#dont touch me right now. I need to smoke and drink and die all at the same time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jangofctts · 4 years ago

Text

Are You in Or Out?

Rated: Explicit

Word count: 11.5K yall I am SORRY

Warnings: good lord y'all here we GO-- smut, explicit language, violence and mentions of blood and gore, injuries, unprotected sex (don't be a dick, wrap that stick!), oral (m&f receiving), blindfolding, vaginal and anal fingering, vaginal and anal sex, double penetration, spit is used as lube but for the love of GOD doNT DO THAT, there are some dom vibes on Paz’s end

Summary: The job you’re on takes a turn for the worst--Paz comes to your rescue and you're brought to the Covert. There you meet Din Djarin. though during a good natured sparring session, you’re suddenly stuck between an age old rivalry that spirals out of hand. Hopefully an agreement can be met.

a/n: hey...how y’all doin....SO lemme explain you smthn. I said helmets must be OfF--giv me them LIPS BABEY so this is a slight AU in which mandos can see other mandos’ faces. ya get me? I also tHot that it would be nice and fun to set the timeline 5-6 years BEFORE the plot of the Mandalorian so we gots a younger din here. anyway, as always enjoy and I hope you like!!

Mistakes, mistakes, mistakes—

Some as little as burning your finger on the nozzle of a smoking blaster or tripping over your own shoelaces. Simple things. Mindless things.

Nothing that could ever compare to the catastrophic decision of picking up bounty hunting as a reliable source of income.

The little ones were easy—tax evaders and deserters of the Empire—most who’d yield and gladly follow without complaint just at the sight of your blaster pointed between their eyes. And the gag of it is—most of the time you never bothered to load the damn thing.

Reckless.

An invitation for disaster.

But skirting that precarious edge, one little slip up away from plunging head first into inevitable trouble is better than Bracca. Stars—anything is better than Bracca. There’s no glory in bounty hunting but there’s even less in ship scrapping. Abysmal pay in exchange for risking your life on rain slicked metal with only the Ibdis Maw to break your fall.

The guild you work for is considerate—scratch that. Greef Karga is considerate. Sure the flirting is a touch unbearable but it saves your ass in the long run. All easy money bounties set aside for you in exchange for a cheap drink, hollow laughs and sugar sweet smiles.

It’s enough credits to get by—more than plenty to rent a room and charter a ship.

But there’s only so many bounties to capture within the limits of the guild and oh so many people the empty blaster trick works on. And so the credits begin to thin; it gets too expensive to buy off a pilot and the debate over buying food or being able to pay for your room becomes more frequent than the scraprats that skitter inside the walls.

It’s suicide to snag a higher paying bounty because....well—these bounties shoot back.

Whatever.

Might as well die trying. Who knows, maybe you could score big time if you manage to pull this off.

Maybe.

-=-=-=-

You’re not sure who’s more surprised—Karga when you asked for the bounty or yourself when he actually gave it to you.

“Are you sure, kid? This could—“

“End in a fiery shitshow? Yeah—I figured that,” you sigh, swirling your drink with a little complimentary toothpick. “But I need the money.”

“Hah! You’ve got guts, girl.” He flashes you a smile and smooths down his mustache with his thumb and forefinger. “Tell you what. The last assignment was just taken but I’m sure if you run you could catch him. Work somethin’ out.”

Jumping from your seat, you throw on your coat and toss a couple credits onto the table to cover the drink. “What’s he look like?”

“Big fellow—Mandalorian. You’ll know when you see him.”

You shout your thanks over your shoulder and hightail outta there. The landing docks aren’t far, you can see them from here. It’s finding the guy that could pose a problem.

If he hasn’t already left, you bitterly think.

However, it seems the universe is on your side today. Karga was right. He is big. Stands out like a sore thumb against his ship that glitters dully in the overcast sky. Kinda like an oversized blueberry. A yellow and blue blueberry….not important—

“Hey! Hey, you!” You’re so close, just a couple yards away. You swear and hurry up your pace as he steps onto the loading ramp. “Big guy! Large...blue man?”

You trip over your own feet as he turns his head. Fuck—

No way are you gonna be able to bargain with this guy. Built like a fucking AT-AT and probably just as stubborn. After all, no one would ever be dumb enough to come between a Mandalorian and their quarry. You grimace, and suck in a breath—

Before a word even leaves your mouth he interrupts with a steady, unwavering;

“No.”

Your brows furrow. “I didn’t even say anything!”

“I know what you were going to ask,” he huffs, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I work alone.”

Ok, then. You didn’t want to resort to begging, but you’re kinda running out of options here. You take a steadying breath and plant yourself at the bottom of the ramp. “C’mon man. Look—I’ll let you take seventy percent of the cut and I can—“

“You’ll let me?” He repeats, the staticky tone of his voice dropping into an edge more cutting than broken transparisteel. The metal platting on the ramp vibrates from the weight of his step to move closer; Stars it takes every fucking inch of willpower to hold your ground. “You’re lucky if I let you leave with your life. Get lost.”

Fuckfuckfuck—you should listen. You wanna fucking run for the hills and never look back in case he comes looking to purge your name from the kriffing galaxy. You clench your jaw and steel your nerves. Too bad—you’ve dug your heels so far into this empire of dirt and false bravado that your only way out is continuing to poke the sleeping bear until he snaps your spine or caves.

You have to crane your neck to glare into that dark strip of his vizor, seeing as he’s invited himself into your personal space. “No.”

“No?” He mocks, now toe to toe with your scuffed up boots.

Your teeth clench, a scalding flush burning through your cheeks and all the way down to your chest. He’s toying with you—finding amusement in your stubbornness and apparent lack of braincells for challenging him. “You don’t scare me.”

The man hums, a deep purr that rumbles through his entire ribcage as he raises his gloved hand. You curse yourself for flinching because surely he’s about to crush your skull like a fucking grape, but no. All he does is fix your rumbled collar then pat your cheek.

“I don’t need the extra baggage.”

“I’m not baggage,” you sneer, slapping his hand away. “I can handle myself.”

“With an empty blaster?” He points out, tipping his head to the side. “Your parlor tricks won’t do you any good on this job.”

“I’m a good shot!” You sputter, placing your hands over you hips and mustering up your best glare. “W-when I have ammo…”

“Right.”

Meeting Paz Vizsla, could have gone far better, to put it into the most simplest of words. Jagged and hard to settle into a routine around each other for the journey to Nar Shaddaa in a tiny, old, and cramped freighter ship. Most cycles you have to wedge yourself beside a cargo crate to sleep. In addition to that, how it’s able to break through the atmosphere let alone fly is beyond you—an entire mystery on its own.

At least you’re able to sit in the spare seat inside the cockpit—one of the only places available to stretch your legs. The only problem is that it’s also where Paz Vizsla likes to lurk (well, not lurk—it’s his ship and it’s where he can comfortably fit but—to each their own).

There’s a net of tension still woven between you—each interaction like tiptoeing over eggshells. Though, like all things, it becomes simpler. There’s not exactly any ongoing conversations—you don’t want to pry into a life you know nothing about—it’s not your business despite the cumulation of questions that linger in the back of your mind. You know when to take a hint—not every person is willing to indulge you about their livelihood, and surely not something as secretive and well guarded as the Mandalore.

Familiarity is what you want to call it. Comfortable with each other’s presence with small talk speckled in throughout the never-ending vastness of hyperspace. Compared to the infinite turmoil in your life, slippery footholds and uncertainty—Paz Vizsla is steady. In a way— predictable and safe in the confines of this ship.

You’d even go as far as to label him kind, a friend maybe—if you look past the grumpiness and rather poor taste in corny jokes. You know it’s stupid, no doubt stemming from the deep ache of loneliness that comes hand in hand with staking it out on your own in the galaxy; but you can’t help but wish that this could be a new normal. Not some once in a lifetime thing where you both part ways, fade into the recesses of memory and leave it at that.

If things go well—and rarely do they on a job—maybe you’d pluck up enough courage to ask him if you could stay. There’s no harm in it…right?

-=-=-=-

Well—the cynical part of you was right.

It did end up in a fiery shit show.

Turns out the stupid quarry you’d been tracking excelled in long range weaponry. A former marksman for the Empire to be exact. Guess that tidbit of information wasn’t pertinent. A need to know sorta thing, if you will.

You feel the molten bolt of plasma connect with your side before your ears pick up the sound of a weapon firing, like a crack of lighting in the empty alleyway. And before your body even connects with the duracrete, Paz is returning fire. A brilliant neon red against the hazy blur of shadowy buildings.

Kinda weird how knocking the back of your head hurts worse than the literal blaster wound burned into your side. Shock maybe. Or the heat from the plasma cauterized each veins and artery it tore through and ate away at flesh and nerves. Hm…

You’re sprawled in a wet pool of something—either your own blood or a puddle of stagnant gutter water and damn—you’re wearing your favorite shirt.

It doesn’t matter at this point…

You’re choking on your own air from the big ass hole blasted into your diaphragm, so to say things are looking grim is an understatement.

Nar Shaddaa isn’t your first choice to kick the can on, but hey—not everyone gets the luxury of dying on Naboo. And just as you’re ready to slip away into that sweet, sweet abyss, it seems your fellow armored friend has other plans.

The beskar is freezing against your cheek after he deadlifts you off the duracrete—you remember that plain as day. That and the hushed rumble of Paz’s voice insisting you save your dwindling supply of air instead of apologizing to him—or ordering you to stay alive for kriff’s sake. It’s impossible to argue with Paz—like trying to bite through durasteel, and while those beckoning tendrils of eternal slumber are mighty tempting, you cling to your life with all the strength you have left. After all, inconveniencing someone with a corpse is such a party foul to the highest degree.

The rest is muddled—like dredging up silt and clay in a murky river that just leaves you with a pounding headache between your eyes. It’s a terrible mess of pain and bouts of temporary consciousness, mistaken with fever dreams and yup—more pain. The only consistent is Paz—hovering nearby or settled beside you—through thick and thin as you heal.

There’s no solid reason your brain can conjure as to why he brought you to the Covert—it’d have been easier to just dump you at the nearest hospital and be done with it. You’re not his responsibility and you’re too afraid to ask what it means. Too many possibilities—too many answers you aren’t in the mood to face or untwist.

And so you leave it be, set aside for another time—which brings you to the present day…

You’re splayed over your little makeshift cot, feet propped up on a spare pillow as you scour through a cheesy Coruscanti gossip magazine. It’s years old—the only piece of entertainment you could find other than a weapon in the Covert. And seeing as a massive hole had been blasted through your ribcage, picking up the clever art of throwing vibroblades or shooting targets to pass the time was out of the question.

Even if you’d rather fall into a Sarlaac pit than stare at the wall for hours on end yet again—it hasn’t been all that bad. It’d taken weeks before you regained enough strength to sit up on your own, let alone walk—and walking is putting it lightly. It was more of a stiff legged shuffle better suited on a two hundred year old woman seconds from disintegrating into dust at the mere hint of a breeze.

Not to mention—your right lung was all but shredded. Ripped apart from the plasma bolt and miraculously reconstructed by a more than questionable bacta tank, hopeful thoughts and well wishes. To this very day you still sound like a broken air filter.

Eh.

Could be worse.

At least you aren’t dead.

Just another setback that adds on the growing pile of reasons why never to leave the Covert. Free food, free board and mild entertainment to top it off. Paz had stayed at your bedside for the most part while you recovered—stuck with babysitting your sorry ass until you regained a bit of mobility. The times Paz hadn’t been at your side to stave off the boredom, it was up to you to find your own fun.

Snooping is what Paz had labeled it—but you saw it more as an adventure. You met Din Djarin exploring (lost is what you actually were) in the dimly lit underbelly of Nevarro, after all. Yes, you may have scared the ever loving shit out of the poor guy and yes, he may have singed off your brows with a five foot jet of fucking fire—but hey. No one got hurt.

And you made a new friend. Sorta…Din is difficult to read, subtler in his soft spoken words and quiet demeanor. A bit like a skittish loth-cat at the start, but nowadays it’s not uncommon to find him lounging in the same space as you or hovering over your shoulder, awfully curious in whatever it is you choose to do. Like Paz, Din isn’t overly fond of sharing much information about himself but he never complains after you regale tales of your own vastly fascinating past. He seems interested enough—tilts his head a tick to the right when you speak to indicate that yes, he’s listening despite the unforgiving dark line of his visor.

There are others in the Covert too—some so elusive you have a hard time believing they exist. Shadows of what they once were before the rise of the Empire. And so, you count yourself lucky that you’d been introduced to two others—Aeris Fenn, a young man nearly as tall as a Wookie, and a woman named Ives Arrey; her armor a flashy green—damn near florescent in the light.

They’re nice enough company. Aeris is a chatterbox, his wit sharper than a blade but lacking in any forethought before he speaks. Ives is the far opposite—rolls each sentence in her mouth before she voices it, but in no way is she angelic. Maker—you’d bet your entire left asscheek she’s behind each bad decision and silly shenanigans Aeris sticks his nose into. He never learns—not after a harsh chiding or cuff around the helmet from Paz or the Armorer could dampen is childlike enthusiasm or steer him away from repeating the same mistake over and over.

Though if you read one more kriffing sentence of this garbage magazine you’re about to invite chaos himself to entertain you. Good thing too because just as you sit up to find the red armored Mandalorian—Paz rounds the corner and steps into your little broom closet that hardly passes for a room.

“Paz!” You greet, tossing the magazine over your shoulder. “Please tell me we’ll be doing something interesting or else I might start ripping my hair out. Or maybe commit a heinous crime—haven't decided yet.”

Paz grunts and shakes his head. “You’ll be doing neither. But today we’ll be sparing—hopefully that will curve your boredom.”

You scrunch up your face. “Sparring? Er, no thanks—I choose life.”

“You breathe funny since your injury,” he says, jabbing a finger between your ribs. “And all you’ve been doing lately is laying around.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you sneer, tucking your arms over your chest. “Didn’t realize I was supposed to be running laps with half a lung.”

“It’s like stretching a muscle, you need to gain your strength back.” He retorts. “This will be good for you.”

You groan and flop back into bed. “I don’t wanna. I was pretty much dead like three cycles ago—cut me some slack, man.”

There’s a brief silence as if he’s mulling over your words, but he’s stubborn. You crane your head to look at him as he says your name with a deep sigh attached to it.

“Truthfully, I’m surprised you’ve survived this long.” He says it quietly, fragile even, like he’s still expecting you to tip over and die on the spot. You very well might.

You huff. “Wow. Thanks, Paz.”

You feel his heavy stare through the helmet. “What happened to you that night was a mistake. It wasn’t preventable but the least I can do is teach you basic selfdefense.”

You gripe out your complaints but you know you’ve been beat—and well, a bit of your agreement is based on guilt.

Damn it.

-=-=-=-

It’s weird to see Paz without his heavy duty gear—like seeing him naked or a crab without a shell. The only piece he continues to wear is his helmet and padded gloves and under clothes, but it’s still weird. Strange enough that it shocks you tongue into remaining still instead of bitching about this.

He leads you to a wing of the Covert you’ve yet to discover and ushers you through the doorway. The floor is padded, a bit smaller than you expected and already occupied by none other than Aeris Fenn.

It’s a whole other kriffing shock to the head seeing him without the plates and layers of fabric and beskar too. The armor makes him bulkier—fuller and much more intimidating. Now, with only his black underclothes on, Aeris could be the spitting image of a sentient tree. Willowy limbs that stick out like branches as he stretches on the padded mat. He lazily swings his head around as you greet him, his face still covered by the black beskar painted with streaks of red.

“So you choose sparring over knife throwing?” Aeris snorts. “And to think I thought of you as a friend.”

“You think I chose to be here?” You say, grumpy and still upset at the choice of activity. Really, a brisk walk around the Covert would’ve been fine.

Aeris shrugs. “Ah, and I see you’ve roped in my favorite vod. Tch, he uses his fists instead of his words to teach. I wish you luck—you’ll need it.”

You open your mouth to retort but Paz beats you to it.

“Leave.”

“I’ve just arrived, actually,” Aeris scoffs, folding his torso over his other leg to stretch. “Perhaps you could reschedule. After all—our guest is quite free most days.”

Welp—you’re perfectly fine with that. Problem solved.

You spin on your heel and make a break for it but Paz snatches your wrist and pulls you back to his side. “Aeris.”

“Paz,” Aeris mocks, tipping his helmet to the side.

Paz exhales, a long, tired sound and grovels out another plea in clipped Mando’a. Aeris languidly stands and brushes off imaginary dust from the front of his pants. “Sorry, what was that? I don’t understand your accent.”

“Boy—“

“No, no, it’s alright.” Aeris sighs, waving his hand in a mopey display as if he were told that his birthday party were canceled for the fifth year in a row. “I’d have trouble speaking too if my enormously thick head were cooped up in that little bucket of yours all day.”

You wince.

In the time you’ve known Paz Vizsla, he’s never been one to launch into rash decisions fueled by anger—he lets it simmer and build like an oncoming storm over the ocean. Devastating once it reaches land.

Aeris bobs his head and inspects his black leather glove, picking at a loose thread on the inseam over the thumb. He clicks his tongue. “Or'dinii—you’re going to kill her.”

Your offended scoff is ignored as Paz steps forward; jutting his chin up to even out the few inches Aeris holds over the man. “You still haven’t learned to shut your mouth, boy.”

The tension surges and crackles like a volt of electricity through the air—unresolved and ready to ignite with the sparking embers of Paz’s growing irritation. It’s not a fight Aeris Fenn will win. He’s volatile and hotheaded—but his expertise is in long range weaponry. Precise, deadly and swift—not whatever this little pissing match is heading towards.

Aeris clicks his tongue as Paz digs a fist into the black fabric of his shirt. Paz yanks him forward, the metallic clink of their helmets colliding an unpleasant scrape that pierces your eardrums. Aeris snarls out sharpened words in Mando’a as his willowy fingers shoot up to curl beneath the lip of Paz’s helmet.

In the blink of an eye, Paz lifts Aeris up by his collar and launches him across the room like he weighs nothing more than a couple of down pillows. His helmet meets the wall with a resounding clank, chipping some of the red paint outlining the visor. Ouch.

Like a kicked dog, Aeris clambers to his feet, still dazed and swaying and for a fearful second you think he’ll retaliate. But with whatever braincells he happens to possess today—he instead spits out a venomous curse that even yourself would hesitate to repeat. He leaves without another word, bristling with rage.

Your flash Paz a questioning stare. “The hell was that about?”

Paz waves it away with an irritated grunt. “His heart is in the right place but he is young. Aeris doesn’t understand his place in the Covert yet and I doubt he will for years to come.”

You frown. “Poor guy…”

Paz mutters something under his breath. “Enough distractions. We’ve wasted enough time already.”

“Y’know…I think that’s enough excitement for today. I think I’ll be going now—“ Your last ditch attempt at weaseling out of this is quickly thwarted the moment you turn your back.

You wheeze as the heel of Paz’s palm shoves into your shoulder blade, the force of it sending you stumbling to the ground. “Paz—“

“Go on. Hit me,” he orders. You squeak, narrowly avoiding the well aimed kick that skims the top of your scalp.

You scramble to your feet, skirting out of range of the oncoming right hook. “So you attack me instead?”

“How do you expect to catch quarries who are bigger than you?” He presses. You hiss as the points of his knuckles dig into the meat of your shoulder.

You dance out of reach and rub your arm, a dull throb flaring up in the muscle. “I dunno—electrocute them?”

“Not if they take you by surprise.”

You screech as his knuckles skim your cheek. Adrenaline pierces you veins and you wildly throw a flaky punch that wouldn’t even impress a toddler. He catches your fist with ease, his entire hand dwarfing your clenched fingers. “You can do better than that.”

You snarl and struggle to rip your hand back. “I’m a scrapper. I don’t fight.”

“No,” he retorts. You fall onto your ass as he abruptly lets go of your hand. “You’re a bounty hunter.”

You roll your eyes. “Hardly—why can’t I just stay here?”

Although there’s nothing to see with that swatch of black covering his eyes, you can certainly feel the look he’s giving you. A deep sigh hisses through the vocoder. “You can stay here—“

A triumphant smile splits across your face—

“—but not without contributing where it’s due.”

You puff up your cheeks and let out a dismayed stream of air. “Booo—lame.”

He sighs again and helps you off the floor. “Even if you leave the Guild, what I’m teaching you is helpful.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “I’ll give you a call after I use your invaluable skills to beat up some thug.”

Paz ignores your comment and turns on his heel. “Let’s go through it again. This time use your front two knuckles instead of your whole fist.”

As your eyes land over the stretch of tight fighting fabric over his back an idea pops into your head. It’s a petty move but getting a punch in is fruitless—like trying to beat up a brick wall. You don’t fancy a broken hand and your knuckles are already bruised and swollen to the point where it’s hard to bend them.

And so, without any forethought and with a running head start, you launch yourself onto him, your arms coiling around his neck. It does the job—takes him by surprise and makes him tip to the right.

Aha! Yes!

Your reign of victory is short lived, however—

He latches onto your forearms strung around his neck and yanks. And much in the same way he threw Aeris like a sack of potatoes—you’re no different. For a short stretch of time that feels kriffing endless; you soar through the air, your directional whereabouts violently ripped out beneath you and equally nauseating in the same breath.

Why you ever agreed to this—you don’t know.

Your shoulder blade connects with the mat first, leaving behind a dull sting as you roll and tumble with uncontrollable momentum. Oh, yeah—you’ll feel that in the morning.

Groaning, you thank the Maker that your body eventually settles into a miserable little pile of limbs and pain. But, it seems whatever higher power that lingers in the edges of the galaxy hasn’t decided to put you out of your misery just yet.

A bulky shadow blocks out the dim lighting overhead, and for a brief anxiety ridden moment you’re afraid it’s Paz. You roll onto your back with a pathetic groan, a beg for mercy on the tip of your tongue—but as your eyes flutter open they’re met with an entirely different man.

Din Djarin looms over you, his head cocked to the side as you blink in dumbfounded bewilderment. Ah, hell—

You swallow, a furious heat bitting at your cheeks. “Uh…fine weather we’re having…”

“We’re inside,” he states with a brief glance up to the ceiling.

You purse your lips. “Huh.”

With a pensive hum he offers his hand, you sigh and roll over, accepting his gloved hand. He hoists you up easily and adjusts your rumpled collar. “You ok?”

“Pfft, yeah,” you groan, rubbing your throbbing shoulder. “Never better.”

The low grumble of your name is a cross between disbelief and irritation. Din jerks his head, his attention zeroing in on Paz. “Are you trying to kill her?”

