clear. He was an enigma, and you were obsessed.

He stood front of you, glaring at Jimin. “Do we have a problem here?”

Jimin laughed darkly, shaking his head and cursing under his breath before walking away from the scene. Yoongi turned to you.

“You okay?” He was a man of few words, this was honestly the most of a reaction you had ever seen from him. It had you riled up. You gulped and nodded. Seeing your response, he simply left you there.

That’s how it always went. He’d always just leave you. Speechless. Unable to breathe or comprehend anything.

You returned to the conference room where your fellow intern Namjoon have you a curious look. You shook it off, indicating that it wasn’t worth explaining.

“You coming to Death Valley tonight?” Namjoon asked.

Death Valley. You shuddered thinking about the last time you had visited that grunge hotspot. It would be far too soon if you ever stepped foot in there again.

“I have a rematch with Jin” He twirled the straw in his drink, watching as the ice cubes sloshed around. “I’d love it if you’d come watch” He smiled. He was goddamn adorable, you couldn’t even say no. “I invited Hobi too, so you won’t be by yourself this time”

You gave him a fake smile, remembering darkly how very much not alone you had been at your first fight. The sound of the gunshot so close to you still had you waking up in a cold sweat. You had no idea what you had gotten yourself into, when you found a certain Jeon Jungkook tied up. You had no idea what to do with the knowledge you acquired that night- that there was some big betting and game fixing going on. Someone really needed Namjoon to loose, and clearly was willing to go to many lengths to make that happen.

As you watched your friendly coworker go onto explain how he had been preparing for the fight, you couldn’t help the way your heart clenched with worry. You couldn’t let anything happen to him. He was too pure. He didn’t deserve to get caught up and hurt because of some illegal shit that had nothing to do with either of you.

Jeon Jungkook. He would have the answers. He would be able to explain what all you had seen. Trust me, if you want to find me you’ll be able to. The strange blue-haired hottie’s words came back to you. The fuck does that even mean?

"Hey do you know someone named Jeon Jungkook?” You asked Namjoon, interrupting his story. It was worth a shot. His eyes dilated with familiarity.

“Jungkook? Yeah! He’s my dealer” Namjoon said it as if it was the most normal thing in the world, “Really nice kid. Fucking ripped too. Surprised he doesn’t fight to be honest. Why? Buying something from him?”

You pursed your lips, pushing your phone towards him, “Can you give me his phone number?”

Namjoon raised his eyebrows, “He doesn’t keep one consistent phone...cuz you know...dealing...but I have his burner’s number yeah”

Jungkook had been surprised to receive your call, begging him to not mess with Namjoon’s fight. “Jesus Y/n, I didn’t do anything last time and I won’t this time either chill the fuck out”

You felt a surge of relief, “Thank you thank you thank you”

He chuckled softly over the speaker, “Will you be coming out to watch?” pausing momentarily before adding “I’d...love to see you again for a bit if you are” You could somehow hear him blush, imagining his adorable face, making you grin. You licked your lips...you missed that little brat and his big cock.

“Yeah, I’ll be there”

Death Valley. You honestly didn’t know if you would come out alive once you stepped inside. The music was comforting, and the crowd was energetic, but you found yourself feeling nothing but dread as you walked into the edgy dive bar.

You took a deep breath as you went to the back hall, knowing that behind the door fresh air was nonexistent and whatever would happen would probably be absolutely mind numbingly insane. You were scared shitless, but the thrill in your veins pushed you to open the door.

The chanting gave you goosebumps. You didn’t know how much time was left before the fight would start, and you needed to know that Namjoon was going to be safe. You pushed through the crowd, searching for the door to the back rooms. You felt dizzy as you found yourself turning in circles, lost in the sea of people.

You felt a soft hand on your waist.

“Jacket girl!” You turned to find yourself face to face with Taehyung. The crowd pushed back so that Taehyung had you pressed up against him. He steadied his balance on you. You made a face. You didn’t have a good reason not to like this guy, he had been decent enough to you, but somehow you just got a bad vibe.

He didn’t seem high at all, his eyes intense but sober. No cigarette, nothing. “Looking for Jungkook?” You felt the hairs on your neck stand. You looked around, hoping to get a glimpse of his blue highlights but he was nowhere to be found.

“What time did he say he would meet you?” Taehyung inquired helpfully, noticing your unease.

“He didn’t really say a time...” You muttered, checking your phone. You dialed his number but his phone came up turned off. “Fuck”

Suddenly the echoes of booming cheers seemed to shake through the walls. Taehyung grinned, “Looks like the fight started” His eyes flashed at you and you immediately felt like something was seriously off, “Jungkook might be running late. Wanna just go watch? He’ll call you when he gets here I’m sure”

You gulped. You wanted to see Jungkook, for Namjoon’s sake but also, for your own sake. You had dolled up just for him, taking a little extra care in selecting your underwear. You pouted slightly realizing that your efforts would be going to waste.

“Come on jacket girl. Let’s go have some fun” Taehyung winked at you. The noise was suffocatingly loud. You subconsciously gripped Taehyung’s sleeve to ensure you didn’t lose him as he lead you towards the balcony. There were no open seats, but Taehyung walked up to a few people and whispered something. You watched as they became petrified and quickly scurried off, leaving a good amount of room for you and him to watch the fight. Someone behind him offered him a cigarette which he declined.

“You don’t smoke?” You asked him, focusing your attention to the ring where Namjoon and Jin were circling each other, not quite doing much yet.

“Nah not really” He chuckled, tilting his head in amusement, “But I might if a pretty girl asked me too”

Finally Jin dove in for a punch, and you pursed your lips, mentally cheering Namjoon on as he dodged the hit.

“Aw, you think I’m pretty? Gee thanks haven’t heard that one before”

“Can I ask you something jacket girl?” He leaned close to you, and you could feel his hot breath on your cheeks. You hummed in agreement, “What’s your name?”

Jin landed a harsh blow, sending Namjoon flying into the restraints. Namjoon jumped back up and ran towards Jin, but Jin quickly dodged him, catching him in a headlock and pushing him onto the floor.

You smirked, meeting Taehyung’s flirty eyes briefly, “Why?”

He licked his lips, “I wanna know who’s name I’m gonna be moaning in about” Taehyung pretended to check his watch. You couldn’t help but notice the expensive piece-- it made you wonder what exactly Taehyung must do for a living. “Five minutes” His breath was hot against your ears, sending shivers down your spine.

