#((look. at. bowie's. arms. that burrito Broke him..........))

[quackle]

a bowie study page that i'm too lazy to clean up

[flowerbeom]

Go For Broke | 02

Im Jaebeom x Older Female!Reader

Genre: Fuckboy!AU, Aspiring Songwriter!AU, Slow Burn, Angst/Humour/Smut (loads)

Warnings: Incredibly mature themes, Asshole Jaebeom (because he’s a real asshole in this), Swearing, Explicit smut scenes.

Word Count: 5.3k

Concept: Premier fuckboy Im Jaebeom is used to getting his way.  Though, he wants more, he craves more. He wants his music to be heard, he wants his music to be loved. So when he learns that the attractive woman he buys records from has an connection that’ll get him into the industry, he uses every trick in his book to get in.  Seduction is his game, and he plays to win.

A/N: Enjoy.  All GIF credits for this series go to @defsenses.

→  Mood Board →  Series Index        - Links to the Spotify Playlists are available in Series Index

Your eyes scanned down the column of the excel spreadsheet on the screen, lips screwing into your cheek at the numbers displayed. Standing slightly to lift your foot onto the chair, you pulled your knee into your chest before leaning back. 

“Yo, when the hell did Arctic Monkeys get popular again?” Yelling into the back of the store, you watched the empty void behind the stockroom door for movement. You heard a few rips of plastic and a whack of the microwave door shutting; your eyes rolled at the sound. 

“Hmmm, why?” Mark appeared, filling the empty void to lean a shoulder into the door-frame, pushing up the sleeves of his way-too-big-for-him hoodie. 

“They’re my highest selling artist this week. After that it’s David Bowie, but I can understand David Bowie cause he’s…” 

“Classic.” Mark interjected.

“Classic, yes. But Arctic Monkeys? And AM no less.” The 2013 seminal album proved the most popular purchase on your weekly report, and it confused you to no end. You turned to better hear Mark’s potential explanation, but he had disappeared into the void once again; returning a few breaths later with a reheated burrito in hand. Your jaw slacked open as you watched him proceed to inhale half of said burrito in one bite; eyebrows only furrowing when you couldn’t make out what he tried to mumble through a mouthful of brown rice and guacamole. 

“Come again?” Mark swallowed loudly with a grunt and wiped his mouth with the back of his forearm. 

‘Peaky Blinders.” You paused, eyes lifting in realisation and returned the nod Mark gave you once he saw it all click in your head. Lifting the pen you were twirling into the air, you puffed out your chest with your inhale. 

“There is God.” 

“And there is the Peaky Blinders.” Mark returned, burrito held high in salute. A moment of shared shame hung between you, you knew you’d never be forgiven for butchering the Cockney accent. Though your attention was stolen by the person strolling into your store. 

“Good show.” There was an air of arrogance in Jaebeom’s voice that irked you, but you found yourself smirking instead. Pushing your pen into the messy bun tied high on your head, you shifted in your seat - tilting your head in defiance when Jaebeom smirked back.

“Day off?” Jaebeom nodded, sliding off his cap to push his hair back and away off his face and you caught the tick in his jaw as he did. You tongued your one of your canines, hoping you had stitched up that part of you that had snapped well enough to endure that moment and exhaled sharply when Jaebeom caught your eyes after placing his cap back on. Straightening his watch under the cuff of his hoodie, Jaebeom’s tongue found his own canine - his shoulders shifting to sit at their broadest. 

Mark coughed from where he stood; coughed or choked, you weren’t too sure - but it broke the narrowed stare you and Jaebeom were exchanging. Angling your chin towards the stockroom door, you waited for Mark to swallow the last of his burrito before holding out your hand to him.

“Mark, Kid.” Then sweeping your hand over to Jaebeom.

“Kid, Mark.” 

“Oh, you’re the Kid.” The way Jaebeom’s expression made his eyes slit with irritation made it hard to suppress the urge to laugh; especially with the smile Mark had plastered on his face. Jaebeom held out his hand, Mark eagerly reached to meet it; shaking once on contact then once again out of respect. 

“Jaebeom.” He pressed. “Nice to meet you.” Mark winked, wordlessly gesturing that it was indeed, nice to meet him too. 

“After some records, Jaebeom? Y/N here has the best selection.” Mark chimed, scrunching up his burrito wrapper and taking up a perfect Kobe stance to free-throw it into the bin behind you. Mark pumped a fist when it made it in and you raised a congratulatory eyebrow. 