“She isn’t made of glass.”

“She is still recovering—“

Normally you’d intervene, but their bickering is tiring and it gives you the excuse to lie down. By the time one of them caves you’ve counted exactly one hundred and twelve weird ceiling stains. They should get that checked out.

“Very well,” Paz snarls, cutting through your wandering thoughts. “You teach her.”

Din scoffs, his shoulders drawn tight as he stomps over to your splayed out self. “Get up.”

“Geez, fine,” you grumble, not in the mood to test his patience further. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Later he’ll no doubt apologize but right now? He has to prove a point. Din cuts right to it, moves in close to place your clenched fists in the right stance and nudges at your feet until they’re a bit wider than hip distance.

“You have to get in close with a bigger opponent,” he says, stepping into your space until your fists are close enough to touch his chest. “We don’t have much range here—easier to break our guard too.”

“Right. And how would you suggest I do that?”

“You’re always beating me at cards.” Din says, tipping his head to the side. “You have a clever mind. Use it.”

“But I always cheat.” You point out, dropping your guard to swat at a stray hair.

He catches your wrists and returns them to where they ought to be. “Quick enough to get away with it.”

You make a noise of uncertainty but do as you're told. Din takes a couple steps back and with a rough order you begin.

He’s faster than Paz—bats at your guard in quick bursts and steps away when you attempt to hit back. It’s a dance almost—somehow elegant in its brutality of bruises and flashes of pain as you move around one another. Compared to Din, Paz is almost clumsy but unpredictable. Din—despite the rapidness of his attacks and evasiveness, becomes predictable.

He steps to to left—you follow. He rocks onto his toes to jab his fist forward and that’s where you find a break. Punching Din’s helmet won’t do you any good but catching the juncture of his shoulder with your elbow is completely feasible. Too bad that you’re not the only one with a clever mind.

Din uses the momentum of your attack to catapult you to the ground—his own body rolling with you in order to capture you in a headlock of sorts. This sucks. After this you’ll never be setting foot in this Maker forsaken room again.

Din tightens his elbow that’s looped around your throat as you squirm and flail, trapped against his chest. He grunts as your elbow digs into his ribs but holds steady and snakes his free arm across your front, pinning your limbs to your body in an unbreakable vice. All mobility is cut off as his knee pushes between your thighs, locking your leg out into an uncomfortable and frankly quite awkward angle.

Inhaling a shaky breath, you arch as the crown of his helmet skims along the curve of your throat; the bite of beskar frigid and startling against your flushed skin. You can see his visor out of the corner of your eye; glittering and dark like the polished obsidian on Black Spire and endless like the greedy maw of a black hole.

Your breath hitches as he shifts and curls his head closer to your ear. His voice rumbles low and deep through his chest and vibrates against the delicate cartilage. “Yield.”

However much your pride wrestles with the sensible part of your brain, it’s all for naught as you jerk your head in defeat.

In retrospect you should’ve said something—used your voice or made some kinda sound because suddenly Din’s forearm digs alarmingly hard into your windpipe. He read the stuttered jerk of your head as another pitiful act of defiance but no. Nope.

Here you are—asphyxiating.

Not exactly what you had in mind, being strangled by a Mandalorian and all—but a chokehold where you could very well die was not it.

Fuzzy darkness begins to shade the corners of your vision, lightheadedness and a curious warmth that prickles down your spine settling low in your belly. A raspy gasp manages to slip through your blocked off airway, and stars why does this feel good?

“Din—”

Paz’s sharp bark is distant above the ringing in your ears and it all stops.

You gulp in air that burns your throat like refined fire whiskey—hunched over the mat as a large palm rubs soothing circles over your upper back. You cough and roll over, sounding like a dying animal run over by a speeder then hit with a spiked club to polish it off.

You’re quickly herded into Paz’s arms and pulled into his lap. Still wheezing and attempting to recover lost oxygen, whatever Din is trying to say translates into an indiscernible hum against the ringing in your ears.

“I’m fine,” you mutter, though neither of them care to listen. Like bristling wolves, snapping at each other’s heels.

“Apologize to her,” there’s not so much as a centimeter of room to argue. “Now.”

It’s nice of Paz you suppose—defending your honor and what not, but you’re not a vengeful person. It was an honest mistake and you want to explain that so Din quits looking like a kicked puppy, yet the sudden touch over your ankle stops you. All the times Din has initiated contact it’d been a friendly pat to your shoulder or ruffling you hair, and while touching your ankle isn’t exactly scandalous it’s certainly an odd place to put your hand on.

Your fingers clutch Paz’s shirt as you eye the man lingering at the bottom of your feet, his gloved thumb unconsciously rubbing patterns into the exposed skin between your boot and your pant leg. “Cyare—I’m sorry.”

You blink and lick your lips. Interesting. “I-I don’t know what that word means.”

His hand inches higher, resting on the swell of your calf. “Sweetheart…darling…loved one—“

There’s a shift—a dark undercurrent that none of you should be dipping your toes into. There’s a million and one things to say or do to sever this at the root, but are you going to? Nah.

Din’s thumb now rests over your knee, goosebumps following in his wake. “Should I keep going?”

It too hot—stuffy with both of their heavy stares locked on your flushed face. You squirm and glance up at Paz who only offers an impassive stare. Great.

“I can make it up to you,” Din continues, his hand stationary—a warm weight even through the fabric of your pants. “If you let me.”

Your mouth feels drier than the desert on Jakku. This…nothing good could come out of what Din is hinting at. This is uncharted territory—launching yourself into the great unknown without any idea of what’ll fester and grow if you agree.

It’s not like it hasn’t crossed your mind—it’s just…it’s never been both of them at the same time. These men are short-tempered, an open flame to jet fuel with deeply seated ire woven into the very fabric of their beings. You’ve barely scratched the surface on the inner workings of their mutual hostility, but you’re bright enough to question if this will make it worse. Tinder and brittle twigs feeding and enabling the hungry flames of rivalry to spiral and consume with chaotic brilliance of a dying star—

But, oh—

Isn’t it worth taking the risk?

You suck in a grounding breath and slowly extend your leg that Din touches, gingerly skimming the toe of your shoe along the inseam of his inner thigh. “H-how would you…make it up to me?”

Din preens at your answer and shuffles closer, lifting your legs so that they rest in his lap. Devotion drips off his words like a fine liquor as he toys with the laces on your boots. “Anything—say it and it’s yours.”

Sparks of molten heat race down your spine and metastasize in your lower belly, spreading through each vein and artery like a some sort of invasive ivy. You spare a look up at Paz as he shifts.

“Go ahead, girl,” Paz assures. “Answer him.”

It’s an unspoken, buzzing sort of thing like the static air before a storm, crackling and surging with pent up energy. You all know the implications of what’s to come—but it’s your words, quiet and steady that irons that nail into your coffin.

“Take me like you mean it.”

The next few moments pass in a dizzying blur, a mess of anticipation as your shoes are yanked off, your pants following soon after and tossed into some unknown corner of the room. Paz helps you out of your shirt, a shiver wracking through your body from the chill, leaving you bare save for your underthings. Yet the warmth that seeps through his shirt and his hands that linger over your ribcage do a lovely job at making up for the cold.

Din shuffles closer and brings his fingers up to cup the side of your face, lowering his head to rest the crown of his helmet on your forehead. “Wanna touch you.”

Your breath hitches as Paz’s hands sweep up your torso, cupping and kneading your breasts. “Y-you already are touching me, Din."

Paz snorts as the rough leather of his gloves scrape over your skin and unhook your bindings. You hardly hear Din over your own whine as Paz rolls your hardened nipples between a forefinger and thumb.

“I want to feel you—without the gloves,” Din clarifies, fighting to keep your attention on him. “Will you let me?”

Maker that shouldn’t even be a question. You moan out your approval, delighted that both of them decide to slip off the padded fabric. Din touches your bare thigh the same moment Paz returns his hands to your tits and it’s exhilarating. The rasp of their bare palms against your flesh is addicting—something so foreign and warm compared to their usual armor and thick layered clothing.

You arch into Paz’s hand as it curls around the base of your throat, a tentative pressure but still heavy. “You’d let us do anything, wouldn’t you? Needy little thing.”

“Yes,” you croak, already debauched and falling apart at the seams. “Anything.”

You’re all too happy to fade away in the embrace of the larger man but the other participant is far from letting that slide. Din grabs your hand, guiding it towards the front of his trousers, the drawstrings already loose and easy to pull aside. He groans and twitches as your fingertips flirt along his navel, then curl over the waistband, tugging his pants the rest of the way down to pool around his knees.

You reach for the already impressive outline of his cock pressing against his boxers, but Paz cupping your cunt through your underwear just before you touch Din is distracting. You gasp and arch as Paz digs the heel of his palm against your clit, electrifying ecstasy zipping down your spine with each touch.

There’s a twinge of guilt after Din huffs and drags your limp wrist back to his cock, this time encouraging you to palm him by guiding your actions with his own hand until you lazily oblige. Din’s quiet grunts, gravely against the vocoder do nothing but throw more jet fuel to the fire inside your belly. The growing urge to actually touch him gnaws and corrodes the forefront of your brain. With a firm yank his boxers are quick to join his trousers and Maker—

Fuck—

Will he even fit?

Din is thick, rosy brown and flushed at the tip and beginning to curl towards his bellybutton. A bead of liquid shines at the tip, dribbling down the underside as he wraps his fist around the base of his length. He gives himself a languid stroke before he, once again, reminds your hand of what it’s supposed to be doing. Din is searing in your palm, molten and stiffening to hardened steel in your grip.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” Din hisses as his head rolls back onto his shoulders. “S-so pretty holding my cock.”

Your desperation tears at your insides, insatiable and Maker— you wanna taste him. You want to hear every little stuttered moan and feel each twitch of his hips as he claims your mouth as his own.

But before you’re able to ask Din if he’d be willing to fuck your throat, Paz grips your knee and slings your leg over his thigh, murmuring praise as he peels off your underwear. Paz’s hand snakes down to your pussy and runs two thick fingers through your already slick cunt, then delicately parts your folds.

It’s like a fucking bomb going off as his thumb grazes over your swollen clit. His forearm locks tight around your waist, keeping you in place as you arch and tremble. Paz is feather light and teasing, as he strokes over the little bundle of nerves in a painstakingly slow rhythm.

“Paz—“

He nudges your cheek with his helmet and chuckles. “You’re so sensitive, vaar’ika. Such lovely noises too.”

Paz trades in his light touches for using his two fingers instead. They form a relaxed ‘v’ shape, trapping your clit in between the digits as he massages in a steady up and down motion. You cry out, every nerve shocked and flooded with saccharine pleasure, shoving you so treacherously close to that precarious edge of release.

You have no fucking chance as a different set of fingers, leaner in length but just as bulky, carefully prod at your entrance. Din’s pointer finger slides into your cunt, quickly adding a second as your core clenches and stretches for him. The dual sensations over your clit and Din’s fingers steadily pumping and curling inside you send you hurling into that dazzling white-hot pleasure.

Throwing your head back, you cry out—a jumbled mess of their names or just nonsense— pleasure crackling out from your core and all the way down your legs. Your cunt tightens like a vice around Din’s digits, your legs twitching as your high dips into prickly overstimulation. You whine, and swat at Paz’s hand, Din pulling out his own fingers a moment later and wiping your wetness on the inside of your thigh.

Your head rests in the crook of Paz’s shoulder as your breath fans across the side of his helmet, fogging up the metal where the blue paint is chipped and scraped away. The shirt he wears smells a bit like sweat but the underlying scent of him is comforting—worn leather and something crisp, like fresh laundry. You don’t mean for the words to slip out—

You know better than that, but everything feels muddled and silly and, and, and—

“I wish I could kiss you.”

It’s like dousing ice cold water on a pile of smoldering coals. A silence, petrifying and like the inhale before jumping off a cliff and into a rocky sea, ensues. Stupid, stupid, stupid—

Paz shatters the fragile suspense with a rich laugh that burns away all the icy worry making itself a home in your ribcage. He moves his arm up, his fingers gripping your jaw to fix your gaze onto the other Mandalorian. “You want his mouth on you too?”

You whimper and nod, but it isn’t enough.

“Use your voice vaar’ika,” Paz hums, pressing the crown of his helmet against your cheek. “Tell us want you want.”

“I-fuck—” Paz’s fingertips sneak up your torso, rough callous catching deliciously on your skin. “I wan’t your mouth on me. B-both of you.”

Paz chuckles and releases his hold on your chin. “You’ll have to be blindfolded, sweet girl.”

Din scoffs, a harsh crackle through the vocoder. “Like she’d want to see your face anyway.”

“Please,” you mewl, turning your head to curl into Paz’s neck. It’s not ideal, but it’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make. “I don’t care. I need—“

“Patience, little one,” Paz purrs, rubbing up and down your bare sides in a soothing manner. All it does is stoke the flames. “You’ll get what you want.”

Paz shifts, reaching for your abandoned shirt and stars—

You can feel his cock, firmer then tempered durasteel and poking into your lower back. Oh, hell—these men are going to ruin you.

You’re nudged forward, your vision going dark once your shirt is securely tied around your head. The knot traps a few hairs that pull sharp against your scalp but the measly pain is worth it. Oh so worth it.

“Is it too tight?” You hear Din ask, concern lacing his gravely vocals.

You wave your hand in dismissal. “S’fine.”

“Cant see anything either, right?”

You squirm, your patience spreading thin. “Din, please.”

“Fine.” There’s no bite to his tone and under different circumstances you’d have more composure. Acknowledge that they’re putting their religion, their whole being into your hands—a fragile trust that could so easily be shattered.

Your ears pick up their subtle movements, their helmets landing onto the thin mat with soft thunks. With bated breath you wait for them to jump into action, seize every spare moment to taste your skin and breathe the same air. But—

“You need a haircut, vod.”

“And you need to shave.” Retorts Din with bitter indignation.

“It’s hardly even stubble.” He chortles. You giggle and twist away as he scrapes his prickly cheek up and down your neck. “Besides—she likes it.”

There’s another lull, and with the blindfold everything is amplified—the quick and quiet breathing of Din on your right and the slide of fabric against skin as Paz shifts. Your attention is captured by Din’s bare palm, warm and calloused like weathered leather left out in the afternoon sun. He caresses the outside of your thigh in smooth, longing strokes, enraptured by the softness of your skin. You whimper and let your leg fall open, exposing more of your thigh for his curious exploration.

The sudden touch on your cheek is jarring. You know Paz is there—it’s not an easy thing to forget the solid chest you’re leaning against but it’s hard to focus. Difficult to settle on one thought before it slips away like grains of sand between a clenched fist. Paz’s touch is heavier than Din’s, ambitious and greedy but…mindful. Even as his fingers spread along your jaw and drag you into a deep, mouthwatering kiss. It’s…stars—

There’s nothing that can describe this. No word that could ever hold a candle up to the way his lips, plush and soft, move against yours. His nose brushes against your cheek as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, his warm tongue sliding against the seam of your bottom lip.

You whine and bury your hand into his hair as Paz groans, a low rumble in his throat. You wonder what color it is, but carding your fingers through the curls atop his head suffices for now.

Your curiosity is abruptly ended as Din’s hand snakes around your forearm. You’re forcibly yanked away, only to be met with another pair of lips. Din murmurs an apology at the sting of his teeth bumping into your upper lip, but the pain is hardly the first thing on your mind.

Din’s kiss is devouring—

Scalding and bright—the galaxy, a thousand suns, all there ever will be and all that ever was. The way his lips move against yours is a devastatingly sharp contrast to the steady, syrupy sweet kiss Paz offers. Desperate and eager to surround you in his own arms—steal away any lingering thought and replace it with him. Din Djarin—

You gasp as Din’s teeth nibble and pull on your bottom lip, only a moment before he surges closer, wrapping his hand around your jaw to hold it open as he licks deep into your mouth. Breaking for air, Din tangles his fingers into your hair at the base of your neck and yanks, baring the column of your throat. His travels down, the tender kisses morphing into teasing nips and lingering sucks that’ll turn into tender bruises in the morning.

Din hovers over your breasts, his heated breath and cooling saliva the catalyst to the goosebumps that rush over your skin. He lightly tugs on your nipple using his teeth, then plants a sweet kiss over your sternum.

“Can I taste you?” Din murmurs, his lips ghosting over your flesh. “Maker—wanna put my mouth on you.”

“Din—“ A different set of lips latching onto the juncture of your neck and hijacks your train of thought. Wipes your mind clean until Paz is the sole thing you can consciously focus on.

Paz laves his tongue over the shell of your ear and urges you to lean back against him once more. Your nose scrapes against his stubble as you tuck your head into the crook of his neck, his hips lazily rolling his hardened cock into your backside.

“Or…” Paz rumbles, capturing your hand and interlacing your fingers with his. You marvel at the sheer size of his palm—astounded still when he leads his and your hands to palm his cock. “I could give you this. Fuck your pretty little cunt until you’re screaming for me.”

It’s a punch to the gut. Why the fuck do you have to choose? You squirm as Din points his tongue over your nipple then sucks it into his mouth.

Working through the fog in your head, the answer is clearer than fucking crystal. Because who in their right mind would turn down a Mandalorian’s request to eat you out? Not you, that’s for sure. “Din—want your mouth.”

Din huffs in triumph and slips between your legs that part to accommodate his broad shoulders, leaving no patch of bare skin untouched and worshiped. You shiver as his tongue circles around your bellybutton then retreats. Din settles his head beside your knee and mouths a kiss there.

You whine his name and buck your hips, heart beating wildly in your ears. The teasing is unbearable and, stars—if he doesn’t start now—

He nibbles on the inside of your thigh, laving his warm tongue over each mark he leaves behind, buffering the sting of his teeth. Din snake his hands under your ass, hooking your knees over his shoulders as he heaves your cunt closer to his mouth. Din’s thumbs part your soaking pussy, his breath hot fanning over your cunt. His tongue his scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your slit all the way up to your clit.

Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through you. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—fuck. Fuck, you need more.

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are obliterated; nothing but the warmth of his tongue, and his lips, devouring you as if he were a man seconds from death and you’re his saving grace. That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade into smoke—but you’re not going anywhere. Not even a million credits could convince you to push Din’s head away.

He sinks two fingers into your clenching hole and curls his fingers, stroking and curling his fingertips to make you sing. Zeros in on that little spot that causes the involuntary twitches of your leg and wrenches embarrassing, high pitched mewls that fill the room. You’re careening towards your high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure.

“Shit—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must hurt. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth.

Your release unfurls through your body like sticky molasses—smoldering embers that seep into each limb until they’re heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to think and at this rate your brain is as good as gone.

You pay only a fraction of attention to Din as he kisses his way back up your body and lands a final one over your lips. His thumb grazes over your chin, his gravelly words of praise cutting through some of that foggy haze, how good you were, how fucking delicious you tasted when you came on his tongue. You taste your own arousal on his mouth as he noses your cheek and captures your lips in another kiss.

“Are you done?” Paz asks dryly, much too barbed to be thrown your way. You groan when Paz jostles your limp body as he hoists you back into his lap.

“Just starting, actually,” Din quips. “Why don’t you hand her back over? I’ve got some more things I wanna try.”

Paz scoffs and secures a heavy arm around your middle. “Greed will get you nowhere.”

“Neither will your arrogance.”

“Shut up—both of you,” you interrupt. Your voice is raw and choppy but it does the job. “Just fuck me already.”

For now their little spat is sidelined—it’s not worth ripping off that bandage of a temporary truce. There’s a chaste moment of quiet, like they’re considering tearing into each other’s throats instead, but with a touch to Paz’s thigh the standoff fizzles out.

“We need to work on your manners,” Paz suggests, curling his large, calloused hand around your neck in a loose hold. “I believe it’s please fuck me.”

Maybe if you weren’t practically a pile of brainless goo, you’d argue. See how far you can push—though this time you fold. “Please fuck me. P-please—I need it.”

Seemingly satisfied with your answer; Paz wedges a hand between your bodies to grip his cock and run the tip through your folds, soaked from you own wetness and Din’s saliva. The head of his member nudges at your entrance, and wether it’s his size or the fact you can’t see anything—you panic.

Your hand shoots out, nails harpooning into the meat of his forearm. “W-wait—you’re too b-big.”

Paz freezes and moves you up his lap and presses a kiss over you hairline. “We can stop. Just say—“

“N-no, I’m fine,” you assure, planting an apologetic peck on his stubbled jaw. Stopping is the last thing you want to do—it was just…overwhelming. A sensory overload testing the very fringes of your being. “Go slow?”

You feel his head bob in compliance as he moves you back to where you’re hovering over his cock. You relax this time, not as many alarm bells clanging through your head as your cunt flutters around the fat tip and then that glorious, first thick inch. Paz’s thumb bumps over your throbbing clit, coaxing your pussy to take him further.

“Yeah, that’s it vaar’ika,” he grunts, his breath fanning over your neck in quick pants. “Taking my cock so fucking well. So nice and pretty.”

Your pussy flutters, fresh waves of arousal hot and burning.You nearly keel over when Paz starts shallowly rocking his hips, easing your body the rest of the way down his length until the back of your thighs touch his. Maker—how the hell is he all the way inside? You can feel him in your fucking guts—

“See?” Paz purrs. He sucks a bruise into the meat of your shoulder and pushes his palm against your lower stomach, making the fit even tighter. “Fits fucking perfect.”

The noise your cunt makes pulling out and the debauched moan that filters through his vocal chords is obscene. If anyone where to walk by, well—it’s certainly not training that’s going on, for the better lack of words.

Paz holds true to his word—keeps his pace limited to deep, languid thrusts that brush up against something that makes your whole body shake—like strumming a golden chord molded to a musician’s fingers. Fuck—he’s doing all the work too. Lifting you by the swell of your hips and pulling you down onto his cock with a rough buck of his hips.

Abruptly, he slows to a gentle rocking—quick to lock you in place as you thrash and roll your hips. “Paz—n-no. Keep going. You n-need to—“

Paz silences your please with a wet, open mouthed kiss. “Our friend looks lonely. Why don’t you use that pretty mouth and suck his cock?”

Din.

You hear the man curse in Mando’a, probably some stab at Paz—

But with a pat to your outer thigh, you don’t need any more prompting—you’d give up your left hand to get a chance to suck him off. With the help of Paz, you’re eased onto your hands and knees, shocks of white-hot pleasure zipping through your core at the change of angle. Like this Paz is seated deeper inside, stabbing into each spot that makes you sing.