He suddenly grasped your wrist and pulled you to the back of the arena, behind the backs of the rowdy crowd. He harshly pressed you up against a wall, and you clenched your eyes shut as he brought his mouth to yours, moaning into you. His movements desperate, like he had been holding himself back. It was refreshing to taste him. Unlike Jimin and Jungkook who tasted bitter because of their smoked out lips, Taehyung was a refreshing minty flavor. You inhaled him more, enjoying the normalcy of the feeling. It was almost humbling.

He cupped your face, kissing you sensually as your bodies rolled against one another, matching the rhythms of the pounding heard from the arena. His tongue slid across your bottom lip, and he looked almost dazed, his eyes fluttering shut as he savored your taste.

“Taehyung” You panted, reaching down to fiddle with the waistline of his pants, “Fuck take this off” You whispered. You felt his lips curl into a smile as he continued to place chaste kisses to your swelling lips.

There was very little light where you were, far behind the large light poles that shone down on the crowd. No one was looking, and the noise was far too loud for anyone to hear you, but the clear view of people right out in the open had your thighs trembling with excitement.

“Relax. We’ve got all the time in the world” You noticed Taehyung check his watch before refocusing onto his kisses. You clenched your eyes shut, face heating from the sound of your lips smacking against him, as your tongues messily wrestled each other.

To your surprise he slowly dropped to his knees. “Is this okay?” He barely let his finger reach for your jeans zipper. You internally screamed in excitement, knowing that at least someone was going to see the lingerie you had on, even if it wasn’t the guy you were hoping for.

“Eating a girl out first. Consent. Damn is it my fucking birthday” You joked. Taehyung smiled softly, tugging your pants down and kissing your exposed skin as it revealed itself. His eyes were shut, lips wet and burning as they trailed down until he reached your knees.

You watched in amusement as he opened his eyes, immediately shocked at what was in front of him. You had a sleek little cage garter over a black thong. Nothing too fancy, but Taehyung was almost drooling. He stumbled back momentarily.

“Wow” He whispered under his breath, “All this for a fucking street rat like Jungkook” You squinted at his statement, but decided not to question it. He traced the garter with his fingers before kissing your thighs.

You ran a hand through his hair, grabbing a fistful and moaning out as he tugged off the garter belt with his teeth and then your thong with it. He shifted himself so that his hands gripped the back of your knees, pushing your legs apart as you leaned back onto the cold concrete wall.

“Taehyung” You whined. “If you’re gonna do it just do it fuck” You jerked your hips, his teasing getting far too overwhelming for you.

“Relax baby...wanna savor this” He groaned, his deep voice vibrating into you, causing your pussy to leak even more. You tugged his hair impatiently.

Taehyung played along, working his tongue into your heat. He let the tip of his tongue glide agonizingly slow, before looking dead into your eyes as he curled his tongue in, lapping you up like a puppy. Your mouth parted, mesmerized by his eyes beneath you. It was such a power trip, you felt adrenaline rush through you as you stroked his hair affectionately.

He pursed his lips, kissing your sweet cunt before jutting his tongue back inside you. He bobbed his head as he rolled his tongue around, savoring your juices, stretching you out.

You felt your legs tremble as he picked up his pace, drinking you for everything you were worth. His grip tightened on your knees and you squealed, tilting your head back.

He stopped, moving his kisses up to your stomach, pushing up the fabric of your top as he slowly got up. He pulled it off, revealing the equally tantalizing bra you had on. He whined at the sight.

“Holy shitttt” His hands grabbed at you like you were a present waiting to be unwrapped. He practically tore the garment off of you, leaving you completely naked.

“You’re a fucking goddess” He mumbled softly, nipping at your breasts. You tugged on his shirt and he raised his arms, allowing you to pull it off of him. You ran your hands all over his chest, feeling his toned muscles and soft, scorching hot skin. You let your nails drag along his back as you wrapped your arms around him. He squeezed your ass, grinding into you slightly. You felt his plump erection painfully resisting the fabric of his jeans as he rutted into you.

It occurred to you that all it would take was one person turning around to catch you both at any moment. Maybe a crowd would gather. Maybe they would start filming you. Just stand around and watch you whine like a bitch as Taehyung did with you as he pleased. Fuck. You trembled, feeling flush all over at the prospect.

He groped your ass sensually, kissing your neck all over while you whimpered, letting soft little moans fill the space. You reached down to unbutton his pants, and he smirked at your desperation.

“You ready?” He whispered, looking at you darkly, “You want my cock huh?” He clicked his tongue, almost laughing at you. His change in demeanor gave you goosebumps as he yanked his pants down slightly and flipped you around, pressing your arms above your head with one had, allowing the other stroke his freed length. You pouted, wishing you could have seen how big it was, but you felt it soon enough.

He slapped his rigid cock against your ass a few times before lining it up with your soaked lips.

He pushed into you, and your eyes almost bulged. He seemed never ending as his thickness continued to push further and further into you. You screamed out, clenching your fists above your head and digging your nails into yourself to try to numb the pain. He took his free hand to clench your breast, rolling your nubs between his fingers softly as he began to move.

He let his cock drag out of your core all the way. Your eyes were shut, focused on the almost dizzying sensation of him. He then thrusted back into you harshly and you yelped out. He repeated this, setting a rhythm to his movements before burying his face into the side of your neck.

“So fucking pretty like this” He whispered, hot lips pressed against your ears, sending waves of electric heat through your body as he continued to steadily thrust into you. “God you’re so tight babe. So fucking tight.”

He kissed your cheek, nipping you slightly, making you giggle. His face was so incredibly close to yours, it was weirdly intimate. Almost as if he was making love to you. You let his fingers slide between yours as he continued to hold your hands above you, enjoying the feeling of his hand grasping yours with such care but desperation.

He released your breast to snake his other hand down to rub your clit, pushing his finger in light circles to try to get you writhing under him. He tugged on your ear with the edge of his teeth, “You’re gonna cum aren’t you..fuck I can tell. Getting so fucking drenched for me. God you’re so hot Y/n. So fucking hot”

You were so fucked out you couldn’t even think. You were a moaning mess at this point. Taehyung was hammering into you, his size still stinging but the sensation overwhelmed you to the point where it didn’t matter.

“Taehyung. Taehyung” You groaned incoherently, face pressing against the wall. His face was right next to you now, cheek pressed up against you. Your bodies were hot, sweating. It was filthy. Out in the open fucking like dogs. He sucked on your neck, hitting a place that had you unraveling at the seams. You screamed out, orgasm suffocating you in pleasure.

“Fuck yes. Right there...r..right there yeah just like that” Your pussy dripped all over Taehyung, tightening down hard on him as he continued to push in and out of you.