“That, among other things.” Jaebeom’s voice dipped into the territory belonging solely to seduction and let his eyes float across his bottom lashes as they stayed locked on yours when he stepped into the Hip-Hop section. You held his stare while he fingered through records while doing your best not to show how tightly your jaw was viced shut. 

“And by other things,..” Yours and Jaebeom’s eyes both shifted to Mark. “You mean you’re keen on taking her out for a drink? Maybe show her a good time? Cure her of her loneliness.” 

Jaebeom’s eyebrow cocked devilishly, eyes not lowering as he pulled out a record from the stack. Mark on the other hand, could feel your pupils branding him with a marker for impending death; contempt practically seeping out of your pores. 

“Come on, Y/N. Admit you’re lonely. You crave my daily visits.” Mark crossed to the counter, digging a single knuckle into your arm. 

“No, you just crave my Nespresso.” Standing abruptly to flick Mark in the ear, he swatted away your hand, just for his other hand to yank the pen out of your hair; you could feel your ears stinging as he sniggered.

Spinning on his heel, Jaebeom suppressed the need to laugh by pulling out another record from the Alternative section. Jaebeom scooped his selection under his arm and met you at the counter, gingerly placing the records into your outstretched hands. 

“So what do you say?” Tone still bobbing on the surface of seduction.

“On these?” Musing over his choices. “Grandmaster Flash, Son Lux, L’Orange. Interesting choices as usual.” Scanning each bar-code without ever meeting his stare. 

“No, on a drink.” Persistent. 

“A drink?” Ringing up the total, you slid Jaebeom’s card out of his fingers - finding no protest from him. 

“Yes, a drink. With me.” Tapping his card against the EFTPOS machine, you finally looked him in the eye once the transaction went through; subconsciously signalling that if he wanted your attention, he’d have to pay for it - in one way or another.

“Why don’t you message me when you want to take me out, and I’ll see if I’m free.” Handing him his records, you let your finger drag across his as he pulled them from your hands; you relished in the minute flicker of his lashes - in the tiny part of him you had somehow disarmed. 

Tucking the records under his arm, Jaebeom swallowed. “I’d love to, but you need to give me your number first.” 

“What? You don’t already have it?” Feigning disappointment with a hand pressed against your heart. “Well that’s just too bad.” 

Jaebeom inhaled sharply through flared nostrils as you licked your smirking lips. Steadying to rebuke, Jaebeom halted when Mark pushed off the counter to the sound of 503 horsepower pulling up to the curb outside. 

Jaebeom’s head whipped around, his potential meal ticket sitting in the driver’s seat as he did a few days prior, Rolex glittering through the tinted window and Jaebeom involuntarily stepped to the door like a greedy moth to a fluorescent bug trap. The driver looked out through the passenger window, not at Jaebeom, but behind him, at you. 

“Gonna come out and say hi?” Mark asked as he slid past Jaebeom. 

“I see enough of him at home, he’ll survive if I don’t grant him pleasantries this one time.” Mark shrugged, but nodded anyway and the driver pulled back his head from the angle it had been and looked over the steering wheel instead. Tapping the back of his hand against Jaebeom’s forearm, Mark gestured he should leave with a cock of his jaw. 

“Her bite is worse than her bark, you should leave now while she’s still smiling.” Jaebeom angled his chin over his shoulder to catch you smiling with only one side of your face, hand lifted no higher than your shoulder - fingers wiggling their goodbye. 

You watched him slink away, records under one arm; his other hand sliding into his jeans pocket after shaking Mark’s. You watched Mark slide into the Vantage, grinning a little too much but you shook it off. You could tell Jaebeom was watching the Aston Martin as it sped away. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was slurping up the drool that had pooled under his tongue; all boys were the same when it came to cars like that. Who you were you kidding? All boys were the same regardless. Yes, all boys. 

Jaebeom finally breathed easy after twenty minutes of trying to shake off the girl he was dancing with after he determined she was a little nuts; no matter how hypnotising her ass was. Though nuts was a bit of a stretch, he just didn’t like the way she moaned whenever he grinded into her. Bit much, he thought; she didn’t have to try so hard, he still would have fucked her if she kept her mouth shut. But alas, he had lost his appetite. 

Claiming he’d wait by the bar when she said she needed to go to the bathroom, Jaebeom counted the seconds it took for her ass to disappear down the dark corridor before he snapped around and through the back door. 