Fuck—your arms are shaking—only able to hold yourself up for half a click and then you’re sinking face first into the floor, ass in the air as he fucks into you. Paz clicks his tongue and wraps his arm around your front, pulling you back up from your slumped position.

“I told you to suck his cock, girl. Not take a nap.” Paz accentuates his words with heavy, well measured thrusts—the kind of force you know will leave your whole lower half throbbing and sore in the aftermath.

You whine as Paz grabs a hold of your jaw, digging into the tender joints until your mouth falls open. “Good. Keep it like that.”

Paz’s hand falls away, replaced by a softer touch. The pads of Din’s fingers hook under your chin, guiding and tempting you nearer to what rests between his legs, hot and heavy and large.

You feel the tip of his cock, flushed and pulsing, rest on your bottom lip. You lap up the beads of sticky precum with kitten licks that morph into suckling the entire head. Din grunts out your name and tangles his hand into your hair as you tongue at the ridged frenulum. He never forces you to swallow down more of him—lets you cradle the first few inches in the wet warmth of your mouth and languidly roll the pad of your tongue around him.

You want to take him deeper, let Din fuck your throat raw, but your jaw already aches. Your lips are pulled tight around his shaft, drool dribbling down your chin and landing on the mat below. You’re not sure if you could take more of him without the danger of your teeth catching or dislocating your jaw. So you manage like this—hollowing out your cheeks and and using the momentum of Paz’s thrusts to pleasure Din.

It’s frustrating—it must be each time you let his cock slip out of your mouth to breathe or the fact Din isn’t able to fucking fit his cock into your mouth. Annoying that you aren’t able to think properly to help him out a bit ore when that said brain is being fucked straight outta you, put through the wringer and then body slammed onto duracrete.

Din cups your cheek, strokes over your skin with his thumb and maneuvers himself out of your mouth. You whine and lean into his palm, his touch addictive like smoldering coals in the dead of winter.

“You want me there instead of him?” Din purrs, using the tips of his index and middle fingers to tilt your chin and drag you into an open mouthed kiss. “Fuck you like you deserve.”

The profane imagery of Din between your legs instead makes you clench tight. It only takes a couple seconds and a few more feverish kisses before you’re nodding to his request. Paz mutters a swear, hesitates, and reluctantly pulls out, leaving your cunt empty and aching with need.

Din, however, is speedy—quick to hoard you to himself and yank your legs over his hips so that you’re draped on his lap. He jumps straight to the point, no fancy maneuver or drawn out teasing—just grabs the base of his cock, slides the flushed tip between your folds and sinks into your cunt. Even after your pussy had been stretched and molded around Paz’s length, you struggle to take Din’s entire cock into your aching center. It’s easier than Paz but, Maker—not by much.

You whine, harpooning your fingernails into his shoulder once he bottoms out. Din snarls a curse and latches his teeth onto the juncture between your neck and shoulder, prickly pain shooting directly to your belly. “Fucking tight. H-how—fuck.”

There’s no time to adjust before Din sets a pace, harsh and desperate—his hands digging into the flesh of your ass for better leverage. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end before it could be yanked out from under him. Din’s staggered exhales below your ear are interlaced with subdued moans that start low in his ribcage then dip into a higher, airy pitch. A delicate sound you’ll guard closer to your chest than any secret you possess for the rest of your life—precious and yours.

Din turns his head to steal a kiss. “You feel fuck—fucking good. Wanna feel you cum around me. S-squeezed so fucking hard around my fingers—“

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Heat sizzles down each vertebrae in your spine, burning up each and every cell with the brilliance of a wildfire. Stars, this is gonna destroy you.

Din’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s no build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of blistering warmth that knocks you off your feet and steals away all the air left in your lungs. Your nails dig into Din’s back as you shake and grapple for a foothold in your own consciousness—the steady warmth of his body a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you.

“Good girl,” Din praises, pace faltering from just how tight your pussy squeezes and flutters around his cock. “S-such a fucking good girl for me.”

Regaining some semblance of control, you realize he’s still fucking going—still rock solid and throbbing, fucking you through the aftershocks of your release. Your arousal turns sharp, like rough cotton over a fresh sunburn as it dips into overstimulation. It’s not unpleasant but Din has to slow his hips to a delicate roll for you to recover.

In the time it takes to inhale, a different calloused hand kneads into your lower back then smoothes up your spine. A second later you feel the scrape of Paz’s stubble prick along your exposed shoulder as his tongue drags along your sweat dampened skin—all the way up the curve of your neck and ending at the shell of your ear.

You’re not sure if it’s intentional, but as Paz crowds closer the tip of his cock pokes at your other hole. With a surprised mewl, you tense and shy away—but he follows, molds his chest against your back to sandwhich you in. The hand gripping your bicep jumps to your neck and pulls your head against his shoulder.

Two of Paz’s fingers dip down the curve of your ass and brush along the puckered skin—far less jarring this time. “Do you want to be fucked here too?”

Maker—

You’re gonna fucking explode.

Stuffed to the brim already, it’s hard to imagine Paz cramming himself in along with Din. A little red light blares in some corner of your mind but it’s quickly soothed as Paz plants soft kisses over your cheek and jaw. You trust him—there’s no reason to think he’ll hurt you or push you to the point of pain.

You catch his mouth with a kiss and rock your hips back. “Y-yeah, ok. I trust you.”

You feel his smile curl against your cheek. “Don’t worry vaar’ika—I’ll take care of you.”

Paz strokes your bottom lip with his thumb and kisses the crown of your hairline as you sink into him. With his ring and middle finger, he pushes past the seam of your lips. “Suck.”

You obey, sealing your lips around his two digits and coating them in your saliva. Paz pulls them out with a pop and moves them between your legs, and with the added wetness dripping from your cunt, the first finger is easy enough. The second and third have you gasping as he scissors them and stretches your tight hole wider. You claw your nails into Din’s shirt—and he’s no better—Din’s own hands are clamping around your hips, struggling to keep still and biting back moans each time your cunt constricts.

Your hips begins to meet the thrusts of Paz’s fingers as your body familiarizes the feel of him there. It’s a deep thrill that rushes up through your spinal cord—much different from anything you’ve felt before.

“You like this, don’t you?” Paz goads, chuckling when you whine as he extracts his fingers. “I think you’re ready to take my cock, yeah?”

You shudder and nod, your voice no more than a squeak as it pilfers out. Paz strokes the top of your head and tips you forward into Din’s eager arms as Paz slicks up his length in a mix of precum and your dripping arousal. He touches the swell of you ass in warning, lines himself up with your hole and wedges the tip of his cock inside of you.

Involuntary tears dampen your makeshift blindfold as Paz buries himself deeper, his rumbling tone urging you to relax—relax even though your mind is drowning in an ocean of arousal and swirling emotions you have no hope to pin down and analyze. It’s for the best—thankful as Paz bottoms out that it wrenches you back to a feasible reality you’re able to manage.

“Shit—I-I’m gonna die—“ You sob, writhing at just how full you are. But there’s nowhere to fucking go—

“Easy,” Din breathes, and you wonder if he’s said it to keep his own head on his shoulders. “Easy.”

Din’s gravelly rasp cuts through the fog in your head, and stars—you sound like you’re fucking dying. Your wheezy breaths and lightheadedness would certainly suggest that—but no…no, you’re fine. Better than fine.

A rush so acute and devastating launches up your spine as Din’s patience cracks. He experimentally rolls his hips and that’s the end of it. You’re swallowed up in that riptide you fought so hard to avoid—fuck. You won’t be the same after this. How can you?

You can feel them both, separated by a thin wall as they sprint towards their own highs. You’re never once left empty—Din reaches the end of you as Paz pulls out and while there’s not exactly any finesse involves it’s the best fucking thing you’ve felt in your entire life. There’s no bickering—no teasing and you’re struck with an idea that makes you clench tight around both of them. You wouldn’t mind if this was the way they decided to settle scores or finally see eye to eye.

This time you can’t discern your high—just a constant overflow of ecstasy and dazzling arousal like an imploding supernova. You cry their names—sob and shake in their hold with such fervor that Paz traps you tighter between them to keep you still.

“Fuck—you get so fucking tight,” Paz growls, blunt nails digging into your hips. “And so fucking wet.”

His fingers touch the inside of your thigh and stars—he’s right. “I get to fuck your cunt next time—see how much you’ll drip for me.”

Even if the blindfold were off—there’d be nothing to see but a white wash of nothing. Blinded by pleasure and bursting at the seems.

Jealous, Din steals your breath away with a kiss, licking and nipping at your swollen lips until you whine his name. His jagged pants fan across your chin—chapped lips and patchy facial hair tickling across your bottom lip as you breath the same air.

Din whispers your name like a prayer, his fingers clutching tight around your thighs as his pace starts to flounder to choppy jerks. “Shit. I-I’m close—“

Your fingers twist into his hair. “Yeah—ok baby. Let go.”

Din’s teeth sink into the base of your throat and cums. His seed coats your insides—hot and copious and fucking shit—if there’s a next time you want him to cum in your mouth.

You don’t get time to relish Din’s stuttered gasps of your name, laced with praise and a show of a tender and bleeding heart before Paz is gathering up your hair in a tight fist and jerking your head up. “You—you want me to cum too? Say it.”

Without a breath of hesitation you beg for it, cry and arch into him. It does the trick—

Paz is loud—shouts a thunderous roar and buries his cock deep into your hole. Din is still recovering from the aftershocks of his release when Paz pulls out after what seems like ages pumping you full. His cock no longer there to plug you up, his cum begins to dribble out and mix with the mess between your legs. Your legs shake and you wobble--crying out as Din slips out, your body dreadfully empty and aching.

You're lowered to the mat by Din and if you weren't still trying to formulate words, you'd thank them. Lips dart over your cheeks and hairline, and for once nothing needs to be said. It’s nice...the radiating warmth from their bodies and the simmering flush through you body is something you could get used to. But you’re no stranger to the shifting tides of the future.

You shrug it off.

Your eyes are heavy and with one of them stroking your hair and the other your thigh, you drift to sleep. Later—later all unspoken things and disastrous words can be dealt with tomorrow. You must be dreaming when it’s said--careless and bold, but the words nestle into your heart and sprouts with fear.

“You love her, don't you?”

translation:

vaar’ika--pipsqueak

or’dinni--dumbass idiot

vod--brother/comrade

tag list:

@bobafctts @djxrxn @teaofpeach @corrupt-fvcker @nelba @datmando @ben-is-a-hoe @dreams-like-clockwork @aerynwrites @auty-ren @huliabitch @anxiety-riddled-mando @phoenixhalliwell @trippedmetaldetector

#happy SINday :)#pls accept some mando schlong #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #paz vizla x reader #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizla #paz vizsla #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #star wars #sw #fanfic #my writing #reader insert

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nahoyaglock · 4 years ago

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↬ WAS IT ALL A LIE?

player!tendou x fem!reader, angst, 1.1k words

A/N! the characters are all aged up, also this hurt me to make bc I love tendou w all my heart, my baby boy u_u this was inspired by 'no time to die' by billie eilish

SUMMARY! you catch your boyfriend cheating and lying.

WARNINGS! smoking, drinking, like one swear word, cheating, manipulation

"You know im always here for you, just like you are for me."

Your mind recalled things like this, the words that your boyfriend would reassure you with. He loved you and you loved him dearly, a pair that was always believed to last.

"She's just a friend baby, you know that you're the most beautiful girl in my eyes," your boyfriend would say, smiling cat-like at you like he always does. You smiled, his words lasting in your mind as he pulled you into a kiss. "I love you," he said.

"I love you too," you giggled. You felt whole with him, like he was your other half. You helped him through everything and anything, watching his confidence grow slowly made you feel like you could grow in the same way too. But with growth came changes, and Tendou grew in ways you hadn't expected.

He became more social, more open and fun, life of the party. You were happy, he felt better, his part no long affecting his outlook on life. What better feeling than your loved one growing out of the darkest place in their life.

"Im going out babe!" Your boyfriend called, pushing Semi out the front door, leaving you in your empty apartment. The door slammed shut and you heard Tendous loud, playful banter through the front window.

Again? He went out again?

You started to miss him, you wanted his attention, his touch. You wanted to go out with him, party with the one you loved, smiling and laughing over loud music. To be drinking whatever alcoholic drink he came home drunk after drinking every time.

You called Shirabu, the phone ringing, ringing, ringing, ringing, rin–

"Hello?" He answered. "Hey shirabu, where's the party at tonight?" You asked, slipping on a simple out fit, jeans and a tight fit shirt. You wanted to be included, so you were. He gave you the address and you bid farewell, and exiting your home.

Was this right? You climbed into the drivers seat of your car, starting it. Is this intruding? Tendou didnt tell me– didnt even ask you to come? You pulled out of the driveway, and head to the address that your friend had sent to you. So why were you doing this?

Your grip on the steering wheel had your knuckles going white, biting your lip so hard you could draw blood. Upon arrival, first thing you notice are some people chilling on the front porch, loud music pouring from the open windows.

You entered the house and immediately was hit with the smell of weed and alcohol. It was a big house, almost filled with how many people were here. People with a group of friends, people sitting alone in corners, and couples.

Couples holding hands, couples dancing, kissing, smiling, laughing, hugging. Couples in love. Happy, happy couples. You shook the thought out and set out to find your boyfriend, which shouldn't be too hard considering how tall he is.

You bumped into Shirabu and Goshiki who were chilling at the top of the stairs, blunt in hand. Goshiki was saying something to Shirabu, the other male blowing smoke when he noticed you. "Y/n," he said and you smiled, wrapping your arms around the two males.

"Hey you two," you said, noticing how silent Goshiki was, taking a hit of his blunt. "Have you two seen Tendou?" You asked, walking past them and Shirabu smacks Goshikis arm. "Nah. Hey, we're about to head out of here if you wanna join us."

"Hm, he should be here, he said he was, even left with Semi." You said and walked to one of the room door, going to open it and felt a hand on your arm. "They aren't here, lets just go," Shirabu says, blowing smoke as you look at him.

"I can atleast check right?" You aske and raise a brow at him. "Why are you acting to iffy, shira?" Your mind stuck to his words. Was Tendou really there? Did he lie? Where was he? Why did he want to lie to you?

"Y/n," Goshiki mumbled, looking down at his knuckles. You turn to the nervous male, worried eyes. "Whats up go?" He bit his lip and looked over at Shirabu and shirabu sighed. "Tendou, he's cheating on you."

What? What did he say? Were you hearing correctly?

You burst into laughter, this must've been a joke. "Goshiki, you're gonna need better acting than that to convince me," you giggled. They weren't laughing. We're you truly laughing either, or were you just scared of the truth.

"Please, y/n, lets just leave." Shirabu said and you looked at them, with shock just disbelief at their words. "Oh, come on guys, you guys can stop now." Your voice got shakey, you felt your chest tighten and a sick tumbling in your stomach.

"Hey," goshiki said and cupped your cheek wiping– tears? Since when were you crying? why were you crying, it was just a sick prank. Sick prank. "Lets get out of here, okay? Please, dont spend your time on him." Shirabu spoke softly as if to calm you.

You pulled away from the two males and turned to the door that Shirabu tried to stop you from going into. You pushed the door open, eyes searching for Tendou. He couldn't be, right? He wouldn't cheat on you? He loves you?

"You know that you're the most beautiful girl in my eyes," Tendou spoke to a girl, stranger in his lap, blowing smoke. Everyone was suddenly aware of your presence, staring at you. You must've looked pathetic, standing there crying.

Tendou pushed the girl off his lap and stood up. "Baby, what are you doing here?" He asked, his face evident with guilt which he tried hard to hide. You almost believed him, the use of the petname and the look he gave you, but the faces of all the other guys in the room told differently.

Your heart beat picked up, you felt dizzy, sick, nauseous, was the room spinning, you felt numb. "Baby, hey come here," Tendou reached out for you and you were hesitant. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you, he loved you?

Before you could decline or accept his hand, Shirabu stepped in, landing a harsh punch to tendous jaw. Goshiki was quick to pull you away from the scene and hold you into his chest. What was happening? Whats going on? You wanted to forget. Forget forget forget.

"You guys make me sick," Shirabu spat at his old team, slamming the door and turning to you. He grabbed your wrist and dragged you through the house, down the stairs, outside the house, goshiki trailing after us closely. "Some fucking boyfriend he is," he muttered under his breath.

You were the most beautiful girl to him, werent you? He loved you right? After spending those years with him, helping him heal, always being by his side. He opened up to you, let you spend your time fixing and healing him.

Had I fallen for a lie? Were you ever by my side?

taglist: @kekozume @kyuupid @kiyoo-omi @dearestmegumi @bigger-simp-than-kazuichi @neoheros @nekosvno

#frobi.tendou #tendou x reader #tendou imagine #tendou oneshot #tendou fanfic #tendou angst #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu angst #hq angst #haikyuu tendou #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader

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dallaswinstonsleatherjacket · 3 years ago

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Y’all want some prompts? Here’s the prompt store:

Some tws: not intense ones but: homophobia, injuries, drinking, smoking, drugs, swearing

Sad-

Johnny gets beat up, Dally finds him

The greasers lose a rumble

Dally tries to drink his gayness away

Soda dies, Steve is broken

Dally dies. What does Johnny do?

Dally misses his mom

Dally wishes he had a family

What happens after two go to war, and only one comes back?

After the book: describe everyone, what they do, how they act, how they’re broken

5 times Dallas Winston didn’t die, and the 1 time he did

Soda and Steve fight

They break up

They realize they can’t live without eachother

Happy-

Dally and Johnny-first kiss

Steve and Soda-sneaking around(bonus-someone catches them)

Steve and Soda-first kiss

Steve and Soda-kids

Steve getting frustrated at someone or something and Sodas just like *calm down, deep breaths*

Soda makes the gang do yoga

Someone threatens Johnny, Dally makes them pay.

Darry saves pony from some Socs. He expects a lecture, but doesn’t get it

The gang bands together

Cute:

Dallys sick, Johnny takes care of him

Soda takes care of Steve when he has like a hangover

Soda has a panic attack, Steve helps

Soda has a panic attack, Darry/Pony help

Dally DOES NOT like thunderstorms, guess what, one happens.

Dally questions his sexuality, Johnny comforts him. (They aren’t dating)

Johnny gets scared by something, dally comforts him

Johnny falls asleep in Dallys arms.

Dally saves Johnny from his parents

Steve finds Soda crying

Dally has a nightmare

Pony hasnt been giving Darry his lunch money change...they figure out he never eats lunch. The Socs are beating the money out of him

Artsy-

Dallys life story

Johnny before he met the gang

How Darry deals with stress

How Soda met sandy (and how they broke up)

How Steve and Soda fell for eachother

How Dally feels about Johnny

Steve Randle before he met the gang

Dally and Johnny having deep conversations under the stars

Johnny cant sleep, he wanders off. Dallys terrified, trying to find him

Johnny & Dally,

1. Being caught meeting up discreetly by either A. Soda B. Darry C. Steve.

2. Dally having a panic attack and Johnny comforting him. (or vise versa.)

3. Dally/Johnny having second thoughts but something gets rid of them.

4. Dally being just soft in general and getting teased.

5. Their first sleepover.

6. Them cleaning each other up after a rumble.

7. Johnny moving into Dally's room.

8. Dally trips and falls and Johnny laughs. - comedy gold right there folks

9. Johnny finding Dally when he was little on video, A. him trying to be *smexy* or B. him like just doing stupid shit as a child.

10. Them reading the outsiders.

11. Them DURING a rumble.

12. Them being caught by a soc *together* doing one of their secret meetup

13. Watching a scary movie together.

14. Johnny showing Dally a romance movie, Dally acts like he hates it, (he loves it).

15. Their first christmas together.

16. Their first argument. - sadness

17. They Breakup

18. They get back together.

Diologue

“I’ve heard about you. Dallas Winston, right?”

“I hate how it’s silent when you’re not around”

“Sleep here, please. Don’t stay out in the lot.”

“Did they touch you?”

“Cuddle?”

“Here, take my jacket.”

“Dont be afraid, Johnny. I’m right here.”

“Hey, you can talk to me, okay?”

“You’re not broken”

“You don’t have to do this alone.”

“Stay calm, deep breaths, okay?”

“You’re safe now. I got you”

“Do you know what it’s like? Huh?”

“Why do you love someone like me?”

“Please just hold me”

“Dont hurt him! Please, don’t hurt him”

I’m just trying to help.” “Well, I hate to break it to you, but you just made it worse.”

“Don’t I make you happy?”

“You’re going to get someone hurt.”

“I never thought you’d be the one to break my heart.”

“Don’t underestimate me.”

“You’re a complete mess, but I don’t care.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Did I just see you smile?”

“You’re dumber than I thought if you think I’m letting you do this alone.”

“If I could go back in time, I’d still choose you.”

“So… I might’ve been a little drunk.” “Only a little?”

“I honestly have no idea what I’m doing.”

“I can’t believe we’re dating.”

“Please don’t tell me you filmed that.” “Of course I filmed it.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I meant what I said, every word of it.”

“I can’t stay mad at you, and that pisses me off.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

“I knew you’d overreact.”

“I specifically told you not to leave.”

“You’re not as heartless as you pretend to be.”

“Stop hogging the blankets!”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“I know it’s the middle of the night, but can you come over, please?”

“You know I love you, right?”

“How did you find me?”

“That was a really shitty apology.”

“Not to be dramatic, but I think we’re all going to die.”

“I should’ve fought for us.”

“I love you, okay? I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it.”

“Everyone wanted to give up on me, except you.”

“We have to leave the country.”

“Are you seriously still angry at me?” “You ate the last donut!”

“Come to bed.”

“Don’t touch me.”

“Just forget everything I said.”

“Seeing you smile makes my day.”

“You mean the world to me.”

“Oh no, you are not dragging me into this.”

“I know you’re trying to push me away, but I won’t let you.”

“The only person I need right now is you.”

“You look really good, by the way.”

“You realise this sounds totally crazy, right?”

“What’s my problem? You’re my fucking problem!”

“You make me a better person.”

“Don’t give me that look.”

“Okay, but consider this: I don’t care.”

“Oh, thank God you’re awake.”

“That’s an order.”

“Promise me you’ll come back.”

“You had another nightmare, didn’t you?”

“We have to look out for each other.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“Just stay away from me, okay?”

“No one can know about this.”

“The only place I feel safe in is your arms.”

“We’re done.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Do you ever regret it?”

“At this point, you’re the only thing keeping me sane.”

“I love it when you laugh.”

“If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it together.”

“We’ll make it work.”

“Do you ever think about running away?”

“I can’t lose you.”

