#I'm pretentious but at least I know what the fucking genre is

[theglizzardwizard]

Gothic horror wizard101 fanfiction but not in the Tumblr way

[ryuyejiho]

"I won't hurt you, love" - San

Pairing: San X Reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Masturbation, Oral, Orgasm, Dirty words, Porn, Dominance, Roommate

Summary: The annoying roommate starts masturbating in the next room, instead of going to shut him up you get horny yourself and before you think you're lying under him on the bed.

Word Count: ~2.6K

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I passed him without even deigning to look at him and left the kitchen, behind me I heard only a snort of laughter so I pushed the door so that it closed with a loud crash. San was annoying on his own but when we were arguing it was even worse. He acted mean and arrogant, looking down on me with such confidence as if he were at least a king who was catcalling his enemy.

I was so pissed off at him that I couldn't get to sleep so I turned on a movie which I played quietly hoping that it would make me fall asleep. Unfortunately, the movie turned out to be quite strong erotic so now instead of falling asleep, I tried to calm my mind and... my pussy.

Halfway through the movie I began to hear quiet moans. At first I was sure it was in the movie, but when the scenes turned into a regular meeting of friends and I continued to hear someone's voice I was strongly surprised. I eavesdropped on where it could be coming from, but when I couldn't match from which corner of the room the sounds were coming I stopped the movie and then in a flash I understood.

San.

It was San's moans. My heart literally stopped and I didn't even notice for how long I held my breath until I started to choke. Fucking Choi San had just moaned in the next room where we were literally separated only by the wall by which our beds stood. I didn't know what to do, whether I should say something, hit the wall or go to him.

For a while I tried not to pay attention, but it became increasingly difficult when his moans became louder and louder. Or it was me who began to focus on them when I started to feel a gentle tingling in my pussy.

I hit the headrest of the bed with the back of my head to drive away all my thoughts of him. But honestly, I was damn curious what he looked like now. Was he sitting on the bed or maybe lying down. Whether he was in clothes or all naked. Whether he was doing it with his hand, a toy or maybe rubbing himself against a pillow, for example.

At this thought, my hips began to move of their own accord and my increasingly aching pussy sought some sort of rubbing. My hand traveled along my body, from my breasts to my belly and pussy. I ran two circles over my clit and, horrified, quickly took it away when it occurred to me what I was doing.

I never would have thought that I would be masturbating to moans and imagining San right behind the wall. After a moment's thought, I decided that I was indulging in too much and started slapping my hand against the wall. Unfortunately it was to no avail, I thought maybe he didn't hear so I got up and left the room heading for his door.

For a moment I hesitated between knocking and shouting but decided to hit it. And that was a big mistake. I didn't notice that they were ajar so that when I hit them the door opened wide and in front of me appeared San lying on the bed in just a T-shirt. His hand was on his member which he was pumping at a steady pace, his eyes firmly closed and his mouth wide open. I stood there and looked at him in shock and... excitement. And finally, as if sensing my presence, he looked at the door and, seeing me there, momentarily covered himself with a pillow. But he began to smile.

"Did you have to come?" he asked in a pretentious voice.

"Well I'm sorry but you're drowning out the movie with your moans." How very beautiful....

"So what?" he raised one eyebrow.

"So what? Dude, you're literally jerking off right next to me and moaning like you're alone in this house."

"Next to you? I don't think so," again that arrogant voice with an arrogant look. I rolled my eyes.

"Yes, we are only separated by a wall of a few centimeters" he did not answer just looked at me. Serious at first but in time a smirk appeared on his face. I raised my eyebrow in a questioning gesture to which he responded

"You can stay with me. Instead of watching porn you can have fun by yourself."

"Excuse me? I don't watch porn, what the fuck."

"We are separated by a wall of a few centimeters through which you can hear everything. Tell me, don't you feel like doing anything? Don't you feel like having fun?" the truth was that I had a great desire. Especially now that I had an image in my head of him with his hand on my cock and now that I could see him in front of me and could only guess at the way his cock pulsed under the pillow.

"Certainly not with you."

"You thought too long for an answer" he laughed and began to slowly move the pillow aside looking at it and glancing at me. "Come on, nothing will happen to you"

I felt like throwing my fists at him and at the same time throwing myself at him to put his cock in my mouth. I swallowed my saliva hard and glanced at his hardness, he must have noticed it because he smiled.

"Come on. We both know perfectly well that you want this. We know perfectly well that we wanted it a long time ago," he squinted his eyes as was his habit and caught the base in his hand. He licked his lips and looked at my breasts which were clad only in a thin white crop top through which I was sure my nipples were showing through.

For a long moment I stood still like that, wondering what I should do until I forced myself and took a step forward that I immediately regretted. But now it was too late. My legs were leading me to him by themselves.

San grinned and moved a little to the side as I sat shyly on the side of the bed. He moved his other hand over mine and caught the fingers of my hand to draw me closer to him. I sat closer to him crossing my legs and couldn't stop looking at his cock, I really wanted to touch it but was afraid to. He put his hand on my side and moved the other from his cock to my cheek.

"Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you, love" Love - his nickname whenever he became cocky around me or when he specifically wanted to piss me off even more when we argued. But now it sounded different to me, hearing it made me feel butterflies in my stomach. It was something between adorable and sexy "love". I looked at him, unsure of what to do.

"Cutely" he tilted his head gently to the side and smiled. With his index finger, he touched my left nipple, which I thought was showing through from under the white fabric. He gently lifted the crop top so that it hung over my boobs exposing them. He caught my nipple between two fingers and squeezed quite hard, again tilting head to the side. He lifted his gaze to my face, probably wanting to see my reaction, and moved closer to me.

He licked the same nipple also quite hard, lapping his tongue, and straightened his back. He raised his head gently and steamed at me from above, I felt small next to him. Like a cat next to a lion or a puppy next to a wolf. Although he hadn't done anything like that yet I could feel what dominance he had over me. I was a little scared but I would be lying if I said I didn't like it.

I took a deep breath in as he moved closer to me again, this time taking my right nipple in his mouth immediately sucking it quite hard. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back but a second later I felt his hand on the back of my head and he forced my head down.

I looked at him when he moved away from my boobs but then he immediately moved closer to my lips. He didn't kiss me, he just kept his lips close to mine. So close that I could feel his deep but calm breathing and his nose rubbed against my cheek. I had the urge to kiss him and was almost about to do so when he suddenly pulled away from me.

"Take off it" he pointed at me with a nod literally giving the order. I was so excited that without thinking I reached for the end of my T-shirt and pulled it up, but I did it slowly because fear did not allow me to move suddenly. Now I was sitting in front of him half naked in just my shorts.

I looked at him when he straightened his back again and leaned with his hands behind him, sitting down more comfortably. I wanted to see his muscular belly, I had seen it a million times when he went shirtless but now, now was a different situation.

He took my hand in his and directed it to his cock, placing it on it. Instinctively I tightened my hand on it at which he took a deep breath. I looked at his face as I slowly began to move my hand up and down. He brushed my hair away from my cheek and put it behind my ear. As I moved my hand faster and faster he tilted his head back and gasped heavily, every now and then letting out a barely audible moan.

Finally, he looked at me and with a slight, sexy, smile placed his hand on my cheek. He stroked a few times and moved it behind my head, to my neck.

"Put it in your mouth," he muttered while simultaneously pushing down on my head. When I leaned over him he grabbed my hair in a ponytail and, holding it tightly, directed how I should take his cock in my mouth. With his other hand he began to tease my ruddy nipples, which at the moment was so pleasurable that my throat left a single moan.

"You're taking me so well.... Suck harder. Fuck, that's exactly right. So good," he said every now and then, pulling my hair while moving my head up and down. With all my might, I tried not to choke or cough, but it was difficult when in addition to pushing my head down he was pushing his hips up. This was also the case now, he held my head with two hands and entered my mouth. He was fucking my throat and didn't mind how much I was choking on his length.

He looked again as before when I unexpectedly entered his room, head tilted back, eyes closed and mouth open as he moaned louder and louder. His moans and dirty words were so arousing to me that I couldn't stand it any longer. I could feel how wet I was and how sore my pussy was.

"Fuck I'm about to come," he said in a low voice and pulled my hair upwards wanting to pull his dick out of me. He was panting loud and fast and kept his hands clenched on the quilt.

"Lie down," he commanded which I immediately did. He sat down between my legs and pulled my shorts off me in one motion. Still breathing quickly, he licked his lips and bent down to my pussy, holding my legs tightly, so tightly that I knew I would have bruise from it.

He spit saliva on my clit and started licking it like a hungry animal. Firmly, hard and fast. He sucked my clit and lips just as hard, pushing his tongue as deep as he could into my hole. He moved his head up, down and side to side, his tongue was so fast I could see stars.

At that moment I was one big mess. I squirmed on the bed, banged my head on the mattress beneath me and moaned so loudly that it wouldn't surprise me if tomorrow the neighbors complained that they couldn't sleep. But believe me, I can't sleep either.

"San, I'm close," I spoke up for the first time since I crossed the threshold of this room. He, unfortunately, at my words moved away from me. His whole chin, lips and nose were wet and he smirked.

Then he knelt between my thighs and applied his tip to my clit, rubbing and hitting it. Leaning over me, so low that our lips were again millimeters from each other, he moved his tip to my entrance. Sucking my lower lip he began to enter me. He entered me confidently and smoothly, firmly but gently enough that nothing hurt me. He didn't waste a second longer and immediately started moving his hips so that he entered me quite quickly. With every movement he made, his strokes got harder and harder until he hit me like this, until I shifted upward on the mattress with a scream.

"Turn around and get on your knees," in half a second I stood up and turned my back to him, sticking my ass out toward him. He gave a firm smack to my buttock and entered me hard, without warning.

I literally screamed, it was amazing in its own way. Something between pain and pleasure. I could safely say that I had never felt so good with anyone before as I did with San at that moment. His domination was so awesome sexy and arousing that my psyche could barely stand it. His firm movements, orders and dirty words were driving me to the edge.

He grabbed my hair and pulling me towards him arched my back, entering me from behind. His hips slammed into my buttocks so much that I felt a burning sensation on my skin. I felt him deep inside me like I had never felt anything before. I was almost certain that if you looked closely you could see a bulge on my belly every time he entered me. His thickness pushed me perfectly apart with each thrust.

We both started moaning louder and louder being in seventh heaven. We were both close to orgasm so San sped up his pace several times, earlier giving three spanks each with all his strength on my buttocks. With my eyes I could see his hand reflected on my buttocks.

With each passing moment his movements became more and more erratic, minimally slower but even more forceful. He pulled my hair so that I had to straighten my back to minimize the pain, but a moment later he pushed me down and, placing his hand on my neck, pressed me against the mattress until I could hardly breathe. He sat on my thighs still entering me, it was something between pushing and jumping on me.

This, however, was not enough for him, he climbed off of me and, in one violent movement, twisted me onto my back. He immediately put his hands on the back of my thighs and, pressing them against my belly, entered me. He now had such perfect access to my pussy that he didn't even need to help himself with his hand.

He moved his hips incredibly fast, I honestly didn't even know it was possible. I also wanted to do something, to touch him or whatever, but I wasn't able to. The only thing I could do was lie there and try not to moan so loudly, but even that didn't work for me. I was literally screaming and crying, tears were pouring down my cheeks, especially when the pleasure was so great that it was unbearable. I wanted him to stop but at the same time I didn't want it to end. Even more so when I felt my orgasm getting closer and closer, I felt my pussy getting even more sensitive and San hitting me harder and faster didn't help at all. On the contrary, it made it worse as I felt my body tighten up and I felt a huge sensation cumulating in my lower abdomen.

San's moans became louder and his pressure on my thighs became stronger. His fingers pounded into me pushing my legs into my torso until my hips ached from such a position. Once he was looking at me with the most intense gaze I had ever seen from him and once he was tilting his head back clenching his eyes tightly. I knew he was close himself but I couldn't stand it, I reached earlier than he did.

I came with a shout of his name, my whole body was shaking incredibly and I could feel even more juices flowing out of my pussy than before. The room was now filled with wet sounds as he slapped his hips against my now wet buttocks and pussy.

He didn't stay like that for long, a minute later he suddenly came out of me and, rubbing his cock with his hand so fast I was surprised it was even possible, leaned more over me. In a moment I felt his semen spreading over my belly, thighs and pussy, running down my buttocks onto the bed mattress. He squeezed his cock tightly while slowly rubs it, slapped it against my pussy a few times and spread more of his thick cum.

We were breathing loudly, fast and hard, San sat on the bed and watched me with a smile.

"Well, was it so scary?" he laughed lightly and rubbed his hand over his face.

"No. It was great," at my words he laughed again and wiped me with my T-shirt which he picked up from the floor. He threw it behind him again and lay down next to me on his back.

"Instead of watching porn you can come to me anytime" I rolled my eyes and punched him in the stomach.

"At least I was just watching and not masturbating and moaning."

"After all, I did it on purpose. So that you would come"

"I guessed as you put your cock in my mouth".

*

[kirkwallguy]

I'd hate to sound pretentious or smth but I was watching a vid talking about media literacy when it comes to booktok and this idea with those girlies that thinking/engaging with something critically isn't fun and the only way to have fun is to turn off your brain... I don't think VG suffers from this as much as a lot of booktok shite but in comparison to the other games it rly does feel like you're not meant to be paying attention or thinking about your actions (cough not like you get to chose any of your actions COUGH), or the implications of anything? and I'm not trying to say VG fans are stupid or smth cause I think many Want something to think about, but I feel like I've seen a lot of people have to reach very far or just straight up make shit up to engage with the game? (Other games aren't perfect but I was immersed with the games enough to stop and think about how my choice will affect xyz, that didn't happen in VG) There's nothing to chew on in VG basically 😭

it's only pretentious if you don't mean it! but yeah i think there are a lot of parallels to be drawn here - i don't know how to say this without sounding like an annoying gamer bro, but now that gaming is more accessible, it feels like aaa companies do their best to cater to the widest possible demographic. market research probably shows that the majority of people don't want to be challenged or experience negative emotions, ask someone who plays games very casually whether they'd want to experience horrible consequences for picking evil actions in a game they'd probably say "um?? no? why would i want that?" but ask someone who plays a lot of rpgs and they'll probably at least understand the importance of those choices, even if they don't pick them personally. i don't think gaming is an old enough industry to have fully pinned down market research in the same way tv has - when you look at viewing figures, the most watched shows are soap operas and family sitcoms. that doesn't mean prestige tv doesn't have its place, it just means that the majority of people don't watch tv to experience the feelings shows like interview with the vampire want you to feel lol

dav doesn't actually ask any questions of the player. you're told what's wrong and what's right and not really asked to make any moral judgements. the bad guys that you kill are barely human so you don't feel bad about cutting them down (the antaam are dehumanised while the venatori are cartoon characters), the companion quests all end nicely no matter what choice you pick, the big act 1 choice is the closest you get to a negative consequence and it still feels very safe because you don't ever feel like you've done something wrong.

and yeah, it does feel like people writing analysis of vg are TRYING to chew on it, but so much of the enjoyment seems to be about coming up with your own fanon to play in a sandbox. which is fine. that's how i enjoy dai tbf. but it's sad to see after dao and da2, especially knowing how many other games there are that let you do this. SKYRIM is more complex than dav, and that's the game i always mention when talking about power fantasy sandboxes

the booktok stuff is kind of nuanced ofc, turn-your-brain-off rubbish has been available since the beginning of time and i feel like the real reason it's becoming more popular is self-publishing and people being more open about reading it on social media. i've written shitty 19th century porn and it was no better than whatever the mafia boss 50 shades ripoff writers are doing now. buuut also i think the way it spills out into other genres, and this increasing idea that fantasy/sci-fi should be about "escapism", is really fucking over people trying to get published while writing something complicated.