To him, 1-AM always felt the same. Like how the air feels suspended just before it rains, but you feel weightless instead of suffocated. And that’s what he wanted, standing in the alley behind the club; and he had it for a moment before Bambam’s shrill laughter invaded his senses. Dropping his head from his gaze at the moon, Jaebeom turned to see Jackson and Bambam a few meters away, passing a cigar back and forth. Taking a pull then holding it in his mouth for a second, Jackson blew the thin column of smoke through his lips before handing it to Bambam.

“Cubans, they know their stuff.” Bambam repeated the motion, rocking back on his heels before shivering, the 1-something-AM air a little too cold for his liking. Jaebeom cocked his head when he heard another voice. 

Further down, concealed in shadow, Jaebeom made out Jinyoung’s form; pacing between a brick wall and a dumpster. He took two steps towards him, then paused when he heard the ache in Jinyoung’s voice. 

“What’s it to you what I do tonight? It’s not like you’re here to stop me.” Passing headlights lit the pain etched between Jinyoung’s brows before darkness hid it from view again, Jaebeom somehow felt it hammer against his chest. 

“I’m going to do whatever the fuck I want, since that’s all you ever do anyway.” Jaebeom knew who Jinyoung was arguing with on the phone, though he never told him he did. 

“Why don’t you call me when you’ve made up your mind.” Jinyoung couldn’t hang up fast enough, his thumb slamming against the screen before clawing his phone into a fist. Jaebeom took another step when it looked like Jinyoung was going to smash his phone into the ground, but eased back when Jinyoung’s shoulders dropped - his hand shoving his phone into his pocket. 

“Hey, Nyeong!” Jackson heckled, completely unaware of the fight Jinyoung just dragged himself through. Jinyoung approached at a languid pace, catching Jaebeom’s glance but unable to read it. 

“What’s eating you Gilbert Grape? You look like you need a fuck.” Bambam coughed through his exhale, the Cuban hit catching on his tonsils - Jinyoung merely grizzled. 

“There’s a gorgeous brunette at the bar. She’s down about five vodka raspberries. I’ll warm her up for you if you want.” Jackson’s teasing slithered through a slanted grin; Bambam coughed through another exhale, smoke sputtering out through his chuckling lips. Jaebeom saw Jinyoung’s eyes narrow in rage, so he lifted a hand onto his shoulder; Jinyoung’s anger smothered under the weight of it. 

“How about a drink? I could definitely use one. This one’s on me.” Said only to Jinyoung but loud enough for Jackson and Bambam to feel ignored. Jaebeom led Jinyoung back into the club - the music blasting through the open door to dissipate the thick tension that had clung to the night air. 

“Hyung it’s alright, I-..I don’t want, I might just go..” Jinyoung stuttered, weaving through the crowd behind Jaebeom. Jaebeom didn’t want to turn around, afraid his resolve would break and Jinyoung would see the worry behind his eyes. Though, through a heavy breath, Jaebeom steeled himself; turning to square Jinyoung.

“One drink?” Jinyoung shook his head.

Jaebeom stood stoically where Jinyoung left him, watching as he left the club. Eyes following his friend pass the bouncer on his way out, Jaebeom almost turned away but froze as he caught sight of someone else slipping past the line and straight into the club. 

Jaebeom clenched his jaw as he watched you place a kiss on the bouncer’s cheek and smile as you slipped out of his embrace; he swore he could hear you giggle when the bouncer, his bouncer, tried to snatch at your hand. His eyes slit suspiciously to better see you glide through the crowd; stopping every so often to greet regular attendees and staff alike. His mind was racing. If you could get in with only a smile and swat at the owner’s hand as it tried to place itself a little too low on your back, why had he never seen you before? Why did it seem that his club, was yours? All yours. 

Jaebeom crammed his hands into his jeans pockets; eyes still fixed on your figure at it strolled towards the DJ booth. The crowd seemed to part for you - faces beaming when you approached and mouths gaping when you passed by. Jaebeom was enthralled. Confused, but captivated by the scene unfolding before him all the same. 

You bounced up into the DJ booth, the skirt you wore riding up your thigh as you cleared the height. Jaebeom felt the driest swallow crawl down his throat. Again, he was thrown as his DJ threw his arms around you, greeting you like an old friend he hadn’t seen in years. Your expression mirrored his happiness, hands staying put on his shoulders as you spoke to him over the music. Jaebeom’s jaw was ticking, cheek flaring as he stared. 

Watching you drop a hand into your bag, Jaebeom saw you pull a few records out to hand them to the DJ - his headphones falling off and onto his shoulders as he bounced with glee. You were pulled into another embrace before pulling back to say what looked like a few stern, yet lighthearted words to the DJ. And he nodded, agreeing with whatever you had ordered him to do and Jaebeom was floored. 