“You deserve someone better than me.”

“Come here, I want to show you something.”

“You’ve got to be more careful.”

“You’re actually pretty cute.”

“I’m so tired of feeling like this.”

“What did I do wrong?”

“Why does everything always turn to shit?”

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I’m a monster.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Can I freak out now?”

“What did you expect? For everything to just go back to normal?”

“I just needed to hear your voice.”

“What I’m about to do is totally crazy, but just roll with it.”

“I know you don’t care, you don’t have to pretend.”

“You owe me.”

“Of course I was worried about you.”

“How much time do we have left?”

“You look different.”

“How could you even think that?”

“Let me out of here!”

“That’s a good picture of you.”

“Give ‘em hell.”

“Get out of my way.”

“You want to know what I really think?”

“It’s about time.”

“You can’t keep ignoring this.”

“I hope you burn in hell.”

“I could think of worse ways to die.”

“Too late.”

“Can we start over again?”

“How do you always manage to look so perfect?”

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Run.”

“You love me?” “Of course I do, you dork.”

Darry Prompts :

1. Kids

2. Bills

3. Struggling with Sexuality

4. Panic Attack

5. Him during a rumble

6. Him and his brothers

7. Him on christmas

8. if he found out __ was pregnant/ gotten -- pregnant

9. getting jumped by socs

10. finding out ponyboy and johnny had ran away

11. headcannons

12. rando love story

13. coming out

14. missing his parents

15. his reaction to losing his parents

#I think I have more #idk where all of these are from either #starspams #/pos #credits to owners obvi #my friends and I made some up too

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junquisite · 4 years ago

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Mine

WORD COUNT : 2.6K

GENRE : Vampire! OC X Human! Junhee, Suggestive/Smut (Implicit)

WARNING : Well first of all, blood, blood drinking, Bootlicking/Bootkissing, mention of violence.

REQUEST : “Can i request a Vampire! OC X human Junhee smut”

NOTE : Thank you for this anon, i literally dropped all the fics i was workiong on for this and i have absolutely NO regret. It wasn’t an explicit smut but it’s.. there. feel free to send me more requests anon!

"The villagers must be feeling generous, they sent 4 boys this time." The countess said from the top of the stair and within a blink, she was standing in front of them.

"Let's see.." she whispered as she assessed the 4 men, the first one catching her eyes by how agitated he was but she passed it for nerves as she crossed him.

The last one though, she stopped to take a whiff and then turn to him. He smelled delicious.

"How old are you?" She asked as she pulled his face up with her finger. Black hair, high cheekbones, sharp features - he was beautiful. Then she looked down - slightly dirty common clothes - a peasant boy.

"22." He answered and she raised an eyebrow at him. Most families are not willing to let their kids go so early when they could work and earn them some money.

Her mind was brought back when she heard the heartbeat rising of the first guy and then felt a slight sting in her shoulder.

She felt the boy in front of her stiffen up and her loud sigh resounded in the room. She turned around to stare down the shaking man with his hand raised as she pulled out the knife that he plunged in her back.

"It was not the villagers, they wouldn't have sent a measly man to kill me. This was personal." She said and Byeongkwan came forward.

"It was not the villagers ma'am. Do you want me to throw him out? Kill him?" He said calmly and she stifled a chuckle when she felt the other three boys shivering in fear.

"You killed my brother!" The man in front of her screamed, ready to fight her with bare hands when she waved her hand and in a second, he was at her feet, Byeongkwan's foot on his back keeping him down there.

"I did no such thing. I paid full price for him, your parents chose to do that. He had a peaceful death but.." she leaned down to his level and gave him a cold smile.

"You're not going to."

She got up, eyes trained on the last guy who caught her attention.

"Byeongkwan, get that boy in my room for tonight. And this-" she said as she kicked the first man with her boots, his groan resonating in the room, "-you can do whatever you like."

Byeongkwan bowed at her as he picked the guy up, his eyes gleaming red as he looked at his prey.

"I'll be right back." And in a woosh, the three new boys found themselves alone at the bottom of the stairs of the huge Countess's mansion.

In a world ruled by Vampires, having a certain Vampire ruler for your village was a blessing. The ruler would stop any rogue vampire from harming their village, keeping it safe in return for a few persons once a month. But they won't do that for free, they'll pay a heavy compensation to the family for the loss incurred by the loss of a member.

Junhee's village had the Countess who kept them safe. And the money was what brought him here. His sister was ill, she needed treatment from the capital which was too expensive for his family. For the heavy compensation, he was ready to sacrifice himself for his sister's life.

After Byeongkwan had returned from wherever he took that man, he led them all in separate rooms they were to live in for whatever time period they will be here. The rooms were lavish, the mattress so soft Junhee could not hold in the sigh that left his lips. He thought If he was going to die soon, maybe that same night, Atleast it'll be in a place like this and with a full stomach as he looked at the trays of food for him.

After he had filled his stomach to the point of not being able to move, a knock was heard and Byeongkwan entered with a few garments in his hand.

"Please take a shower and wear this. The countess will like you to be in her room in an hour. I'll be here to pick you up a few minutes before an hour." And he left.

A while later, Junhee found himself buttoning up the silk shirt he was brought and the loose pants. A knock resounded again and Byeongkwan stepped in to stare at him.

"You look nice, the countess would like it." He said as he stepped closer only to unbutton a few buttons of his shirt as he smiled. “She’ll like this more.” he added with a smug smoke and Junhee nodded, not like he had any other option.

He was led to the countess’s room and Byeongkwan left him there. A few minutes later the countess entered the room from a door on the other side, water dripping down her neck and changing the colour of the silk robe she was wearing, a contrast from the suit she was wearing when he first saw her. Junhee found himself standing up involuntarily when she waved at him, “Keep sitting, I’’l be there in a moment.” she said as she seated herself in front of her vanity and he hesitantly sat back on the bed.

“You’re awfully young to be here, what's your story?” she asked and Junhee wanted to lie, tell her he wanted to be here but he felt like lying was not his best option. “I needed the money.”

“Why?”

“My sister needs medical help in the city.” he said, choosing to look at the ground as he heard her humming.

“And what is your name?”

“Jun. Junhee.” he said and heard her getting up.

“Junhee~” she said it in a musical voice and he looked up when he felt her finger lifting his face up.

“That's a pretty name for a pretty face.” she said as she smiled and in a split second, she was in his lap. Her legs on both sides of his, she pulled back a little to appreciate the quickly turning red face of his.

“Aren't you cute, turning all red like this.” she cooed as she bent down to nose around his jawline, enjoying the shudder that she felt from him and the quick intake of air.

Her hands were quick to slip from his neck to his shoulders as the unbuttoned shirt gave her the chance to feel his soft skin. She swiftly unbuttoned the rest of the shirt and discarded it away, her mouth attached to his neck before the shirt even touched the floor and Junhee jerked to grab her waist.

“Oh no no baby.” she said as she pulled back, one of her hands going in his hair to pull his head back as he whimpered, her other hand grabbing his hand on his waist and pulling both of them behind his back one by one.

“You don't get to touch me until I say so, you got it?” she asked and he nodded, the blush still on his face as he looked sideways.

She leaned down to brush his ear with her lips as she whispered a soft “good boy” and a moan escaped his lips.

She chuckled as her lips caught his lobe, slightly pulling it for him to moan again and she smiled as she pulled away, fully sitting in his lap now and grinding slowly, low moans leaving Junhee’s mouth like music to her ear.

“Someone is enjoying it.” she whispered as she felt him hardening under his pants with her head buried in his neck as she felt his hands coming to her waist and stopping midway.

After marking his neck and chest up to her satisfaction she pulled up to look at his face - he looked positively debauched. His red face, a slight sheen of sweat glistening his skin, blown pupils and lips slightly open as he panted, she couldn't hold herself as she leaned in to capture his lips with hers, a gasp left his lips that she swallowed.

Her hands grasped his own as she placed his hand on her waist now, pulling away from kissing him only when she felt like he needed to breathe. As he panted and she stared at him, she bent down to bite his lower lip, pulling at it as one of her hands went into his hair, gripping them slightly harder as she felt him buckle up against her. Her sharp teeth managed to draw blood slightly which she licked and pulled back.

“You taste different. Enough foreplaying now.” and with that warning out and about, Junhee felt her lips on his neck, his grip tightening on her waist as her teeth finally pierced skin and the pain registered. Her hand came up to clamp it on his mouth as he almost yelled, but went back to his hair when his screams turned to moans. It was painful, yes, but the pain and pleasure were taking over and with her hand in his hair, pulling them every now and then and the delicious pressure of her grinding on him was bringing him so close to pleasure.

He found himself chanting “please dont stop!” but alas, as all good things come to an end, as his vision had slightly started getting blur from the edges, she pulled back.

“I don't want you slipping out on me okay?” she said as she held his face by his chin, his eyes going in and out of focus as he nodded at her and she smirked.

Her other hand softly gripped his neck as it went down, pressing on the bite marks she left every now and then as it finally reached the waistband of his pants. Her hand slipped past it and he thrusted in her hands as she gripped his cock.

“I still have to help you out with this.”

Junhee woke up feeling a slight dizziness and found himself wrapped in the red bedsheets of the countess, and nothing else.

He found a folded pair of clothes and was just thinking of what to do when the door opened and Byeongkwan walked in.

“You can use the bathroom and those are some fresh clothes. Please come down for breakfast.” and he bowed and left. Junhee stared at the door Byeongkwan had pointed to and remembered how the countess had walked out from there and with blood rushing to his cheeks, he went in to freshen up.

About half an hour later he found himself alone at the dining table and munching on breakfast, feeling conflicted about whether he was happy being alive or not. What if the countess had decided she didn't want him and sent him back, without any money? He refused to think about yesterday lest he turned red here under the careful gaze of the Countess's right hand man, Byeongkwan.

When he was finished, Byeongkwan came to give him a hand to stand up which he considered refusing but took anyway.

“There's a letter in your room for you from your family.” he told him and when Junhee was about to go to his room, he was stopped.

“Your luggage has been moved to the room beside the countess on her floor. That’ll be your room from now on.” and Junhee nodded as he took the stairs, eager to hear from his family.

“One more thing” he heard Byeongkwan say and he turned around to see the hint of a smirk on his face.

“Her study is the room on the other side of your room. She’ll be there right now if you’ll need her.”

Confused, Junhee nodded and left, only to stop at the entryway of the room he was shifted to now. If he thought the room he was allotted last night was lavish, this was double, no triple it grandeur.

His appreciation of the room was cut short when he saw the letter on the table and he grabbed it.

Dear Junhee,

Me and your mother couldn't be more thankful to have a brave son like you. When this morning the countess’s guards borght the other two men who had gone with you,we were scared. And when only her guard came to us, it scared us more thinking either you died or they were sending you back too.

We had not expected to hear that the countess had arranged for the treatment of your sister. Yes! The countess had sent her regards and a carriage with a man of hers to escort us and get your sister treated.

We wished you could have come too but we are going to believe on countess’s words that we could see you when we’ll be back. We will be the first family to see our son after sending them to the countess and we are so proud of you Junhee.

Keep her happy and take care of yourself.

Your father.

For a few seconds Junhee could not believe what his father had written to him. The countess, not only let him live but also helped his family? And promised them that they can meet him when they'll be back? And the other boys were sent back? Well that explained why he was alone at the breakfast table but still.

Why Byeongkwan had told him where she was made sense as he quickly went to the adjacent room and knocked, waiting with his bated breath for her voice to say “come in.”

And then he was blessed by the vision of her in her glory - her suit and boots and hair prim and proper - exuding grace and the power she holds, especially on him, and she looked up at him.

“Yes?” she asked and he felt his face turning red.

“I got a letter from my family.” he said and she nodded, getting back to the document she had in front of him.

“Thank you so much for this. I can never repay you for this.” he said and she looked up at him again.

“Oh but you can.” he saw her signalling at him to come closer so he walked, behind the desk, in front of her as she faced him.

She pulled his shirt so his face was in front of her and she nosed along his neck and he shuddered.

Leaving a small bite near the puncture wounds from yesterday which made him gasp, she pulled away to smile at him, her eyes glowing red.

“Be mine.”

Almost as if his legs lost their strength, he fell on his knees in front of her and she looked at him, amusement clear on her face.

He wasn't sure if he was still drunk on her from yesterday or if it was the gratitude surging in his veins, he found himself bending down to her boots as he placed a soft kiss on them, a sign that he was at her mercy.

“I’ll be at your service as long as you'll need me.”

In the blink of an eye he found himself with his back on the floor of her study with her on top of him, not even one hair out of place as she looked down at him. The sound of fabric tearing brought him out of his daze as he looked at the shreds of whatever was left of the shirt barely covering him any more as she threw the rest away.

“It was in the way.” she murmured as she mouthed along his collarbones, already purple and red from yesterday and then her mouth reached the wound from yesterday.

“Mine.” she whispered as her teeth sunk in his flesh again, but surprisingly it was less painful this time as he gripped her waist.

#a.c.e #a.c.e smut #junhee smut #park junhee smut #park junhee scenarios #junhee #a.c.e jun #a.c.e junhee #a.c.e scenario #a.c.e scenarios #a.c.e imagine #a.c.e imagines #ACEWRITERS

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modern-vellichor · 4 years ago

Text

In Her Blood; Two

Summary: Childhood stories are told over drinks, old memories send you reeling.

Warnings: Angst, bad driving (drive safe), bad family dynamic, psychologically abusive childhood, implied ptsd, bad father, age gap relationship, smoking, pet names (kitten//soldier), drinking

Previous Chapter || Series Masterlist

The drink in your hand is cold, you're sandwiched between Sarah and the couch. Bucky is sprawled out to your right, beer in his hand. Sam and Steve are cuddled up on the old armchair.

They're all laughing, you included. Your eyes are a different shade of bright, you haven't been this happy in a while.

You playfully elbow Sarah every once and a while. They all tell joyful childhood stories, you listen in silence, not having any of your own.

You have a blanket lazily thrown over your legs. Every once and a while you shoot Bucky a soft smile, skin glowing in the warm light of the living room.

"wait, wait, I have one", Steve chokes out through chuckles. "remember when Sarah was seven or eight, and she asked Santa for daddy and Y/N to get along".

The drinks had gone to his head. Your blood ran cold, you froze in place, everyone did.

She was eight, you had been fourteen.

Tears welled in your eyes, but you faked a yawn and a smile.

"Well, I'm really tired, I'm gonna head up to bed", Sarah tried to grab your wrist as you walked past but you easily wriggled from her grasp, bolting up the stairs and locking your bedroom door.

Behind the safety of your four walls you burst into hot tears, silently screaming as memories and harsh words flooded your senses. You grabbed the sheets, anything to ground yourself.

When the tears finally slowed enough for you to see, you sped down the stairs and straight past the door to the lounge, and out into the street. Sam, Sarah and Bucky ran out after you, but you were starting your engine and driving off before they could stop you.

You could only just see through the hot mess of tears and mascara streaks, but you drove until you saw the beautifully familiar city skyline from the small parking lot on the hill.

The familiar burn of smoke in your lungs did little to calm the anxiety and adrenaline coursing through your body. You bum through three before you finally begin to calm. Lipstick stained filters litter the asphalt around your car.

Tears still stream slowly down your cheeks as you sob to old Ed Sheeran. Smoke surrounds your body, shielding you.

You're frightened by a knock on the passenger window, its Bucky. He points to the lock, you open the door and he slides in next to you.

"how'd you find me?", you mumble, taking a drag of your cigarette.

"Sarah said to check here", he grabs your wrist, taking it from you. He brings it to his own lips, never giving it back.

When it gets too much you climb into the backseat, pulling out the old blanket from under the seat, curling up on the leather. Bucky is quick to scramble over the centre console, he gently lifts you so he can slide in under you, letting your head rest in his lap.

"what happened when Sarah was eight?", he whispered, running a soothing hand through your hair.

"when I was twelve it started getting really bad with Steve. When I was fourteen, I locked myself in my room for a week because we got into a really bad argument. We took Sarah to see Santa that year, and she asked him for daddy and Y/N to finally get along", you mumbled, eyes closed, half asleep.

Bucky shoulders you upright, he wraps his arms around you and you bury your face in the crook of his neck and wrap your arms around his waist.

"kitten", he whispers, you don't respond, you don't really need to.

He presses soft kisses on your shoulder before moving up your neck and across your jaw, he presses his lips to yours. Its salty and desperate, but you relish in the strange normality of it all.

His mouth slots against yours perfectly, hidden in the moonlight. It's a beautiful secret, and you dont want to go home, not yet. You know he'll make you.

"kitten", he coos. "you gotta go home".

You shake your head, curling further into him, small and vulnerable. "please", you whisper, a sob racking through your body.

Bucky almost cant bear it.

"stay at mine, just for tonight, I'll set up the guest room"

You sniffle and smile, nodding. He leaves you curled up in the back while he climbs into the driver seat. The drive isn't long.

He carries you through his house up to his bedroom. He tugs gently at the hem of your shirt, you lift your arms. Its promptly replaced by a sweater that's far too big for you. It smells like cigarettes and leather and old whiskey.

He gets into bed, pulling you towards him by the waist.

Your movements are slow and small, soft touches as you wrap yourself around him, hands around his waist, head buried in the crook of his neck, your words are muffled; "what else did Sarah tell you?"

"nothing, kitten, just where to find you"

You choose to believe him now, pressing light kisses to his chest, moving up until your lips meet his. Its soft and strangely intimate, you bare everything to him in the pale blue of the night.

You're still tangled together at twelve o clock the next afternoon, you walk the short distance back to your own house still in Bucky's sweater. Bucky walks a little ways behind you.

You open the door and Sam is waiting for you, wrapping his arms around you and mumbling into your hair.

"hey, dad", you laugh.

"mornin, babe. I was worried about you"

"I know, i know, but you know me"

You separate then, smiling at each other. "I ain't ready to die yet, dad", you quote simultaneously, both in a joking tone.

Its pleasant until Bucky notices Steve lurking in the kitchen, and he begins to worry.

@vicmc624 @adriannajackson @zizzlekwum @chipilerendi @madaroni37

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #dadsbestfriend!bucky #bucky barnes x you

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uncloseted · 3 years ago

Note

i related to effy an unhealthy amount when i was only 13 when i first watched it, but at the time i wasnt doing drugs, homewrecking, doing anything that young lol. however i was extremely mentally ill but undiagnosed, and so confused but i found solace in effys character because of how similar i felt to her. flashforward to being 20 now and im a nic addict/borderline drug and alcohol addict that forgets to take my prescribed antidepressants and antipsychotics. i cant tell you how many events of effys life have mirrored mine now 7 years later, both the pretty but mostly the ugly. it all feels like a joke to me, and the thing is of course it wasnt effy the fictional character that did this to me, it was the fact that i was genetically and epically set up to do this to me for as long as i existed and i saw myself in her too young. everyone ive ever met and started to befriend has fallen in love with me, has found me beautiful, and then seen my flaws and hated me even if they didnt tell me to my face. ive been a horrible friend and partner and im flighty and unreliable and destructive. i never saw effy, or a person like effy, find a happy ending and im afraid even when im at my manic highs i will never find a lasting happiness and will always accidentally self sabotage until i die. what im trying to ask is, how can i save me? i know its dumb to ask a random tumblr user but ive been following this blog since i was 13-14 and since you know effy through and through, you might know a little about me. its a long shot. (i’d also like to say this isnt a cry for help and im safe/not actively suicidal so i dont want you to feel like theres any pressure like that, but i did use this ask box as a free therapy session.)

I'm a bit biased, but I don't think there's anything wrong with asking a random Tumblr user at all. I'm happy to be a free therapy session when you need one, and I'm really touched that you've trusted me with your thoughts and feelings for so long. Hopefully I've been some help over the years 😆

Coping with mental illness can be really, really hard, but the good news is that with the right tools and support system, you can absolutely recover. It sounds like you already have a psychiatrist in your life, which is a great start. If you've having trouble remembering to take your medication, it might help to set calendar reminders on your phone, set up text prompts to remind you to take your pills, to link taking your pills with something else you do every day (like brushing your teeth or eating breakfast), or to reward yourself for taking your medication (for example, putting a piece of candy in your pill box that you can eat after taking your pill).

If you don't have one already, a therapist might also be a good idea. It can take a while to find the right therapist for you, so schedule a few appointments and see which therapist you "click" with. A therapist can help you work through any reluctance you might have towards taking you medications, as well as helping you come up with day to day strategies that help you achieve your goals and helping you work through the beliefs that you hold about yourself and the world that may be holding you back.

Moving on to talking about addiction for a bit. I strongly believe that addiction doesn't come from some type of inherent lack of willpower or moral failing, or even really the drug itself. It's the need to escape reality. And that's actually supported by scientific literature; most famously, the Rat Park experiment by Bruce K Alexander. Practically, we've seen that same thing in the aftermath of Portugal's decision to decriminalize all drugs. They took the money they were using to keep drug users in prison, and instead invested that money into reconnecting people who struggle with addiction to society. Their goal was to make sure that every person who struggles with addiction has a reason to get up in the morning and has a support system within the wider society. And it actually worked- injection drug use is down 50%, overdoses and HIV infections have massively decreased, and rates of addiction decreased as well. It's much easier to quit when you have something motivating you to keep going.

Why am I telling you all of this? I guess what I'm trying to get at is in order to recover from addiction, I think first people need to understand what the reality is that they're trying to escape. What can be done about those issues? Who's in your corner trying to support you, even if they're not doing the best job at it? Where else can you get the social support you might need? What are you passionate about? What would make it feel worth it to get up in the morning? I think instead of focusing on the drugs, or the alcohol, or the cigarettes, maybe we should focus on solving the root problems that make those attractive options. That's one of the reasons a therapist is a really good idea; they can help you figure out what those root problems are, and provide resources and tools to help you fix those problems.

In terms of practical, do it yourself advice for dealing with addiction, there are a couple things you might try. I did a whole post on evidence-based ways to set goals and follow through on them here, so I won't rehash it in this post, but basically:

Try to set goals that are specific, measurable, achievable, relevant, and time bound. For you, this might be something like "My goal is to have only one drink a day (measurable and achievable) for week (time bound) so that I can be more reliable for my friends (relevant)".

Instead of trying to quit something, replace it with something else. For example, "when I feel like smoking, I'm going to do ten minutes of learning Korean instead". Learning something new is easier and more exciting, and so new habits are easier to maintain that breaking old ones. Find a new hobby that you've always wanted to do or that's exciting to you, and try to focus your energies on that to distract yourself.