Taehyung exhaled, feeling your cunt almost sucking on him. “That’s it baby cum all over me” He thrusted harshly, kissing your neck, “You’re so fucking wet” He gasped feeling his cock twitch, “So perfect for me fuck” You were so tight around him he was falling apart, “Mm gonna cum” He thrusted again voice panicking as he lost control of himself “Holy shit. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum Y/n, fuck” He pulled out quickly, cumming all over your ass.

He collapsed onto your back, hugging you to him tightly. He kissed your back a few more times, lingering slightly before letting you go. He grabs your clothes off of the ground, handing them to you politely.

He checks his watch again, and sighs in relief. As he pulls his jeans back up, you can’t help but notice a slight shine coming from something sticking out of his back pocket. Does he have...

Suddenly the lights go out. You hear a symphony of shocked cries. Taehyung reaches out for you quickly. You heard gun shots in the far distance and the two of your crouch down. “Fuck” You heard Taehyung mumble.

Your heart is racing. Taehyung quickly pulls you with him, finding a door and pushing you through. The panicked crowd begins to guide themselves out the main exit through their screen lights. Namjoon. Is Namjoon okay? You could no longer see the ring. You heard a click and watched as Taehyung kissed your forehead one final time. He looked angry.

“Sorry. I gotta go. Get to the back room” He gulped, “Fast” You nodded, watching as he took off, the item you had seen no longer in his pocket.

You tried to steady your breathing, turning your phone’s flashlight on to be safe. You closed your eyes, trying to replay the pleasure you felt just minutes earlier. Suddenly your blood ran cold.

You never told Taehyung your name. But he...he had moaned it. Hadn’t he?

You quickly dialed the only safe number you could think of, pressing the phone to your ear as your wrist trembled in fear.

“Hobi? Where are you?” Your voice was trembling. “W...what was that noise?? Where’s Namjoon? I’m scared Hobi”

“Hey...” Hobi’s voice was soothing and calm. You blinked your tears, “Sssh. It’s okay. Namjoon is fine. Stay put okay, it’ll be over soon. I’ll find you”

“Are you with him?” Your heart was racing.

“No. But no one got hurt Y/n I promise, it was just a warning. Stupid gangs trying to scare each other. Just stay put” You gulped.

“O...okay. Thanks”

“Don’t cry. Everything’s okay. You’re okay” You hung up.

Taehyung had a gun. Taehyung knew your name this whole time. Taehyung knew you were here to see Jungkook. Jungkook wasn’t here. You shivered in discomfort.

You reached into your purse, where you had stashed a few of Jimin’s pills for a rainy day. You picked out one that looked the least intimidating and inspected it carefully. Not the most educated about your drugs, you internally prayed that it was some kind of sedative, swallowing it.

Within minutes you found yourself feeling bolder. You gathered your things, carefully maneuvering back into the main arena. You crouched down, climbing the steps on all fours, ignoring the rough dust that met your palms.

You hear voices, but you can’t quite decipher what’s being said. You slowly open the door, careful not to draw any attention to yourself and slip through silently.

You squint in the darkness towards the arena. It was still pitch dark, but your eyes immediately were drawn to a flashlight in the ring.

Your heart dropped. Laying out on the ground with a foot pressed down against their face was Namjoon. You could see his eyes clenched shut and his body was trembling. You wanted to scream for help but then you saw a gun in the hand of whoever was holding the flashlight.

You couldn’t see their face, but you could tell it was a man. They said nothing, simply tilted Namjoon’s chin with their foot and laughed sinisterly. You winced as you watched the foot stepped on his neck. You could hear Namjoon cry out in pain. The man retracted his foot then, seeming satisfied.

The flashlight seemed to move away towards the exit. You held your breath, waiting till you heard the close of the door. You were breathing heavily, unsure if it was the pill you took or how scared you were. You could hear Namjoon whimpering and it broke your heart.

You finally garnered the courage to turn your flashlight on. You carefully try to find the way down to the ring, keeping an ear out for any intruders.

“Namjoon!” Once he’s well in sight you run towards him, dropping to your knees by his side. His face was beat up and bruised. He had blood trickling down his forehead. “Oh my god Namjoon”

“Y/n!?” You heard another voice and froze. You turned, shining your flashlight around until you landed on Hobi. You sighed with relief, wiping your tears.

“Hobi. Fuck, he’s hurt. We gotta help him.” Hobi nodded and made his way to you guys. In the meanwhile you grabbed some band aids from your bag. Won’t do much but it’ll stop the bleeding. You leaned over him to set a bandaid onto his cut face. You let your thumbs lightly apply pressure and Namjoon grunted in pain. “Namjoon, can you move?” He shook his head. You took a careful look at his eyes. They were absolutely blown out. He’s on something. Something bad.

“Hobi!” You cried out as he arrived. Hobi clicked his tongue seeing Namjoon’s state. He carefully wrapped his arms under Namjoon’s to lift him up.

“Fuck...he’s heavy...help me” Hobi grunted, motioning for you to grab his legs. You both carefully walked him out of the arena, up the stairs back to the main Death Valley bar. It was completely empty. Everyone was gone.

“Do you think they locked it?” You whispered.

“Why are you whispering?” Hobi joked, trying to lighten up the mood, “No. I doubt it. Here, go open the door and I’ll carry him on my back”

The two of you set Namjoon down on one of the booth tables. Hobi somehow maneuvered Namjoon’s limp body onto his back. You opened the door--luckily it was unlocked. You led Hobi to your car and helped him drag Namjoon into the backseat.

The two of you panted as Namjoon appeared to be completely knocked out. You shut the car door and leaned against it, sliding down your back until you were sitting on the road. You buried your face into your hands and began to cry.

“Hey. Hey!” Hobi knelt down besides you. He hesitated slightly before patting your shoulder affectionately. “He’s gonna be okay. We can take him to the hospital”

“No we fucking can’t.” You mumbled, “He’s high...and I’m guessing this fight was not legal by any means” Hobi sighed.

“Then let’s take him to his house. I can stay with him tonight to make sure he’s okay.”

You nodded, allowing Hobi to help you up. Before you could go around to the drivers seat he pulled you into a hug. He was tall enough that he could rest his head on top of yours, comforting you while stroking your back.

“You’re okay. Everything’s okay. Hm?” He looked down at you expectantly. You sighed and nodded. Everything is really not okay. But sure.

You sat in the drivers seat, trying to focus on your breathing, gathering yourself before you began to drive. Hobi hopped in besides you. He set his hand on your knee and squeezed affectionately.