Shifting his weight onto one foot, Jaebeom leant against the pillar beside him. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. He continued to stare as you jumped down for the booth and like the Red Sea, the crowd parted for you again, making way for you to approach the bar. Jaebeom’s seething curiosity flared, tongue clicking against his teeth when he watched the bartender, his bartender, place a drink on the counter even before you got there. 

Your smile was tender, almost loving when the bartender refused to accept the twenty dollar note you held out to him - merely fanning your hand away and pushing the carefully prepared drink closer towards you. You accepted, not much to Jaebeom’s surprise, and drank the drink in one tip of your chin. 

Another dry swallow scratched down Jaebeom’s throat when he saw you plant your hands on the counter to hurl yourself up - leaning over the marble to place a kiss on the bartender’s cheek. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t get excited at the sight of the underside of your ass, your skirt doing you absolutely no favors. But he was stuck trying to compute the entirety of your presence in his club. 

He was still calculating who you could be to all these people, all his people, when he watched you leave as slyly as you entered. Gliding through the crowd and letting the bouncer give you the hug he wanted to give you moments before, you left a lipstick stain on his cheek before you slipped through the exit - the only trace you left before you disappeared into the night. 

Jaebeom didn’t hear Jackson ask him what the fuck he was doing just standing there. He didn’t feel Bambam whack his shoulder as he walked past, or hear him yell at him about the girl that was checking him out. Jaebeom was fiddling with the piece of paper in his pocket. The piece of paper Mark slipped into his hand when he shook it outside your store. 

Pulling it out, Jaebeom read the scratchy handwriting under the dim red light he stood beneath. 

      Good luck, Kid.        +092 6683 9845

One hand sunk itself into the pocket of your denim jacket while the other tapped the back of your phone against your cheek. Head tilted to one side, you watched, bemused, as Mark stood hunched over, staring with wandering eyes at your key-less lock. He slid open the cover and watched the numpad illuminate and as if a switch flipped off in his mind, he slid the cover back down. Fanned fingertips pressed into your door, his whole body leaning forward in hopes the door would swing open - and when it didn’t, his hand fell limp by his side. 

You watched, amused now, as he repeated himself - slid open the cover, gazed as the numpad lit up and slowly dimmed and then pulled down the cover; fingertips replaced with his forehead trying to push open the door. It was time to end his suffering, you thought, despite knowing full well you could watch him struggle until he passed out. 

“You alright there, bud?” You tried not to let your question sound condescending but with the way Mark simply swiveled his head to follow the sound all without lifting his forehead from the door made it impossible to smother the squeak that escaped you. 

“Y/N! Hey! I brought Thai food!” The fact that it was two in the morning did not escape you. The fact that Mark was three steps away from blind drunk did not escape you. And the fact that Mark still had his forehead pressed to your door while holding up the bag of take out for your inspection certainly did not escape you. But that was not the first time you had seen him, white girl wasted, trying to enter your apartment at some ungodly hour. You also knew, it would not be the last. 

Curling your hands around his shoulders to pull him back, Mark dropped his head onto your shoulder; the unmistakable waft of Patreon XO Cafe spilled out of his mouth, and apparently down his shirt too upon a cursory glance. Probably when he was still six steps away from blind drunk. 

“You gotta put the code in, stupid. You remember the code right?” Trying to balance his swaying head on your shoulder, you pinched his nose to focus his attention. Mark whined, but found his own balance; standing erect and holding out a finger to the numpad. 

“The code, right..” Elongating a single syllable word into ten. “That’s what I forgot.” 

You patted the top of his head. A slight stretch, despite the heeled boots you had on. Mark was tall. Real tall. 

You watched his pupils dilate, laser like focus; and you screamed the code in your mind, hoping he’d telepathically hear you. 

Four

“Four…” 

Nine nine zero.

“Nine. Nine. Zee-roh.” Oh he’s doing so well. 

But then he stalled; tongue poking into the corner of his mouth - searching for the last two digits. 

Four Zero. 

But he continued to stall, finger quivering above the numpad.

Four Zero!

Nothing. Your mind link with him had severed. So you took his hand in yours and keyed the rest of the code with your free one. Mark giggled deep in his throat, letting you push him through the open door and into your apartment. You watched him toe off each one of his shoes, one sock deciding it wanted to remain sheathed and clung to the inside of his shoe. Mark, valiant as ever, fought against the resistance, claiming back his sock and strolled victorious to the couch; one foot fully socked, the other holding onto it’s sock cover by his toes alone. 