Identify any obstacles (such as environmental triggers) that you might run into, and develop contingency plans for working around them. This might be something like, "when I drink coffee in the morning, I want to smoke, so I'm going to switch to tea instead." If you can, get rid of all environmental triggers that might remind you of your addiction or trigger a craving.

Get someone else involved. Tell a friend about your goal and have them check up on you. Your fear of disappointing them will help you stay on track.

Put money on the line. Give money to a friend with the understanding that you'll get it back at a set date if you've achieved the goal you set. Tell your friend that if you fail, they should donate the money to a group or cause you really hate.

Write down the reasons you want to quit, and put them somewhere you know you'll see them. Whenever you want to engage in an addiction behavior, read through that list first.

For bonus points, add to that list your contingency plan for when you want to engage in an addiction behavior. These may include ways to redirect your attention or distract yourself until the craving passes.

76% of people who wrote down their goals, actions and provided weekly progress to a friend successfully achieved their goals.

You might also try an addiction recovery app, such as these, or doing Cognitive Behavioral Therapy worksheets on your own if you can't access a therapist right now.

There are also some things you can try in order to improve your mood. As much as I hate that this is true, consistent exercise has a huge impact on mood. If you can, try taking a 20 minute walk outside, 3 times a week. Other (boring) things, like making sure you're getting 7-9 hours of sleep a night and eating regularly, can also make a big difference in mood. Some of you might know that I'm a little bit obsessed with the free Coursera class "The Science of Well-Being". It has a lot of great evidence-based tips and tricks for how to build happiness, and I highly recommend it if you're trying to live a happier life. These include things like journaling, meditating, noting things that you're grateful for, helping other people, and having regular social interactions.

Finally, a few philosophical thoughts. One of the Four Noble Truths in Buddhism is dukkha. Basically, this is the idea that suffering is an innate characteristic of existence in our world. When I was younger, I never liked this concept, but I think now I kind of get it. It's impossible to be happy 100% of the time, and that shouldn't be our goal. Suffering is the comparison by which our lives gain meaning. But we can do our best to minimize our suffering and the suffering of others, and ride the wave of suffering when it does come. And each time we ride that wave, we can learn techniques to manage it a little bit better, and to make it easier the next time. We will sometimes sabotage ourselves out of fear, but we can learn how to do it less frequently and for the consequences to be less dire. We can learn how to forgive ourselves for our flaws and what we've done in the past, and learn from those mistakes so we don't do them again in the future. It's also okay to backslide, to struggle even after you've made progress. You're never back where you started, because you've always learned more and experienced more.

I know I've thrown kind of a lot at you in this post, and I don't expect you to try all of it or for all of it to work, but hopefully something in there is helpful to you. You can get through this. You can save yourself, but please, also remember to let others help save you. You don't need to do this on your own. And just like I have been since you were 13, I'm always here to give a free therapy session and to lend my support ❤️❤️❤️

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chicago-reeed · 5 years ago

Text

Detroit Evolution

These are some notes that I took while I watched DE for the first time. It’s a lot. Like, six pages, a lot. I decided I should probably spare everyone’s dashboards and put it under a cut.

Warning: overuse of the fuck word because I am a dramatic little shit who gets overwhelmed easily

- Alright here we go. I don’t know if I’m mentally prepared to go through this hhhhh

- THE CINEMATOGRAPHY I NUT

- fuck he smellin the flowers good

- “hey tin can :P” “good morning gavin :P”

- I’m actually fucking crying IVE HAD TO PAUSE SO MANY TIMES JUST TO BREATHE AND IM ONLY AT 1:25

- FUCK ITS 1:27 AND HES FIXING HIS COLLAR HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO WATCH THIS WHEN MY VISION IS BLURRY WITH TEARS

- “I don’t need to breathe” BAZINGA

- *slaps my face repeatedly* keep it together bitch

- “I like the way you look<3” aaaaaaaaannd here I go again

- HAHAHA HE WAS DAYDREAMING SAME NINES SAME

- oh god oh god witty banter WITTY BANTER I CANT FUNCTION

- C H R I S IM SCREAMING

- detective motha fuckin chris I don’t need to see any more I got what I came for

- Honestly all they need to do to calm down the protestors is get nines out there so he can say “please stop you’re being very mean >:/“ and they would probably just go home ngl

- “I’ve never been intimidated by people who hate androids” OH MY GOD NINES WITH THE BAZINGA’S TODAY WHAT A LEGEND

- can I just say the white jacket is such a power move I can’t believe nines invented fashion

- Gavin bein soft and reaching back for Nines in the crowd🥺homygod

- Gavin “no one calls him plastic but ME” Reed

- The only time I will support police brutality™️

- Gavin is so OP we stan

- Nines “you raise a fist, then I get PISSED😡” RK900

- “y’all have a nice day” Protect Detective Chris Miller at all costs

- Nines sees Gavin’s scars as charming PUT ME TO DEATH

- ADA OH LORD SHES STUNNING IM SOBBING

- Okay I need to pause and breathe again the cinematography got me chokin

- Uh ooohhh someone is jeeaaalouus😛

- Nines really said “no worry fam I’ll airdrop the case files to u”

- Ada: *exists*

- me: I hope this doesn’t awaken anything in me

- HA GAV DEFINITELY JEALOUS RIP

- And nines back at it again with the sass I AM LIVING

- Chris and Gavin’s reactions to Nines imitating Ada is the best thing I’ve seen all year

- “I can do your voice too” HIS FACE IMDBDHDJKDJD CRYIGGGSBSN

- oh ;-; shit Michael really finna make me cri

- God damn the intro credits are so beautiful

- TINAAAAAAA BABYYYYY

- Real coffee hours with the sharktreuse mug🦈

- “our boy” SHIT IM CRYING AGAIN

- Tina knows Gavin was absolutely feral before Nines appeared at the DPD

- Half An Asshole squad please stand up we ride at dawn

- Gavin with the knockoff timbs WE STAN😎

- maybe “thank god, I hate you, you love me, move your feet, oop” will be our always

- I’m living for the whole “criminal minds” vibe goin on here

- Bruh Gavin got the hook-ups fr fr

- ❤️WITTY BANTER WITTY BANTER WITTY BANTER W❤️

- The level of reed900 is staggering

- I’ve had to pause and breathe so many times it’s pathetic I’m not even 15 mins in

- GAVIN SAID mwah<3🖕IM FUCKING DIED

- 850% godt damn Nines got that IOS 50 update

- NINES PUT CHRIS’ PROMOTION PARTY IN THE CALENDAR WHAT A GOOD DAD

- maybe “our calendar” will be our always

- Chris “wingman of the year” Miller

- Who’s that Pokémon??? It’s JEALOUS GAV

- The way Nines said “I don’t feel anything for her.” I see you bud

- insecure Gavin needing reassurance™️

- Im fucking dying I fucking died bro BRO WE ALL KNOW WHO YOURE TALKING ABOUT, NINES, WE ALL KNOW

- Asexual Nines FTW👊😤👏👏👏❤️He gives zero fucks of ANY kind

- AN ANGEL HAS APPEARED WITH A GLOWY BLUE SCARF

- BREAKING NEWS: affection-starved Gavin™️ is literally begging for love

- GAVIN REED STOP BEING MEAN TO GAVIN REED OR ELSE

- “But there’s much more to admire about you than to detest, I think.”<333

- JJ not being suspicious at all nope no way Jose

- Lazzo has said two words and I love him already

- I don’t think I’ve seen this episode of COPS before🤔🤔🤔

- We all know Nines secretly wants to wear those fun glasses

- “Officer I swear I’ve never seen that arm in my life, it’s my friend’s he just asked me to hold it for him, Android arm what android arm heh”

- “Like robot arms, not gun arms.” You’re doing great sweetie🥰

- HAND TOUCH HAND TOUCH HAND TOUCH H

- Chris “the interrogator” Miller😎

- THE CINEMATOGRAPHY

- soft n sleepy gav™️ is soft n sleepy

- FUCKING SLEEVELESS SWEATSHIRT IVE BEEN TALKING ABOUT GAV IN A SLEEVELESS SWEATSHIRT FOR SO LONG AND NOW IT’S REAL IM

- You can wear my😋😘sweeaatshiiiirt😝😁🤗 (I’m sorry I had to)

- inconspicuous loving glances™️

- #GiveAndroidsFuckinHealthcare2K20

- AAAHHHHHHHH I CANTT BREAF

- HEAD>ON>SHOULDER

- INCONSPICUOUS LOVING GLANCES™️

- Gavin has not slept in 80 years

- He really said “I’m fine” BITCH

- Bed time for brats™️ no later than 8:30pm

- hell yeah sleepover time

- “stop lookin at my insides n shit” I want that on a t shirt

- ANDROID DREAMS

- Nines is so soft I might die

- But he’s somehow equally suave as fuck how is this fair

- Oh my god dream!gavin is like Nines’ conscious this is so presh

- “What do you think Gavin was gonna say?” nsndJSKDOFIWKDBDNDNSJDBBDJDJDJDNDJXJNDIFUIFIEKWN HES STILL THINKING ABOUT THEIR CONVO

- dream!gavin you sly dog

- “To have this. Out there.” DONT FUCK WITH MY HEART LIKE THAT THIS INNER-MONOLOGUE FLUFF IS SO SWEET

- Nines being insecure™️

- Listen to dream!gavin, Nines, he has big brain

- The fact that Nines subconsciously KNOWS that irl!Gav “just wants someone that doesn’t hate him” but he’s STILL like alas, I can never be what gavin needs :’(

- nu babie don’t be sad🥺

- oh my god they’re both train wrecks protect them at all cost

- c r i p e s❤️the reed900 hurt/comfort we all needed

- FUCK

- Concerned boyfriends™️

- Maybe “I’m fine” will be our always

- GAV🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺💔💔💔💔💔💔

- Insecure boyfriends™️

- Nines “I’m not going to get any closer to Gavin because I can’t help him but also I want to cuddle with him because he had a nightmare” RK900

- did someone say c a t

- dumb babie gav jus spoon the dumb android so you both feel better

- Me: *rubs evil hands together* aha here comes the angst

- cue tragic backstory

- oh

- tragic backstory indeed

- YES DAD!FOWLER WE LOVE

- Gavin is so desperate for anyone to care about him I’m crying tears

- SHIT IT’S CUDDLE TIME™️ NOW IM REALLY FUCKING CRYING

- Alexa this is so god damn sad play despacito

- YES

- HAND>HOLDING

- HEAD>ON>SHOULDER

- NINES’ SKIN RETRACTING WHERE THEIR HANDS ARE TOUCHING THIS IS LIKE EVERY REED900 STAN’S DREAM COME TRUE

- Oh shit it’s about to get domestic I don’t think I’m mentally prepared

- YOU CAN WEAR MY😝💪SWEEAATSHIIIIIIRT🤪🔥🔥🔥 (I’m never letting the sleeveless sweatshirt thing go)

- Uh oh NO FUCK I’ve read enough fan fiction to know that this is where Gavin’s fucking trust issues kick in and he decides pushing nines away is safer than getting closer to him SHIT

- AND NINES GETS CONFUSED AND HURT

- AND THEN GAVIN GETS HURT

- I feel angst in this Chili’s tonight

- “I need you to leave” aaaaaaahhhhhhhh here come a whole different kind of tears

- frick dude that ouches

- Insert sad babie noises

- Oml the tension☠️poor Chris and Ada are like😑😑

- Chris could solve this case all by himself change my mind

- Gavin and Nines = (ò///-///ó)

- Chris = :D~oblivious~

- HELL YEAH PARTY TIME

- BEST WIVES TINA AND VALERIE AHHHH

- reed900 who??? I don’t know her. I only know ❤️valerina❤️

- I can’t believe Gavin and Nines invented angst

- I went and got blue gatorade just so I could pretend I was drinking thirium like Nines

- #DetectiveChen2K20

- real sad gavin hours

- Ruh roh Gavin bouta die from the ‘rona virus because rat man smokes hella

- CINEMATOGRAPHY CHEEEEECK HOLY SHIT

- my entire aesthetic in a single shot jfc

- Aaaaahhhh Nines trying to be a supportive bf just makes me ;-; [takes damage]

- HES ACCEPTED GAVIN AS MORE THAN A PARTNER🥺that, my friends, is what we call character development

- We stan the otp aggressively talking about their feelings

- “I’m not going anywhere.” FUCK™️

- SMOKE>FACE

- Aaaaand they’re back at square one. It’s cool it’s fine it’s all good we can work with this.

- Gavin: I don’t need you ò-ó

- Gavin: *immediately after Nines leaves* fuck ó-ò

- “It’s fine”™️

- I love Ada so much hhhhhh she said 🤨

- “Basic Instinct” TINA WITH THE HEAT OMG

- *nervous laugh* haha Ada sis maybe chill a little bit ha ha

- oh no I have a not good feeling

- ADA CHILL ADA CHILL

- WHY IS HE FOLLOWING HER INTO AN ALLEY AFTER THAT SKETCHY TALK

- AAA FUCK FUCK FUCJDJEMNSNDJDNXU FUCK I FUCKING KNEW IT FUCK SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT FUCK

- 😖x1000000

- Oh my god this is so fucking sad Alexa play The Sound of Silence

- Nines got fucked up and Gavin is CONCERNED

- aayyyyy bro Nines full on nakey

- Tina and Gavin sad bro huggin👊😔

- ADA HOW DARE YOU. HOW VERY DARE YOU.

- Uh oh Nines is fckn PISSED

- he MAD mad

- Tina speakin straight facts I love her

- WOOP GAVIN FINALLY ADMITTING HE NEEDS NINES

- f u c k right in the heart

- I don’t want to attempt writing any notes at this moment because my thoughts are completely incoherent I am a MESS

- “I need you to come back, Nines.” DONT PLAY W ME LIKE THAT

- HAND HOLDING FTW

- Did Gavin really almost bring Nines back through the power of love I am SHAKING

- Dream!Gavin speaking truth as ALWAYS

- These damn flashbacks making me feel some type of way

- OH SHIT HE AWAKE

- that actually low key jump scared me

- God damn these sets are so fucking pro, I’m so happy

- REUNION

- Tina really say “Chris ;) ;) lets go get some ;) coffee ;) ;) ;) ;)”

- CHRIS’ REALIZATION FACE FUCKING LAID ME OUT I HAD TO PAUSE I WAS LAUGJINB SO HARD

- You Undead Asshole™️

- Gavin: ( ⚆ _ ⚆ ) fuck he actually heard me talk about my feelings n shit

- Nines: You literally told me you fucking needed me like five minutes ago

- Gavin: huh weird that doesn’t sound like me I actually hate you

- ooOOHHH S H I T

- REALLY IS THIS REALLY HAPPENIGN

- woah shit sorry I blacked out for a second what happened

- MY POOR LITTLE FUCKING REED900 HEART IS EXPLODING AND IMPLODING AT THE SAME FUCKING TIME

- CAAAAAAAAN YOU FEEL THE LOVE TONIIIGGHTT

- holy shit I actually gave myself a bloody fucking nose because I smacked my face too hard in excitement

- ❤️💘🧡💞💕💘💓💚💛💘💞💓💛💛💞💘❤️💚💘💜💕💖❤️❤️💕💓💗💘💖💚💝❤️

- FUCK

- “What dipshit programmed you to do that?” 🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️FUCK

- My aunt came in and told me she heard me shouting then asked why I was crying

- HAHA FUCKING CHRIS IS MEEEE

- shit I need to like..,,,,physically recover from that

- whew okay break time is over let’s fucking go

- Nines in the cheeky turtleneck I SEE U

- #DETECTIVECHEN2K20

- Gavin: I’m ready to take this hoe DOWN

- Initiate protocol: SAVE ADA FROM HERSELF

- I could listen to Tina talk to dispatch for hours🥰❤️❤️❤️

- WHITE TRENCH COAT WHITE TRENCH COAT WHITE TRENCH COAT WHITE T

- Gavin being hella concerned boyfriend™️

- FIGHT SCENE™️

- omfg that crowbar really went *CLANG* when it hit Ada’s steel fkn abs what a legend💪😎

- Hell yeah epic Nines gif moment

- no Ada don’t choke Gavin it only makes him stronger

- CHRIS THE MOTHER FUCKIN GOAT😎👏👏👏he really said “fuck ur monologue I’m here to get shit done”

- ADA QUEEN YOURE OKAY SWEETIE

- That character development godt damn

- I might be reaching but Gavin is now wearing a white/off-white shirt/gray that kINDA RESEMBLES DREAM!GAVIN’S SHIRT. Coincidence? I THINK NOT. THATS SYMBOLISM IF I EVER DID SEE IT.

- “buyer’s remorse, huh?”

- “I can’t be everything you need.”

- That awkward moment when you realize the person you were hiding your feelings from has also been hiding their feelings from you.

- “a year of that fuckin’...Ken Doll face smirkin’ at me every day” BE CUTER GAVIN, I DARE YOU.

- naked hand = love

- CHEEKY BASTARDS

- FUCK FUCK FUCK ME

- THAT WAS SO DAMN BEAUTIFUL

- So my review of this film could be summed up by saying that I basically cried for an hour and fifteen minutes.

- Holy damn

#fun game: watch the film and try to guess what each of these crazy ramblings is referring to #im still reeling from all of that #I think I need to watch it again #yes that sounds like a plan #this is kind of like a review #if it were written by an emotional crackhead who got zero sleep last night #also #happy easter babes #if u celebrate it of course #what did we do to deserve this film #jfc there are still tears in my eyes #I need to watch it again asap #Detroit evolution #octopunk media #reed900

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madeintimeland · 4 years ago

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im oversharing this got long sorry. just reminscing on shit ive thought about a million times over again

theres so much art i want to create and so little motivation. i should start smoking weed again bc every time im high i get my best ideas or at least like, it takes away the layer of film over my brain that stops me from being able to come up with creative ideas, but also im scared its going to send me into mental hell again. like i need to be in a perfect state for it lest i fear im going to invoke my months long existential crisis again and i Cannot be doing that shit rn. but also i wonder if its going to be worth it anyways if i can create something to leave on this earth again. like ive been so bad at creativity lately like i want to draw and produce things and im bubbling over with energy and i feel the ideas fermenting in the deep recesses of my brain like theyre nestled into the grooves and folds but i cant access them yet. and i know i can if im stoned. i might turn into a hermit hunched over my tablet all hours of the day just making shit tbh. i absorb so much of the things around me and i know if i try to make something now its going to basically be direct copies of the things i saw but if im high im sure i can actually create something new and beautiful. im scared of being intoxicated again but i was scared to drink again too and i got drunk and proceeded to love it and want to drink every single day because surprise surprise i have alcoholism coded into my dna and consequentially have an addictive personality in general. which is why i felt like my life was useless without weed. all up until i was finally able to get my hands on a stash that would let me smoke whenever i want versus when i would get a small amount every couple of months and completely and utterly fail at ratioing it out and binge it all and then have ridiculously introspective trips where id start to go a little crazy at the end (i have a distinct memory of looking at a meme that had a woman on it and thinking ‘jesus christ... what the fuck is that’ and then spiraled into thinking about how life is pointless but i didnt have enough weed to continue with that train of thought and if i did i may have had my crisis a lot earlier, it was just inevitable) i just felt like being high was the only time i could actually get in touch with my inner self again. like i used to before the thick clouds of depression and psychosis settled in. but then i finally was able to get high for longer than short bursts of time and it all came to a head where my brain broke and i have existential terror now that i feel im going to not be able to deal with confronting again. but every time i say that it never ends up staying permanently, it comes in waves, it all comes in waves. back and forth. i feel beauty in life and then i feel fear. i feel like its all worth it and then i cant stop thinking about the inevitable heat death of the universe and the pointlessness of it all. and then i get a hug or listen to a really good song and i feel like its worth it again. i wonder if this is just a period in my life im not a total stoner or if its actually permanent. anyways point is i want to make so much stuff that my hands ache and my brain rots when i think about how many things inspire me. thats why my aesthetic tag is #inspiration, its been like that for many years now, its stuff that inspires me. but at what point am i going to turn that inspiration into reality? im bad at initiative. my initiative is going to be when i pick up the pot again because im too lethargic and procrastinatey to create the things i want any other time. but when will that be? i cant see a therapist or anything rn and working it out on my own has been mildly successful, not bad, im not spending every single day in terror like i was at this point last year. it started all going away around august after starting in march. march 30th in fact. from then on its been a constant battle with dissociation. funny because just earlier in march was some of the best experiences of my life. i think if lockdown never happened this never would have happened either but at the same time im left wondering how anybody can go through their life without wondering about the meaning of it all and coming out the other side with purpose and resolve. mine was to enjoy myself and find as much beauty and love in life as i can before i die and enhance the lives of the people around me while i can because i feel too small to do anything on a grander scale. and im fine with that, for the most part, but i still get attacked by these waves of thought where i wonder what the purpose of reality is . i always have to smack myself and remind myself no dumbass you already went over this a million times, just enjoy yousrelf while youre here. but when im high its a million times worse cuz the only time i can get my mind off it is when im replacing it with horny thoughts and thats not the only thing i wanna do when im high ofc i want to experience and create and listen to music. but i mean i havent smoked since june. i think the 15th ? i could go back and read my journals to tell exactly when it was but yeah its been almost a year now and i feel like i might have it in me again. i used to love getting high and working on shit so much. some of my best works and most creative projects and honestly just most enjoyable periods of my life were when i was high. going back to what i was saying about early march 2020 being the best time of my life, idk what it was about me but i was just having a grand old time experiencing absolute beauty playing ark with my friends, feeling so creative and developing new ideas and experiences, and using the freedom and motivation i felt ingame to also want to explore the world irl. i seriously was close to actually finally reading my survival manual and start camping and shit and i wanted to visit my relatives in their hella secluded farmhouse in the middle of fuck nowhere kansas, cuz i did visit there during that time period and i loved it to death, i felt so free. two different relatives actually and they both had that same aesthetic about them. of course they were horribly racist but i mean, thats rural kansas for you. i just wanted to camp in their woods. its funny because that month was simultaneously the best and worst of my life. all because of weed! if i never started smoking or rather never found a reliable source at that point in my life i wonder how i wouldve turned out? id like to chalk this up to fate that im like this, maybe its for the best, maybe smoking again wont help me but maybe it will. i have a way to ease myself back into it i just need that leap of faith and bravery like i felt when i was drinking again. its funny because i used to be such a fucking druggie and i wanted to get high all the time and then after my existential crisis that all just. stopped. i feell ike everyone i know is sick of me talking about it but it really fundamentally changed me on the inside even if it doesnt seem like it much on the outside so i feel its right of me to talk about it sometimes. it makes me feel better at least. like this is jsut a thing t hat happened, not a fated break from the universe i cant come back from yknow? i dunno. ive rambled on way too fucking long and idk if anyones gonna read this. tldr i want to draw and create so many things and i have too many ideas to deal with but i only feel ill be able to unlock my creativity and motivation if im high but due to bad past experiences im terrified to get high again. i mean ive done and made some pretty cool stuff since then but the motivation and ideas are much fewer and far between compared to the absolute deluge i get when im stoned , whether any of my ideas are actually any good or if they were just high ramblings is up to debate but i think it gave me a really good way of looking at things and i made some pretty cool stuff and i miss it a lot but i dont know if going back to it is going to be a mistake or not and im not brave enough to find out if itll hurt me again or if im ready. yyyyaaaayyyyy hahahaha ✌

#this is literally just all about drugs and dissociation

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rogersbabyyy · 6 years ago

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sex, drugs, rock n’roll | roger taylor

author’s note: me? posting a fic? this is much too strange! i really have no excuse for writing this other than i was horny and just wanted to write some filthy ass 70s sex where everyone’s high and and it’s a lot of fun. but please don’t do drugs it’s not a good idea, this is just for fictional sake and me wishing i was a groupie :) also, i tried to change up my writing style a bit a try and get into the head of someone on cocaine, hence the repetition and somewhat scattered internal monologue. i really hope you enjoy, please reblog!

summary: you get high and fuck roger at one of freddie’s parties... that’s it.

warnings/tags: this is the most disgusting thing i’ve written. DRUG USE!!, foul language, smut (dom!roger makes an appearance), but mostly heavy drug use (cocaine) so pls pls dont read if u feel uncomfy!

word count: 3.7k

not proofread

Two hours ago, the party had conformed to become a force of life in itself; roaring and fantastical, welcoming and formidable, all at the same time. Nothing less than outrageous, there were naked girls, naked boys, lounging on Freddie Mercury’s grand staircase, snogging and touching and almost fucking right for everyone to see.