[sunshinevanfleet]

brat - d. wagner

pairing: danny x reader

a/n: hey y'all!!! i'm back again with another fic. i'm trying to keep up with the writing and avoid some writers' block, so here's another fic. i am hardcore in danny's lane rn, and planned to write some fluff and then ended up with the exact opposite lol. so here's some enemies to lovers, hate-fuck smut with our lovely danny. he's kind of an asshole in this one and it's very sexy so pls enjoy. let me know what u think!! luv you all. (p.s. this is unedited and not proofread so excuse me for any mistakes thx ok bye)

genre: smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), enemies to lovers

word count: 4k

warnings: alcohol consumption, explicit sex scenes, unprotected sex, car sex, danny being an asshole, some light degradation, etc.

“You have got to be fucking with me.” 

You barely noticed the words leaving your lips as you stood by the bar, the plastic cup in your hand crunching as you gripped it. You glanced over your shoulder at your friend; she was still distracted by the hot bartender flirting with her. Nudging her with your shoulder, she finally glanced over.

“No way, is that–”

“It is,” you muttered, shaking your head. “I’m going to fucking murder Josh Kiszka.”

Kara laughed at your words, just as shocked as you were. The bartender was forgotten, still chatting away distractedly as you two stared at the man in the doorway of the bar. The low light obscured him slightly, not to mention the blurriness of your eyes from the couple of drinks you had. But it was him, silhouetted there, all broad-shoulders and dark curly hair framing his face. 

“Daniel Wagner…” Kara shook her head, taking a long swig of her drink in front of her. “Josh totally did that on purpose.”

“You think?”

“I mean, I dunno.” She shrugged. “He knows you hate each other, obviously.”

You sighed heavily. You should’ve called anyone but Josh. You should’ve spent your last ten dollars getting an uber home. It would be worth sacrificing your pretentious cold brew from the coffee shop down the street in the morning in order to avoid riding home with Danny Wagner. 

“This is so fucked.” You turned around to face Kara. Danny was canvassing the crowded bar, obviously searching for you since he had been called to be your savior tonight. “I’m never calling Josh to pick me up again.”

“You should’ve expected this, Y/N,” said Kara. “Josh is always sending someone else to get you. Remember last time? He was taking fireball shots at home with Sam, so he sent Jake…”

“That’s the difference!” you hissed at her, trying not to call attention to yourself. You were beginning to panic. How were you going to survive a twenty minute drive in the car with a man you hated? “It was Jake! He’s not my–my arch nemesis!”

Kara snorted, covering her mouth as she began to laugh. “Your arch nemesis… I can’t with you. Sound like a supervillain,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“I’m being serious.”

“You’ll be fine, Y/N,” she waved her hand halfheartedly. “At least he’s hot.”

Your features screwed up into a scowl. It felt like all of your friends were setting you up for this. The two of you never got along; he always had some snarky comment any time you said anything, and the sound of his voice hit the wrong nerve with you. Something about him was just infuriating. But he was a staple in the Kiszkas’ lives, and so were you, so you tolerated each other. Josh, however, was always trying to get you to get along. This was another one of his plots, and you knew it. You were going to strangle him. 

“Oh, shit, I think he’s spotted us,” Kara said, eyes widening. She forced herself to look back towards the bartender, and sipped her drink aggressively. 

You took a deep breath and smoothed your hands over your face. This would definitely be interesting. It took everything in you not to turn around and watch him saunter over, that stupid cocky look playing on his features as he realized the rest of your night was in his hands. There was no doubt in your mind that he was going to make every second a living hell. 

“There you are, sweetheart,” came his voice from behind you. You resisted the urge to scream at the pretentious nickname.

You turned to face him, your face curled into the nastiest smile you could muster. “Daniel,” you said, feigning politeness. “Look who the cat dragged in.”

“Kicking and screaming,” he agreed, nodding his head. You eyed him for a second. His hair was pulled back messily, stray curls fanning his forehead and cheeks. He wore a black muscle tee and a pair of gray sweatpants that were hanging dangerously low on his hips. He must’ve been in bed when Josh called him. 

“Where’s Josh?” you asked bluntly. Your two-second show of getting along was over. He was the last person you wanted to be face-to-face with right now. 

“Incapacitated,” said Danny. “You know how he loves a good Friday night drinking game.”

“And you weren’t playing?”

“Nope,” he continued, “I was all cozy in my bed, going to sleep early. Then Josh calls me to come rescue the princess, so here I am.” 

You rolled your eyes. With a huff, you decided not to push the subject any further. If you ignored him, maybe the next half hour would go by in a flash. Next time, you’d be calling your Mom before you called Josh to come pick you up. Unreliable little shit.

“Let’s get this shit over with,” you said under your breath.

Standing from the bar, you grabbed your purse and slung it over your shoulder. You shoved your phone inside, and said a quick goodbye to Kara. She smiled sweetly at the both of you as you left. Danny led you out into the warm night air, where his car was waiting. 

“Don’t look so miserable, sweetheart,” he said, a twinge of amusement in his voice.

“Oh, shut up,” you muttered, tone laced with venom. You had never met anyone with such a smackable demeanor, someone so hell-bent on pestering you until you broke. 

“What? Not happy to see me?”

You wrinkled your nose. Ducking into his car, you dropped your bag on the floor and kicked off your heels. In the back of your mind, you wished you drank a little more before you left. Danny’s presence was a wonderfully effective buzzkill. 

“Well, don’t get your panties in a twist. You don’t have to see me for too long,” he said, grinning.

“My panties are perfectly untwisted,” you said haughtily. “Can you just shut up for the next twenty minutes? It’d make my life a lot easier.”

He laughed. “I’m not here to make your life easier.”

“Believe me, I’ve noticed.”

You could feel the smugness radiating off of him as he pulled away from the bar. You wished you could hitch a ride with Kara, but you knew her boyfriend was picking her up and they would be nearly as insufferable as this car ride with Danny. It was quiet for a moment, but you knew he would be back to bugging you any minute now. You merely hoped you didn’t explode once it started. 

He reached between you, flicking the radio on to kill the silence between you. The station was set to something hard-rock. The drums and guitar blaring through the speakers were really starting to worsen the headache threatening to come on.

“Can you turn that off, please?” you asked, glaring at him.

“No, I like this song,” Danny said, reaching over to increase the volume.

Your face flushed with anger. 

“I have a headache, Daniel,” you said bitterly. “At least turn it down.”

But he was steadily cranking the volume up, up, up. The grin on his face was only widening. Your head pounded, both from the drinks and the immeasurable rage coursing through you. 

“What?” he shouted. “I can’t hear you!”

You half-groaned, half-screamed, and reached over to pull his hand away from the volume. You knew you looked like a crazy person, and you didn’t care. He laughed as you pushed his hand away from the radio. You muted it without a second thought. 

“My head is fucking pounding,” you hissed at him. “Asshole.”

“Oh I’m an asshole,” he added, chuckling. “That’s rich, coming from such a brat.”

You glanced over, and met his gaze briefly before he looked away. His eyes were dark, and slightly hooded with sleep. He really must’ve been sleeping.  Your heart thundered in your chest. If you weren’t so pissed off, you might have noticed the butterflies blooming in your stomach and spreading down between your legs. There was no way that Danny Wagner insulting you was turning you on. You ignored the feeling, twisting one leg over the other and flopping back against the seat. 

“You are an asshole,” you said.

“I am a perfectly nice guy.”

You snorted. “You’re fucking delusional.”

“You know it. You just don’t want to admit that you’re the instigator in this relationship,” Danny said.

“Instigator? Which one of us is constantly, intentionally, pissing the other one off?” You raised your eyebrows expectantly at him.

He grinned at you, shrugging. “Which one of us is constantly getting so worked up over absolutely nothing?”

“I’m going to ignore you, now,” you stated. You turned away from him, staring off into the distance as he drove you home. You couldn’t stand looking into those intense eyes any longer. Your thighs were clenched together so hard that they were beginning to shake. It was about time you got the hell out of this car, before shit got out of hand.

“Looks like I’m right,” he continued. “Poor little brat knows I’m right, huh?”

Brat… The word made you squirm in your seat, the brief throbbing in your core making you swallow hard. He was going to be the death of you, the gorgeous shithead sitting in the seat beside you. God, you hated how easily he could push your buttons in all the right ways. You hated to admit it, but underneath all of the outward animosity, there had always been some serious sexual tension. 

“I must be really getting under your skin, huh sweetheart?” 

There it was again, another one of his condescending nicknames. It felt wrong to say you were almost enjoying this. You squirmed slightly again, trying to avoid his attention. The sound of your pulse thundered in your ears. In the back of your mind, you wondered if he could tell. 

“I hate you,” you muttered. Your voice was hoarse, and so quiet it was barely audible between you. You were afraid if you spoke any louder that the shake in your voice would give it all away. 

“Doesn’t seem that way,” said Danny smugly. His car came to a stop at a redlight, and you turned to glance at him. He was looking at you, almost hungrily. He looked you up and down, shaking his head as the light finally turned green and he pulled off. “Can’t sit still over there, can you?”

“What are you talking about?” 

“Don’t act all clueless,” he chuckled. “I see you over there, squirming and writhing…” His eyes flicked down to your legs twisted together. Your skirt had ridden dangerously high up your thighs, almost enough so that your panties would be exposed shortly. 

“I am not,” you hissed, uncrossing your legs and pulling your skirt down. Your face flushed red, and you prayed he couldn’t see it in the dim light. 

“Are too,” his voice was tinged with amusement. “Bet that little pussy’s just throbbing when I call you brat.” 

His words sent a jolt up your spine, and you knew he could see your red face now. Your eyes widened like a deer in headlights. He laughed darkly at this.

“You know I’m right.”

You swallowed the planet-sized lump in your throat, trying to figure out how to breathe again. What the fuck were you supposed to say to that? 

“I– Danny, what–” You were lost for words. You couldn’t take your eyes off him as you rode the last two minutes to your house. He seemed to be completely focused on the road, not paying you any mind as you sat there in complete shock. What the fuck was going on?

The car came to a stop in your driveway with a jolt. There was a short pause, where the two of you just stared at each other for a moment. Then, without a word, Danny leaned his seat back, and you caught the hint.

You climbed across the center console and straddled him with all the ease of a professional. He leaned up and caught your lips in a heated kiss. It was hot, and messy– all lips and teeth gnashing and saliva everywhere. His hands had fallen to your ass, bunching your skirt up around your hips and kneading the fleshy skin. Your own were tangled in his curls, pulling more hair loose from his bun as you pushed him down against the seat.

“God, you’re fucking soaked,” he groaned against your mouth. One of his fingers teased along your panties as he squeezed your ass. There was barely any friction, but still you sighed heavily. 

“Fuck,” you hissed as he dragged the finger up and down the fabric again, teasing you through your underwear. You ground your hips down against him, trying to get some kind of relief. 

“What got you this wet for me, sweetheart? Hmm?” His lips traveled down your neck, sucking the skin hard as he left bruises behind. You rutted your hips against him again, desperately as he continued teasing you. “This sweet little pussy loves it when I call you my brat, huh?”

His deep, silky voice sent a jolt through your body. You needed him so bad. To touch you, to taste you, to fuck you. Anything at this point. You couldn’t take the sound of him teasing you anymore. You needed him to destroy you.

“Fuck, Danny, stop teasing me, please,” you hissed through clenched teeth. Two of his long fingers swept past your panties and swirled against your soaking wet core. Your eyes almost rolled back into your head at the feeling of it. 

“Teasing you is the best part,” he said breathily. His lips skirted across your collarbones, nipping harshly at the skin. You were going to be fifty shades of purple come the morning, but you didn’t care. You wanted his mouth–his teeth– on you, everywhere. 

You grunted, swirling your clothed center against his bulge and fingers again. It was almost pure bliss, having two of his fingers prodding your entrance and his clothed bulge dragging against your clit. You knew you could cum like this, but you wanted him, all of him desperately. 

His fingers finally pushed into your soaked cunt, and you moaned loudly. Your face flushed with embarrassment; it had been so long since you’d been fucked properly. The desperation in your movements made you feel something like a virgin again. You didn’t have time to worry about what Danny would think– his free hand had snaked up your body to wrap around your throat.

You gasped, throwing your head back as his fingers sank into you to the base. 

“You like that? You like my fingers stretching that little cunt open?”

You nodded, clenching around him as he slowly began to thrust them in and out of you. He curled them slightly, the pads of his fingers grazing your sweet spot deliciously.

“Use your words, brat.”

“Y–yes, Danny, I–” a moan broke through as he curled his fingers more harshly, driving them into your g-spot. “Fuck, I love it.”

“Oh, you love it?” he asked, his voice amused. “C’mon, ride my fingers, then.”

You obeyed instantly, lifting yourself up and rolling your hips against his fingers. Your entire body seized as his fingers hit that spot over and over again. Your eyes were screwed shut, bottom lip tugged between your teeth as he held you up by the throat and let you fuck yourself on his fingers. Pleasure coursed through your veins; you were sure he was the best lay of your life, and he hadn’t even fucked you yet. Stars bloomed in your vision, and your legs began to tremble.

He breathed sharply as your walls clenched tightly around his fingers. “Feels so good, doesn’t it sweetheart? You’re so close to cumming all over my hand, aren’t you? Yeah, that tight little pussy’s gonna cream all over my fingers, isn’t it?”

You whimpered at his words. You forced your eyes open and glanced down at him, and you nearly came at the sight. His lips were raw and swollen from his assault on your neck; sweat glistened on his forehead and cheeks, his curls plastered to the skin as he watched you with black eyes. His expression dripped with pure filth– no one had ever looked at you this way. You leaned down into him, pressing your open mouth against his. You breathed his air, tasting his breath and sucking it into your lungs as if it were your own lifeforce. Your tongue darted into his mouth; you throbbed at the wet, lewd sounds emerging from the two of your mouths together. It was disgusting, and you were loving every second of it. 