You looked at him. His eyes seemed so kind. So normal. He was just a friendly coworker. Someone you enjoyed making music with. Someone who wasn’t caught up in this God awful place.

You suddenly felt a need to tell him everything.

You drove, Hobi guiding you with directions to Namjoon’s home. He played some nice soothing acoustic tracks that he knew you’d like. Something to take the edge off. Not much conversation was exchanged but Hobi kept a secure hand on your knee as you drove.

You arrived at the address, helping Hobi pick Namjoon up again. It had begun to rain heavily. Thunder growled in the distance giving you shivers. The two of your trudged through the puddled ground to get to Namjoon’s door, grabbing his keyes from his pocket to open his door. Hobi let Namjoon fall off of him and onto his couch. He exhaled, evidently exhausted. It must have been past midnight, you were both extremely tired, wet, and decently traumatized.

Hobi rummaged Namjoon’s fridge and found a bottle of water, tossing it your way. You thanked him, not realizing how dehydrated you had become. He watched you gulp it down, some spilling from the edge of your lips down your dripping neck. You wiped your mouth with your sleeve.

“You good to get home in this weather?” Hobi asked, taking a seat at Namjoon’s kitchen island. “You can stick around till it dies down. Storms usually pass around here”

You nodded, standing quietly as you watched Namjoon sleep. His face was bruised, lips crusted with blood. You had no idea what horrible things might be flowing through his veins. You didn’t even know if he would wake up. You were petrified. Could you have stopped this? Is this your fault?

The house was eerily silent. “Hobi” You whispered, trying to blink back tears.

“Yeah? What’s up, is everything okay?”

“I’m just...I’m really really worried about Namjoon.” And you spilled. You broke down in front of your colleague shamelessly. You no longer cared if you would look pathetic or not, you cried. You told him about Jimin, about Taehyung, about everything. About what you had heard before the first fight, about seeing Jimin shoot someone. The only thing you didn’t tell him was about the sex. All the sex, but especially your unwarranted coworkers-with-benefits situation with Jimin. If you could even call it that. You weren’t even sure what to label it as, but regardless Hobi could not know.

By the time you finished you were sobbing into Hobi’s chest and he held you tightly. He pressed his lips down on the top of your head, trying to comfort you in whatever way he could.

“I’m...I’m scared Hobi” You could feel his breath against you. He hummed softly, trying to calm you down, wiping away your tears with his thumbs.

“Ssshhh...Let’s get you dried up and then we can talk it out okay? I’m sure Namjoon wont mind if we borrow some clothes” Hobi looked at you with a cheerful smiled, stroking your back kindly. You appreciated him so much.

The two of you found some pajamas in Namjoon’s room. Hobi went to go look for towels so you began to change your clothes. You peeled off your drenched jeans first, kicking them off your legs, before moving onto your top. The garter was pressing into your skin uncomfortably. You quickly threw on Namjoon’s shirt before sitting down on his bed to remove the garter.

Right then you hear a soft thud, looking up to see a flushed Hobi who had just dropped the towels he found. The both of you froze momentarily. You decided to quickly finish what you were doing before it became awkward, unaware of the clear view Hobi had of your underwear as you pulled the garter off and threw it aside.

“So sorry I should’ve knocked” Hobi clumsily picked up the towels, tossing one to you so you could wipe yourself down.

“No worries, I’m dressed” You tried to appear casual, tried not to notice the slight bulge in his boxers.

“Yeah but...um. Okay” He cleared his throat and sat down next to you, leaving a generous amount of space.“I’m going to tell you some stuff that...is gonna be a bit hard to believe okay”

“Hobi I think after tonight nothing can shock me” You joked bitterly.

He smiled and you giggled. “I’ll start with Park Jimin. Jimin isn’t just a singer. You know how we were talking about he got into drugs and stuff?” You nodded slowly, “Yeah it’s actually a lot worse than just that. He’s in a gang.”

You blinked. Park Jimin? In a gang?

“All these years he hasn’t been making music…he got involved with a lot of really bad people. But...he’s a clever guy I’ll give him that. He’s got a lot of new power in the trafficking scene. People know him as more than just an artist around places like this”

“But...” Hobi paused, considering his phrasing, “I think...him and whoever the fuck he works with are not allowed to sell here. Death Valley, a lot of people buy and use drugs there obviously. But there’s a different, much...more established gang that runs around here. I’m not sure the details but, Death Valley is owned by them. All the fights, parties, anything that happens in that building is run by them. Jimin’s not supposed to trespass” Was that why everyone was flipping out about your jacket? Hobi thought deeply for a moment, “My guess is that he was the one you heard yelling at Jungkook.”

“But Jimin shot the guy who was gonna shoot...wait so who drugged Namjoon? It could have been Jungkook. He was supposed to meet me but he didn’t...maybe they got to him...” You pondered for a while.

“Honestly Y/n...this really isn’t something worth worrying about. It’s Namjoon’s choice to be a part of these fights. If there is game fixing going on, that’s really not something we can control, we just have to hope for the best. It’s too dangerous. There’s a lot of money involved in fights. Like...a lot”

You sighed. He was right. Why were you bothering yourself with all this. You needed to focus on work. You came here to make music and be around the culture you had grown up to love. This was all just noise.

“I promise Death Valley is fun besides all that. Just stay away from the fights”

You smiled and nodded. He pinched your nose playfully. “I hope you feel better. That was a lot to get off of your chest” Hobi asked you to wait as he went back to Namjoon’s kitchen to grab something. He returned with a small bong and a lighter. He raised his eyebrows to you, gesturing to ask if you wanted any. You nodded.

Hobi got to work, grinding up some weed. You watched his carefully as he took the first hit. He exhaled slowly before handing you the contraption. You mimicked his actions, feeling the familiar burn through your chest.

It didn’t take too long for the two of you to become a giggling mess, already out of your mind from exhaustion. You rolled over the bed playfully, shirt riding up to your hips as your legs stretched across the expanse of the mattress. You gave Hobi with a goofy smile and saw his jaw stiffen as his gaze shifted from his playful nature to something much more intense.

“Hobi” You muttered, grinning, “I bet you have a really big cock” Hobi’s breath hitched, face going red at your suggestion. He tried to stop himself from looking down at your bare legs, or the tiny little thong you had on under your shirt, now on display. But he was only human.

He subconsciously dragged his fingers up and down your thigh making you hum in pleasure.

You were desperate to be touched. The burden of the evening weighing too much for you. You didn’t want to think. And Hobi. Hobi was perfect. He was so sweet, and normal, and just so incredibly sane.

