#And then his only explanation for his advice was always 'its what I use'
Note
the ask was for a sanzu x fem reader nsfw and they’re both getting high together in the car and they do the thing where they bloke smoke in each other’s most and one things leads to another. But I thought it would be funny of on the middle of their sesh, ran calls and idk you could decide if he answers or not. Lol
— mile high club
ø contents: smoking, smut, possessiveness, fluff, takeomi slander ish bc i hate the mf, friends to lovers, mutual oblivious pining, akashi brothers' mentioned beefing
o word count : 7.1k.
ø notes: is it even a sanzu fic if i dont include some sort of tension and psychological explanation to do with the neglect he faced from Takeomi? no? ok anyway...
@wenumsmol 🫶🏾
The sun sets over the streets of Tokyo when you park the car in the garage of the Akashi household, having dropped Haru off at home since you’re now his designated driver because his license got suspended for reckless driving.
“We’re here.” The car shuts off when you turn the key, both hands resting on the wheel like the professional, respectable driver you are. “Now get out of my car.”
Sanzu groans from the backseat, laying flat on his back, hand splayed over his forehead, the cold heat from his hands doing wonders to soothe his burning headache.
“Oi.” Over your shoulder, you peek at him, fighting the urge to poke him awake. “I said we’re here.”
“I know.”
“ So…get out?”
“I don’t wanna.”
“You don’t—” You bite your words, stopping yourself to give yourself time to take a deep breath, soothing your bubbling frustration before it erupts. “You don’t want to enter your own house?”
He raises a long, slender finger, pointing insistently out the window. You follow his gaze to the back corner of the garage, Takeomi’s bike perched on its stand.
“Ohhh,” you realise, unbuckling your seatbelt to turn and face him fully. “Well..you can’t avoid him forever.”
He removes his hand from his forehead, eyebrows knitted, forehead creased as he glares at you. “Watch me.”
“I’m serious, Haru.”
“So am I.” He’s sitting up, face stern and serious, you swear his green eyes practically glow in the dark as they catch the edge of the yellow tint garage light.
When it comes to Takeomi, Haruchiyo mainly plans on avoiding him at all costs, dodging him around the house, wearing headphones at full volume just to drown out the sound of his brother’s voice, not coming back home for days on end, rather spending the night at yours or Mikey’s house.
He’s developed different coping mechanisms : talking to Mikey is a big help, though Mikey isn’t one for therapeutic advice, he’s still willing to lend a helping ear and listen to Haruchiyo rant on and on. It’s not much help though, only hearing responses like ‘ hm ’ , ‘ oh ’, and ‘ah’, maybe if Mikey has a little energy left in him, he’d nod occasionally, but that’s about as much help as you’d get.
His second coping mechanism is you, someone he’d befriended a couple months back and kept you by his side secretly ever since, using you as a personal chauffeur and a therapist, but more importantly a best friend. Someone who’d be there for him without judging him and his dirty secrets; someone who likes to be around him not because they’re scared or intimidated, but because they enjoy his presence.
He cannot be in the right state of mind when talking to his brother, not wanting to remember their interactions in the morning, so he relies on getting stoned or drunk to wipe his memory. It’s a potentially dangerous mechanism, but Sanzu enjoys the adrealine rush of trying something new, enjoys the out of body experiences, the fuzzy feelings, the wild imaginations and visions that make his world look colourful rather than monochromatic.
“Haru.” You call his name with that sweet voice of yours, one that makes his heart warm. “You can talk to me about anything, okay? I’m always gonna be here for you.”
He’s looking down at his lap, mouth twisted in a way he always does when he’s deep in thought. You can’t help but wonder just what’s going through that brain of his, knowing fully that up there is a mess of unorganised feelings and emotions he’d never been able to fully process.
“Haru. Is everything oka—”
“You know what I want?” He cuts you off, changing topics with a bright smile.
His decision to switch topics isn’t something that offends you, knowing that he takes time to fully open up and you’re willing to wait as long as he needs. “What do you want, Haru?”
“I want weed.”
“There’s no weed, wait. What are you doin—” He moves quickly, his lean body brushing past yours, balancing a hand on your lap for leverage as he reaches inside the glove compartment pulling out his stash. “What the hell! You stashed your crap in my car?!”
“Of course I did.” He cackles at the dumbfounded look on your face, moving to the backseat. “Where else would I put it?”
“Uh—I don’t know? Your room? Anywhere but my damn car! I got pulled over the other day. What if I had gotten caught and they searched my car?”
“Did you?” He shrugs half heartedly, opening the ziplock bag. Almost instantly the car smells of marijuana, your nose wrinkles as you try to process it.
“Well, no…but that’s not the point!”
“Shhhh,” he shushes you, taking his time to roll his blunt, all the while you’re glaring at him. “Stop pouting. You should be thanking me.”
“For what?”
“This.” He licks the joint to seal it, lifting it towards you like it’s his artistic masterpiece. The smile on his face screams child proud of their school project, diamond scars stretching cutely as his smile only widens. “It’s strong. Try it.”
“It better be.” You snatch it from his hands, holding it between your teeth as you manouevr yourself to the backseat to seat beside him.
His chin is heavy on your shoulder as he watches you light it, wanting to be as close to you as possible not only to get a whiff of that perfume he loves that you practically drown yourself in, but to see your initial reaction to the weed.
The smoke burns your throat before you could fully inhale, coughing violently whilst pounding on your chest to ease it. Haruchiyo grabs water from the front, tossing it to your lap as you erupt in a series of coughs. “What is that?”