The latest disco hit playing through the stereo system was nothing but a pounding heartbeat for the writhing bodies to obey, hands clutching glasses swaying above heads, shoes kicked to the sides of the room, heads unconsciously bobbing to the beat.

It was the quintessential celebration for the release of Queen’s latest album, months and months of hard work, Roger arriving home every night (morning?) at two, and proceeding to wake you up at six o’clock anyway with the crush of his golden cymbals and throb of his bass drum. Not that you minded, but… it was nice to finally have the chance to let loose, and the boys, finally earning a proper wage of their own, had the money for parties like these now.

The host of the evening (and lead singer of the band) adorned in a leotard clinging to every curve of his muscular body and showing off his chest covered in a soft dawn of hair, had been busy all night entertaining his guests, balancing a velvet crown atop his head with one hand, a glass of bubbly champagne in the other (his matching cloak long ago discarded), his booming tenor voice always assuring that more drinks were coming, and oh, come on darling, you must have another.

Brian and John, however, were long gone; as soon as one of Freddie’s friends dumped an assorted mix of drugs onto the table (causing to Brian to choke on his beer, with someone needing to thump him on the back for a solid two minutes before he recovered), he whisked Chrissie out of there, and John was always yearning to be with his little babies these days (they were utterly precious; Freddie constantly demanded that they be brought round to the studio).

So, that left you with the drummer.

Your boyfriend, Roger, was situated firmly at your side, the hand that wasn’t holding an ice cold glass of whiskey thrown around your waist. His shirt was unbuttoned almost to his navel, exposing his toned abdomen shining with sweat (not unlike the little black dress you were wearing, with a neckline that dipped so low it really didn’t leave anything to the imagination), and oh, did he ever look delicious. And, he obviously thought the same of you; for the way his tongue was licking slow, deliberate stripes over your exposed neck, causing you to giggle so hysterically, it probably had something to do with the remnants of fine white powder littering the glass table, on which your nose was pressed up against approximately five seconds ago.

Euphoric was barely a satisfying enough word to describe how you were feeling. You were orgasmic, horny, powerful, high, burning up (God, you were hot); and from the way Roger’s baby blue eyes were fixed on you, dilated and glazed over, he wasn’t feeling all that different. Growling softly against your neck, his head clouded with a high of his own, his lips hot, so hot, burning, exerted to find the words he desired to describe what he wanted to do to you.

“Mhm, lovie,” he moaned, “Want to, want... ” he laughed softly against you, his equilibrium simultaneously failing him, as he lost what little balance he had left and swayed against you, spilling his drink all over his front in the process.

“Ah, fuck,” He discarded the glass by letting it roll out of his hand and onto the beautiful Persian rug below, and you found this unspeakably hilarious, laughing harder until his lips finally found yours in a kiss so filthy it belonged in a porn movie. Open mouths, tongues entwined in a furious dance, he tasted of his whiskey, Benson & Hedges cigarettes, the hor d’oeuvres that had been floating around all night on silver trays, and something else that was just inexplicably him.

“Naughty dress you’re wearin,” he tried again, lips breaking from yours, and then, barely suppressing a grin; “M’ so horny. M’ so horny you don’t even know. Wanna fuck you right here, don’t give a fuck if anyone sees. Need to fuck you, need your cunt, need you, need you,” He repeated the words continuously, his voice ending as a mumble as he went back to press open mouthed kisses against your neck, on which you’d know there’d be countless bruises in the morning.

Your heart throbbed faster, faster, fasterfasterfaster, and it wasn’t even a question in your mind to squeeze the stiffy growing in his too tight jeans; no one was really even looking, too busy dancing and kissing and drinking and smoking and laughing and-

“I swear to God, I will come in my jocks if you keep bloody doing tha’.” He choked, grasping your wrist and squeezing it softly.

“Well, s’much as I wanna fuck here, I don’t think Fred would appreciate seeing your cock, as lovely as it is,” you beamed up at him, and he giggled softly back, brushing your hair to one side.

“Hm, you have a point, kitten,” he peppered your neck with a few more slow kisses, before his lips found your ear to whisper, “Besides, we wouldn’t want everyone seeing your pretty cunt, because that’s all mine.”

Oh, he owned you, he owned you so bad, and you could feel your walls tighten at his words, and oh how you wished they were clenching around him instead.

“Please, Rogie, let’s go, upstairs, somewhere, the bathroom or the car, even-”

“Calm down, lovie, c’mon, let’s go upstairs… Be needin’ some o’ this,” Roger staggered sideways to snatch up one of the last small plastic bags left on the table, bulging almost to the brim with white powder, “Let’s go.”

Your hand in his as was clammy and hot, God it was so hot, as you took a grievous amount of time to scale Freddie’s staircase in platform heels that perhaps maybe possibly you might have stolen from John, it was too long ago to remember. So, you kicked them off, and they clunk clunk clunked as they bumped their way down the stairs; you’d pick them up later, but probably not, because you were so horny and so bloody fucked up that really the only thing you were thinking at that point about was grinding slowly on Roger’s cock.

Your clit throbbed at the thought, and you fell against his side, moaning softly, his arm encircling your waist to keep you upright.

“Here,” Roger grunted, sweeping you up in his arms as if you weighed nothing at all, and you howled gleefully, legs failing as your halfheartedly moaned for him to set you back down.

“Roger, stop!”

He ignored your pleas, a soft, dazed smile on his face, as he pushed open the door to the nearest room with his shoulder; which happened to be a master bedroom with a four-poster bed, surround by a floaty, gauzy fabric.

He set you down gently on the mattress.

“Right,” he smiled, and for as high as he was, he unsealed the small bag and carefully tapped out a short, perfect line of cocaine on the bedside table. “Ladies first, hm?”

Reaching for the five pound note in his outstretched hand, (“Thank you very much, kind sir,”) you rolled it into a tight cylinder with some difficulty, your hands were trembling so much (from the drug, or from the need for more of it?) and hovered over the line, sniffing as hard as you could as the powder rushed its way upward, Roger’s hands carefully holding your hair back in a makeshift ponytail as the stimulant worked its magic.

Within seconds the drug was in your blood, in your brain, sizzling and popping and making you shiver in delight, oh, it felt good, and you sniffed again, your head dizzy and the room whirling around and aroundaroundaround until your eyes came to a focus on Roger right at your side. He seemed ten times more attractive, if possible, and you quite literally drooled at the sight of him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as the room whirled once more.

“Good, huh?” His eyes were excited, as he unbuttoned his shirt completely now and shrugged it off, the fabric landing in a heap on the floor, his hand sliding down the small of your back to squeeze your ass, practically hanging out of your too-tight and much-too-short dress.

“So good,” you said, running your fingers through your hair, your palms coming to rest on his shoulders, “Fuck, I feel like I could do anything. And I’m so horny I could die,”

“Know the fuckin’ feelin’,” he groaned, pushing you backward onto the awaiting bed, his mouth clumsily finding yours in a messy snog, his hands obviously focused on something else;

“Please get those pretty tits out fo’ me,” he growled, his hot hands everywhere all at once, all at once, all at once yesyesyesyes, and God it felt so good, pulling at your dress and squeezing your hips and cradling your pyretic cheeks, “Been teasin’ me all night like the whore you are, mhm, such a little whore, yes,” finally, he managed to rip your pretty black dress right down the middle, your breasts bouncing as they were revealed to him.

His feverish, insistent mouth eagerly found one of your nipples, nipping the soft bud between his teeth. In return, you gasped, thrusting your chest forward ohohohohfuck and yanking on his salty hair. He sucked on it until the bud pebbled, hard against his tongue, and the other breast received the same treatment, Roger always being one for fairness.

“Lay down, c’mon,” his voice was a soft whine, a palm on your shoulder to push you backward onto the luxurious mattress, on which you fell against like one of those rich white girls in chick flicks, collapsing after a long day of retail therapy.

And before your brain could process what he up to, the bag of cocaine was in his hand, and he poured a generous line over the dip in between your breasts, a mischievous grin lighting up his face as he did so.

“Mhm, let’s get it all over, that’s it, all over your pretty tits,” he simpered, his chest heaving with anticipation and arousal, as he tidied up the line with his fingertips, “Always wanted to do this, gettin’ high off your body, mhm…”

“Oh, you’re filthy!” You gasped, as he pressed his soft, upturned nose in the valley, not even bothering with the rolled up fiver. Holding one nostril closed, he snorted the fine powder all in an alarmingly fast fluid motion, your hand entangled in his hair to hold him close to you as he did so, before he shot up like a person possessed.

“Oh, shit!”

He was a flurry of blurry blonde locks as shook his head from side to side, almost violently, his body positively trembling when he was done as he sniffed hard, a final time. His eyes rolled back in his head briefly, before fixating on your lips, and stating in a deadpan voice as clear as day;

“I might die if I don’t fuck you right now.”

You thought it impossible for your heart to race any faster than it was, but your body proved you wrong, your head and the inside of your wrists and every limb pounding hard and fast to the rhythm of the organ, like one of Roger’s particularly fast drum beats that left him panting and shaking from adrenaline (in fact, not so different from his current state).

“Fuck me then, would you? I’m so wet I think I’ve made a mess,” your voice was a soft, hoarse, giggle, as you looked down to find a noticeable dark patch on the white lacy g-string you’d had the foresight to wear.

“See! Oops!” You laughed loudly, slipping your fingers past the material to rub your throbbing clit, throbthrobthrobbing godyouweresowet, and you pouted teasingly when Roger could do nothing but stare. “What, don’t you want me, Rogie?”

His eyes flickered shut as they rolled backward again, showing you the whites as painful, animalistic whimper left his throat. His hands fumbled at a speed you’d never seen before to unbuckle his belt, tugging down his flared denim jeans (that were all the rage at the moment).

While he did so, you removed your fingers from their place over your core, you brought them to your mouth, taking your index and pointer fingers to the knuckle, before dragging them down over your lips.

Finally managing to slide the leader belt through the loops of his jeans, Roger shook his head as you this, his gaze almost becoming furious and disapproving as he leant toward you and nudged your hand away from your mouth, replacing your fingers with his own.

“Uh-uh,” he scolded, “Don’t you dare tease me like that now, lovie.”

You sucked eagerly on his fingers, tongue running thoroughly over the tips of each, kissing and sucking and perhaps wanted them rubbing over your needy clit instead.

As if reading your mind, Roger’s fingers withdrew slicky from your mouth, spanking the sweet bundle of nerves between your legs, just enough that you convulsed, shuddering at his touch; “Fuck!”

“Open your mouth,” he commanded, forcefully taking your face in his hand and squeezing your cheeks until you obeyed, eyes crazed and jubilant.

With a soft hum, he let a single strand of his saliva drip from his mouth to yours, dribbling slowly onto your awaiting tongue, as you swallowed eagerly and jutted your chin out proudly to show him your efforts.

“Tha’s my girl.”

“Can you fuck me now, please?” You moaned, sliding your knickers past your ankles to toss them over Roger’s shoulder, all the while giving him the sexiest puppy dog eyes you were able to muster up.

“Since you asked so nicely.” Yanking his boxer shorts off and kicking them toward the foot of the bed, you finally got to wrap your hand around his length as it bobbed upward to tap against his tummy, beads of precum leaking from the tip, feeling the throb of his erratic drug fuelled heartbeat pulse through his shaft.

“Such a needy boy,” you whispered, legs spreading earnestly as you greedily guided his palpitating member to your core. The cherry coloured blush that was the head of his cock slid past the swollen lips of your cunt, and the both of you shivered in a bout of ecstasy, moaning against each other as Roger clutched you to his chest.

He then slid out of you slowly, before immediately jerking his hips back toward you, making you scream, digging the heel of your foot into his back.

“You’re so bloody wet,” he gasped, collapsing his weight onto his forearms as his thrusts continued the erratic pace he’d established moments before, one slow thrust, and then fastfastfastfaster-

“You’re so fucking huge, oh my God, I love your cock, I love your cock, I love-”

-until he returned to his teasingly slow pace. Whimpering, you hid your face in the crook of your elbow, eyes squeezed shut as you shakily begged your boyfriend to increase his pace.

“I’ll fuck you how I like,” he grunted, angling his cock in a way that it only just nudged your g-spot, making your toes curl as his hips finally found the familiar rhythm that you so adored: fast, steady, and hard.

The room resumed its spinning motion from earlier as his cock sent you into a bout of euphoria, his balls making the filthiest noises you’d ever heard as their momentum caused them to slap against your your dripping pussy.

“You feel so fucking good, holy fuck,”

His cock made a slick, wet sound as he pulled out of you, and you whined, cunt clenching around nothing, so emptyemptyempty.

“Why’d you stop?”

“Get on your hands n’ knees, c’mon love, c’mon, need t’be back in your cunt,” He was panting, his hair soaking with sweat, his palms so warm so hot so boiling, as they found your waist to flip you over, making you titter deliriously as you landed on your front, ass in the air and cheek against the soft dawn of the mattress.

“Pass us the coke, angel,” you felt him smile as he pressed the gentlest of kisses against the back of your shoulder, as you stretched to reach the little bag filled to the brim with euphoria to pass over to your boyfriend.

Catching you by surprise, his palm came down sharply on the supple skin of your ass, as you jolted forward and squealed, clutching the sheets against the sting of your skin that was just the right blend between pleasure and pain.

“You like that, don’t you? Filthy little thing, an absolute slut, horny and dripping, all for who? Hm?”

“For you, for you, only for you, Rog!”

Feeling a tickling sensation between your asscheeks, you knew what Roger was doing immediately, knew he was tapping out what was left of the white powder on the barely-an-inch of skin that separated your two holes.

“Stay still,” he muttered, palms spreading your cheeks apart to bury his face in between them, snorting the powder in a quick, practiced movement.

A slurred jumble of profanities left his mouth as the smaller amount of the drug boosted the euphoria coursing around his system, and he delivered a final spank to your ass, and you yelped and laughed deliriously once more.

“Alright, c’mon, you naughty thing, back up you get,” His staunch arms encircled your waist and lifted you so were you sitting upright.

“Want you t’ride my cock, think you can do that fo’ me?”

“Yes, yes, oh, please, want you back inside me,” you begged, clambering on top of your boyfriend as he settled against the headboard of the bed, his eyes clouded with lust as you rocked desperately against his thigh. “Feel so empty.”

“I can certainly help you with that, darlin’, mhm, oh, oh fuck,” he grunted as you took a hold of his member and settled down onto it, pushing him inside you.

Grinding your hips against him slowly, it was Roger’s turn to whimper, as his hands squeezed your waist to keep you balanced against him.

“Please, love,” his voice was hoarse, “need to you- oh, yes.”

Using your knees as leverage, you re-commenced the steady tempo, except now you were in charge. You bounced on his cock, taking him right to the hilt every time, your breasts bouncing in front of his face, in and out and in and out outandinoutandin…

You went to throw your head back in a wail of pleasure, but Roger’s hand found the back of your neck to stop you, and he growled,

“Watch. Watch yourself bouncin’ on my cock.”

You looked down at the join of your bodies and moaned gutturally at the sigh of his dick soaked in your wetness, his veins pink and throbbing, so pretty, God his cock was gorgeous-

You reached down to rub your stiff, hard, slit, your movement becoming messier and erratic, Roger announcing;

“I’m so close, love, I’m so close-”

“Come inside me, I don’t care, please, want you in my cunt, Rog, please,”

“Bloody fuckin’-”

You didn’t need to tell him twice. Your words alone prompted a callous growl from his diaphragm, his muscles seizing and spasming as his warm seed covered the walls of your pulsing cunt, hips jerking of their own accord as he emptied himself inside you.

The feeling of his cum inside you, paired with the stunning sight of his orgasm, pushed you to your own.

“Roger, Roger, oh my God, Roger-!” The coil in your stomach popped, your eyes rolling backward as they did when you took your first line of the drug, falling into his chest as your trembled.

“Tha’s it pretty girl,” he encouraged, still shaking from his own orgasm and the cocaine and everything was just overwhelming as you came all over his cock, “Tha’s it, come for me, fuck, you’re clenching so hard-”

And that’s when you squirted all over his cock, drenching him with your cum, almost looking like a person having a seizure.

If he had it in him, Roger could have come again right then and there. His ego certainly inflated a solid few degrees (although it was already relatively huge; c’mon, this was the 70s), because he did that to you. He made you squirt all over his cock, and forget the cocaine; that was the most powerful feeling was capable of experiencing.

Rolling off of you in a tangle of limbs, Roger’s breathing was hoarse and loud and rough as he fought to catch his breath.

“Fuck, that was hot.”

Eyes heavily lidded, the tiny floating pinprick sized silver stars still sporadically clouding your vision, you sighed contently, feeling fuzzy and happy and high as a kite and most importantly, in love.

You knew it wouldn’t last long; the inevitable crash would creep up on you out of nowhere and have you reaching for a cigarette or glass of wine, or, most likely, Roger’s arms, where you’d have a good cry for no particular reason.

“Rogie?” You murmured, rolling on your side to rest your head on his shining chest, hearing his turbulent heartbeat thunder against your ear.

“Yes, angel?” His eyes were still bright and misty from the drug, and yet, they surveyed yours carefully, his arm wrapping around you. “That was fun, dontcha think?”

“‘Course,” you smiled, “like having your cum inside me, all dripping out.”

“Fuckin’ Christ,” he kissed you again, “n’ I love marking you up, darlin’, letting everyone know you’re mine, all mine, mine, mine…”

He smiled his perfect little cheeky schoolboy grin, “Love you, angel, you know that? ‘Cos I do, I love you, wanna be yours n’ fuck you forever.”

Your vision was hazy, the last of the cocaine beginning to thin in your blood, the crash creeping up on you as the seconds ticked by-

“I love you, Rog.”

-but, boy, could Freddie throw a party. And Roger: he was worth it.

#roger taylor #roger taylor smut #roger taylor fluff #roger taylor x reader #ben hardy smut #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy! roger taylor #ben hardy fluff #ben hardy

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sandersidess · 5 years ago

Text

Alone

tw: fighting, mention of teen alcoholism/death in the family/blood/near death experience mention, ask to tag

I wrote this in one hour

*****

Age 8

Remus hated school. He never wanted to go back, escape his stupid town and not look back. Such a mentality from such a young kid is worrisome, and one would make sure he went to get help. While his adoptive mother believed in such thing, his adoptive father didn't and he was the one who ‘ruled’ the house. His word was order.

“I don’t want to go! I hate it!” Remus screams at his mother and kicks at her when she picks him up. “No!”

“Remus, sweetie please,” She pleads and takes him out to the car, “You have to go.”

“I hate it! They’re stupid!” Remus shakes his head and keeps trying to escape from her hold, almost doing so until he was buckled in.

“Remus, dear,” She says in a soft tone, a tone Remus would calm down to, but not this morning. No. He wanted to stay home.

Remus shakes his head and kicks at her seat once the door was shut with a sigh, screaming the whole ride. His sweet mother, instead of snapping like any parent would, instead kept calm and listened to his frustrations. She listens to what frustrates Remus, to how he wanted to escape and find his place somewhere else.

“I know everything! School is stupid!” He yells at her and kicks at her seat once more, crossing his arms across his chest.

“I know,” She whispers and looks at her rear view mirror, seeing the pout he had and how tears were rolling down his cheek, “How about we go get breakfast? I can let you have some coffee if you’d like, but only very little.”

“Really?” Remus sniffles, looking at her, now lightly kicking her seat.

“Yeah. Besides, you’re smart, right?” She smiles and focuses on the road, “You’re my smart boy. I know you’ll catch up soon.”

“Thank you, mom.”

“It’s no problem, my boy.”

And so they had breakfast. Remus was now much more calmer as he munched on his apple slices, smiling at how his mother made silly stories out of the food he ate. He lets out a much happier giggle, making him feel more light that his mother didn’t push away his frustrations. It made his mother smile when he smiles, so she would do anything to see that bright smile everyday. He arrived to school an hour late, a fake excuse made and Remus was on his way. As he took his seat near the window, he stares out it and watches the clouds slowly roll through.

After school, it was supposed to be the usual, but it wasn’t. Instead of his mother picking him up, his father did and it soured his day. He hated being near his father, being alone with him. He always tried to make Remus do things he hated, things he had little to no interest. It made Remus furious how he would be belittled when it came to sports, being smaller than the average kid his age, and being slightly slower than those his age. It made Remus cry out of frustration again, wanting to yell and thrown the ball at his father’s mouth to shut him up, wanting to make Remus run towards his mother.

“Man up! I don’t have time for my son to be crying!”

“Get a new son! I hate this! I hate it and I hate you!”