Chest heaving, you began to grind yourself down onto his digits, hard. You vision began to go black.

“Danny, oh my god, Danny,” you breathed, rocking against him. “I’m gonna cum, fuck me, I can’t hold on…” You were practically screaming, hoping that his car was muffling the sound of your shrill moans from the outside world.

“No, no, not yet, sweetheart…”

Your heart dropped as he dropped his hand from your throat, and grabbed you around the waist. You gasped as he pulled his soaked fingers out of you, your cunt clenching around nothing as he laughed darkly. 

“Danny, what the fuck–”

He grinned. “Relax, Y/N,” he said, amused. 

“But I was so fucking close,” you groaned, squirming above him as he watched you. Without saying anything, he brought his slick fingers up to your mouth and held them in front of you. You stared at him for a second, before he reached his other hand up and tapped you on the chin with his thumb. Opening your mouth, you allowed him to insert his fingers into your mouth, tasting yourself. He groaned at the sight; you felt his cock twitch underneath you, straining against his sweatpants. You rolled your hips against him, and he bit down on his lip with a grunt.

“You’re gonna cum all over my cock, okay? Gonna be my good girl and ride me,” he said, watching as you nodded, bobbing your lips over his fingers. You swirled your tongue around his digits hungrily, your eyes widening as you watched him pull down the waistband of his pants. His cock slapped against his abdomen. You knew from feeling it that it was bigger than average, but you never would have expected this from Danny Wagner.

“Fuck, where have you been hiding that thing?” you muttered, incredulous. 

Danny laughed, taking his saliva soaked hand and wrapping it around his shaft. The tip was slightly purple, leaking shining clear precum. He spread your spit and juices over himself, groaning thickly. 

“Let me,” you replaced his hand with your own, swiping your thumb over the tip. He grunted, closing his eyes and leaning back against the seat. You leaned forward, letting a string of saliva drip from your mouth down to his cock. You bobbed your fist up and down over him, feeling his thighs twitch as you teased him.

“Enough,” he groaned thickly, his voice deep with arousal as he reached forward to grab your wrist. “Sit on it. Now.” He commanded.

“Yes, sir,” you said snarkily, lifting yourself up and positioning your hole over the tip. You dragged the tip through your folds for a moment, soaking it in your arousal. The two of you moaned in unison, and a deep breathy groan spilled from his lips as you finally sank down onto him.

You squeezed your eyes shut at the stretch of his cock; it felt as if you were being split in half in the best way possible. 

“Holy fuck,” you panted, rolling your hips slowly against him. You didn’t know how you were going to take him for very long. Your legs trembled on either side of his, and you could barely lift yourself above him.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Danny grasped your chin as you stared down at him. “Need some help, baby? Need help riding my big cock?”

You nodded, “Yes, please. I can take it, please.” One of your hands wrapped around his wrist, and the other grasped his shoulder. Your nails dug into his skin as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He lifted you off of him a bit, and began to drill into you from beneath you.

You pressed your forehead against his, your mouth open in a silent scream. You couldn’t think as he set a relentless pace, barrelling into your swollen hole without abandon. Your thighs quivered and began to shake; if it weren’t for him holding you up, you would have collapsed on top of him. He was so deep, abusing your pussy as tears of sheer pleasure clouded your vision. 

You felt his hips stutter beneath you, and you moved your hand from his shoulder, to his throat. “Don’t fucking stop,” you moaned, your voice cracking. “If you stop, I’ll kill you.”

He laughed throatily, his breath fanning over your face. “Oh, if I had the willpower to torture you with my cock right now, I promise you I would, sweetheart. But I’ve gotta cum in this pussy, now.”

Tears swept down your cheeks as he maintained his rhythm. Sweat poured down your face, and mingled with the dampness of your tears. You squeezed your eyes closed, your entire body shaking as you approached your release. 

"Poor little pitiful thing..." he muttered. "I love seeing you cry over my cock. Feels good, huh baby? Splitting you open like that..."

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuck, I’m cumming, Danny– Oh, motherfuck–” Your voice was cut off by the heaving breaths breaking from your throat. Your cunt tightened around Danny’s thick length, squeezing deliciously as he fucked you straight through your orgasm. Your entire mind was blank, your vision cloudy as you slumped against him. But he wasn’t done with you; his pace was more relentless than ever as he chased his own high. You used the last of your energy to meet his thrusting, pushing him closer to the edge.

“Almost there,” he whispered, his features twisted in focus as you fucked down onto him. You rocked your hips, swirling around on his cock. His mouth fell open, and his features screwed up in pleasure. A strangled moan fell from his lips, and you felt his hot cum shooting inside of you, staining your walls. He came with a deep groan of your name, and you throbbed around him. 

You whimpered at the feeling of him pulling out of you, his strong arms still holding you above him. Gently, he released your waist, and you slumped down onto his chest. The two of you were covered in sweat, sticky and smelling distinctly of arousal. Around you, the windows of his car had fogged up enough that you could barely see out of them.

“You okay?” Danny asked quietly as you rolled back into your own seat, pressing your back against the door. You were still panting, your skirt hitched up around your hips. Your panties had been ripped to shreds in the process, threads dangling from your thighs. Absent-mindedly, you struggled to remove them.

“I’m good,” you nodded, taking a deep breath as you tried your best to fix your appearance. 

“Didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said, sounding almost sorry.

“It was a good cry.” A laugh fell from your lips, and you were glad to see him smile. A real smile this time. Not the shit-eating grin you were used to. 

“Want me to walk you up?” He nodded towards the door to your house, slowly becoming visible through the fogged up windows. 

You nodded. “Sure,” you said. “Think I might need you to carry me after that.”

“I can manage that. If you can do me one favor in the morning…”

“And what would that be?”

“Tell Josh I said thanks for calling me,” he said cheekily.

“Oh, shut up,” you reached over and smacked him on the chest, then shook your head as he ducked out of the car. What were you going to do with him?

[kalinara]

Oh for fuck's sake. Please don't tell me "warning" discourse is coming back.

Look guys, I don't fucking care if you decide to use warnings or not. If you're an author who chooses not to use warnings, I may or may not read your fic, depending on my mood at any given time, but that's not a value judgment.

But can you not be a pretentious asshole about it?

"Books and movies don't have warnings!"

Really? Movies don't have warnings? What do you think that big "R" is on the advertisement there (if you're American, anyway, but as far as I know, most other countries use rating systems.) It might not be an explicit, spell-it-all out warning, but you're generally not going to see a graphic rape scene in a fucking PG movie.

Books? Generally no. Though there are exceptions. And many bloggers or goodreads reviewers will happily warn for readers who are concerned. That said, you can draw some conclusions based on genre, publisher and imprint. A romance reader generally knows where to find the really hard shit. You're not generally going to find a lot of strap ons or ball gags in Harlequin.

"Warnings didn't exist/weren't common practice before AO3!"

That's a fucking lie. I started reading fanfic on the internet in 1997, when I was young enough that I had to lie about my age to get onto the good mailing lists. And you know why they were the good mailing lists? Because they had explicit stuff. Because they had passwords to the best archives.

And those archives generally did have warnings! At least for the really big shit. Rape? Torture? The phrase "non-con" existed long before fanfiction.net, let alone AO3 was a twinkling in anyone's eye.

Because here's the thing, it's common courtesy. Fandom is a community experience. Isn't that what everyone always says when the topic of negative reviews come up? We can't make the author feel bad! Traumatizing a reader though with something that they don't know to avoid though, that's perfectly fine.

What AO3 DID invent, as far as I know, is the brilliant "Author chooses not to warn" tag. That's a great idea. It means that a concerned reader can go through the no warnings needed tag with reasonable confidence that they won't be hit with the most common triggering subjects. And if they go into a "chooses not to warn" fic, then that's their risk to take.

(Personally, I've never read a "choose not to warn" fic and thought "god, I'm so glad the author didn't spoil this rape scene in the warnings, losing the element of surprise would have ruined the story!" but that's just me. There might well be one out there, and even if not, it's the author's call.)

I don't really have a point to this rant. I just really dislike people who decide to raise their lack of consideration for others into some sort of intellectual high ground while touting blatant misinformation to support it. I also never get tired of ranting about fandom hypocrisy, so there we go.

TLDR: do what you want, but don't be a self-congratulatory dick about it.

[super-hero-confessions]

I'm fucking sick of the ableist fetishization in fandoms.

The Boys, Marvel, DC, doesn't matter.

All of them have bullshit fanfic writers who think they're hot shit when they take a sick character and magnify that sickness or make them weak just to satisfy some disgusting infantilizing feeder type fetish that gets off on suffering without fixing anything.

Then they dare to say there's comfort in that when no there fucking isn't.

I don't care what people write in their free time or why. I don't even care what they get off on because I know I can't stop it.

I do care about people being so fucking pretentious and inconsiderate that they think they are somehow above the rest of a fandom for what they get off on when what they get off on is a fucking triggering hot mess for someone who is actually disabled and deals with the bullshit they force on the characters on a daily basis.

I know I can't speak for everyone.

But being mentally or physically ill or disabled is not fucking fun or cute in and of itself and I'm tired of seeing writers dehumanize and belittle characters in this way while ripping apart everything inspiring about the hero genre and pretending it's not ableist garbage with no self awareness or consideration.

Maybe more of the world gets off on narcissistically tearing others down for things they can't control instead of empowering them but I would say it's not just gross it's part of the fucking problem.

I'm tired of seeing it normalized. At least be aware of what you are doing.

[the-boy-meets-evil]

tell me how it got this way | ch.5

pairing: jungkook x f.reader, hoseok x f.reader genre: fwb to lovers/friends to lovers, love triangle | angst, smut, fluff | non-idol!au chapter rating: mature, minors dni warnings: drinking, mentions of sex (nothing explicit), jimin is a little shit (affectionate), swearing, i think that's it word count: ~6k a/n: other idols pop up in this chapter (ateez & seventeen), they're really just used as names. ages aren't relevant and you can assume they're all generally around the same age. the final part (at least for what i have planned) is also finished and i'm going to post that next week! prev | masterlist | next

When Namjoon had initially pitched the idea of selling the movie rights for your books, your answer was immediate. No. Movies rarely, actually, came out as good as the books and you felt like you lost so much of the finer detail. If you had wanted to see your work on the big screen, you would be writing screenplays instead of full-length novels. Which, okay, that sounded pretentious even in your head, but whatever. Namjoon got the picture and the conversation was tabled temporarily.

About two months after that, Namjoon had found what he called a compromise. You weren’t sure how it was a compromise since it was your work and you didn’t want to sell the rights. Until Namjoon reminded you that the publishing company also had a stake. Point: Namjoon. It was a good point, though, because a streaming service wanted to pick up the rights to just the first book as a test and do a limited-run series as opposed to a movie. Namjoon was very clear on the differences here. The budget, in some ways, would definitely be smaller, you aren’t looking at big superstar names, and, most importantly, you have to either sign on as a co-writer for the screenplays or fully sign the rights over. They were fine with either option, they just knew that there wasn’t enough in your book for the standard 8-10 episodes.

And that answer was just as immediate. Yes. These were the kinds of chances that authors hoped for. Yes, it will still be different from the book. This just gives you much more leeway to include the important details and even flush characters out more in a way that’s just too much for a book. You’re not Stephen King over here releasing his “unedited” version of The Stand, which, if you’re being honest, was kind of (read: insanely) self-indulgent. Not that you’re comparing yourself to Stephen King, either. To each their own and all that.

So, with Namjoon’s guidance, you signed a deal where you’d co-write the episodes with a team who actually have a lot of experience doing just that. Really, you know you’re just there to keep everything true to the world that’s lived in your head for years. That’s why they want you. Some people will stumble onto this show never having heard of the books (and Namjoon hopes it’ll make them buy a copy), but others will tune in expecting it to come off the same way they’ve been imagining, for characters to make decisions that feel authentic. 

You actually kind of loved the writing sessions. It was really amazing to see how things came together and to be in a room where you didn’t need to shout to be heard. Everyone there was genuinely interested in your feedback, and you tried to be conscious of when to just let the process unfold. It was collaborative in the best way. The only hard thing was keeping it all under wraps from almost everyone. The whole team had decided that they wouldn’t announce the news until the rough copies of the scripts were finished enough to move on to casting.

Now, that you’re having to sit through casting auditions, you’re rethinking your entire life that has led to this moment. No, that is not dramatic. You gave the casting team literal pages on pages for every character that needed to have any sort of significant role in the show and had even worked with someone for fucking *mood boards* for the main characters. There were days when you barely slept because you had to churn things out for casting. All so you could turn the rough scripts into final copies. What else did they want from you? 

To sit through casting calls, apparently. So fine. You can eat craft services with the best of them.

After a few days, you do start to see the point in it all, see the times when the casting team liked two people for a particular part and looked to you as the deciding factor. While it felt like a lot of pressure, it also allowed you to make sure everything felt right. It was never just about physical appearance, that was always fluid. You also didn’t want Kristen Stewart in the Twilight movies with one damn expression the entire time. (No shade to Kristen Stewart, it just wasn’t anyone’s best look in those movies).

The one positive is that you’ve managed to meet a few people you actually kind of like. And, okay, yeah, they’re mostly assistants to some of the more important people in the process, but those people are stuffy and very unlikely to gossip with you around the water cooler. Since you’ve never had a normal office job, this is a very important part of actually getting to work with people. Namjoon scoffs a lot at this, says that it’s probably good that you haven’t had a normal office job. He spends a lot of time letting you know actual office jobs aren’t anything like sitcoms, which is funny considering the office where he works. Maybe he doesn’t gossip around the water cooler, but you’ve definitely seen the assistants gathering. Even heard his name come up a time or two. Heard how attractive they all seem to think he is. They’re not wrong.

Your new friends are also the type of people who insist that you absolutely have to join them when they decide happy hour is the perfect way to end the day. As San points out, you have the morning off tomorrow anyway. When you ask why it would matter if it was just happy hour, Wooyoung promptly elbows San hard in the ribs and says it doesn’t. You don’t miss the conspiratorial look on their faces, but fuck it. Happy hour sounds good.

Your head is pounding and it feels like you got hit by a freight train. You don’t even remember getting that drunk the night before. The whole evening is kind of a blur of shots and bright lights and off-key karaoke. It was just supposed to be happy hour, which you learned quickly was your first mistake. There was no such thing as just happy hour with San, Wooyoung, and their insanely chaotic group of friends. And as the sleep is wearing off, something else creeps in. There is an arm draped over you. You’re not alone in your bed. Peeking one eye open, you’re immediately struck with the fact that these aren’t your walls, not your sheets, this isn’t your bed. You’re praying on everything that you don’t believe in that the arm belongs to one of the other people you’d gone out with the night before. You remember thinking one of Wooyoung’s friends was cute and tall and smiley, a little flirty and a little shy too. And then you see the hands. And the rings. With a careful glance back, you confirm it’s Hoseok, shirtless (you don’t need to check if it’s wearing anything else).