You let out a moan, his minstrations overwhelming your clouded senses. You looked at him with pleading eyes, allowing yourself to notice how fucking hot he was. His jawline could cut through your soul and his hair was still slightly wet, making him that much hotter.

“Please touch me” You whined, spreading your legs.

Hobi’s eyes were quivering, he almost couldn’t believe the situation. You pouted, rolling on top of him and setting yourself onto his lap like a child. “Y/n...” He panted. “W...we can’t. We work together”

“God Hobi you look so hot right now please” You bounced up and down, throwing a tantrum, knowing fully well that you were riling him up. The sharp tent of his cock hitting as you rolled your hips teasingly. You threw your arms around his neck, his finding your lower back in response. He blinked at you incredulously.

“We’re literally in Namjoon’s bed” Hobi argued. You pouted even more, continuing to bounce playfully in his lap, enjoying the way you could feel him getting hard, the friction giving momentary relief to your craving. His heart clenched at how cute you were being.

“So?” You let go to pull your shirt up to show him your bra. His eyes widened as he looked down at your chest. “Don’t you wanna play with these?” You teased, wiggling your chest slightly before releasing the fabric back over your body and watching Hobi blush like crazy.

"No...this isn’t right. You’re high, I don’t wanna take advantage of you. Plus you could get fired if someone finds out and..”

“So you don’t want me?” You gave him a slightly hurt look, shifting your weight on his lap so that you pressed up against his bulge as much as possible. You slid a hand under his shirt, up the expanse of his chest. “You don’t wanna see my tits? I’d let you do whatever you want to them.” You shifted again, making Hobi groan under his breath. “You could fuck them. You don’t want that? You don’t want to fuck my tits?”

Hobi’s mouth was dry. You took his hand and slid it under your shirt until you felt his large palms over your heaving breast. You watched as Hobi began to breathe heavily, trembling slightly.

“I want that” You continued to taunt him. You leaned in so that his hand pressed up against your breast and your mouth was right by his ear, “I wanna take my tits and push them onto your big” You palmed his bulge, “throbbing cock.”

Hobi let out a strangled moan, watching you with parted lips as you continued to rub your hand over his crotch.

“I wanna be such a good girl for you. Wanna do everything you want” You tugged down his boxers and watched his dick spring up. He was completely erect, cock flushed and veiny. You couldn’t stop yourself from bending down and licking the leaking tip, keeping your eyes glued to his. “Wanna be a whore for you”

Hobi gulped. “F...fuck Y/n. That feels so fucking good” You began to stroke his length, spitting into your hand so that you could lather him up nicely. He gasped as you squeezed him, pumping him slowly.

You pulled your shirt off, pushing your chest to Hobi’s mouth so that he could snap off your bra with his teeth. “Holy shit” He was absolutely breathless as he saw your naked chest. You groped your own breasts, allowing your hands to push them together and make them bulge out.

You lowered yourself onto him, face burying into his pelvis. You moaned as you felt his long cock glide up the valley of your chest, sending a hot spark through you at the touch. You kissed his skin as you began to push your breasts up and down on his length.

His hand found your face, pushing your hair behind your ears as you desperately pleased him. He licked his lips as lust slowly plagued over reason. He suddenly grabbed your jaw and pushed you off him, onto your back, making his way on top of you.

“You wanna be a whore for me huh?” His eyes were dark now, sending shivers through you, “Then be a fucking whore” He pressed your head down onto the mattress, lowering down onto you so he could shove his cock into your mouth from above. You gagged instantly as he ruthlessly fucked your mouth.

“That’s righttt. Look at you. Nasty little thing” He cooed at you, shoving his cock further and further down your throat, “So fucking desperate for cock. Can’t even fucking stop yourself”

He rolled off of you so he could switch sides, crawling over you to your trembling cunt. He yanked off your thong before spitting down onto your pussy. You moaned. He was so filthy and you loved it.

“Keep sucking my cock baby” He growled as he lowered himself down and began to lick your slick arousal. You whimpered around his thick cock as you felt him push his tongue deep inside you.

“Feels...good” You tried to speak but your mouth was too stuffed to be coherent. Hobi pulled out and rolled over, tangling in the sheets as he switched positions again. He dragged your body up to his so that you were on top of him with your back pressed against his chest.

He guided your hips, watching with intense focus as his cock entered you, lowering you down onto his lap. Once you were settled with his cock deep inside you he began to bite down on your neck.

“What are you gonna say at work tomorrow hm? What are you gonna tell everyone when they ask who gave you all these hickeys? You gonna tell them what a fucking slut you are? Throwing yourself at me like this huh?” You whined as he cupped your jaw and tilted your head back onto his shoulder. He thrusted his hips up into you and you winced at the force.

“Go ahead. Fuck yourself onto me like a desperate cock hungry whore” You did as told, rising up slightly before pushing yourself back down on him, hands gripping the sheets tightly for support. You cried out as his cock hit every crevice of you. You felt so full, so incredible. You sped up unknowingly causing Hobi to moan out loudly.

His hands moved to your bouncing tits, pinching your nipples as you continued to ride him.

“You like that?” He growled into your neck. You nodded dumbly. “Mmm yeah I fucking bet you do.” The next time you came down on him he gripped your hips tightly holding you down deep on his cock. You feel it pulsing inside your walls as he pushes you down onto your chest.

“Look at that fucking ass” He pulls out briefly and wraps his hand around his cock, letting the tip trace your pronounced curves. You wiggle slightly, trying to entice him and he notices. He slaps his cock against you. “So goddamn needy”

“You’d really let me do anything to you huh” He pushed inside you again, rolling his hips against your ass. “Use you however I like. God, fuck, Y/n if I had known I would’ve fucked you the second we met”

He thrusted furiously, grabbing the ends of your hair and yanking it back like a reign. You screamed out in pain. He continued to push his hips against you, the feeling of him sliding against your walls so fast causing you to clench down desperately.

“Im gonna...OW” Hobi tugged your hair as you spoke, “gonna cum”

“Of course you are. You’re fucking loving this aren’t you. You’re so fucking wet, your pussy is slobbering all over me. Look at the mess you’ve made.” He clicked his tongue before leaning into your ear, “What’s Namjoon gonna say huh when he sees how you’ve leaked onto his bed like this” He taunted you. “Needy little girl, getting so turned on by me pounding into you like a fucking toy”

“Fuck Hobi holy shit” You cried out, his hurtful words making your pussy gush out as you came harder than ever. You could feel Hobi moan as he bites down on your shoulder, trying to muffle his pleasure as he continues to thrust into you wildly.