With that, Remus stomped away, his wall slowly building up and a cloud hang over him.

Age 15

When did he start drinking? When did he start smoking? He can’t remember really. It must’ve been when his mother passed away, when the only person who understood him left him all alone. Alone. That’s all he was today.

At first it was to cope with the death of his mother, to escape reality, to escape his bastard father. It worked, and he continued. Why? He would have to say it’s because he started hanging with the wrong crowd. Those who skip school, who drink and smoke almost all day, no respect for authority. To be honest? Remus never had respect for authority whatsoever.

He also had no respect for the people he called ‘friends.’

He only stayed with them as they were another way to escape reality. He could escape from his so-called family, school, society, his mind, his grief, and so much more. Remus needed an escape, and this was the only way to do so. Healthy? No. But he had no one to stop him.

Remus was someone the school hated. They wanted to expel him since his first fist fight that ended with the other needing to go to the hospital. Yet, they didn’t. He had good grades after all, the best in the run down school and it would help get more funding if needed. Why would a rebel have such good grades?

He did it for his mother. While Remus didn’t want to continue higher education, he promised her near her bedside that he would continue getting the best grades for her. She was his rock, his peace, his safe space. All that was gone now.

It didn’t take him until a near death experience to make him wake up. It made Remus mad that it took him that experience to snap him back, but it worked and he would thank it everyday. Getting stabbed and left alone to die would change some, him being one of them.

Remus polished himself up, one step at a time. He got himself to rehab, wanting to end his alcohol addiction and smoking habits. He thought of going cold turkey, but he was sure he would kill someone. It was hard, he wanted to quit, he wanted to punch someone (that being his father), he wanted to tear down everything. Yet, he didn’t. No, he wrote his feelings down in a notebook. He would tap that pencil against his desk, making a beat, and slowly, made music. With that music, the memories of his mother’s stories and sweet voice, and his life, he wrote music. He taught himself the guitar once out of rehab, a small smile appearing on his face once more.

Step by step, Remus improved himself for him. He made himself what he considered the better version of himself. Well, he knew he might have his moments, but he told himself he would work on that as the time passed by. He planned his escape also from this crooked old town, wanting to move into the city. First, he would have to graduate top of his class, use his inheritance money to buy a cheap apartment at the nearby city, and show off his talent.

Step by step, Remus did so, making him proud of himself.

Age 21

Remus walks down the street, guitar slung behind his back, smile on his face, headphones on and volume on high. It took him three years, and while it felt like a lot, he was lucky. It’s not easy getting recognized in Los Angeles, but playing his guitar and singing his soul out in the streets paid off. He was found by a music producer, always going to remember those dark mismatched eyes and curly hair that came up to him. From his excitement, he pretty much forgot the conversation. However, it seemed like faith had a hand in this also.

He met his biological twin brother. The conversation was...interesting, to say the least.

“Remus?”

Remus looks over as his name was said, frowning and tensed up. No one he knew was here in Los Angeles, and he wasn’t known by anyone. Who could’ve called his name?

“How do you know my name?”

“It’s me. Roman. Do-Dont you know me?” The voice says, honey eyes just like his, staring back at him.

Remus was sure he was looking in a mirror, except the reflection made him much cleaner and posh looking. Remus still couldn’t remember the name, having never heard of such person in his life. He looks back at those eyes, raising an eyebrow as he saw tears brimming.

“No man, I don’t know you,” Remus shrugs, seeing ‘Dee’ was still at his side, “Should I? You make yourself sound like an important person.”

“W-Well,” Roman gulps and rubs his hands together, shrugging, “I was hoping I would be. I’m your twin brother afterall.”

“Huh,” Remus huffs and chuckles, “So you must’ve been the one our biological parents kept. All I know is that I was adopted by age four, but I remember no twin brother.”

The room got cold at that comment, even Roman seems to have frozen up. Remus had a way to make someone feel guilty, and he only used it when upset or tired. Right now, it was a mix of both. Had Roman just left him alone, none of this would be happening.

“Remus-“

“No need to apologize, golden boy,” Remus waves him off and grins, “Besides, I always noticed how they gave you more attention. Give them my greetings, and oh,” Remus snaps his fingers and clicks his tongue, “Tell them thank you and to tell you the full truth. From your expression, you grew up in a lie.”

Remus turns around to walk away, hissing when his arm was grabbed and places a hand on the arm, turning around and was stopped from twisting the perpetrators arm. Roman just stared in horror, moving his hand away quickly.

“Don’t you dare touch me.”

“But I was hoping-“

“Listen, Roman, I’m not here to be all buddy-buddy with you. I’m here to make music and spread it to people, using my talent to help others who were in the same position as me. So get this in your skull,” He flicks Roman’s forehead, “I walk alone.”

Age 23

He was still a small artist, but he was okay with that. He never really did it for the fame, maybe for the money, but to help others. His lasted single Alone, was a pretty big hit for many. He’s gained followers, speaking to his small fan base and smiles as he remembers the first one.

Remus loves his new life, having better friends, a career he enjoyed, and away from his old shit town. He saw new joys in life, took in ever little moment, and reconciled with his brother. It was tough, as he started them off in a bad foot, but their relationship improved. They were coming up with a song together, and he was excited for it. He never forgave his biological parents, even after tears and pleads, he couldn’t.

“You’re not my parents, never will be. My real parents, who was both mother and father, is dead. She will always be my only parent.”

He couldn’t care if it hurt their feelings. Good. They get to know how he felt all these years inside.

But moving past that, Remus enjoys his new life. As he kept maturing, he wonders on what he missed out on. What were things he didn’t do as a child that he’s doing now? He can’t think of any, but he was sure Roman knew and that’s why he was being introduced to new things.

He sometimes wonders, if there was someone else in the same shoes he was in. He hoped not, but he wasn’t an optimist. He was sure someone was walking down the street, headphones on, a dark cloud hanging over them. It made Remus sigh as he walked down the street, the world seeming to go in slow motion suddenly. He looks to his left, seeing a young kid with his hands stuffed in his pockets, eyeshadow seemingly under his eyes, purple headphones on, a look of frustration on him. Remus stops in his tracks, looking back once more and sees he was gone through the crowd.

He knows how it feels to walk the world alone. He knows how it feels to not be alone.

Remus shakes his head and turns back, going to his destination, seeing the cafe and smiling as he saw his boyfriend, Dee, and Roman waiting for him.

He could only hope that no one else would walk the world alone.

#remus sanders #ts remus #remus #sympathetic remus #roman sanders #creativitwins #separated twins #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #remceit #remusxdeceit #sanders sides #thomas sanders #fanders #my writing #tw alcohol mention #tw death in the family #tw near death experience #tw blood mention

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parkaiur · 6 years ago

Text

Revenge - Jihoon

❀ Angst + Fluff + Comedy

❀ Word count: 8.1 K

❀ After catching your brother and your best friend having sex, you lose faith in both of your relationships with them. You brother has always been the star of the family, leaving you to have nothing, and now including your best friend. As you bump into his arch nemesis at a convenience store, you start to rethink your anger and your life. As you’re starting to get too close to him, you wonder if it’s because for revenge, or is it because you’re starting to fall in love.. no way can it be the latter.

❀ WARNINGS: IMPLIED sex, sexual themes, swearing, and mentions of smoking and alcohol use

❀ A/N: this turned out differently and it’s kinda racy except i dont add the racy parts lghsdjghfdg

-----

I didn’t plan on walking in on my brother and best friend having sex.

But it happened.

And I am now trying to bleach my eyes out.

And drink the bleach.

“y/n please, don’t be so dramatic! It was only kissing!” My brother yelled. I stormed out of his room like I had seen a murder, which this almost was the same thing.

I shivered and avoided all eyecontact with him.

“y/n, you seriously can’t be mad right-”

I whipped around and glared at him before he said anything.

His shirt was messily put on and his hair looked like someone had been running their fingers through it. Not someone. My best friend.

“You whore! You seriously have to sleep with every one around me! And I don’t care about that, but my best friend? Are you serious, Hyunsuk? The one person who likes me more than you!” I ran my fingers through my hair viciously and I tried to rub the scene out of my head.

In no way should someone ever walk in on another having sex. Ever. It was awkward, embarrassing, and disgusting all at the same time.

Soon, I saw my familiar best friend stumble out of the room with her bra straps twisted and my brother’s shirt sliding off her shoulders. Her hair was even messier than Hyunsuk’s and her lipstick was messy around her lips.

I groaned in anger at the messy scene. “y/n, please, let’s just talk this out. I’m really sorry.”

Her words went in one ear and then out another as I felt my legs give in.

“How long?” I snarled. The two of them looked at each other, probably calculating what to say. It made me sick to my stomach that they looked at each other with such trust. How could I have missed it? How?

“Two months.” Hyunsuk said slowly. Jimin, my best friend, avoided eye-contact with me.

Two months.

Two whole months without telling me the truth.

Two whole months of lies.

“So what? It just never came up or something? You never bothered to tell me you two were seeing each other? What the hell?” I spat angrily. My thoughts were all fuzzy and all I could think of was how mad I was.

I got the temper from Hyunsuk. He growled and fixed his shirt so that it fell flat on his chest.“Why did we have to say anything? You don’t do anything with your life! You just sit around all day and go out smoking and drinking all the damn time! How is anyone supposed to talk to you when you’re shitfaced all the time!”

I felt anger rush through my veins; I clenched my fists to keep myself from hitting him, or something.

“You’re always so angry all the time, at the world, at other people, but you’re never mad at yourself! You make it so hard for people to talk to you about how they feel.”

Hyunsuk shook his head at me.

“You’re an asshole, how dare you try to blame this on me! This whole situation is NOT about me, it’s about how you two have been fucking each other behind my back! How could you steal my best friend from me, you asshole!” I screamed pushing him backwards. I could tell he was holding himself back from pushing me too.

“Please, y/n, I didn’t mean for this to happen.” Jimin said sadly. Tears were filling her eyes, but I had no pity for her right now.

“Well it did.” I spat. Hyunsuk stood protectively in front of her.

“Stop it, y/n. Sure, we lied to you. But we love each other, ok? I wouldn’t hurt Jimin. You? You let no one close enough to hurt them.”

“That’s not true-”

“Oh really? Can you count the times you’ve seen Jimin these past two months?” I laughed in his face.

“Are you serious? I’ve seen her every week!” I screamed.

“Only every week-”

I held my hand up to silence him. “You know what? This doesn’t even matter! You’ve been lying to me this whole time, how dare you try to make me feel bad? I’m your fucking sister! I told you she was off limits!” His face turned red.

“Well you don’t get to control who I date, ok?! You don’t get to control Jimin either! You have a problem, y/n. We didn’t tell you for the first weeks because we knew you would be mad, but eventually, we realized that you’re always so focused on yourself all the damn time that you couldn’t even figure out how in love we are.”

Jimin grabbed his hand tightly as Hyunsuk shook with emotion.

I hated them.

“Well, we love when people can own up to their mistakes.” I said sarcastically. I turned around and grabbed my keys. “You guys can fuck in peace now, I’ll be leaving.” I snarled. Before I could step out of the house, Jimin stopped me.

“y/n, I’m sorry for lying to you..” She started. I could feel the pause in her voice. “But Hyunsuk has a point... you’ve been so unavailable lately. Like everything sets you off and you felt so distant. Anyways, what I’m saying is that I’m sorry for lying, but I’m not sorry for loving your brother. If you really loved us, then you can forgive us.”

I felt a pit in my stomach drop at her words. She was blatantly taking my brother’s side. She’s never taken my brother’s side. Everyone takes his side. My parents, my other friends, my extended family, the neighbors, teachers, everyone.

And now her.

She put a gentle arm on my shoulder and I swatted it away like it had diseases.

“You know what? I don’t even know what I feel anymore. Obviously you’re just like everybody else, taking his side and leaving me in the dust.”

“y/n, don’t be like that. You brought this upon yourself. You don’t even try in school anymore, you skip to go do dumb shit! You used to be captain of the basketball team, a straight A student, everything!” Hyunsuk said angrily. He hugged Jimin gently who was crying now.

I needed to get away.

This was too much for me.

“Well now I can do dumb shit without the two of you judging.” I gave the both of them one last hard stare before walking out of my house.

❀ ❀ ❀

I found myself at a random convenience store.

I hadn’t had dinner yet and some ramen was good comfort food.

Hyunsuk didn’t know shit about me. Yes, I had been quite the good girl back in the day, but I had never gotten any praise for my parents about it. Hyunsuk was constantly praised for being star pitcher on the baseball team and the president of student council which he had only run for just to put on his college applications. And since he was the most popular boy at school, he easily won. The vice president was incredibly mad since he had worked so hard on the campaign but it fell short due to my brother’s visuals and charisma.

The vice president was also quite popular, but he was a year younger than my brother which left him to be slightly less popular.

Of course now that my brother is in college, the vice president is now president, but I know they still have that rivalry.

“Oh, hey, you’re y/n!” I heard a very familiar voice say. I looked up and saw the president of the school staring right at me. I gave him a crooked grin, one I’ve perfected.

“Yes I am and you’re...” I looked down at his nametag like I didn’t know who he was. “Jihoon.” I finished. He gave me that stare he gave all the girls in the grade.

One I never fell for.

“Ha ha, you’re now pretending to not know who I am?”

“How are you so confident that I know who you are?” I spat back.

He laughed as he scanned my ramen. “Maybe because your brother is my worst enemy. And we’ve gone to the same school since the 3rd grade.” He added with a chuckle.

I couldn’t help but laugh too. “Maybe I’m not supposed to be talking to the enemy.” I said with a small grin. It was a light joke Jihoon and I had kept over the years. We had never been friends because of Hyunsuk and that was good because we didn’t have the same group of friends.

“Enjoy your ramen.” I nodded in thanks and walked to a counter nearby to heat it all up. My stomach was growling which pained me to stand.

I ate in a nice silence until I felt a shadow looming over me. I turned around and saw Jihoon smiling at me.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Yes, I do mind.” I snapped back. The boy didn’t care and sat next to me either way. I tried not to roll my eyes.

“So, what brings you here at almost midnight?”

“Why are you working at almost midnight?” I instantly retorted. The boy laughed.

“Touche. But I asked first.” He pointed out. I sipped some of my broth and shrugged.

“Hungry.” I said shortly. I hated talking to people. Jihoon knows that. I have no idea why he’s talking to me right now.

The boy sighed and started to eat his bowl of ramen too.

“I’m working here at midnight because I need a job if I want to go to college next year.” I nodded in agreement even though I wasn’t going to college next year. “Where you applying?”

I shook my head. “Not going to college. Where did you-”

The boy stopped me before I could say anything. “Woah, what? You’re not going to college? Why?” I stared at him as he stared back with innocent eyes.

“Are you serious? Have you seen my grades?” I took a swig of water as he rolled his eyes.

“Ok, I mean, you could still apply to a local community college or something. Or take a gap year.” I sighed and tried not to laugh at him.

“Jihoon, college just isn’t for people like me. I’d rather just... work or die or something.”

Jihoon choked on his noodles.

“Hey, don’t joke like that.”

I was joking but I could tell there was pain and fear in his eyes. “Sorry, it was a joke.” I don’t know why I spared his feelings. Usually I would just say it wasn’t a joke and move on, but something told me Jihoon wouldn’t let a suicide joke slide.

The boy grumbled and returned to eating his ramen.

He finished in the blink of an eye. He looked at me who was only half way done. “Do you like milk or juice more?” He asked randomly.

I gave him a weird look. “Um juice.”

“Lactose intolerant?”

“No, I just like juice.” He opened his mouth to ask me a question but I shut up him with my words.

“Why are you talking to me?” I asked suddenly. His eyes turned into confusion as mine looked angry.

“What?” He repeated. I sighed and pushed my bowl away.

“Why are you talking to me? You’re like the most liked boy in school and I’m... the most hated. You shouldn’t waste your time with me.” I snarled. I had no idea why I was suddenly angry. I threw the food in the trashcan and knew I would be hungry later, but I wasn’t in the mood to eat. I was close to storming out of the store until Jihoon ran in front of me.

“Hey, don’t speak as if you’re nothing. You’re fun to talk to.” I narrowed my eyes at me to see any hint of humor, but his expression was completely serious which made me uncomfortable.

“And you’re a liar.” I tried to push past him but he followed me out. “Why are you so adamant in talking to me?”

Jihoon gave me a cocky smile. “I just told you, you’re fun to talk to. Why can’t I talk to someone who is fun?” I glared at him.

“If you think you can just throw a smile at me and get in my pants, you’re wrong.” I snarled. I shouldn’t be deceived by his cute face and charming smile. All boys just want one thing: sex. And I mean, I wasn’t upset at that. I wasn’t a prude or anything but I could not have sex with Hyunsuk’s worst enemy-- no matter how pissed at him I was.

Jihoon didn’t laugh out loud but rather with his eyes. “Why? Is it turning you on?” I punched him on the arm.

He flinched in pain, but I couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Wow, guess the rumors about you were true.”

I froze at his words.

My whole demeanor changed and I tightened my jaw.

“Hey, wait, sorry, that was mean. I didn’t mean that in a bad way, ok, I didn’t mean to be mean but.” He stumbled over his words. “I’m sorry, really sorry.” I couldn’t help but be sensitive especially since the two people I loved most in the world thought the same about me.

I tried to shake the memory of betrayal out of my brain.

“No, you’re right. You shouldn’t hang around me, I’m a bad girl.” I spat with humor I didn’t know I had. I pulled out a cigarette and lit it. A wave of smoke flowed from my mouth as he cringed backwards.

“Maybe I like them bad.” I chuckled.

“Yes, that’s why you look like you’re swimming in bleach.” Jihoon waved his hand in front of his face as he glared at me. I blew more smoke in his face just to piss him off.

“Why do you even smoke so fast?”

“Y’all smoke to enjoy it. I smoke to die.”

He stood in silence for a little bit.

“That’s from Looking for Alaska, I know that book.” He said proudly.

I laughed as I set my hand down. “Good to know you read.”

Jihoon cocked his head at me. “You used to like to read.” I shrugged thinking back to the times I used to read in the libraries instead of sitting with my friends. Maybe that’s why they all left me.

No, it’s because you turned into a whore and an alcoholic, that’s why everyone left you.

"Don’t act like you know me well.” I spat. “You only know me because you hate my brother.” I threw the cig on the ground and stomped on it.

I opened the door to my car but before I could get in, he stopped me.

“Wait, um, can I get your number?” I froze at his question. I locked eyes with him and saw his face was hopeful, yet nervous. I felt my heart quicken and I wanted to rip it out. Suddenly guilt filled my body.

“You don’t want my number.” I slammed the door on him and drove away.

I got home and walked right into my room, angry at myself and at the world. Hyunsuk’s room was empty, probably staying with one of his friends. He lived off campus because dorming was too expensive for my family. Plus, my mom wouldn’t be able to handle my brother being away and spending too much time with me, the one she hated.

I grabbed a bottle off my shelf and sat down on my comfy bed. “You’ll always be my best friend good ol’ Jack.” I don’t even know how much I drank until my eyes became hooded and my body became numb.

❀ ❀ ❀

Monday.

The worst day of the week.

I walked into class with a hangover that you could smell and see.

And I might’ve woken up and taken a swing or two before attending school.

“Miss y/n, please excuse yourself to the principal’s office. You are in no shape or form to be at school today.” My first period teacher told me. I glared at him, but it came off as crazy since my eyes were bloodshot and heavy.

“No, no, I’m f-fine realllllyyy.” I slurred. My mouth felt thick and my head: heavy.

The teacher pointed to the door and told me to get out. I didn’t fight him and picked up my things before stumbling out the door. I locked eyes with Jimin who would usually stick up for me in these times, but she said nothing. I felt a burn of betrayal as I stumbled out alone. I heard whispers erupt throughout the classroom as I left.

The words ‘slut’ ‘whore’ ‘drunk’ ‘alcoholic’ all blurred together with my headache. I stumbled into the familiar office but I saw a student already there.

The principal’s eyes widened. She stood up with hard eyes and the student was surprised. I looked to my side and saw the boy I rejected yesterday night.

“I’m drunk.” I confessed.

The principal sighed loudly.

“Jihoon, you can go back to class now, um, we’ll finish our meeting tomorrow.” Jihoon stood and held me as I almost fell into his lap.

“Shit, y/n, are you ok?” I heard vaguely. I tried to nod but it hurt my head.

“Just peachy. Let me go.” I pulled my arm away harshly. I hated when people touched me out of comfort or love. I just fucked people and moved on, but anything other than that disgusted me.

“Sorry, um.” He didn’t finish his sentence. “I’m going to drive y/n home now, uhh later mom.” Oh gosh, I totally forgot that Jihoon’s mom was the school’s principal.

The woman sighed and sat back in her chair. “Thank you. And y/n, I’ll be talking to you when you’re sober.”

He tried to grab my wrist, but I pulled him away as I flew out of the principal’s office. “You’re not driving me home, I can drive home just fine.” I argued.

I was lying. I never drove when I was drunk. I would just take a nap in my car until I sobered up. Jihoon sighed and shook his head.

“No, you’re obviously drunk. You can’t drive, silly.” He knocked my head but it felt like he had slapped me all the way to Antarctica. I didn’t argue anymore as I walked myself to his car.

He helped me in and started to drive. I felt like everything was going too fast. “Don’t throw up in my car or else you have to give me your number.” At his joking words, I laughed. “I’m serious!” He hummed.

I laid back in the seat. “I know you are. And I don’t want you to be.” I said with a serious tone. Jihoon looked over to me and raised a brow.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re only going to get into trouble for being with me.” I stated. Jihoon shook his head but said nothing. He couldn’t because I wasn’t wrong.

Soon, we arrived at my house. “Thanks for the ride.” I said quickly. I hopped out of his car, stumbling as I hit the ground. He sighed and came to my aid quickly.

“I don’t know, maybe I need a number instead of a thanks.” He teased. I sighed and tossed my phone at him. “There’s no lock on it.” He looked at me suspiciously.

“Really? You’re going to give in that easily?” I sighed.

“Yup. Now do it before I change my mind.” I saw him quickly type in his number and exchange them so that I had his and he had mine. I couldn’t help but smile at his intense gaze, careful not to mess up. A piece of hair flew into his hair and I held back the urge to push it back.

I grew anxious at the caring thought and grabbed my phone back when he was done.

“Go back to school, dude. You’re too nice.” I said with a shake of my head.

“Is being too nice a bad thing?” I paused for a moment.

“Yes.”

❀ ❀ ❀

My mom was home.