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

It’s rushing back. You quickly learned San and Wooyoung had no intention of letting you go after just happy hour. They were all convinced you were too stressed and that what you really needed was a patented WooSan (yes, they had a couple name, despite not actually being in a relationship) night of fun. You briefly considered protesting, but really, what was the point? And fuck, they weren’t wrong.

So happy hour turned into multiple stops. Wooyoung was on a karaoke mission and although you had never heard him sing, you instinctively thought drunken karaoke was never a good idea. (You were wrong, he had the voice of an angel to match his personality of the devil.) Karaoke meant meeting up with more of their friends. And somehow, because fate was cruel, one of their friends had brought along his friend Hoseok. You remember staring at him like a deer in headlights before declaring everything was fine and hitting the shots. There also may have been a lot of flirting with Wooyoung’s tall friend with the shy smile whose name you couldn’t remember.

Now, in the light of day, it was not fine. You gingerly slide out from underneath his arm and carefully get out of the bed, tiptoeing over to what you can only hope and assume is a bathroom, phone snatched off the nightstand on the way. You’re thanking drunk you for not making it harder to find.

Once you’re in the safety of the bathroom, you sink down to the floor and take a couple of breaths. You’re not sure if it’s the hangover rearing its ugly head or just the situation you’ve found yourself in.

You: Yoongi are you up? You: Please be up, I need you! You: This is important! Like one of those most important things in the world.

Yoongi isn’t answering and you’re starting to panic. You need someone to talk you through this. So you call him, knowing that it might get his attention. The first call goes to voicemail and so you try again. This time after the second ring you hear him grunt a frustrated “what?” and then hang up.

Yoongi: What the fuck? You call twice and hang up on me? You: Because I need you

Missed call from Yoongi

Yoongi: Then answer the fucking phone You: I *can’t* You: Yoongi, I fucked up, like really fucked up Yoongi: What’s going on? You: I went out drinking last night and ugh I did something really fucking stupid Yoongi: Whatever it is, it’s not that serious You: I just woke up next to Hobi… You: Like I’m in fucking university again Yoongi: … Yoongi: I’m going back to bed, you’re being dramatic You: I’m *not* this is SERIOUS Yoongi: It’s not that serious You: I’ve spent 5 years trying to get over the way he treated me, so yeah it’s a big deal Yoongi: it’s just drunken sex and I’m tired You: oh my god, give the phone to Jimin Yoongi: Just text him You: Yoongi, please

You stare at the phone and try to figure out what else to say when the screen lights up again.

Yoongi: I have a very grumpy boyfriend You: Jimin, thank god Yoongi (Jimin): what is it my little problem child? You: Just read up Yoongi (Jimin): You bitch, you went out and got drunk and didn’t invite me? You: Jimin can we focus please? Yoongi (Jimin): Who did you go out with? You: Is this really the time? Yoongi (Jimin): I’m waiting You: Fuck Jimin, just some people that are working on the show You: Now can we please talk about this colossal mistake? Yoongi (Jimin): I’ll be there to pick you up and take your hungover ass to get breakfast, which is more than you deserve since you went out WITHOUT ME You: Thank you and I will never go out without inviting you again Yoongi (Jimin): Better

You’ve taken way too long in the bathroom and you know there’s a chance Hoseok will be awake now. But you can’t bring yourself to leave the bathroom until you get the text from Jimin that he’s downstairs. Bless him for being an absolute angel, even when it’s his horns keeping the halo upright. 

Despite being a colossal pain in the ass about nearly everything in life, Jimin does actually come through and take you to one of the best meals you’ve ever had. Or maybe you’re just that hungover. You don’t really know. He’s also somehow managed to bring you a change of clothes (which, you’re not really sure if they’re actually yours or where they came from, but the outfit looks remarkably put together) and makeup so you don’t have to go all the way home. You try to ask why he’s so prepared and he only gives a vague answer about how you didn’t know him before Yoongi and smirks. You’re immediately filing that away for another day when you do remember to invite Jimin out to drink with you and whatever group you’ve been dragged into. 

When Jimin drops you off at the studio (another point to Jimin) where your car is still conveniently parked from the night before, you’re feeling and looking significantly more human. You know you owe him, he doesn’t have to say it. But he’s Park Jimin so he says it anyway and you just smile.

The auditions feel a little less tedious with a stomach full of greasy food the day after a much-needed night out (where you will be pretending that you did not fuck Hoseok again). You’re looking for some more minor characters today. If things go well and you end up doing a second season based on the second book, they could play a much bigger role. For now, though, it’s still small.

Realistically, you’re not hungry because Jimin really did hook you up. Then again, the food is there and it’s free, so you’re looking over to decide what you might actually want to try. Someone approaches the other side of the table, looking tentative. You immediately recognize him as one of the guys you pointed out as fitting the right look for one of your characters. He was sweet, kind of endearing, but with really striking features.

“Hey, I just wanted to introduce myself,” he says and you look up. “I’m Chan.”

“I remember,” you say and you’re being honest. You were insistent that he be kept around to audition.

“Wow, I didn’t think…well that’s great. I’m excited to get the chance. Thank you so much,” Chan says and you realize this might be a big deal for him.

“No problem, you just remind me of him,” you say.

“I was talking to my dance teacher before the first audition,” Chan starts and you raise an eyebrow. “Oh, I know this isn’t a dancing part, I just like to take the classes.”

“That’s fair,” you say.

“And I was really worried about the audition and how it would go,” Chan says. “But my dance teacher, he’s awesome, he said he had gone to school with you and used to be friends with you and all that and that you were really nice.”

That one statement brought you up completely short. What the fuck?

“Who’s your dance teacher?” You already know the answer because really, who else could it be? Still, you need to hear him say it.

“Oh, Jung Hoseok,” Chan says quickly and you force a smile. “Do you remember him? He gave me all this great advice about the audition and said he’d try to reach out to you if it made me feel better. He’s so nice.”

“Yeah, he was. It’s been ages since I’ve spoken to him though,” you say, hoping that you succeed in the attempt at nonchalance. 

“Yeah, he said that. I think he was just trying to help me feel better, offering to reach out,” Chan agrees. “I get it though. You’ve had so much success as a writer, so it makes sense you wouldn’t still talk to everyone from college. It’s so cool they’re turning your book into a series and you’re so young!”

“I feel like I’ve been writing for like 20 years with how much it ages me sometimes,” you say to distract yourself from thinking of Hoseok.

“I actually…read all the books when they came out, I’m a big fan,” Chan says and blushes like it’s embarrassing to admit. You think it’s sweet. One of the PAs calls out for you, though.

��Good luck today, Chan. It’s been really great speaking to you,” you say and excuse yourself.

Honestly, you can’t believe the audacity of fucking Jung Hoseok to say what he had to this poor kid. Playing it off like he knows you, making it seem like you just used to be friends. And what was he thinking, offering to reach out to you on behalf of this kid?

That’s when a truly sickening thought settles into your brain. Takes root in a way that you know you can’t shake it. One of those intrusive thoughts that shouldn’t ever exist. Was that what this all was? Is this why he reached out? Does he just want to help one of his dancers get a role in your new series? That would be seriously fucked up if that was the case. And you hate thinking he could be capable of something like that. The reality is that you used to know Hoseok, while the guy who wrecked you was a complete stranger and there’s no way of knowing which one had shown up now.

The rest of the day is kind of a wash from a concentration standpoint. You’re a million miles away and thankfully, nobody seems to call you on it. You’re not sure if it’s because they’ve worked with writers before that had their heads in the clouds or because you’re still answering all the questions asked of you. Either way, you’re not really there at all. 

Over the next day or so, you decide the best way forward is to continue ignoring Hoseok (despite him texting you multiple times wanting to talk about what happened after karaoke). Instead of talking to Hoseok, you do the completely rational thing and talk to every other person you trust. How can you decide on the next move without multiple opinions? 

You can’t.

Yoongi is first up and he’s exceptionally grumpy since you woke him up before he was ready to be a person. It may not have been that early by normal human standards, but Yoongi is only part human and part gremlin, you think, so he’s never really followed normal hours. Once he’s done being grumpy, he takes his time being thoughtful. As far as he sees it, this was just some drunken sex. It isn’t like Hoseok actually asked for anything, that you remember. And you insist you remember everything from the night.  For all you know, it was just stress relief for both of you. No point in getting worked up.

Since Jimin is there and incapable of being ignored, he also gets to weigh in. Which is welcome, actually, because Jimin can be really calculating when he wants to be. He asks a lot of questions, both about the guy you were friends with and the fight that ended it all. You’re just about ready to call this conversation a day when Jimin says he doesn’t think it sounds like something malicious. There’s only one way to know for sure, though, and he suggests that you just talk to Hoseok like an adult with multiple published books and a streaming deal. There’s Park Jimin for you.

Part of you wants to ask Namjoon, but thinks better of it. The Affair incident is fresh in your mind and you really don’t need to give him another reason to question your sanity. There are enough of those just in everyday life. And you just had to relive the entire fight with Jimin so you’re not too eager to explain all the backstory to Namjoon.

Which makes the final person you ask Jungkook. His opinion is so incredibly important to you, yet it’s the one that you’re least excited about getting. It means you also have to tell him about sleeping with Hoseok, a fact that you have carefully avoided. Not that you owe Jungkook every detail of your life, because you’re not actually in a relationship. It’s just that, sometimes, with how much you depend on each other, it feels like something more. Feels like it’s much more than just some friends-with-benefits type situation. 

In true Jungkook fashion, he takes the news in stride and doesn’t linger on you fucking this stranger that reappeared at the Gala and hasn’t seemed to go away since then. He’s thoughtful, Hoseok has come up a lot in your conversations lately, so he doesn’t have to ask questions like Jimin. And you tell him how frustrating it was to answer them, anyway. There’s no escaping it when Jungkook comes to the same conclusion, though. 

“Just talk to him,” Jungkook urges, “you’ll feel so much better being able to gauge his answer.”

“I’m really sorry,” you say and Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow at that. 

“For what?” he asks.

“Getting drunk and making a stupid fucking mistake by fucking him,” you answer, avoiding his eyes. 

“It’s really not a big deal for you and me,” Jungkook says.

“Are you sure?” you ask. You hate how small your voice sounds.

Jungkook closes the space between you and kisses the top of your head. “I’m sure. I’m here for whatever you need.”

This brings you to texting Hoseok.

And that brings you to sit down in a coffee shop with him, because apparently you can’t just text or go to each other’s apartment, like normal people. Which is nice too, actually, because it gives you a chance to see more of the city than just your apartment or the studio where you’ve been working. It allows you to people watch, see those rushing by in a haze mingled with those taking their time. Let’s your overactive imagination come up with a story for each of them. 

You still aren’t even sure if you want to forgive Hoseok for everything that happened all those years ago. And with all the writing sessions and casting calls, you haven’t exactly had a lot of time to even think, let alone talk to anyone outside of your small circle. Which isn’t totally out of character, you’ve never been one for a huge circle of friends or social engagements. It just makes everything a little more complicated now as you’re trying to sort out feelings. 

Hoseok beat you to the coffee shop this time, seemingly by a bit since he’s going to get his second cup just after you sit down. You spare a passing thought that maybe he’s nervous about talking to you. He certainly seems like he is. Weirdly it makes you less nervous. It makes you feel somehow more in control of the situation because you do know what you want to say.

“So,” Hoseok begins after he sits back down, “about the other night…”

“Actually, that isn’t exactly what I wanted to talk to you about,” you say, watching his eyes go wide.

“What?” he stutters out.

“I mean, I guess it’s kind of related? But also not,” you say. “I met Lee Chan at a casting call the other day.”

Whatever Hoseok was expecting, it’s not this. He tries to connect the dots for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “Okay? He’s a great kid, I’m glad he decided to go to the auditions after all.”

“That’s it?” You’re watching him for a reaction that just isn’t there. Maybe, despite The Fight, he’s still more or less the person you were friends with.

“I’m not sure what else to say about him,” Hoseok admits.

“Okay, cards on the table,” you say with a confidence you don’t entirely feel. “Did you show back up in my life to help your student get a part in my series?”

Hoseok chokes on his drink when the question comes out, turns into a coughing mess and takes a minute to clear his throat. “What the fuck? Is that what you think? Come on, you know me…”

“I don’t though, do I? Not anymore,” you disagree and there’s finally an emotion on his face that you can place: hurt. He’s hurt and you’re not sure how to feel about that. Your feelings about him are still so mixed up. A big part of you wants to comfort him, though. Which isn’t exactly the response you’d expected.

“Maybe I deserve that, but it still hurts,” Hoseok says. You chew your bottom lip while you think.

“It hurt to have the thought it was possible too, trust me,” you say. “But it was weird timing, you know? Chan introduced himself during his second audition, later the same day I woke up in your bed.”

“I would never sleep with you to help a student get something out of it,” Hoseok says earnestly. “I’d never sleep with you to get anything out of it.”

“I want to believe that,” you admit.

“I had no idea that you’d be there. Another guy from the studio who teaches but also takes my master classes is friends with your friends that invited you out. He asked if I wanted to come out, I wasn’t busy, so I figured why not?” Hoseok explains. “And then I wake up and you’re gone.”

“Hoseok,” you say, a quiet warning.

“Actually, I wake up and you’re sneaking out without saying anything,” he amends. 

“I needed to not be there,” you say because it’s all you can say.

“I get that, I know you’re seeing someone, but we needed to talk about it,” Hoseok says.

“Yeah, Jungkook knows,” you say and feel your heart constrict a bit at the way Hoseok pales.

“What?” Hoseok asks. When you don’t say anything, he continues. “Please tell me you’re kidding, he looks like he could kick my ass and barely break a sweat.”

“He would never,” you disagree. “My…relationship, if you wanna call it that, with Jungkook isn’t exactly what you think? Like he’s not my boyfriend, we’re not exclusive or anything like that.”

“But you let me think you were?” He doesn’t look upset, just confused if anything.

“Yeah, I know,” you say and he’s still watching you carefully. “It was just easier and honestly, I didn’t feel like I owed you an explanation for my personal life after all these years.”

“I - yeah, okay, I guess I have to respect that,” Hoseok agrees. “But we still need to talk.”

“I’m not ready,” you say immediately, try not to feel anything when he deflates. 

“I guess I just thought…since you asked to meet me,” Hoseok says, trailing off.

“I needed to know if you really just did that for a student,” you offer.

“You believe that I didn’t, right? That I wouldn’t?” Hoseok asks with so much hope that you’re not sure you can take it.

“I do, yeah,” you say. You’ve barely had time to process, but you know you do believe he wouldn’t do that. It’s about all you know when it comes to him now.

“I really do need you to know how sorry I am,” Hoseok says and you start to open your mouth, but he’s quicker. “Please, you don’t have to say anything, just let me say this? Please?”