You muffled your laughter with bit lips and puffed cheeks, unzipping each of your boots to place them down beside Mark’s discarded sneakers. 

“Tell me you went to Fresh Chilli.” Slinking one arm after the other out of your jacket. 

“Of course I did. What do you think I am? A savage?” Mark plopped down onto your couch then carefully placed the plastic bag on your coffee table. He began to undo the knot in the bag, lips pursing as he pulled it apart with wobbly fingers. 

“Red duck curry?” Mark nodded, pulling the first container out. 

“Rolled omelette?” Mark nodded again, placing the second container next to the first. 

“Coconut rice?” Mark began to whistle, liken to the sound of a missile about to collide with earth, he revealed the last container, dropping it onto the table along with a comical explosion blowing open his mouth. 

“You cool to get spoons? I’m gonna get changed.” Mark took his cue, rising from the suede cushions and marched towards the kitchen drawers. A man on a mission. 

Despite his completely inebriated state, you trusted him to navigate your kitchen with ease. You were roommates in college, and despite moving to the other side of the city, the layout of your apartment remained practically identical. Urban living at its finest. 

“Where’s Eric?” Hollering from the inside of the sweater you were still pulling over your head. There was a delay in Mark’s response. Either because he was still figuring out how to answer your question, or because he had two mouthfuls of coconut rice and curry in his mouth. 

“Probably still at work.” Every syllable muffled. Definitely three mouthfuls of coconut rice and curry. 

Leaving your bedroom and sitting on the floor across from him, you picked up your spoon; tapping his away when it dove for the only lychee your favourite Thai restaurant ever put in the Red Duck Curry. A little nugget of sweet succulent semi translucent goodness. 

“I messaged him and he said he has to meet with the A&R team. Something about a rookie group’s debut coming up.” You nodded while spooning a heaped pile of rice and omelette into your mouth. 

You swore you were beginning to fade into a curry induced nirvana when Mark groaned. Your eyes shot up, widening as Mark angrily shoved half-ladened spoonfuls into his mouth; the metal clang it made as it hit his teeth on entry and exit made you cringe. 

“People suck.” Breaking the silence between chews. 

“Okay?” You uncurled one of you legs to lean an elbow into the bent knee.

“If someone messages you, you should, out of courtesy, message back!” Slamming his spoon onto the table, rogue grains of rice bouncing into the air. 

“Well you said Eric’s with the A&R team, he’s probably stuck discussing some important shit.” Answering nonchalantly, picking up rice grains with your fingernails. 

“And if you tell them you love them, they should, out of courtesy, answer back even more!” Mark’s hands were flinging around his body, explosive expression of emotions. 

“I’m sure Eric knows you love him, as weird as that may be.. ” Nonplussed in your response, though Mark only withered into himself; flopping dramatically onto the couch; legs curling into his chest. Mark’s favourite position to wallow; fetal. 

You rolled onto your knees, every intention to crawl to him and stroke his hair affectionately. Patronisingly, but affectionately. But the rattle your phone made on the coffee table halted you from displaying sympathy. 

A message from an unknown number piqued your curiosity; though unknown numbers at 3-AM granted you more apprehension than interest.

       03:09am        +010 4522 2858        Weren’t you a vision walking into CREAM like that.          But, next time don’t run off so soon.        I’ll be happy to keep you company. 

You scrabbled on hands and knees to Mark as if possessed, smacking the side of his head instead of lovingly stroking it like previously planned. 

“What the fuck did you do?!” Enraged. Mark cupped his ear, mewling through his pout. Puppy dog eyes welling with tears on full display. 

“What?!” Thrusting your phone into his face, your arm shook as Mark blinked to focus. He read the message. A few times over and once a moment of stillness had passed, clapped a hand onto his mouth and exploded in laughter. 

“Fuck, the Kid has balls after all!” You smacked him again, Mark shooting up to scurry to the other end of the couch. You were quick to your feet, lunging onto the couch though Mark caught your wrists to save himself another beating. 

“Hey, hey, HEY! Stop, calm the fuck down woman, fuck.. Fuck, stop!” Mark growled, his tenor vibrating down your spine and you rocked back. Sitting on your feet, you breathed in a few steadying breaths and once Mark was almost sure you weren’t going to hit him, released your wrists. 

“So you gave him my number?” Voice steady, body shaking. 

“Yes.” 

“To the poster boy of all Fuckboys?” Voice still steady, but eyes twitching.