“God you’re so hot” He whines, and the next thing you know he’s shooting his hot cum deep inside you. “Fuck!” He pulls out quickly. “Shit I’m so sorry I didn’t think I was gonna...” You giggled, rolling over to see his concerned face, such a contrast to how he was just seconds ago.

“It’s okay. I’m protected” You spread your legs and reached a finger down, gathering some of his cum and bringing it to your lips. You look Hobi dead in the eye as you lick it off like candy.

“You’re just begging to be fucked again aren’t you” He dove back down and kissed you, his fingers finding your stuffed cunt and plugging inside. You twitch as you feel his rough fingers invade you, still sensitive from your last orgasm. You pussy clenches desperately as he adds another finger, pumping you furiously into another high.

You cried out as you came. The look in Hobi’s dark eyes sending you over the edge. His plush lips, he was so fucking sexy. You screamed his name as your whole body twitched, arching your back high up in the air. “Hobi...holy fuck baby just like that” You murmured, slightly embarrassed that you making so much noise. After finger-fucking you through it, Hobi rolled onto your side and kisses your cheek.

You sigh in satisfaction, scissoring your legs to ease the tingling aftershocks of your orgasm, letting sleep finally take you.

If Jungkook didn’t drug Namjoon, then the person who wanted to do it probably just did it. That person wanted Jin to win. Jimin shot the guy that was threatening Jungkook so that means Jimin was protecting Namjoon from whoever was backing Jin. But Jungkook didn’t meet you. They might’ve gotten to him then. They might have threatened him again, so maybe he did drug Namjoon. He is the dealer. Namjoon trusts him. It’s possible...

These were the thoughts running through your mind as you arrived at work the next morning. You were surprised to see Namjoon. Still looking beat up, you noticed a general shift in his demeanor. He wasn’t acting cute anymore. He didn’t flash those dimples you loved every five seconds anymore. He was pouty, jaw taught, grumbling away to himself.

As you sat in the studio with him, working on the computer while he messed around on the soundboard, the two of you exchanged no words. He seemed completely out of it still. You wondered if whatever he had been drugged with had worn off.

Hobi finally walked in. “Morning guys” Namjoon seemed to cheer up slightly upon seeing Hobi.

“There’s gonna be an open mic concert next week at Death Valley” Namjoon said eagerly. You groaned. Hobi chuckled at your reaction. “The three of us should go. It’ll be fun. Low stakes. I haven’t actually hung out with you two yet”

He had a point, but you were tired of that fucking place.

“I’m in. Sounds fun!” Hobi winked at you. You pouted. You wanted to jump his bones and fuck the shit out of him so bad. Getting him wasted at Death Valley seemed to be a good way going about it, but you were still scared. It’s just a concert. Not a fight. No guns.

“Y/n?” Namjoon asked hopefully. You sighed. At least it wasn’t tonight. You had some time to recover.

“Sure, why not” You muttered. Namjoon grinned. There were those dimples again. You couldn’t help but smile slightly.

“I’ll have Jungkook bring us something insane. We can go wild” He licked his lips, “God I can’t wait.” He began to tap his foot rapidly. You exchanged a glance with Hobi.

“Oh by the way, Y/n, Jimin said wants to see you after work. He wanted feedback on something” You gave Hobi a look but he simply put his hands up in defense. “Don’t kill the messenger” He smiled before leaving. Once he left Namjoon growled.

“Park fucking Jimin” He sneered, clenching his fists.

“What about him?”

“He made me lose”

You already knew that it was a booty call. You left the office and drove straight to Jimin’s. You were fucking done with him, especially now that you knew the truth about him.

If he really was the man you had seen placing his foot on Namjoon...you shuddered. You were disgusted by him.

Jimin opened the door for you and you shoved past him before he could say a word.

“Damn you PMSing or something” He scoffed. You were so ready to kick his balls.

“What the fuck do you want?”

He sat at his table, and you noticed the lines of powder on the table. Jimin rolled a few dollar bills and snorted one up. He tapped the floor with his foot, gesturing you to sit by him. “Come suck daddy’s cock.”

You reached into your purse and grabbed his credit card, throwing it at him with all your strength. You missed him by a long shot, making him laugh, but you didn’t give a fuck. “I’m done with you.”

Jimin laughed even harder. He almost sounded evil. You clenched your fists.

“I want out. I don’t want or need your fucking money. I hate having sex with you. You’re an asshole and you better fucking leave me alone or”

“Or what baby girl?” Jimin taunted, standing up. “Go tell Yoongi? Think Yoongi’s gonna fucking save the day or some shit. Please be my fucking guest.” He grabbed his phone and tapped away for a bit before handing it to you. “Say a word to anyone, and I’d be happy to show Yoongi and just about the whole damn world this”

Your mouth went dry. It was the security footage of you sucking Jimin off in the studio.

“You know...you’re not supposed to fuck people you work with hmm” He harshly grabbed your jaw, pushing the card back into your awe struck mouth. You bit down, which just made him laugh more. “Want you to enjoy this too baby. I really do. I can give you whatever you want, you just tell daddy what you need mmkay? But don’t make me fucking angry. You have no idea what I’m capable of.” You chuckled darkly. You definitely had some idea. You took the card and slid it back into your purse.

“Go to hell” You kicked his shin, walking over to the table and grabbing the keys to his car.

“Go ahead and throw your tantrums, just be ready to fuck when I see you next” Jimin called after you, a faint bitterness in his voice.

You were furious, not skipping a moment to get in Jimin’s sleek convertible and set off onto the road. Your foot pressed down on the gas until it was the pedal flattened. Your knuckles clenched, gripping the wheel so tightly you could’ve pulled it clean off.

You loved the thrill of driving fast. It allowed you to feel control. Control that Jimin made you loose. You had the power and that’s how it should be.

Unlucky for you, a sharp turn resulted in you finding yourself walking through the county precinct. It wasn’t a big accident, you had gone off the highway and had to get towed. Driving a car for which you were not on the insurance, you had to come in.

You were simply waiting around for paperwork. You looked around at all the busy bodies. You wondered if any of these cops knew even half of the shit that went on in this town.

You sat on your phone in the lobby, looking up every now and then as people walked past you, hoping that someone would simply bring you what you needed so that you could get your car back.

"Great catching up with you man!” You heard some voices.

“Yeah, you too Jin. Stay safe out there” You froze. Jin. Like, JIN Jin?

You looked up and sure enough, the broad movie star-looking boy from the fight was there in the flesh. You looked around to see if anyone else was as shocked as you were, and no one was. He fist bumped an officer, and your eyes widened as you saw him slide a badge into his pocket.