He looks so much younger, so vulnerable for a moment. All you do is nod.

“I know sorry isn’t what you need to hear, I get that. I know that I can’t go back and change that fight and all the fucking stupid shit that I said. Stuff that I didn’t mean. And I do hear you that you’re not ready. I just want you to know that I’m so sorry,” Hoseok says.

You let out your breath. “I do know that Hobi, at least on some level.” 

“I’ve, well I’ve done a lot of thinking about that day. I talked to a lot of people, both friends and a therapist, actually. There aren’t any excuses for what I did, no matter what was going on in my head. If I’ve learned anything over the past few years, it’s definitely that. So I want to make sure you know that when you are ready, if you’re ever ready, I won’t make any excuses. What happened was entirely my fault and I completely acknowledge that,” he says, so earnestly. 

“I appreciate that,” you say because it’s all you really can think up.

This was supposed to clear your head up, which it has in some ways. You feel a little silly for even thinking that Hoseok would do something like sleep with you to help get someone he only kind of knows a role in a TV series. And you’re also questioning your friends since none of them pointed out you were having a full breakdown over a man. Not your finest moment. 

But with that one, small thing cleared up, your mind immediately goes back to the bigger issue: Hoseok has reappeared in your life and you really need to figure out how you feel about that. You’ve missed him, of course. You’re not going to deny that very obvious truth. On top of that, you also very clearly have some sort of feelings for him. After all, you’re not stupid college kids anymore. It’s not like you can pretend the sex was meaningless. 

Hoseok, showing some definite growth from your college days, accepts it when you say that you just can’t talk about all the very real things you need to right now. Accepts it when you say that you believe him but you have to go. Accepts that you’re running late for something. The only problem is that you’re not running late. It’s not like you actually planned for after your talk with him. It was too much to even think about how the conversation was going to go.

Now it’s over, though, and you don’t really want to go home to be alone with your thoughts. One of the few times that you don’t like that you live alone. Don’t like that you don’t have a built-in person that can just be there without you having to explain what you’re feeling or that you don’t want to be alone. Which is when your brain goes to Jungkook. He’s become that person that you go to when you don’t want to be alone or when you need to get out of your own head.

Except you’re not really sure that’s fair to him. Not really sure if seeing him right now is going to help you. Since the Gala, he’s been nothing but supportive and understanding. This is too much, though, isn’t it? Sure, you and he have never really wanted to bother labeling things, both just happy with the way things are. Things have naturally kind of evolved, but you haven’t stopped to talk about any of it. Sure, Jungkook always assures you that it’s fine, that he’s happy to be there whenever you need him. 

The healthiest thing to do is go home and actually try to sort out your feelings. The second healthiest thing to do would be to call Yoongi and tell him that you actually need to talk to him (which you do, desperately, need his help). 

None of the healthy options include texting Wooyoung to see if he’s got any plans that night. The healthy ways to process definitely don’t include agreeing to go out for happy hour knowing full well what that means with Wooyoung. At least this time, you invite Jimin to avoid one disaster.

(Jimin agrees to come and agrees to your terms that he’s not allowed to ask if you’re okay or if you want to talk. Agrees that he won’t tell Yoongi even if he thinks you’re making reckless decisions. He also finds a way to tell Wooyoung’s friend not to invite Hoseok this time without outing you. When you’re sober, you’ll probably thank Jimin. Maybe. There is always his ego to consider.)

“I feel like I’ve seen you around somewhere,” San muses, looking at Jimin.

Jimin just smiles his most mischievous smile and shrugs, taking a sip of his drink. “Probably.”

“Jimin is one of my best friends, he’s been by the studio a few times,” you say when it’s clear Jimin isn’t going to provide any more context. He sighs and rolls his eyes dramatically.

“I’m also dating her platonic soulmate, so she’s stuck with me,” Jimin adds and you snort.

“Is that what we’re calling Yoongi these days?” you ask. Jimin smiles a real smile, eyes crinkling. 

“Honestly, yes, your friendship with him is so sweet, it makes me sick,” Jimin says with nothing but affection. 

San seems satisfied and Wooyoung just looks enamored by anything Jimin says. Which is actually kind of cute because you can tell he’s not even interested in Jimin like that, just genuinely wants to be his friend. And you definitely get that. Jimin is one of the sweetest, most charismatic people that you know. Yes, he can be a devious little shit, but when he’s like this, it’s impossible to not like him. 

That’s just kind of how the night goes. Thankfully, it’s not quite as crazy as the last time you went out with this group. You learn the tall guy’s name is Mingi and for some reason, he seems weirdly shy around you. It’s cute and he’s incredibly sweet. Jimin fits in seamlessly, which isn’t a surprise to you with how many times you’ve seen him like this. 

What is a surprise, though, is that Jimin keeps demanding you get up and dance with him. Since, of course, happy hour turned into going someplace else. It wasn’t just Jimin that wanted to dance and now you were just along for the ride. He also insisted that you were a safe choice to dance with and also gave you a sob story about how Yoongi would never dance with him at the club. 

(Probably true, crowds and people and this kind of thing were definitely not Yoongi’s first or second or even last choice. It’s also true that Jimin is a really amazing dancer and you’re a little intimidated by him. You’re also, thankfully, just buzzed enough to not really care.)

It’s the early hours of the morning when you finally head home, feeling a lot lighter than you had after leaving Hoseok. In fact, you haven’t checked your messages since meeting up with Jimin, Wooyoung, San, and the others. There’s something freeing about just putting everything on Do Not Disturb and enjoying the moment. 

By the time you get out of the car at your apartment, the alcohol haze is already wearing off. Which ends up being a good thing when you open your door to see someone sitting on your couch. There’s a half second of panic, of your brain calculating fight or flight, before you realize that it’s just Jungkook. Sitting on your couch, watching TV like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Jesus Christ, Jungkook,” you say, hand on your chest like you’re about to die. A little overdramatic, maybe, but your brain is still a little hazy around the edges. 

“Sorry,” he says, eyes immediately going comically wide. “I didn’t mean to scare you!” 

“No, it’s fine,” you say as you toe off your shoes and drop your keys and bag on the table by the door. 

“I really am sorry,” he says. It’s easy to believe when he looks that bashful. “I don’t even know why I came over. I just, well I texted you after I got out of my shoot to see how things went and you didn’t answer.”

“Oh yeah, I went out for drinks with Jimin and some friends from the set,” you say and Jungkook nods. 

“Yeah, he actually texted me,” Jungkook admits and you just chuckle. Of course he did, you think. “But I was already on my way over here and your apartment is more comfortable than mine. I can leave though?” 

“No, it’s fine, it’s late,” you say as you collapse on the couch with him. “One rule, though.” 

“What?” he asks.

“I don’t wanna talk about the conversation with Hobi right now,” you say quietly as you nestle into Jungkook’s side.

You miss the way that he tenses for a minute at the way the old nickname falls so easily from your lips. Miss the way it takes his arms a minute to wrap around you. Miss the way his face falls a little at you not wanting to talk to him about something. 

“Of course, whatever you need,” Jungkook says. 

You don’t hear the way his voice sounds a little hollow, a little less animated than it usually does. He wants to mean it, wants to keep being there for you however you need him. It’ll be fine, he tells himself. He can do this. 

all of them are kinda going through it right now, but please let me know your thoughts <3

[sl0wdiver]

Get to know me tag from @heffer-wen - thank u so much for letting me have my Oprah intverview 😍

Tagging @bakingblues @jarrodsbowen @merlinn @drunkenromantic @ruben-dias and @canirove!

1. Do you make your bed? Every damn day I sure as hell do. Cushions and throw and all.

2. Favourite number? Always very fond of 28 as it's my birthday. 147 as well. Not that I believe in angel numbers but I see it everywhere.

3. What's your job? That's a secret but it's corporate and it's boring and I'm planning on leaving in October!!

4. If you could go back to school, would you? Secondary school you couldn't pay me enough to do again. It's taken me the best part of a decade to get over it. Much as I would consider going back to uni, I can't be arsed with exams and coursework. Really enjoy not having to be assessed on things. I love studying though!

5. Can you parallel park? Nine times out of ten, yes. I've also managed to start doing it without stressing to high heaven or swearing!

6. Do you think aliens are real? Positively. However, I think the majority of life in the universe is probably like how our planet has been for the majority of its life - either microbial or unintelligent (by our standards). The chances of us existing at the same time as another intelligent species who are close enough that we could make contact with them is unfortunately very small. I would love to see the day we do receive something from a nearby star. Contact is one of my favourite films ever and I think paints the most realistic picture of what that might look like.

7. Can you drive a manual car? I wouldn't drive anything else.

8. Guilty pleasure? Gonna sound so pretentious here but I've moved on from guilty pleasures. I embrace everything that I love and want to enjoy.

9. Tattoos? None at the moment, and probably never. I'm not averse to them, but I don't have anything that I'd really want to put on my body. Closest I've thought however is getting "Fire, walk with me" somewhere because I fucking love Twin Peaks and I saw someone recently with it on their back.

10. Favourite colour? Tough to pick one, but my favourite shades sit around navy blue, aquamarine and turquoise. Colours of the ocean and especially oceans in the summer.

11. Favourite type of music? Truthfully, I can genuinely get along with anything, and I absolutely love SO much different types of music for all sorts of reasons. Easier to list of the stuff that I can't do, namely Hair/Glam Metal, Southern Rock and stuff that's generically put under 'Classic Rock' (I love SO much music from the 60s and 70s, but 'Classic Rock' is not a genre, it's something invented by the likes of Rolling Stone magazine and people in YouTube comment sections of Beatles songs writing "I was born in the wrong generation" to jerk themselves off to. Get a grip).

The way I see it, if it's compelling to me, I will enjoy it. I have a million playlists on Spotify for every mood I find myself in.

12. Do you like puzzles? Some. Word ones tend to be my favourite, and I used to do sudoku quite a lot. It's not really my thing though.

13. Any phobias? Basophobia. Specifically, having no grip on my feet. I'm also quite claustrophobic.

14. Favourite childhood sport? Much like @heffer-wen who tagged me in this, I was arty and quite averse to sport. I went to an all-boys school which was absolutely febrile for getting us to play football, rugby and cricket. Hated them all, and ironically now love watching the latter two.

I did, however, love cycling, badminton, kayaking and bodyboarding, and still do. Don't do any of them competitively but I make sure to bodyboard at least once a year.

15. Do you talk to yourself? All the fucking time. There are so many scenarios happening in my head. Someone HAS to broadcast them, right?

16. Tea or coffee? For years, neither. Then in uni, tea took over my life. Then, shortly before I came out, iced coffee entered my life like a freight train. Now, I love both. Tea is my regular go-to and coffee is more of a treat, but I like them in pretty much all forms. I'm blessed in Cardiff to have the choice of Portugese or Turkish coffee basically on my doorstep and it's fucking brilliant. Earl Grey and Redbush are favourite tea flavours.

17. First thing you wanted to be when growing up? Something in engineering. I was and still am obsessed with planes, trains, cars, bridges, buildings, the like. Turns out I absolutely sucked at studying for the Maths and Physics bits but hey ho, I still enjoy reading about those subjects.

18. What movies do you adore? Where the fuck do I begin. Go read my Letterboxd, it's easier.

As a very, VERY brief overview however, the films I absolutely adore are:

Amadeus

Apocalypse Now

The Incredibles

Call Me By Your Name

Blade Runner

The complete Lord of the Rings trilogy

The complete original Star Wars trilogy (IV and V especially)

Stop Making Sense

The Dark Knight

Raiders of the Lost Ark

Pulp Fiction

Mean Girls

Shrek 2

And SO many more but I'll be here all day listing them out.

[reitziluz]

Oh? Oh ho??? I am instantly curious about your opinions and thoughts regarding Fear & Hunger, as your insights are incredibly enlightening and I'm very much interested about your take on their mythos. Pretty please elaborate as you wish?

i barely have any thoughts, because i'm still in the middle of chewing through the delicious delicious id candy haha! also i have only scratched the surface of termina so far, so my understanding of the lore is very much Incomplete. despite that, i'm at a loss to where even to start, because there's so many things i could comment on. (please ask me more if you want to hear more!)

but yeah my opinion is that it's great. like the actual yikes and jank are surface imperfections that could be filed off and the core of sincere madness would remain the same. tho i feel it's also 100% one of the cases where the creative expression and power would not have had a chance to happen if there had been much more restraint. it's gleeful "wouldn't it be fucked up if —?" with an earnest side of "isn't it tragic that —?" that bypasses rational thought and hits you right in the pathos. you could dismiss it with so many different words — grimdark, edgy, immature, gratuitous, fake-deep, pretentious, the list goes on — but like. no. it's not in good taste, as in it's not trying to be tasteful or subtle or highbrow, and that's good. it's the kind of thing that would not work if it cringed and flinched away from itself even a little bit. but it doesn't, not even when it's silly and strange, and that's the cherry on top.

the first thing that gets censored about it is the sexual horror, but that's the highlight for me. porn and horror are such sibling genres. experiential. about taboos and what's monstrous and what's proper. combined, they form a holistic drain cleaner to unclog your subconsciousness. the gutters of my mind have been powerwashed.

but damn, the mythos. do i even have a take on it? again, i don't know much about termina yet, just some basic stuff and how it seems most of the endings of the first game are somewhat canon.

the gods. i don't know where to begin with the gods. please ask me to elaborate on specific ones. i know i have a lot of thoughts but i don't know where to start.

the shit that's inspired me is the way ascension works. how new gods are all about trying to make a difference, take the power back from the gods into the hands of humans, but inevitably burn out and become a part of the hall of the gods. the vibe i get (though i may be projecting my own preferred shit) is that power of that level does not just corrupt, it erodes. how neither of the most successful ones weren't fully human to begin with, and at least one of them was intentionally manufactured.

i could talk way more about the different endings and the different takes on ascension in them. but i'm going to explode if i try to fit all that in one post.

[goattypegirl]

It shouldn't be surprising there are Minecraft ARG* series. The game's a bit creepy; combine that with it being a game people played when they were dumb kids, and you get this potent nostalgia for that creepiness. In a way, these ARG series are an evolution of those early roleplaying Let's Plays, like the Yogscast's Shadow of Israphel series or Zisteau's... Zisteau Plays Minecraft series. Logistically, being a sandbox game that's relatively easy to mod helps too. Modding the game to do whatever spooky thing you want is probably easier in Minecraft than in like. Dark Souls.

Like any genre, some works are better (and more original) than others; you could make a whole bingo card out of the common tropes at this point. Never playing a version newer than beta 1.7, fake bandicam logo and windows 7 ui, random pivot into sci-fi, etc.

It shouldn't be surprising that there's a whole genre of YouTube videos explaining Minecraft ARGs either. I'm usually derisive of "analysis" videos that are just plot summaries, but these series tend to have ARG elements or small details that the average viewer may not notice.