“He’s not a Fuckboy, probably...” Mark insisted, but with the way his face contorted proved he didn’t completely believe himself. 

“Mark, it’s three-am. Who the fuck sends a text like that at three-am if you haven’t got your dick on permanent slut-scan?!” Mark flinched when you threw your hands into the air, exasperated to say the least.

“Okay okay, good point. But what’s done is done.” Mark clapped his hands together, a finishing move of sorts.

“Why the fuck did you do it?” Your voice cracked, body close to boiling point. 

“Cause you need to get fucked.” Your body suddenly calmed, as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over you and doused your flaming rage. You blinked heavily, Mark’s eyes starting to show sober thought. 

“Excuse me?” Quieter than before, meek even, would be a good way to describe your tone. 

“When was the last time you got laid?” Your mouth opened and closed like a loose screen door caught swinging back and forth in a tornado.  

“Like ten months ago? Like not since that rapper from Sydney broke your poor little heart?” Mark jutted out his chin, eyebrows raised awaiting your answer. And when you gave none, Mark shifted to cross one leg over the other and dropped an arm behind the back of the couch. 

“Listen.” In that holier than thou tone you hated so much, but you were still struck dumb and Mark knew it.

“The Kid is practically begging to take you out. And from the look of the thighs on that boy, could be a good lay. Perhaps a great lay.” Rage started to simmer within you again, your cocked jaw and narrowed eyes giving it away. 

“Don’t even get me started on those shoulders. He’s like a walking proverbial Schrodinger’s fuck ready for the taking.” Mark’s chest popped as he sneered, and you clenched a fist reactively, but kept it glued in your lap. 

“So why don’t you..” Mark edged forward.

“Drop the ego..” Knocked a knuckle against your chin to straighten it. 

“Uncross your legs..” Dragged his thumb down your bottom lip to pop your lips apart.

“And let the Kid show you a good time.” Waggling one brow to better accentuate his suggestion. You wanted to right hook the smug look off his face. 

“Come on, tell me he isn’t the perfect guy for some harmless, casual, no strings attached fun! Good old fashioned hit it and quit it.” 

Silence fell between you. Though after a pregnant pause of weakly angered contemplation, Mark saw the break in your resolve and unhooked his arm from the couch and leaned over you; grabbing your phone from where it fell when you wailed on him. Holding it out to you, Mark tampered down his smirk as he tapped his thumb on the screen to wake it. 

“Harmless, casual, no strings attached fun, you say?” Tone skeptical but you couldn’t deny the lurid curiosity simmering deep within you. Mark nodded and tapped a patient finger against your phone one more time. 

“Go on. Open the box.”

Jaebeom yanked at the fistful of hair in his hand, the chin of the poor girl he ghosted hours before digging into his kitchen counter. If you asked him why he hunted her down after unceremoniously ditching her, he’d tell you with Hail Mary conviction that her ass was actually far too hypnotising to pass up. He in no way, would admit that he was irrationally angry; broiling from the inside out. 

He in no way, would admit that watching you prowl through his domain like some rogue Alpha turned him on as much as it irritated him. He’d never admit that he swallowed down his delicate sensibilities to message you, because of course, he had none. He would absolutely never tell you that after an hour of hoping, maybe two of waiting for you to message him back, had left him irate enough to peel the chick he found displeasing off Jackson just so he could claim her, so he could claim something. 

So if you asked him to deny that he was rage-fucking some poor girl because he felt threatened by your complete indirect display of power, he would. He would tell you through gritted teeth and a smile that didn’t reach his eyes that seeing you tonight meant nothing and that in the end, that chick’s ass was indeed far too hypnotising to pass up. And he was going to prove it by hammering his hips into her as hard as he could while keeping her bent over his kitchen counter.

No, he didn’t learn her name. No, he didn’t listen when she told him. No, he didn’t care. He probably wasn’t even paying attention; every rut senseless, every deep drive into her dripping cunt, indifferent. He couldn’t hear her moan, he couldn’t hear his name spill out through her lips; drool pooling under her cheek onto his fake stone bench top. All he could see was you and your charming smile and vexing demeanor and the marvelous glance of your ass that he drank up. 

You’d be tempted to ask him if he was imagining you bent over for him, taking his dick like a champion and filling his apartment with erotic noises. You’d be tempted to ask him if he was rearranging the poor bottle blonde’s insides to regain dominance that you didn’t even know you had taken. You’d be tempted to ask him if he enjoyed the thought of doing just that. On the surface it’d be a flat no; but deep down, it’d be a hard yes. 