Kim Seokjin is a fucking cop? You stared at him. Unsure what to do. It wasn’t likely he had seen your face...hopefully.

Jin glanced your way, giving you a charming smile and winked.

“Hey Y/n”

ᐊ——[ previous ] series navi | masterlist | [ next ]——ᐅ

a/n: thank you for reading <3 i really hope you liked this.. its become the bane of my existence lol. jin and yoongi will have their moment but theres stuff BUILDING rn so just...ride with it. you will fuck everyone multiple times in various ways dw ;)

do you think it was jimin who you saw at the fight, kicking our precious joonie? could it have been someone else? taehyung???? do you think jungkook drugged joon? who do you think might be yandere? let me know what you think, drop by asks & have an amazing day! <3

taglist: @imluckybitches @gee-nee @missseoulite @hcneybees @kooookie @queenmasterxx @crustycaitlin @virgo-and-libra @un2-verse @winter-melontea @equivocacies

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arguablysomaya · 3 years ago

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duke, about damian: i'm just saying that considering his messed up past and how he was trained, he could have turned out a lot worse

tim: you're right, duke. let's go find him and give him a medal. the Not-As-Much-Of-A-Jerk-As-You-Could-Have-Been award

#incorrect dcu #dcu #batman #batfamily #incorrect batfamily quotes #batfam #incorrect batfam quotes #incorrect quotes #incorrect dc quotes #incorrect batman quotes #DC #dc universe #DC Universe #batkids #tim drake #damian wayne #duke thomas

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algumaideia · 3 years ago

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Octavian and the lack of a support system

I was thinking about Octavian and he doesn’t have one meaninful relationship throught the books. And that’s so bad. I mean let’s take a look to all the people Octavian had a relationship in the books:

His family: Never heard of them, never appeared in the books, he doesn’t even have a surname.

Reyna: She was desperate to do not be a preator with him, she smiled when the greeks were disrespecting him and always dismissed his concerns.

Jason: The only time he had an interaction with Octavian was when Piper charmspeaked him and when Percy said they should use their power to shut Octavian up and they high-fived.

Romans: As far as we know either they hated Octavian or they were bought friends. In Blood of Olympus was said that half of the legion wanted to betray him.

Hazel: She completly disliked him.

Frank: He disliked him so much that Octavian, the anemic guy, was the first person he thought that killed Gwen.

Greeks: No one likes him. I suggest you to read this post by @zazzander

Bryce: They only had one interaction and it was just I’ll give you something you give me something.

Michael: The only person that seemed to be Octavian’s friend, the person Octavian trusted about his problem seeing prophecies, the person he sent to stop Reyna (a really important task), the person he trusted when he was having a phsychotic event and losing his touch with reality, THAT PERSON let Octavian kill himself.

Octavian spent his tween and teen years at Camp Jupiter, a really unhealthy place to a child grow up (I’d like to explain why, but I’m not capable sorry). And the guy had no real support, apperently not for most of time, and not in the moment his mental health was really bad.

You know what? Octavian also deserves the “not as much a jerk as you could have been award”. Because the enviroment he grew up should have screwed him way more. And that’s why I like Avatar, because they recognize how Azula was shaped by her enviroment, her relationships or the lack of them, how she ahd little to no choice, how it is all a tragedy. But Octavian? All he got was an anti-clamatic death that wasn’t given a second thought by basically everyone.

Sorry for my angry rant.

Best regards,

Me.

Ps. It is kinda weird how Tyson, Octavian, Leo and Nico, the autistic coded characters, are the ones who were mores mistreated by the people around them and the narrative.

#octavian #pjo octavian #hoo octavian #pjo #hoo #heroes of olympus #hoo analysis

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realcube · 4 years ago

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random kisses w/ the haikyuu!! boys hcs 💋

characters: tsukishima, akaashi, kenma, iwaizumi & noya

thank you to anon for the amazing request :3

IWAIZUMI & KENMA’S ARE AGED UP

tw// swearing, sexual references, mentions of kinks, mentions of choking

Kei Tsukishima

tsukishima was always very hesitant to kiss and hug tbh

the only thing he did freely without overthinking was hold your hand but even then, he’d immediately pull away if he thought his palm was getting the slightest bit sweaty (from his nerves)

also, he’d get really tense when ever he saw you lean in for a kiss bc he was always afraid that he’d mess up something

like what happens if he sneezes exactly when you’re about to connect lips?- he’d die, that’s what would happen.

anyway, when you first began surprising him by placing kisses on either the back of his hand or the nape of his neck, he’d become a blushing , irritated mess

like, he thought it was so cute and sweet so of course he’d blush but then he’d get mad bc..you made him blush! how embarrassing for him, tsk.

but although he’d be annoyed and hiss things like ‘you’re so weird’ or ‘that’s simp behaviour’ he would never tell you to stop bc deep down he knows that he enjoys it lol

and surprisingly, he wasn’t in denial about it at first either

like mans isn’t stupid

obviously he liked it, why else would he blush?

since he was aware that he liked your lil’ random kisses, he began to pretend to be invested in activity bc he realised that if you thought he was preoccupied with something important/stressful, you’d be more likely to give his neck a lil’ peck

for instance, if he’s just on his phone or whatever then you text him saying that you’re coming over, he immediately rush to gather his backpack and bring out his notes so he can sit at his desk to look like he’s studying lmao

then you walk in like ‘awh bb you’re always working so hard 🥺 kithes’

and he’s just got the most cunning smirk on his face which he’s trying his very best hide to conceal

then you gave him a kiss on the cheek and he was just like ‘gotcha bitch ( •̀ ω •́ )✧’

anyway, when he’s just deadass being lazy he can still tell when you’re about to kiss him bc he’s very observant etc etc

(also bc you always have a cheesy grin on your face before you kiss him lol)

so after a few years of dating, they become less of ‘random kisses’ and more like just regular kisses for tsukki but he always tries to act like it’s surprising

whether that be jumping slightly whenever you peck the back of his neck or inhaling sharply as you pressed a sudden kiss to his forehead

it’s just bc he loves to hear your giggles at his reaction 🥺 he thinks it’s so cute

Keiji Akaashi

this all began when he was lying on the couch, reading a book while looking absolutely scrumptious so you just had to give him a lil’ peck on the forehead and he’s been addicted ever since

he especially likes it when you sneak up behind him, wrap him in a hug then plant a kiss on the nape of his neck - he thinks it’s so cute and he always cuddles your arms to his chest so you don’t let go

OMG AND YOU DID IT AT SCHOOL ONCE AT THE END OF PRACTISE, IN FRONT OF ALL HIS TEAMMATES AND HE JUST- MALFUNTIONED FJBFVBGRAFD

deadass he just stood like a statue while you cuddled up behind him, his mouth slightly agape and his eyes wide

bokuto thought it was adorable and was like ‘awwwhhh!! #couplegoals!! 💖💕🥰’

(yes he does say the hashtag aloud)

while the rest of the team are wondering if akaashi is okay. i mean, mans looking pretty stiff

but dw he’s not dead y’all, he’s just ascended 👼

like seriously he loves it so much

sometimes he tries to give you random kisses by just grabbing your face while you’re doing something and lean in to place his lips upon yours but he always gets distract by how gorgeous you are, so he’ll spend a little too long admiring your face which will lead to you having to awkwardly muttering something along the lines of

‘i love you too, akaashi. but, erm, my toast is burning.’