What is surprising, at least to me, is that some of these youtubers aren't stumbling across these, they're commissioning them. And I don't know how I feel about that. Like, these series aren't being made because someone had a story they wanted to tell, they're made because a youtuber with a million subscribers needed a video to publish this month. There's something to be said about commision and the commercialization of art and the realities of being an artist, but I'll leave that for someone with more knowledge on art history than me so I don't sound even more pretentious.

*"unfiction" is probably the more accurate word here, but like. Who the fuck knows what unfiction means.

[amalgamgooze]

making a text-based adventure game is hard

I've realized that maybe the RPG that I was working on was a little ambitious for what resources I had.

For such limited time (and patience), I've realized that maybe I'll need to postpone any work on a game of such caliber for a bit...

Fortunately, I've found myself enjoying a new genre of games as of late--visual novels and other narrative-heavy games.

"Oh god," you yelp. "My *absolutely-favoritest* blogger has fallen to the clutches of lust!"

Not to worry, my friends. I'm not playing *that* type of visual novel.

I'm talking about Disco Elysium and Kyle is Famous and Night in the Woods.

And I'm also really digging the aesthetic of the Windows PowerShell window I have to use to install Python packages.

"I've got big things planned for this game,"

the foolish never-would-be game dev announced.

"This game will change the industry--it'll change the way the common man sees video games,"

the developer self-awarely pretentiously claimed. They might be a little crazy, but they still knew that changes as big as those wouldn't happen as a result of their little game.

But then I come back down to reality.

Changes as big as those don't *have* to happen as a result of my game.

In fact, I could make this game just for myself.

Nobody else would ever have to play it.

...

But then I'd miss out on all the fun of sharing my works with the world.

I'd miss out on the "what were you thinking here" shared laughs moments,

I'd miss out on the "only someone on drugs would write something like this" compliments,

I'd miss out on all of it.

...

And also making a game of this sort of nature kind of implies I'll be able to get my mom to play *a* video game.

...

Did you know that making a text-based visual novel adventure game is somewhat difficult?

Even if you know how to do classes and object-oriented programming and such?

I've spent a good part of today literally just drawing diagrams of how inheritance of locations is going to work in this game.

Dude. You have to start down at the *text* level and work your way up.

It's... interesting, to say the least.

And I'm sure my methods aren't exactly the best. Yet.

I'm fully prepared to have to scrap it all in favor of a more efficient, cleaner organization method.

...

Prepare for total .JSONification. All things must be JSON.

Everything you love. Everything you hold dear.

I.

Will.

Make.

It.

JSON.

...

Anyway, yeah. I'm going to probably be spending 10 hours a day on average coding for the rest of my life, with my jobs and my hobbies and my projects and my everything.

Fuck, I've accidentally made an interesting image filter for my internship while trying to detect edges using a custom-made gradient algorithm.

That means only one thing--I have the capability to program my own shit for Aseprite and Krita.

...

And it'll all make my art so much easier.

...

And what about music?

What if I make an algorithm that helps me continue the song when I'm stuck and don't know what to add next?

Based on what I've learned in Music Theory?

...

It's daunting that the possibilities are now endless, I suppose.

But at the core of it all?

Where everything began?

...

It was some radical dream in which I so vehemently desired to make a game.

To get my story out there in turn-based RPG form.

A dream that formed well over 7 years now.

And will continue to grow and form.

...

Some radical dream that persuaded this what-would-otherwise-be-just-another-sterile-passionless-STEM-major into taking weird classes like Art and Music Theory and Modern Drama in an immensely passionate pursuit of realizing their insane dream.

You know.

Instead of just focusing on what's important.

...

I could probably be saving *more* lives with more dedication to, oh, I don't know--cancer research? Biotech?

...anything productive?

But instead here I sit, wasting my potential by making stupid games.

...

I don't think my games are *stupid*, per se.

However, when you compare the societal impact of a video game to something like cancer research, well...

I'm just ashamed!

My priorities aren't in the right places, it seems--!

...

But don't try to console me.

I've already convinced myself that even though games might not better society in the same way medical research does, and even though I'm a terrible person for wanting to waste my potential, it's still what I want to do.

Hah.

And so they look in the mirror, at peace with the fact they're a terrible person in the eyes of some.

But in the eyes of others, and even sometimes the same people, they're triumphant.

They're doing shit they physically should not be able to.

They continue to defy expectations.

The logic of the world has gone to shit, and the reflection in the mirror somehow proves this point.

I should not exist in the capacity that I do.

And...

...

I believe I've made my argument that a narrative-based game from me would be, at the very least, interesting.

...

And I totally didn't just have an unprofessional breakdown-rant in typed format.

...

def generateNewBreakdown(self, _subject:str=None) -> str:

...

On an unrelated note, I'm really starting to become attracted to the way Python code looks.

It's not a sexual attraction to the way the code looks.

Yet.

[halflingkima]

15, 20, 44

wait i meant to type 43, answer 43, too!

thanks b! 💕 my dnd session caught me in the middle of answering 😅

15. Which genre(s) are your favorite? The easy answer to this is romance; but last year I had a run of bad (i.e. boring) romances that set me off of mainstream romance altogether. I'm always down for a queer indie, but it's more of a gamble with the writing styles out there.

I think my real favorite genre is literary fiction, but it's like that post about poetry where 99% of it is pretentious crap except for that 1% that speaks to your soul AND that 1% is different for everyone. I think lit fic is like that, except it's more like 75% is bullshit, 20% you can generally appreciate that it's for other people, and 5% rewrites ur dna.

20. Where and how do you find new books to read? I can't tell if this is asking literally where I get books or how I hear about new books, but we'll do the latter. I do work at a library but we're REAL behind on orders (thx covid). I mostly hear about new books through youtube. my absolute favorite channel was allisonpaiges, but she's not posting right now. my current rotation is booksandlala, megwithbooks, stephaniebookish, and bookslikewhoa, but i will drop my whole sub list if anyone wants booktube recs.

43. Title of a book you own that's in the worst physical condition you have. Explain what happened to it. Post a picture if you want.

The Hobbit is definitely the most long-suffering book in this house, but it's technically my mom's. But the bookshelves are in my room, so 😈 It's probably from the first run of mass market paperbacks and it is crumbling from age lol

Otherwise, avoiding hp properties and quite a few secondhand college textbooks bc I don't wanna talk about them, I think my most scuffed book is the copy of Dracula I used for my high school senior thesis. All my copies of Dracula (4 I think?) are in roughly the same condition, but this one at least emotionally Went Thru It.

Since I get almost all of my books secondhand, it's not egregiously worse than the rest of them, but it is definitely worn. This was annotating to my advisor's specifications and lord, do I hate it now. I'd like to take a stab at annotating this again once I get a system for myself down.

44. The book(s) whose stories have become part of your very makeup. I don't even know if you intended to ask this or if it was a typo for 43 but I'm gonna answer it lol.

There are titles that affect my makeup because I read them so young and they affected me deeply then:

Walk Two Moons by Sharon Creech

Just Listen by Sarah Dessen

Keeping the Moon by Sarah Dessen

Probably also the Hunger Games.

Then there are books that affect my makeup as a writer myself, that will simply always be a part of my own writing style now:

Library of the Unwritten trilogy by AJ Hackwith

London Calling duology by Alexis Hall

You Feel it Just Below the Ribs by Janina Matthewson & Jeffrey Cranor

probably also Fun Home by Alison Bechdel

Then there's books I read as an adult that changed the axes of my world and brought the concept of life into sharper focus (I do recommend but YMMV):

A Line Made By Walking by Sara Baume

Beautiful World, Where Are You by Sally Rooney (before which, Normal People would've made the list)

Maybe also the Radiant Emperor duology by Shelley Parker-Chan but that could be recency bias. It did fuck me up though

[misireads]

Taivaanpallo ("Celestial sphere") by Olli Jalonen

[ audiobook, listened in finnish ]

a coming-of-age story (well, almost anyway) about a boy who spends his childhood on the small island of saint helena in the 1600s. he's taught to observe the night sky by the british royal astronomer edmond halley who visits the island, and then to read and write by a local priest. at around the half-way point of the story, he's sent off to deliver news about unrest on the island to halley who lives in london, and now the country bumpkin boy has to learn the ways of a big city. there's also a shitty boat trip to the UK in the middle there

➕ i do like stories set in real places and name-dropping real historical figures so i can read about them on wikipedia.

➕ there's an interesting theme of religion vs science in here. (at least implied. not very explicit but it's there)

➕ it felt good every time angus got to own some rude asshole with his superhuman eyesight or reading skills.

➕ there isn't anything wrong with this book per se, it's beautifully written in finnish…

➖ …that said, i really really really didn't like this book, for several reasons. most notably, this is a specimen of this genre of finnish literature that's exclusively Very Long stories, in a historical setting, and nothing really happens in it. i've read three of these books now. i have not enjoyed any of the three. this is not a genre for me. i literally knew from the very first sentence that i wouldn't like this

➖ second biggest reason and partially tied to the first, is because this book makes me feel stupid for not liking it. it's like ohhh this… epic whatever the shit… wonderful gorgeous language ooh aah so many details, literary genius, what a deep book what a contemporary classic. and i'm like… so i'm stupid for not liking it? is that it? am i too stupid and rotten-brained to appreciate it??? and that's why i hate this book

➖ but also just fucking nothing happens. there is no plot. there is no story arc. there are no highlights. things just happen. sometimes the first-person narration of angus talks about animals on the bible for half an hour (since i listened as an audiobook). i guess this is the sort of story that's meant to evoke thought rather than tell an adventure, or even tell a story really. but i'm not fucking interested in thoughts on god or how filthy people were in 1600s. i'm not interested in random details that go on and on and on and on and you can stop paying attention for an hour and don't miss a single thing about the story because that hour was probably about angus thinking about how he's learned a new thing and how he and his life are now forever changed because he learned the new thing, or going on and on about how he needs to be polite and in what specific ways he needs to be polite and how. i found myself spacing out listening, wondering which ass this author even pulls this shit out of. like, so many details in this book are just so mundane, this is nothing but a flow of mundane scenes and thoughts, and my own experience as a writer and just my writing process in general is so different from this. of course i'm partially in awe that someone's brain works like this that they'll casually drop in all these completely needless details about side characters we hear about once and then never again. but it's exactly that, needless. i didn't need any of that information for anything. another two-star reviewer had left a comment on this saying it felt like it was written with a literary award in mind and that's exactly how i feel too. like sort of pretentious blah blah I'm So Deep whatever garbage

➖ more of a neutral thing but i learned that edmond halley was a real person literally yesterday (and finished the book just now today). so that trivia brought very little to my reading experience.

⭐ score: 2 -- i have nothing more to say. this is the first part of a trilogy and i will now proceed to pretend i didn't know that

[itwas50yearsagotoday]

12/7/23: It was 50 years ago today, December 7th, 1973, Emerson, Lake & Palmer would release their fifth album Brain Salad Surgery. Of today's trio of Prog records, this one is by far the best IMO. Kind of EL&P's magnum opus (unless you count Tarkus... questionable) as the multi-part 'Karn Evil 9' stretches across both sides of the record. Honestly, if you really want to educate someone on Progressive Rock this may be one of the most representative records of the entire, sprawling genre. You have two covers right off... first, poem 'And Did Those Feet In Ancient Time' by English poet William Blake in 1806, with music added a hundred years later by Hubert Parry, known better today as 'Jerusalem'; second, you have 'Toccata' which was from piano concerto by Argentine composer Alberto Ginastera (in 1961). Straight up, pretentious-ass covers of non-Rock music... and honestly they're both outstanding songs. I mean, once you hear 'Jerusalem' two or three times (at least the EL&P version) you start wailing along with Lake... it's just beautiful, and a perfect album starter. 'Toccata' is somewhat similar to 'Tank' from the first album... just blasting you with Classical music done by a Rock Trio; then you get to the bizarro pinball noises and proto-DNB sounds about five minutes in by Emerson... it's nuts, just nuts. Phew! Then you get the one Lake ballad on the record (I believe he is the only one of the three playing on it) 'Still... You Turn Me On' which didn't crack the U.S. Top 40, but was (is?) a big Classic Rock song. I don't think it's as good as 'Lucky Man' or 'From the Beginning', also Lake softer tunes on previous albums, but definitely mix-worthy. Even the goofy-ass Pete Sinfeld-penned tune 'Benny the Bouncer' is a ton of fun... again, another pattern across records, fast little ditties... little piano or keyboard ditties... like 'Jeremy Bender' and 'The Sheriff', these tunes are kind of breathers in between all the pomp and circumstance. Then we get to the big boy, the big one--'Karn Evil 9' which is divided like this: end of first side is 'Karn Evil 9 (1st Impression, part one)', then entire second side is 'Karn Evil 9 (1st Impression, part two)', and then 2nd Impression and 3rd Impression (I'm not writing that shit out again). The part that just about every good Classic Rock listener knows is the five minute '1st Impression (part two)'... this is the one that starts out "Welcome Back My Friends, to the Show That Never Ends!!" This song may very well be the most memorable thing for some EL&P casual listeners, as it has the highest Spotify-play from this album and fourth for the band overall. Unlike the songs on the first side, this is a major Prog workout... like 'Starship Trooper' by Yes... you know, long, sudden changes, musical showmanship, great melody. I do love part two, but really part one is better... it is very similar in sound to part two but it's almost twice as long. If you've read this far and you've not heard '1st Impression (part one)' then stop reading and go play the fucking song, beginning to end. I mean you can even connect both 1st impressions if you want to, but it's not necessary. The '2nd Impression' is mostly a spare piano version of the 1st Impression, along with some crazy percussion and Moog parts that, like Toccata, might be mistaken for some '90s DNB (okay, probably not, but it's still wild). '3rd Impression' is probably the worst song on the album, but it's still very good... kind of a re-hash of the first parts, but worth listening to at least once, especially the headphones experience at the very end. Wow, what a great record. I used to like Trilogy best, but maybe this album is superior after all. Overall an excellent experience. This album ain't for everyone, but every good boy that loves Prog should at least know this record, front to back, back to front. Also, a killer album cover that acted as a triptych when opened. Cool!

[bitchlessdino]

repeat rebound (m) Ch.1: repeating mistakes (18+)

Chapter list Pairing: Fem!reader x fwb!soonyoung Genre: Crack, smut, angst word count: 3.4k tags: fwb!soonyoung, ex!chan, lots of crying, mistakes, heartbreak, blowjobs (receiving and giving), exhibitionism, degradation, praise kink, mean dom!hoshi, insinuating car sex, doggy Summary: The best way to get over someone is to get under someone. Again and again and again. author note: i really tried pouring my whole nanaussy into this (i blame nu for my language). p.s. 2024 nana here, crying (neg) after reading and editing this bc wow, things have changed (pos?)

Taglist: @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan

It was one of those nights again; you couldn’t help but think about your ex-boyfriend. You were the one that broke up with him, so why the fuck are you still not over him? 