Jaebeom was getting closer to climax, and god was he happy about it. The sooner he could get what’s-her-name out of his apartment, the sooner he’d be able to actually deal with his emotions. If, of course, he even knew how to do that. But as release sprinted towards him, it was stripped away just as quickly when his phone blared harsh white light into the darkness of his apartment; your name flashing bold on the screen. 

Jaebeom picked up the phone off the counter, not even pausing stroke to read the message. If anything, he snapped his hips harder into her; every thrust punctuated with a Kahlua scented moan. Jaebeom found euphoria as he read the last word of your message; spilling out inside what’s-her-name like a conditioned puppy finding pleasure in receiving even a smidgen of your attention. 

       03:46am        Noona        Alright, Kid. And only cause you’re cute.        One drink. 

[thcpcnguin-blog]

TFLN Starters

{90 textsfromlastnight text starters}

[text]: i need to stop establishing animals as safe words. Giraffe and Penguin are really awkward words to say during sex [text]: I'm committing myself to dance. Also, I'm unsure if you said space party sounded lame because dude was old, but I hope you're over it because I love space, and I love David Bowie and I love to dance, and you need to embrace this with me. [text]: i have nothing going on in my life. unless a toxic love triangle with netflix and jack daniels counts. [text]: You were a cyclone of alcohol and bad decisions - like a gay Tazmanian devil [text]: learned the hard way that breakfast jack daniels is a lot stronger than lunch or dinner jack daniels. [text]: alcohol and riverdancing are a dangerous mix. have a spraind ankle. i die now [text]: im getting a BJ in a closet and a penguin just handed me a bong [text]: Got a snapchat from Megan last night showing you sobbing about a burrito on the floor with Dan in the background trying not to laugh his ass off [text]: He kept spanking me and talking about biomedical science. [text]: oh, well, if you all need a good laugh, by all means endanger my life. [text]: For breaking and entering. I think neighbor dan cared more about me puking in his backseat than the surprise of me waking up there [text]: He carried you out but the best part is you kept saying "can't I keep dancing" as you were gushing blood [text]: Whatever. We're stealing a penguin. Your not allowed near him... You did this to yourself. [text]: I don't know when he had the time to do it but he dug a hole in our basement like the shawshank redemption [text]: He broke his arm in a fistfight with the bouncer. it was neat. [text]: I'm sorry for what I said when I was orgasming [text]: He says the sweetest things but also that he wants to choke me when we fuck so it's kinda perfect. [text]: Your vagina is not a steamboat from the 1800's [text]: As long as there aren't any pictures of me humping the penguin, we are good, [text]: Vacuum the place before you go out of town there are random glitter cocks everywhere [text]: long story short, the bouquet was used as a sacrificial torch [text]: And by not handle it I mean it makes me want to sit on his face [text]: MIND BOGGLER: batman and jesus are the same person. Think about it. [text]: I'm sorry about the spring break comment. I won't make anymore pornos, I promise. [text]: I hate him but I love him for what he does which is me [text]: they asked me about my neuroscience major and I said 'the brain is the outer space of the body' and passed out. it appears my ivy league education is not going to waste [text]: my goal was to make out with as many people dressed as batman as possible. I have my priorities. [text]: Did we do drunk science last night? There's tequila in the test tubes... [text]: You didn't try to help me when I fell on the dance floor. She brought me cupcakes. You're a shitty friend, suck your own dick. [text]: also, what is the correct term for a shit ton of clowns? [text]: "Stranger danger aquaman" were the last words i remember. help me. [text]: no homo or anything but the way you were dancing with that girl gave me a boner [text]: It's one of the many facets of my drunken alter egos. I'm like substance abuse batman. [text]: Being hungover in this office is the actual worst. Like they look at me and know I was wasted at 1 am, karaokeing Billy Idol at a gay bar. [text]: i'm not a human right now. not even a dancer. [text]: I bet your mom's never met a girl who's thrown up at the presidential inauguration before though. [text]: I will teach you the ways of the ho life, my little gay grasshopper. [text]: Holy cold harsh reality of sobriety batman [text]: I am an emotionally compromised bisexual. [text]: so I guess it's not okay to mix vodka and ..everything and then proceed to offer a lap dance to ...everyone. [text]: Just banged your ex. So it really is 'him, not you' in that he's gay. Rodeo champion gay. [text]: I thought the Bane mask would really repel dudes but instead I ended up grinding on a frat dude that whispered "bad bitch contest, you in first place" in my ear in a Batman voice [text]: It began the way the best