Hajime Iwaizumi

iwaizumi already did something kinda similar to random kisses but not really yk?

like whenever he saw you really invested in an activity that you didn’t like doing (cleaning, laundry, studying, chores etc) he’d plant a firm kiss on your cheek which would end up trailing across your face, to your lips - just to boost your spirits lol :)

but they weren’t really surprising or ‘random’ bc he would always announce something to grab your attention before kissing you, like ‘babe’ or ‘wow’

also, imo ‘random kisses’ gives off a ‘sweet lil’ smooch’ sorta vibe but the kisses he gives you are far from ‘smooches’

like they are unintentionally sensual as hell

and he doesn’t even realise how erotic they are so he just suddenly pulls away to leave you with your chores ✋😔

anyway, you first gave him a surprise kiss while he was cooking dinner and whispered something jokingly in his ear along the lines of ‘woah, husband material.’

damn, if iwa knew that all he had to do for some kithes was be a hubby then he would’ve done that sooner like geez 😳

istg after that day iwaizumi would be in full maid-mode whenever you were in the house (bc he apparently doesn’t know the difference between the duties of a maid and a ‘husband’ lol)

‘yes i do the cooking, yes i do the cleaning’ - nicki manaj, hey mama -iwazumi hajime after being told that’s he’s husband material

so know you feel obliged to give him kisses and praise him whenever you see him doing chores/cooking/gardening bc you know he’s only doing that to please you lmao

so you just give the man what he wants i mean, he’s trying so hard

and he puts in so much effort to make sure he looks hot while doing it

like if he’s cleaning the bathroom room, he’ll oil himself and get out the Mr Muscle spray to make sure that his chest is shinier than the bathroom tiles

then you’ll kiss his forehead and tell him how he’s doing a great job blah blah blah

honestly, the kisses are hardly ‘random’ anymore since iwaizumi sets up a whole scene just to get you to peck his cheek but whatever

anyway, you helped him realise that he had a domestic and servitude kink

and for that, he’s forever grateful 🥰

Kenma Kuzome

pov: you’re sad so you play stardew valley and your s/o notices and they pounce on you with their love and affection 🥺

and you cry bc you love them so much but you’re not good at expressing it 😔✌

- ok, end of pov -

that was kenma’s pov btw ^

but like seriously, it’s his absolute favourite when you give him kisses while he’s playing video games

and you always give exactly the right quantity - it’s like you can read his mind or something

like, if he’s in a the climax of a round of any first-person shoot/rpg and you happen to walk by, you’ll just place a brief yet caring kiss on the side of his head then leave him alone

or if he’s on stream and you walk into the room - but don’t wanna be on camera - you’ll blow him kisses and he’ll smile like an idiot then discretely blow one back

then his chat is like ‘omg he can smile?’, ‘why is he smiling?’ ,‘is he sending air kisses? SIMP!!!’

but when he’s down, blaring lo-fi music from his cat speakers and playing animal crossing, nintendogs, stardew valley or tomodachi life (etc), you’ll shower him with all your cuddles and kisses

ngl tho, when you scuttle up to him while he’s playing any game and press a lil’ kiss on his ear as you absently rub his shoulders, he literally melts

he just kinda sits there and stares at the screen but not even a fraction of his mind is dedicated on the game, it’s all just ‘(y/n). i love them so much. i hope they know that. wow, i got so lucky, i hope they never leave me. (y/n), if only you could read my mind.’

and to show that he likes it, he purrs!!!

not voluntarily, it kinda just escaped his mouth the first time you were giving him a massage and since you insisted that it was the cutest thing you’ve ever heard, he continues to do it - but v quietly

but- there is one thing he likes more than random kisses

and that is random cuddles

or random lapping-sitting yESSS

he is a simp so if you’re feeling needy or whateva and sit on his lap while he’s playing, he’ll literally just quit tbh-

that’s one of the only times he’ll not use the excuse ‘i’ll do it when this round ends’ so use it wisely and sparingly

but that’s only if you sit facing towards him bc he realised that if you sit like that, he’ll get some cooch

but otherwise, if you just sit on his lap for the sake of sitting on his lap, he’ll either jokingly push you off or continue playing his game by looking over your shoulder

Yū Nishinoya

you stole it from him lol

he’s the OG random kisser ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ

let’s recall how on your first date with him, you were worrying that he might’ve stood you up as you waited on the picnic blanket for him to arrive and then he jumped out from one of the hedges and attacked you with kisses

like mans got a lot of energy so i can just imagine him attacking you with affection whenever he is bored

and he does it regardless of what you are doing at the time

studying? kiss attack.

cleaning? tickle attack.

sleeping? cuddle attack.

hotel? trivago

he goes into that shit with a strategy too like ‘if i kiss them on the neck first they’ll move their head and arm which will give me access to their chest so then i’ll plant a kiss there too and depending on whether the jerk to the left or right i can then go in for a kiss on their n--’ etc etc

so imagine how hyped he is when you sneak up behind him in the school corridor and peck his cheek

AND IT WAS IN FRONT OF HIS FRIENDS TOO, IT WAS AWESOME

he was so triumphant about it, as if he had just won some sort of award lol

‘yes, i am the coochieman. and what about it?’

then he bought you lunch for ‘being the best s/o ever’ 🥺

but don’t think you’ll ever beat him in the random kissing game bc while he was feeding you the lunch he bought (he does that sometimes, playfully though, whenever he is feeling like a simp) he’ll lean in and steal a lil’ kiss which will lead to you choking on your rice

‘hey babe, plz don’t choke. otherwise i’ll have to give you mouth-to-mouth, ahaha.’

meanwhile, you’re turning red

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