You drown your thoughts down a bottle of wine accompanied by friendly faces by your side. Laughing at jokes they make and being in tune with the air inside the club, you immerse yourself in the nightlife and gradually forget internal demons. Not a coherent thought in your hazy mind until a man catches your eyes. A slit in his eyebrow, a see-through long sleeve to give a peak of what he has to show underneath, and a tight pair of leather pants that hug his form incredibly. His mere presence sobered you up instantly.

“Wow,” you hardly manage to let out.

“Wow, what,” Jeonghan nudges, immediately catching your line of vision, “Ah, Soonyoung.”

“Soonyoung?” You repeat in the form of a question. “You know someone that hot?”

Jeonghan scoffs, crossing his arms pretentiously. “Look at me, of course, I do. He lives in my building. We’d party together sometimes, or at least used to before he got a girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend, huh,” disappointment stings your tone.

“Yeah, but last I heard they broke up. It must be true if he’s going out again. She was pretty controlling.” Jeonghan had this smug grin, “Why? Is he tickling your fancy?”

“If that’s a way to say I'm getting wet just looking at him right now, then yes.”

He crutches his face in disdain. “My god, you are drunk. Thirsty much? Drink some water, idiot.”

“That’s okay, I’ll fill up on Soonyoung’s dick. Excuse me.”

You push past the older man to reach the other side of the bar, Soonyoung occupying there with a new drink in hand alone. You happen to catch his gaze as you join him near the bartender. You don’t tear your gaze away in a moment of sheer confidence, greet him with a smile on his face, entrailed by the serendipity.

He follows up with a subtle grin, “Soonyoung.”

You hum, scanning his figure up close, configuring that it indeed looks better from this distance. “That’s a pretty name.”

“Thank you. I’d say the same about you, but I’m sure you already knew that.”

You give him a Cheshire grin. “Oh, you think my name’s pretty?”

“Yes, but, I think you’re prettier.” He retorts, the smile stretching over his cheeks like a strong elastic, showing no signs of wear and he leans closer to you. “Would you want me to buy you a drink?”

You wave your hand dismissively. “I approached you, I should be the one buying you a drink.”

“But I’m the one that offered.” He had this cheeky way of talking, it had you excited about something in a long time.

You bat your eyes lightly, “Well, if you insist.”

He chuckles before turning to the friendly bartender, “Josh, can I get two–sorry, what is it that you wanted?”

His eyes look over at you in interest and you are unsure if your heart is pounding from the alcohol you already have in your body or the sexual energy that just oozes out of this man. He made you tingle all over and it took you a beat before you had an answer for him. “Rum and Coke.”

Soonyoung chuckles. “And some water.”

You roll your eyes giggling. “Of course, you’re a gentleman.”

“Now why are you out tonight?” He ponders, naturally making conversation and observing the drinks being poured out in front of him.

You pretend to think, elbows hitting the bar counter as you rest your chin in your hands. “A good time. A reason to go out.”

“Me too. I hope you’re having a good time.”

“I am,” you lean closer to him, giving him direct eye contact, “especially now.”

Your hand trails over his thigh, your nails raising goosebumps on his skin.

He tilts his head, “Well, I’m the one with someone as incredible as you talking to me. You just know how hot you are, don’t you?”

You raise a brow, crossing your legs together, managing the arousal that threatens to seep from between your legs, “Yeah? Well, practically everyone in this room would be more than down to fuck you.”

He raises a brow, the corner of his lips perking up sinisterly. “You included?”

“That was implied. Of course.” You take the last sip of your drink, eyes locked on him, and it only takes a few minutes until you’re occupying an empty stairway.

Soonyoung sits on the steps with his legs spreading to his comfort while you felt rather comfortable on his lap. You anchored around his neck with a sloppy liplock in progress. Soonyoung holds your ass in his hands like a lost treasure, fingers playing along your slit underneath your skirt, while your pretty red nails dragging along his skin.

You both may have slipped one too many times on the stairs' rigid surface but still come up to the surface giggling. He tastes of the rum and potato chips, considerably sweet and salty. Your hands in his hair, you press up against his toned abdomen, hissing. “Shit, you feel like an Abercrombie ad.”

“That is the most middle school compliment I’ve ever heard,” he teases, “Thank you.”

“As fun as this is, I am getting over someone, and this is really fun, but I’m not looking for much besides sex.” 

He shrugs, “Likewise. Let’s have a night to remember then, hmm, and I’ll make sure you’ll forget all about the brainless asshole who thought losing you was a genius idea.”

You let out a guttural moan, the dampness of your panties practically dripping down your thighs, “You’re so nice…God, I really want to suck your dick.”

Before he could give a response, you’re already crawling downward and dragging the zipper of his leather pants to tug it over his thighs. “Woah, woah, not even gonna wait until we get back to my place?”

“I think I might die if I don’t–Holy shit, you’re huge.” You drag your hands all over his branded briefs, feeling for the bulge underneath, and audibly moaning only for it to get drowned out in the muffled music.

“Aren’t you worried about getting caught?”

“Not particularly, are you?”

It takes him a beat before shaking his head with a cheeky smile. He only cares to watch as you help yourself. You pull the waistband over to his thighs and uncover his pulsing length that is simply mouth-watering. You wrap his girth in your hand, a trail of saliva leaving your lips and dropping on the head. Soonyoung licks his lips and slouches his posture, curling a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Are you sure you’re sober enough for this?”

“Oh trust me. When you walk through those doors, I definitely sobered up enough to know I want you to fuck me,” you respond licking the corner of your lips.

He blinks down at you slowly, softly scoffing, “What if it’s the rum talking?”

“You taste sweeter than rum, it’s definitely you.”

You take every inch of him in your mouth, careful of your teeth, lips meeting the base and the head hitting the back of your throat. The visual alone makes his cock twitch. “S-shit.”

His hand automatically latches on the hairs of your scalp, mouth slightly open, tongue writhing out like a dog in heat. Through shut eyes, he feels you explore the surface. Your tongue traces over every vein, lips squeezing around his girth, your saliva escaping past your grip and creating a glossy sheen on the skin of his inner thigh. He lends a helping hand to bob your head, emitting those blissful sounds of your jaw being used for its higher purpose.

“Dumb cunt.” His touch travels from your hair down to the shape of your chin, gripping your face in his full hand, and thumbing over your swollen bottom lip curiously. “What kind of fucking idiot would throw away a perfectly good mouth like this?”

His hips jerk slightly, watching your eyes roll back with every thrust. His groans digging and lingering in your ears, you feel both his hands take full control. Holding you by the sides of your face, he works himself to rut in your mouth like you’re a tool; not an ounce of remorse in sight. You plant your hands on either side of him on the steps, your gagging accompanying the muffled EDM, and you feel him push his cock deep, deep down your throat, seeing stars, then a whole galaxy.

You take the opportunity to pull up for air when he loosens his touch, your drool dribbling on your chin, and a lust-driven smile spreads across your face. “You’re mean…I like you.”

“I hope you like me enough to wait then because I am not fucking you when I have a perfectly good bed a few blocks from here. Let’s go.”

With only cock on your mind, you follow the lead of a hot stranger and forget to tell the friends you leave behind. Your phone ends up buzzing on vibrate all throughout the night and you pay it not a single thought. On your journey over, you keep your hands to yourself with Soonyoung on the wheel, but make an attempt to subdue your inner demons that run amok while his hands are preoccupied.

“You keep touching yourself like that, I'll pull over.”

Your hand are already coated in the vicious film of your arousal, fingers deep past your wet folds, staining the inner lining of your skirt, “I need something in me…”

“You stupid slut,” he brakes at an upcoming red light before taking your busy hand and shoving them in his mouth. He sucks the filth from your fingers whole, past your cuticles to knuckles, and interlocks them with his when it’s clean, as clean as he could get it anyway, “I don’t fuck with brats, so you might as well sit there and do as you’re told.”

There was something interesting about the gesture. Though his words were vulgar and your hand was sticky from the residue from the combination of your impatience and Soonyoung’s proactive problem-solving, the way he clasped them together immediately after that gives you butterflies in the pit of your stomach. And something in the dumb cock drunk brain of yours told you that his words aren't meant to be taken lightly.

He drags you from the familiar sidewalk leading up to the complex where he and Jeongan take residence. He catches you in a lips lock as the elevator closes, tasting your arousal on his tongue, and letting your thigh lock around his hip. After what feels like seconds, the elevator doors release, and you are instantaneously behind another door before you realize.

He guides you to a room, knocking you back to a king-sized bed, already pushing up the fabric of your skirt to push his face between your legs. His hair only in view, he takes your thighs and presses against them to the sides of his face, muffled sounds of his ravaging driving you and your pussy up a damn wall.

“Oh, good lord.”

You rock back onto his tongue, fingers laced naturally through his locks as his nose places strategically against your clit. “Your pretty pussy tasted so good in the car, I couldn't stop thinking about it.”

His eyes flit up to meet yours, holding them in a trance as he works himself between your folds. You remember how he mentioned he had a thing for tigers after you noticed one on his phone case, and the way his eyes looked reminded you of just that; a tiger devouring his prey. “F-fuck, like that…”

His chuckles tickle your core. “You like that?”

“Mmh, yes please…”

“Good girl…telling me how you like it.”

If you were given the choice, you wouldn’t have minded being eaten out the entire night, but Soonyoung seems to have wanted the variety. He dresses himself down to his birthday suit, repeating the process soon after with you. His fingers stroke against your chest delicately, cupping your breasts firmly. His mouth instinctively opens, salivating at the idea before putting it into action. Your moan at that, watching as he draws circles in your skin as his hips drilled in the sheets. His fiery tip ghosted over your sopping cunt as it clenched around nothing. You were just so desperate for it.

“Put it in…please…”

“Impatient, are you?” His body stretches to reach for something behind you, a foil wrapper coming to view.

He rips it open with his teeth, spitting out the torn top and rolling the rubber over his length. “On your stomach.”

“H-huh?” 

“I’m taking you from behind, keep up.”

He flips you over in an instant, a yelp making past your lips, leveraging your hips to have your ass in the air. You oblige by arching your back, his hand smoothing over the shape of your behind to run a finger over your wet slit, he couldn’t help but chuckle. “Fuck, you’re dripping. Thinking of messing up my sheets, are you?”

He lines himself at your entrance and inserts himself carefully inside. “You’re just pretty enough that I'd let you. Hold on for me.”

Your nails dig into the comforter, holding on, and he slams into you like a set of brakes. You jerk forward as expected, squeezing around his girth and only able to helplessly whimper as you clutch on the bed, knowing what’s about to come next. 

He moves in you at a brutal pace, fucking the depths of your arousal. You emit a sound of ache every time he does, voice sounding out in vibrato. 

“You have such a pretty voice." Yet, despite his praise, he pries open your mouth and slides in his digits, hanging them off the side of your chin, “but I don’t want a reason to cum early.”

His chest presses into your back, pushing into your g-spot. His teeth nibble against your ear, hands playing with your tits almost possessively. His grinding mesmerizing form sensation alone. “Your ex ever make you feel like this?”

You shake your head in denial, speaking through his fingers, “No, never like this…”

“What a fucking prick.”

He sucks on the nape of your neck, somehow finding that churns your stomach just right. “H-he was…”

His laugh is simply euphoric, “You’re funny. I think I like you too.”

He fucks you like his words are genuine, and your climax builds up like the tears in your eyes. “I’m close…”

“You’re taking me so well, just a little longer, hmm? For me?”

Your knees grow weak, close to giving out, practically shaking beneath him. “Soonyoung please…”

“C-cum!” His moans heat the inside of your ears, temple kissing yours.

Your hips snap back into his crotch, his name flooding your tongue. His arms embrace your torso with all the strength he can muster, filling the casing to the brim. Your legs finally collapse, the man behind you falling easily on top of you. “Shit…”

He picks himself up and disposes of the condom. You hear muted rustling behind you but you’re too tired to care. There isn’t a single thought in your head until you finally fall asleep, snoring softly to your path to dreamland. Soonyoung returns with a towel run under hot water, wiping away leftover residue between your legs. He smiles seeing you’ve already fallen asleep without him. 

“Guess, she’s staying the night.”

You wake up the following morning in his bed. The sheets underneath you slightly different from the night your body decided to sleep in and his naked bicep draped over your bare shoulders. His body reeks of rum and his natural musk, and you feel hot as he tugs you closer. It's unfamiliar, but pleasant, at the same time relieved for the first time in a while that you didn't wake up the following morning alone. A change of pace from your usual wallowing. 

You turn over to your side to face him, tired eyes peeking glances at him as he casually wraps a leg around your body. You softly chuckle, careful not to wake him, but realize your failure as his eyelids begin to lift and gaze back at you. “Morning.”

You sigh in bliss holding your hands to your cheeks. “Hi.”

“Feeling better?”

“Much.”

Your smiles match, finding a strong urge to share the rest of the day with him when reality hits you. You were enjoying yourself too much and there was more life to live.

You tear away from his clutches and pick up your clothes from the floor. “Well, this was fun.” 

“Yeah, it was.” Smile faltering seeing how quick you are to leave. Didn’t you enjoy last night as much as he did?

You layer on your clothes slightly different from last night, utilizing the bathroom built into his room, and return to him with a clean face. “It was nice meeting you, Soyoung, but I gotta head back.”

He scoffs in disbelief, flexing his upper body to loosen up his back. He finds it hard to believe a girl that begged with his name in her mouth could get over it that quickly. “Soonyoung," he corrects.

You laugh internally, knowing damn you didn't forget the name of the best fuck you had in months, but you aren’t going to let him know that. “Right. Well, bye. Again, nice meeting you.”

And just like that, you're strangers again. You leave his apartment, with a pep in your step. You’ll probably never fuck someone that hot again but at least you have the pleasure of saying you did. 

You take a walk of shame back to your apartment building, dreading going back to your normal routine, and digging for your keys when a familiar figure comes into view. Your uplifted mood dissipates almost immediately, your arms go limp, and you grit your teeth in disdain. There stood the person you shouted on rooftops for that you’d marry one day and would be incomplete without, now left a nasty after taste on the back of your mouth just repeating his name.

“Chan, what are you doing here?”

“Hi to you too, princess.” Honey coats his eyes and tongue, and a nostalgic look of love thumps that weak heart in your chest, bringing back the feelings you were just drowning with top shelf liquor just last night.

“You don’t live here anymore, remember? Get bent,” you pass him to insert the key and turn it to unlock.

He rushes to your side, stars in his eyes, “I fucked up, okay. I shouldn’t have–how am I supposed to be any better without you?”

“I don’t know, ask yourself that when you left weeks ago.”

The door swings open and you enter, prepping yourself to slam the door in his face, but his foot blocks your attempt, a sliver of his presence through the wooden crack. 

“Please, listen to what I have to say. I’ve lived long enough without you.” he speaks with a quivering voice, choking back sobs, pleading with his entire body.