stories do—with some naïve jackasses in a place they had no business being at. [text]: I'm the kind of gay who carries his anxiety medication in case the club scene gets too fierce [text]: His ex told me that she wanted me to "take care of" him but from the way she said it I couldn't tell if she wants me to look after him or murder him. [text]: I was working er so they smashed a vodka bottle over dan's head so they'd have an excuse to visit [text]: Holy sore nipples Batman [text]: He;s fine. He just kept saying "hurricane Gordon is coming to shore" and flexed his muscles a lot. [text]: after I lost so many games of beer pong they made me be a troll, I sat under the table and told riddles while retrieving balls. [text]: hell hath no fury like a questionably-gay best friend scorned [text]: Quick question—how good are you at digging holes? I mean, besides the one you've dug for yourself. asking for a friend [text]: Just asphyxiate me and toss my corpse in the Ocean. It'll be easier than whatever the next four or eight years will bring. [text]: If you fuck up my birthday by dying I will kick your fucking corpse. [text]: I have a drinking game planned. Were gunna watch empire records. Everytime they say rex manning we have to take a shot [text]: OK. i'm going to add "riddle me this, brodawg" to the list of things i'm never gonna say to my boss again while i'm high. [text]: I DO have hobbies! I drink. I drink more. I catfish men on Grindr with photos of guys who are less attractive than me. I listen to Lovecraftian podcasts. I'm very well-rounded. [text]: I mean, I'm shallow, narcissistic, and selfish, but I'm an amazing friend sometimes [text]: I sang him a lovely rendition of 'So Long and Thanks For All the Fish", but replaced fish with dick. [text]: Between randomly bursting into tears and the reappearance of my lost sex drive, this break up has left me bizarrely damp. [text]: I'm slightly more gay than I thought. I'd go so far as to say I'm a top. [text]: party started at 10. cops are coming to shut us down now and its 11. i already lostmy underwear and im wearing a sparkly thong on my haed. this has to be some kinda record. [text]: i found you laying on the floor staring at the ceiling and you kept muttering "why" in various inflections. [text]: CNN just did a special on how to do heroin safely.. I recorded it for us [text]: Eddy, if you don't want to roll play then say so. This is just obnoxious [text]: you called me and cried until i agreed to record a rap about our lives with you [text]: He left his umbrella behind in my bed to 'keep me company', then stole my front door key before he went to work [text]: you know you're in deep when you watch fear and loathing in las vegas and every damn scene is relatable. [text]: for the record, you never really realize how drunk you still are until you get on rollerskates... [text]: I watch one musical on Netflix, and the "Suggested for you" section is literally almost the entire gay movie category. I feel profiled, and netflixs' accuracy about my sexuality is both impressive and offensive. [text]: ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS FOR YOU TO SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR ONCE [text]: 2016 was supposed to be my year of being a ho, but I guess 2017 might be too. [text]: You drunk? Cause I have a terrible idea... [text]: Eventually the creepy theater major quirks will come out. Probably in bed. Like role playing as the Phantom of the Opera [text]: Oh dear. If we're both hearing alien sounds then perhaps they're real. [text]: Actually I was drinking whiskey straight from 3 bottles, but that is neither here nor there. [text]: He left, I think he got uncomfortable when I started singing 'oompah oompah doodley do, I have a special riddle for you' [text]: Can we just get drunk and watch the Birdcage please I have no tolerance for straight men today [text]: Came home to my roommate drinking a 40 in the shower. Chugging with his hair still fully shampoo'd. [text]: People are talking politics and I have had 9 mimosas [text]: You leaned over to me in the elevator and whispered "how long do I have to pretend to be sober?" [text]: Vibrator fell off the top of the dresser and hit me. This might be the most embarrassing black eye incident ever [text]: I think we’re only still together so we can make each other miserable [text]: Girl you know I'm an advocate of debauchery but you might wanna check yoself. [text]: don't worry, i'm not mad. i'm just angry. and furious. and about to set your ass on fire. [text]: Sharknado 3 is going to bring us to alcoghol poisonign [text]: That’s not a That's not a current picture, because if you look deep enough into my eyes you can still see morals. Not these days. [text]: The cop told me I was the prettiest guy he'd arrested in a while. I'm still not sure if it was a come on or not. [text]: Reports of my death were greatly exaggerated. [text]: He literally chugged a bottle of wine in under 2 minutes. Stood up, said "fuck what ya heard" and stabbed the bottle into their drywall. [text]: We are 100% horrible people, and im extremely happy we are friends