School started at 8 and her work started at 9. I used to sneak alcohol around my parents, but after a while, I stopped. They knew what I was doing. I wanted to them to know what I was doing.

She was sitting at the table and eating some pancakes, her favorite. I tried to walk past her, in no mood to fight with my burning headache.

I could feel her eyes widen as I walked by.

“Y/N, you get back here right now.” I sighed loudly and turned around to face her. She examined my messy hair and unkept clothes. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of alcohol on my breath and body. I was messy when I drank.

“Good morning.” I stated happily.

“You- you,” She stuttered out. Anger was all over her face, but she just sat back down and calmed herself down. “Why couldn’t you just have been like your brother? Why did you turn out this way?” She spoke in a hushed tone but I could still hear her. I pretended my heart didn’t ache at her words.

“Maybe because I don’t want to be a pussy like him.” I said harshly before stomping up to my room.

She didn’t talk to me again that day.

❀ ❀ ❀

I didn’t go school the next day. Or the next. Or the next. Or the entire week. My attendance was terrible and the only reason I could graduate was because I had a deal with all my teachers that if I showed up for the tests and the tests only, then they would let it slide.

It’s not like they wanted me there when I was drunk.

Soon, it was Friday night. There was always a party Friday night. I pulled on my familiar red heels and black booty shorts with a black bralette I wore as a shirt. I threw a black blazer to not look as slutty; I had to have a little mystery to me.

Before I could leave, I felt my phone buzz. It was Hyunsuk. I picked it up to humor myself.

“What?”

“Hi to you too, sis.” I rolled my eyes as I sat on my bed.

“What do you want?” I snapped. I could almost see Hyunsuk roll his eyes at my tone.

“Jimin told me you haven’t been talking to her all week.” I laughed loudly, hoping it hurt his ears.

“Correction: I haven’t been at school all week.”

Hyunsuk sighed into the phone. “You could still text her and tell her you’re sorry-”

“Sorry? Sorry for what? What the hell did I do wrong?” I growled, trying to keep my temper under control.

It was Hyunsuk’s turn to laugh. “Are you serious? You’re so MIA all the damn time that you didn’t notice us all the time. You left Jimin in the dust so many times and she barely knows where you are or how you’re feeling 90% of the damn time.”

I felt my anger bubble inside of me, sitting at the bottom of my stomach waiting to be released.

“You’re not the only one with problems, y/n.” He snapped. I fiddled with my nails, wondering what to say. “Ok, so what? She slept with me? Ok, we’ve been seeing each other for 2 months. Forgive her already! You don’t have to forgive me but just talk to her!” He cried out. I wanted to feel guilt, I wanted to feel remorse, but I didn’t. My mind went through a whirlwind of emotions and memories with Jimin, but I didn’t know if our friendship was the same anymore.

“Is that all you had to say to me?” I heard nothing over the line and I thought he hung up.

“Fuck you.”

Then the line went dead.

I shook off the conversation by downing a tiny bit of Tequila I kept in my room. I then sprayed a good amount of hairspray in my hair and proceeded to jump out my window. It was on the first floor so that was easy.

I called an uber to pick me up and there I went. I hated high school parties, but college ones were the ones that intrigued me.

I stopped at the booming house hosted by a boy I had slept with last week. I didn’t remember his name and barely remember what he felt like, but that’s how I liked it.

I thanked my uber driver before getting out and fixed my clothes and hair before walking in. The sound of the party excited me as the noise filled my ears to the point I couldn’t think.

I stopped by the open bar first and saw one of the college boys making drinks. “Five shots.” He raised a brow.

“Of what?”

I shrugged. “Surprise me.” The boy smiled and I saw him get out his bottle of Vodka. “We have the most Vodka.” I nodded and downed them one by one as people cheered me on.

Now, I was officially drunk and ready to party. My thoughts were blurry but I could still function.

“Wanna dance?” I heard a boy ask. I looked up and he had nice eyes and hair. I nodded with a girly smile.

“Yes.” I think I said. He pulled me to the dance floor and immediately I felt his dick on my ass. I didn’t care though, I was drunk enough that I had no thoughts in my mind. I heard him groan as he kept on going.

“Wanna get out of here?” I nodded quickly.

Somehow, I was on a bed with the boy. We were kissing messily and rapidly taking our clothes off.

The whole thing was quite messy and fast. I barely remembered it as I stumbled off the bed and put my clothes back on. The boy was already asleep, the alcohol kicking into his system. I scoffed and checked the time.

Three am. I guess I should get back home. I walked out of the house and felt the cold air welcome me.

I looked around and started to walk throughout the neighborhood and pulled out my phone to call an uber. Before I could, I felt my phone buzz. I looked at the message.

“Jihoon?” I wondered out loud.

‘why are you drunk outside my window?’ I jumped back and looked around. I swore once I knew where I was.

Jihoon’s neighborhood. And my principal’s neighborhood. Awesome. I groaned and gripped my head. Suddenly, I heard a door open and someone ran to my side.

“Do you need to barf?” I shoved the boy away and looked at his worried, yet amused face. I punched him in the stomach.

“Fuck off, I’m not a barfer.” I heard him laugh.

“Well, that’s good. But now, get in the car, I’m going to drive you home.” I started to protest, but then I wondered why. I got in the car as he sighed.

We drove in silence until the chatterbox started to speak.

“So, party animal huh?” He started. I rolled my eyes. Everyone knows I party, everyone knows I smoke, everyone knows I drink, and everyone knows I’m a bitch.

“Yeah, surprising huh?” I said sarcastically. Usually, I didn’t try and humor people, but it came out naturally with Jihoon. And I hated that. The boy laughed.

“If my opinion matters, I think you should stop getting so drunk so much.” He stated.

“Well it doesn’t.” I spat.

He laughed and turned into my neighborhood.

“Do you and my brother still hate each other?” I saw his hand tighten around the wheel which I took for a silent ‘yes.’ I smirked in comfort. “Don’t worry, I hate him too.” I spilled.

Jihoon looked at me with wide eyes. I used to be Hyunsuk’s personal cheerleader until high school. Until Hyunsuk started to care more about other girl’s applause more than mine. I grew sick just thinking of him.

“Hey, can you pull over by this park? I need to sober up a bit.” He obliged and stopped.

“Your brother and I have been mortal enemies for as long as I remember. He was always just better than me at everything and that didn’t bother me, but he was always so smug about it. He had always dated the girls I liked and that ticked me off the most. Our personalities just clashed as well.” The boy shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal but I totally understood him. I’d been in Hyunsuk’s shadow since I was a kid.

Hyunsuk was a stellar student and just an all-round good guy; he was always doing community service and joining new school clubs. He was president for pete’s sake. He’s at one of the best universities in Korea and he barely had to try. Everything came easy for him.

“You shouldn’t hate your brother though. I mean, he’s still your brother.” Words like that sickened me.

“Just because he’s blood does that mean that makes up for all the shit he’s done to me?” Jihoon turned silent at my sudden outburst. Suddenly, I felt embarrassed for lashing out.

I sighed and tried to calm myself down. “Ever since I was young, Hyunsuk always got what he wanted and he didn’t even have to try. I was overworking myself 24 hours, 7 days a week just to get straight A’s on top of being in honor society and joining a sport I hated. I hated what he made my life but most importantly I hated what I was doing to my life.” I confessed. I shook my head and looked out the window.

Jihoon was silent, not knowing what to say.

“You used to be best friends though.” I laughed at that comment.

“Used to be, that’s important.” I spat. I suddenly felt the urge to tell him everything. “Hyunsuk has been sleeping with Jimin for two months.”

Jihoon choked on his spit.

“Wait, Jimin as in your best friend?” I sighed.

“Ex-best friend.” I said. Jihoon’s eyes widened.

“What? You’ve been so close for so long.” I shrugged, uncomfortable with the topic. “You’re really going to dump her because she slept with your brother?” He said accusingly. I whipped my head around to glare at him.

“Why does everything think I’m mad at her for that? Like I’m so fucking one-track minded that I would only be mad at her for that?” I spat, my emotions rushing to the surface. I held them down.

Jihoon shifted to face me in his chair.

“Then why are you mad at her?”

I paused, wondering if I should tell him or not.

“It’s just...” I sighed. “Like how I said, how to Hyunsuk, everything comes so easily to him? Everyone likes him. Girls tried to just be friends with me just to get to him and I let it happen because that’s the only way I would make friends.”

I clasped my hands together.

“And then I met her. She was just so fun to be around and I felt so relaxed with her. I asked her one day if she liked my brother, and she laughed and said no. I was really surprised since all girls at least felt the jitters around him, but she didn’t. She then told me that I was way cooler than him and more fun to be around. I told her that no one thinks that, but she told me that she would always stick with me and be on my side... and now she isn’t.”

I felt tears bubble to my eyes but I kept them steady.

“She was there when I walked drunk out of class and she didn’t even say anything. And that’s the thing! Once you do something so much, people stop caring! Like if you cry too much, people stop comforting you when you do. If you get mad enough, people will stop trying to calm you down. If you’re happy too much, people won’t think you’re ever sad.”

I shook my head in silent laughter and dismay.

“Basically, I drank too much, smoked too much, lashed out too much, had sex too much, basically every shitty thing a person could do, I did too much. And now everyone’s given up on me.”

I felt heavy as I whispered out those last words. Tears threatened to fall from my eyes, but I refused to cry about this. I was better alone. I was more independent that way.

Suddenly, I felt Jihoon grab my hand softly.

“I promise you, I won’t ever give up on you.” He whispered softly.

His gaze was so intense I could barely take my eyes off of him. He was only holding my hand, but I wanted to be closer to him.

Snap out of it. I couldn’t get close to anyone. I always hurt them in the end.

I pushed him away and looked out the window.

“Take me home, please.”

❀ ❀ ❀

I slept like a baby that night. And somehow, I woke up without a hangover.

I checked my phone and saw that Jihoon texted me.

‘good morning :3′

I laughed at the emoji use.

‘youre such a fucking loser’

‘hey... : (’

I shook my head at my phone because of my silent laughter.

‘did you sleep ok?’ I felt my heart warm at his question.

‘slept like a baby. weird i was completely sober when i woke up tho’

‘... thats always a good thing’

I laughed at his careful words.

‘it’d be better if u were next to me tho :(’ I teased, wondering what his response would be. I bit my lip waiting for a response. I never felt nervous when I texted boys, but for some reason, I would feel empty if he never responded.

‘damn are we sexting at 3pm? hold on i need to look up sexy lines on the internet’ I laughed loudly and shook my head at his humor.

Suddenly I heard a knock on my door. I jumped, afraid someone would see me... happy.

“Just a minute!” I yelled. I threw on a t-shirt and shorts. “Ok, come in!” I yelped trying to calm my flush down.

I saw the familiar blonde boy walk in which made my mood fall.

“Um, were you just laughing right now?” He asked with a confused expression. I sighed.

“Why do you care, Hyunsuk?”

The boy shrugged. “I don’t know, because you never laugh.” He accused. I shrugged.

“I can laugh whenever I want to.”

I smiled at my own response. For some reason, Jihoon put me in a much better mood. My heart felt lighter and my head felt stable. It was probably because I told him so much last night and I was able to express my feelings openly.

Suddenly I felt a buzz in my hand. I looked down to read the text.

‘oh no did i scare you away? i swear i can get better at sexting’ I held in a laugh.

“What are you laughing at?” My good mood dissipated at his rough tone.

“Why are you in my room?” I spat back.

Hyunsuk rolled his eyes while leaning against my door. “Mom wants to talk to you about college.” His victorious smile made me want to beat the shit out of him. But I had a bit more self-control than that.

I brushed past him and saw my mom sitting there. I wish I had down that beer sitting in my room.

“Sit down.” She gestured to the chair across from her. I did as she said as she looked up at me when she was done with her food. “Your father and I have picked out a college for you to attend next year.” I shook my head.

“No, that can’t be. I didn’t apply to any colleges.” She gave me a soft smile.

“I applied for you. This university is in Singapore, it’s very good and I’ve already talked to the dean. He’s excited to have you in our school.”

My jaw dropped. “How did I even get in?! My grades are shit!” I felt my anger pick up and I resisted the urge to throw the glass of water only inches away from my fingers across the room.

She smiled at me. “I told them you were struggling with the divorce and resorting to bad things. They understood and are willing to comply.” I felt my throat close up. I had always been controlled by everyone. I had always been everyone’s spotlight my entire life. I was tired of not making my own decisions.

“No. I’m not going.”

“Y/n! You have no choice, honey.”

“Don’t call me that!” I snapped, banging my hand against a wall. I felt embarrassed as soon as I did it. How did I lose control of my body so quickly?

“You’re going and that’s final.” She said calmly.

I spun around and glared at her. “No, I’m not going, and that’s final.” I walked away quickly, bumping into my brother in the process.

“Y/n, please just be rational! This is a good experience!” I pushed him out of the way.

“Yeah, a good experience for you all to dump me in some other country so you can’t be bothered with me anymore!” I screamed. The two of them looked at each other, denying my accusation too late.

“Y/n, not everything is about you!” I shoved past him. He was right. Nothing is about me. Nothing is ever about me.

I’ve always been in my brother’s shadow, my parent’s shadow, even my best friend’s shadow. I was done with all of that.

I grabbed my keys and left the house.

❀ ❀ ❀

I don’t know how I ended up here.

I stared longingly at Jihoon’s house, wondering if I would ever force myself to go inside. Or text him. Or do anything really.

I felt awkward fishing out my phone. Never had I ever run to someone for comfort. Not Hyunsuk, not even Jimin.

Then, I realized my principal would be in there. “Shit, I can’t do this.” I whispered to myself.

I was about to leave until I heard my phone vibrate against the chair.

‘why are you outside of my house?’

I felt my body turn cold at the statement.

‘just driving by.’ I lied.

‘ok well do you wanna come in?’

I bit my lip. ‘is that an invitation for something’ I teased.

‘maybe’

I felt my heart beat quicker at his response.

‘no offense im not going to have sex in somewhere Mrs. Park sleeps’

‘ok then we can do it in your car’

I burst out laughing at his response.

‘my mom is on a business trip tho’ he answered.

I knew what that meant.

And I liked what it meant. I parked down the street and bit more and was greeted by him at the front door.

“Hey, beautiful.” I cringed even though I liked it when he called me beautiful.

“Don’t call me that.”

Jihoon laughed. “Ok, ok.” I shook my head. “So something bad must’ve happened because I know you didn’t just come in here ‘cause of a booty call.”

“My mom wants to ship me off to Singapore. My brother agrees with her. They are just trying to get rid of me so they don’t have to deal with whatever teenage angst that’s happening so I feel sort of like shit and I hate everyone and I don’t want to talk to Jimin because I know Hyunsuk would’ve told her about this and how could she let me go to Singapore.”

I blurt out. Jihoon stood there, absorbing all the information.

“Shit, I’m sorry, y/n. But why don’t you want to go to Singapore?”

I shrugged. “I don’t want to go to college. I don’t want to leave...”

you.

It was a stupid thought. Jihoon and I weren’t even together. I didn’t even know if we were friends.

But you like him.

That was an even stupider thought. I always looked down on people who followed where their significant other went, but sometimes following who you love is just as important as following what you love.

But I don’t love Jihoon. That would be too much.

Jihoon sighed and pulled me into a strong embrace. I felt awkward when he sniffed me.

“Woah, no alcohol.” He stated with surprise. I felt embarrassed immediately at the amount of shock in his expression.

“Fuck off, I can be sober sometimes.” He laughed. “I wouldn’t know, I feel like I’ve only seen you with you’re drunk.”

That’s a lie. I was sober when I talked to him at the convenience store. I was mostly sober when I talked to him after the party.

I was completely sober now.

He pulled back of the embrace and gave me a small smile.

Suddenly, I pulled him down to kiss me.

“Wait, your brother is gonna kill me.” I paused for a moment thinking about what Hyunsuk would do if I got with his worst enemy.

You’ll finally get your revenge.

A small whisper at the back of my mind said.

Shut up, we both know you like the guy. Stop pretending that youre using him-

I shook away the second thought.

“Let’s not think about that.”

I tugged on his belt to get him closer to me. He was surprised but responded quickly. His kiss was strong, contrary to his delicate features. My knees turned weak as he deepened the kiss and pulled me close to him. I couldn’t think as he wrapped my legs around him and made his way to, I expected, his bedroom.

My heart pounded in anticipation, but I felt a sliver of nervousness. I hadn’t slept with someone sober... ever. Or kissed anyone sober. Or anything sober in a while.

He slammed the door shut and kissed me again. I ran my fingers through his hair wildly as he groaned in response.

“Are you sure about this?” He whispered carefully to not ruin the mood.

“Yes.”

❀ ❀ ❀

I woke up in someone else’s bed.

And the amazing thing was that I remembered who.

I looked to my left and saw the boy sleeping soundly.

I went to check the time and saw it was only 2am. I then saw a text from Hyunsuk coming through.

‘where tf r you??

‘get your ass home right now’

‘y/n im not playing. this isnt a joke get home right now’

‘are you serious?’

‘im going to call the cops. idc that youre 18′

‘ok nevermind that’s too much but seriously y/n come home right now or else i’m finding you myself’

‘you know ive been hearing rumors about u and jihoon.. istg if theyre true im going to be pissed’

‘not only cuz hes my worst enemy and i know ur only doing this to get revenge on me but i heard jihoon is head over heels for this girl hes been hanging with. heard him say he loves her and wants to be with her. can u really handle all that?’

My phone felt as hot as fire at that statement.

He can’t like me. He can’t love me. He can’t. He’s too nice to be hurt by me.

I looked over to the peaceful looking boy and made my decision. I got out of bed and pulled on my clothes with my heart beating rapidly. I heard him sniffle and yawn.

“What time is it?” He mumbled into his pillow. I hid my tears as I grabbed my phone.

“Are you in love with me?” I asked abruptly.

I was expecting him to be surprised and deny it, but the boy only smiled at me.

“y/n, I think I’ve been a little bit in love with you since the day we met.”

His words sent instant guilt to my heart. I hardened my expression and wiped away the fear that threatened to spill across my face.

“Jihoon, sorry to break it to you, but I only slept with you to get back at my brother. I didn’t mean for it go to this far.” I said harshly. The bleary eyed boy was suddenly wide awake.

“What? What did you say?”

“I said, I don’t like you Jihoon. It’s been fun while it lasted but I don’t feel anything for you.” I lied. I felt tears burn my eyes but I refused to blow my cover.

I couldn’t be with Jihoon.

He couldn’t love me.

He couldn’t.

He shouldn’t.

“Bullshit! You like me, I know you do!” He pulled on his clothes and walked in front of me.

“Just stop it! Why do you think I went to the convenient store that you went to? Why do you think I stumbled into the office when you were in there? Why do you think I do all these things Jihoon?!” I shouted. I saw tears flow from his eyes and I desperately wanted to wipe them.

No, he would be better off without me.

“You’re lying.” He spat harshly.

I said nothing and walked out. “Don’t call me.” I said before walking out the door. I ran into my car and left in a hurry.

I felt tears fall onto my lap as I drove home. I sat in my driveway, heaving as I saw my front door that carried so many bad memories. I wanted to run away from here. I couldn’t see Jihoon again. Maybe Singapore wasn’t looking so bad.

I hurt everyone I got close to anyways.

My parents, Hyunsuk, Jimin, and now Jihoon. I spent my whole life being mad at people when really I should’ve been mad at myself this whole time. I was wrong, so wrong.

I got out of my car and stumbled inside.

I saw Hyunsuk sitting on the couch. He shot up when he saw me.

“Y/n, finally-” I held my hand up and as he came closer to me, he saw the tears in my eyes. I hadn’t cried in front of him for years.

“Just leave it.”

❀ ❀ ❀

My life started to go back to what it used to be.

Or sort of.

I forgave Hyunsuk and Jimin, and apologized for being so mad about it. Even though I hung out with them, it didn’t feel the same anymore. Spending time with Jihoon made me realize that I had nothing in common with Jimin. Yes, we were nice to each other, but there was no connection. We were only friends because we had been friends for so long.

I sat in my bed, typing out a report for English. It was time to actually participate in school.

Then, I heard a knock on my door.

“Come in!” I shouted. Hyunsuk popped his head in and gave me a sheepish smile.

“Hey, can we talk?” I nodded and bit on a potato chip. “Sure, what’s up?” I questioned.

The boy looked nervous, rubbing his hands back and forth. “So... I just wanted to apologize.” I raised a brow.

“Hyunsuk, we already got our apologies out of the way.” He shook his head.

“No we didn’t... that night, when you ran off after hearing about Singapore. I told you that I overheard some guys saying Jihoon loved you.” I flinched noticeably at the name.

“I only did that to make you come home. I knew it would hurt you too much to be with him if you knew that. I don’t know what your relationship was but I could bet all my money you didn’t want to hurt him.”

I took a deep breath.

“You were right Hyunsuk, I would’ve hurt him more if I stayed with him. I’m over it.” I lied. There wasn’t one day that I didn’t think about Jihoon. But I knew he deserved better than me. Way, way better.

“Ok well, he’s here so you should go talk to him.” I choked on the chips I was eating.

“Wait, what?”

Before I could jump out the window, I saw Jihoon standing there in his blue jacket and blue jeans. His hands were in his pockets and his black hair was messily styled. He had a shy smile on his face, but his eyes were intense and glowing. He looks so cute.

My cheeks turned red at the sudden accompaniment and I threw on a sweater. “Hyunsuk, what did you-”

“I’m making things right y/n... I’m sorry it took so long.” He gave Jihoon a hard stare before he shut the door.

I felt uncomfortable immediately. He took a few steps towards me and I tossed my laptop off of me.

“Jihoon, I don’t know what Hyunsuk told you but-” Jihoon held his hands up to stop my rambling and I instinctively quieted down.

He took a deep breath and started to speak. “Y/n, I like you... I really really like you. Like a lot. And I don’t know why you can’t see how much I like you and what I like about you. You’re the strongest and funniest girl I know.”

He took a few steps closer to me making my heart beat rapidly.

“You’re a terrible liar, why would you run out on me that day?” As he finally sat on the spot next to me, I let out a few tears. I was so terrible to him, yet here he was, confessing to me.

“I don’t deserve someone as good as you.” I choked out.

Instead of being upset, he just smiled.

“Funny, that’s exactly how I feel about you.”

#yg treasure box #ygtb #ygtb scenarios #park jihoon #jihoon scenarios #magnum #magnum scenarios #idk if that is their confirmed name but yeet #yg treasure box imagines #treasure scenarios #treasure #treasure imagines

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