“Keep it up, you're doing a great job so far.” You attempt to kick him away, the sole of your shoe jabbing at his closed toes, holding back your emotions unlike he does.

“I’m still in love with you, princess.”

You don’t stop no matter what he says, warmth building up in your eyes and blurring your vision. You proceed to kick him away harder and harder until you grow weak enough for him to take advantage. He pries the door apart from its closure and takes on your fists pounding away at his chest. His arms come around to wrap around your frame, his shirt soaking up your tears and you hit him more, pathetically pushing him away.

You’re screaming at this point, calling him insults, wanting to hurt him as much as he hurt you. You feel like you were burning all over your body. You wanted it to just stop. You wanted all to stop.

But ultimately, you give in when you didn’t have it left in you. All you could do was sob, pained all over, aching, savoring Chan’s embrace because there was nothing else like it. You know what you are. You're weak. You're stupid. You're going to fuck yourself over.

His words echo in your ears. “I miss you…I love you…I need you…”

But you were a heartbroken girl still in love with the boy you met back in high school.

He press kisses all over your face and you remembered he would do that same thing every morning and every night. Your hands crawl up to find solace in his warmth, inhaling his cologne and tugging him harder, gesturing him to hold you tighter. Your tears mix in with one another and you lose where your sobs didn't become his.

“I-I love you too.”

[pennylanewrites]

big bad wolf // eren yeager

pairing: bully!eren x f!reader

genre: smut minors dni

word count: 2.8k

cw: alcohol use, mentions of weed, dubcon-ish (i'm not sure, but just to be safe), humiliation, degradation, excessive use of whore and slut, one slap, spitting, handjob, finger-fucking, dacryphilia, panty stealing, manipulation, exhibitionism (eren calls some friends to give them a show)

a/n: my piece for @paradisians ’s collab <3 this is pure filth y'all i'm sorry

eren yeager was an entitled bastard, truly. the dean's youngest son, star of the basketball team, frat party attendee, friends with the best drug dealer on campus...oh, and your insufferable bully. you don't know when it started, maybe when he begun demanding you do his homework and do it right, or when he told you to bring him coffee every morning before classes, or maybe it was that time he fucked you when his girlfriend dumped him.

no matter how, or why, the important thing was that you couldn't get away from him, no matter how hard you tried. you could deal with the hair-pulling, constant verbal attacks and running his errands, but it got totally out of hand the moment he managed to steal the key to your dorm and make a copy of it.

you were taking a shower after a day of classes, when you swore you heard the front door click. you shook the sound off, it probably came from next door anyway.

little did you know, that guy was entering the bathroom, his eyes immediately spotting the panties on the top of your laundry pile. eren fished them out and touched the gray cotton fabric, stopping right in the middle, where a dark spot decorated them. he brought the fabric closer to his face, sniffing it with a content smile before shoving them in the pocket of his sweatpants. one more for his collection.

your hand appeared from behind the shower curtain, reaching out to grab your towel, but eren was faster. he took it before you could, a grin plastered on his face. confused, you peeked out of the curtain, thinking maybe the towel fell on the floor, but instead you were met with a creepy smile on a pretty face.

"what are you doing?" you exclaimed, eyes growing wide and heart beating fast with worry.

"you don't want your towel? it's right here." he waved it in front of you.

"give it to me."

"but i don't want to." he gave you a pretentious pout. "you live alone, surely you've walked around naked before."

"not when i'm wet!"

"you're wet? but i just arrived."

"you're fucking disgusting." you rolled your eyes, but you immediately regretted it, because he walked over to you and swung the curtain open. "eren!"

"come on, nothing i haven't seen before." he pulled your arms away from your body, licking his bottom lip at the sight of your naked body.

"eren, stop. let me at least get-"

"you know better than to tell me no, don't you?" you nodded slowly, following his hand that pointed towards him and stepping out of the shower. "now get on your bed and stuff that pretty pussy with your fingers." he whispered in your ear, dragging you to your room.

eren sat on one end of the bed, back against the headboard and you sat across from him, trying to cover as much of yourself as you could. you weren't unfamiliar with eren's little break-ins, but you still just couldn't get used to it, to him. the guy that spent so long making you hate yourself, making you insecure, now spending all of his free time with you.

"what are you waiting for? spread your legs." he snapped his fingers and leaned further back the bed, clearly enjoying the sight. you did as he said, spreading your legs and running a hand down to your clit.

"don't tease me, i have places to be."

"then why don't you just fucking leave?" you murmured. bad choice, really. eren scooted down the bed and held your legs up so they were over his, one hand on the back of your head, tugging your hair ever so slightly.

"i don't feel like leaving." he gave you his famous sadistic smile as his index and middle finger tugged on your bottom lip, making you open your mouth, circling your tongue around them. he pushed them further in until they hit the back of your mouth, making you gag and try to pull away.

"fucking take it, bitch." he chuckled before removing the saliva-coated fingers from your mouth, leaving you gasping for breath.

"stop being so-"

"no talking." he slammed his lips against yours as his fingers rubbed circles against your clit. you hummed into the kiss, his tongue against yours drowning out your moans. his kiss was harsh, full of anticipation, teeth tugging on lips, tongues against eachother.

eren guided your hand to the tent in his sweatpants the same time as he pushed his fingers inside you, curling them slowly until you couldn't kiss him back. you pulled his sweatpants and boxers down enough for his half-hard cock to hit against his lower abdomen.

"couldn't even masturbate, fucking bitch. i have to do all the work, huh?" he grunted when you wrapped your fingers around his cock, pumping down to the base, then up to the mushroom tip, your thumb rubbing against the slit on his tip.

"n-no! i can -fuck- i can masturbate just fine, asshole."

"asshole, huh? you're squeezing my fingers like a bitch in heat, you little -ah, fuck." eren didn't hide his moans when you pumped his cock faster, the precum running down his length being used as lube.

"shut the fuck up." you groaned when he begun thrusting out, slamming back in with force, his fingertips hitting against your sweet spot every single time.

"what did you say to me?" a harsh sting against your left cheek made your head turn to the side, the slap not even registering in your brain until you realized his hand was still resting on your cheek.

tears flooded your eyes, running down your cheeks. the slap hurt, but the tears were mostly a result of the fact you couldn't believe you found a dick like eren yeager so fucking hot.

"that's right, cry. you look pretty when you cry, have i told you that?" he licked a bold stripe on your cheek, salty tears staining his tongue before he focused on your mouth instead, kissing you roughly and sloppily again and again.

"gonna-gonna-"

"gonna come, slut? you get off on being treated like shit? maybe i've been too soft on you." his voice a distant sound as you gushed all over his hand, a ring of white around the base of his fingers making his cock twitch in your palm when he spotted it.

"too much-fuck- stop!"

"we stop when i say we do." you arched your back further, torso hitting against his as he helped you ride through your orgasm, now with slow and lazy thrusts. both of you focused on him instead, you could tell he was close because the only thing coming out of his mouth was grunts and moans against your shoulder.

"wanna cum on your face. on your knees, bitch." eren pushed you off him and made you kneel between his legs on the floor. "yeah, take it all. all of it, you little-oh, ffffuck." a drawn out moan cut him off, and you opened your mouth, tongue sticking out. eren pumped his shaft, white spurts of cum landing on your cheeks, your mouth, and running down your neck and tits.

"don't move." he breathed out, taking his phone from the nighstand and holding it above you.

"eren, no, wait-" the clicking sound made you stop, eyes wide and horrified as he tossed the phone on your bed.

"too late." he held you up and sat you on his lap, fingers scooping the liquid from your cheeks and shoving it against your tongue. "you're coming to the party tonight, no panties under your dress."

"i have to study, please-"

"you're coming or this picture gets sent to everyone." you nodded slowly, knowing you couldn't say no, or resist him for that matter, the kiss left on your shoulder enough to warm your heart after his rough handling.

you did as eren said, as always. little black dress and combat boots as you left the dorm, absolutely nothing else underneath. you knew he prefered easy access, and you didn't mind at all.

the party was loud, atmosphere hectic and hot as you danced with your friends, drink in hand, the other in the air.

"incoming." your friend warned, looking behind you to who you assumed was eren. no one knew about you and eren, but everyone assumed you were hooking up. and, well, they were partly right. the two friends you were with were quick to leave with devilish smirks, eren probably motioning them to before you could turn around.

"everyone could see your pretty pussy when you were-fuck, i don't even know what you were doing."

"didn't you tell me to-"

"shut up. did you think it was funny? humiliating me in front of my friends?" he whispered in your ear, hands snaking around your hips as he swayed both of you to the beat, "what if i just lifted your dress up, huh? bet you'd like being humiliated."

"no, eren, stop." you tried pushing his hands away, head dizzy with everything you had consumed that night.

"don't worry. you know who this pussy belongs to, right?" your heart fluttered in your chest when eren sneaked a hand under your dress, groaning when he felt how wet you were against the pads of his fingers.

"you, eren."

"what got you so wet? is it because everyone in this party knows your pussy is out? you disgust me." he spat out, before turning you around and kissing your lips softly.

"no, i swear, it's not-"

"my room, now."

you let him drape an arm around your shoulders and guide you up the stairs of the trashed frat house, third door to the left.

his bedroom was messy as usual. it was often that he made you clean up -after you sucked him off- therefore you knew every single book and cranny of that damned room.

the alcohol on eren’s breath made you wrinkle your nose when he ran his tongue down your jaw, hands holding your hips firmly.

“you think i don’t know?” he gripped your hair, making you tilt your head up and look at him.

“ow! eren, it hurts! know what?”

“acting dumb now, little slut? you really think i wouldn’t find out you went to connie and jean’s place?”

“so what, i wanted weed!” you tried pushing him away, but he pinned you down on the bed instead. his knees on either side of your hips, his hands holding your wrists together above your head, you couldn’t do anything but look up at his angry jade eyes.

“they told me what you were wearing. called you fucking sexy, that they’d...fuck, i told you not to go there!”

“you’re not the boss of me!” frustrated tears were now prickling your eyes, the black eyeliner on your waterline threatening to smudge.

“i am,” he leaned down to whisper in your ear, “exactly that,” he bit your neck hard enough to leave red bite marks, “fucking whore.” he spat out with a grin.

you could feel his erection against your thigh. fucking weirdo, you thought, getting off on treating me like shit. but how ironic of you. you got off on being on the receiving end of this treatment daily.

“open your mouth.” he demanded, and you did as he said, sticking your tongue out with anticipating, almost innocent eyes. a glob of spit hit the tip of your tongue when eren pursed his lips, making your lower stomach burn with desire. “swallow.” again, you obeyed, sticking your tongue out once again to earn an approving hum from the man hovering over you.

“eren-”

“shut up. you disgust me. you’re so fucking wet just because i spit in your mouth?” his fingers toyed with your clit, your dress already scrunched up over your hips.

“n-no...”

“yeah, you are.” he grinned, showing you his index and middle finger, then spreading them apart to show the sticky strings of your slick between the two fingers. you hid your face in your hand, heat rising to your cheeks out of embarrassment. “this is amazing. i gotta call the guys up.” still on top of you, eren fished his phone out of his pocket, typing something fast.

“no, wait, eren! you’re being-”

“being what?”

“i don’t want anyone to see.” you muttered, face still hidden in your palms.

“yeah, you do. i want them to see, so you do too, right baby?”

you hated when eren called you baby. such a simple word made you putty in his hands.

“yeah, i do.” you agreed hesitantly, right when the door clicked open and two -no, three- figures wakes in the dim-lit room.

“what you got there, yeager?”

“fresh piece of meat, huh?”

“isn’t she a doll?” eren layed next to you, spreading one of your legs over his lap, letting a wave of cold air hit your pussy.

“she is.” one of them muttered in awe. you didn’t see their faces, instead only staring at eren. you didn’t know whether he would act out if you looked at the others in the room.

“take a seat, guys. i want all of you to see this tight pussy i got. all for me.” eren licked his lips and brought his fingers down to your clit, spreading your folds apart. a chorus of sighs filled the room, making you feel almost excited with how many people watched.

eren didn’t waste any time plunging his middle finger in your needy slit, your walls tightening around him, making him groan.

“fuck, you got to loosen up, ___. you’ll show my friends how good you look when you cum, right?”

“mhmm.” you nodded eagerly, rolling your hips against the bed, trying to feel something, more than what eren gave you. he grinned to his friends, adding another finger inside you slowly until he was knuckles deep.

eren pumped his fingers in and out of you, his palm cupping your clit and giving you some stimulation, but never quite enough. your hands were buried in his long brown hair, tugging the locks ever so slightly, not enough to make him angry.

“won’t you let them hear you moan like the slut you are? come on, you know you want it.” he whispered lowly, a whimper escaping your lips at the curl of his fingers.

it was humiliating how loud you grew in a matter of seconds. moans and pants escaping your lips to fill the room and send tingles towards everyone’s erections, the squelching sounds of your spongy walls being penetrated by eren’s fingers proving just how needy, how wet you were.

“f-fuck, eren. more.” you breathed out, locking eyes with him and furrowing your eyebrows. he nodded, sucking down your exposed neck and collarbones, surely leaving red and purple marks that he never allowed you to hide with concealer or scarves.

“you want more? you wanna show them how you cream around my fingers?”

“y-yeah, yes eren.” you nodded, gasping when another -a third- long finger squeezed its way inside of you.

“see guys? i told you i got the best little slut on campus.” he chuckled and started his familiar unforgivingly fast and rough pace, his fingers hitting your sweet spot only to be removed all but the fingertips, and then again.

it was beginning to feel like too much, yet you still chased that euphoric feeling of release, so you sneaked a hand down your clit, massaging the sensitive pearl with your middle finger.

“god, she’s so messy.” someone commented, sending shivers down your spine.

“bet she’s a squirter too.” another guy hissed, both their voices unsteady. you couldn’t begin to think what they were thinking of you, what they were doing as they watched you come undone and stain eren’s bed with your juices.

the knot in your stomach erupted with an almost pornographic moan from you, your thighs shaking and squeezing together, because eren just wouldn’t fucking stop.

“eren...eren, stop! it’s too much!” you cried out, holding onto his wrist, but that only made him thrust faster and faster.

“so fucking tight. god, you guys should see this.” you heard eren say, slowly removing his fingers, his other hand keeping your legs open.

“you sure she’s not a virgin, eren?” a low voice asked as eren spread your folds with his slick-covered fingers, your gaping hole on display for the three other guys in the room.

“i’ll tell you what, armin. i’m in a good mood today,” he then turned to you, holding you up against him so you could finally look at a blond, a tall brunette and a tan guy with a buzzcut, all three staring right back at you like a lion looked at its prey, “why don’t you three find out if she’s a virgin or not?”

.・゜゜・tagging・゜゜・. @chaotic-nick @ackermanslutsstuff @isabel2you @histarean @arean