“I dunno.” He eyes the joint between his two fingers, looking oddly fascinated by it. “I just heard it was strong.”
“No shit.” It hurts when you talk, still feeling the ghost of smoke searing your oesphagus.
His spare hand hooks onto your legs, and you yelp as he swings them over on his lap, slender fingers rubbing up and down your thigh as he smokes. “You’ll get used to it.”
“I don’t wanna.” You shift upwards on the seats, sitting on his lap, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to rest your forehead against the side of his face and shoulder. The scent of his cologne is overpowered by the marjiuana, but it’s still visible, dipping your face between his neckline and sighing. “This one is too much.”
“Are my eyes red?” His jaw moves when he speaks, and it tickles as his smooth skin brushes against your cheek.
It pains you to move from your current position, his warmth and scent are soothing to you, but you shift back, turning the car lights on to see better. The corners of his eyes are red, and he’s struggling to keep them fully open.
“Yeah, they are.” The urge to brush his cheeks is tempting, and your fingers twitch and hesitate by your side.
“Hey hey, wanna see somethin’ cool?” When you nod, he shifts upwards, his hand grabbing to hold onto your waist to ground you before you slip off his lap.
The sudden contact had you stiffening, blood roaring in your ears as his strong hand held your side. You watch him perform a trick, his diaphragm contracting as he inhales, lips pursed as he exhales, several rings of smoke following suit. Your brows raise in surprise, ready to praise him when he sucks it all back in with one huge breath, the rings dismantling in the air.
He turns back to look at you, chin high in the air, eyes tinted red gleaming as he grins at you, cheerful and animated. You can’t help it, reaching out to cup his soft cheeks with one hand, tracing over the outline of his lips, the shape of his scars with your thumb.
It’s like he’s frozen stiff as your fingers feel up his face, and he blinks at you as you look at him with those soft eyes of yours. “You’re so cute, Haru.”
His eyes dilate; from the light in the car, or the strong weed you don’t know, can’t tell. What you can tell is that from his silence, his mind is running wild, thoughts bouncing across his brain from left to right, mirroring the way his eyes dart over your face, your lips, and the curve of your nose.
“So are you.” The words spill out from his lips faster than the blush creeps onto his cheeks. He looks away, embarrassed, clearing his throat before smoking from the joint again. “I learnt it from Ran. That useless lazy fucker is sometimes helpful.”
“Ran, huh?” Your fingers find themselves latched to the front strands of his hair tucked into a ponytail, twirling it on your fingertips. “He’s the tall one, right?”
He chuckles, short and amused, voice muffled from the joint between his lips. “All my friends are tall, ya know?”
“Well maybe if you let me around your friends, I’d be able to identify them.”
“You’ll live without ‘em,” he says, blowing smoke in your face, snorting when you cough and swat the smoke away, then try to hit the side of his face, only for him to catch your hand in time. “Your reflexes suck ass.”
You struggle to shift your hand from his grip, frowning at him. “I’m not a ninja.”
“I can teach you to be one.”
“You a sensei, now?”
“I’m anything and everything. Like Batman.”
He smiles when you laugh softly, the sound making him feel lightheaded, paired along with the weed flowing through his veins. “Batman is rich, though. You’re not.”
“I can steal money, all is good.” His hand, warm and hot, slides under the hem of your shirt, leaving a searing trail behind his movements that burns into your skin. “I’ll buy you anything once I get rich. Promise.”
He’s been subtly leaning closer as he speaks the whole time, but you don’t notice until his forehead brushes yours and you’re both staring at each other, daring the other to move closer. “ Anything? ”
Green eyes fall down to your lips, not even trying to look subtle. “Anything.”
Fuck, at this angle you look so pretty, staring down at him with those dreamy eyes of yours, looking at him like he’s the most precious thing in the world. He always feels like that around you, another reason why he loves getting high around you. It forces him to be vulnerable around you, letting the feelings he’s been shovelling down refsurface.
Though it’s risky, and there’s nothing more he fears than rejection, he’s always been a risk taker. You make him feel good with your words, your presence, your voice, the silly moments you two share alone in his car, your room, his room.
Your lips are what he favours the most on your face, always glossy with whatever flavour lipbalm you wear that day, and he physically fights the urge to kiss them just to guess it. His eyes are drawn towards your lips like a magnet. The way you bite at them when you’re focused, chew on the skin when you’re nervous, lick them when they’re dry, he notices, and wonders how soft they truly are.
“Do…do you wanna kiss me?” Your question catches him off guard, brows knitting in confusion as he wonders if he’s been speaking his thoughts aloud this entire time, but in truth, he’s been making his intentions obvious as he’s been staring at nothing but your lips the entire time.
“Huh? Don’t be weird.” He instantly facepalms himself mentally, fighting the urge to turn back time to take back his words, but it’s too late when your brows rise, lips parting slightly in surprise before looking down at your lap with a slight frown.
“Oh, sorry. That was weird, wasn’t it?”
“It’s fine.” His heart stings in his chest, he can feel it clenching painfully leaving nothing but a hollow feeling in the depths of his stomach when he realises you’re upset. “Why’d you ask that anyway?”
Maybe he can shift the narrative, find out a way to spin the conversation back to kissing. He still has a chance. “Have you never kissed anyone before?”
“I have!” The pout is back on your face, but not from being sad; he can tell the difference, so he sighs in relief. But still…the way your lower lip juts out slightly has him fighting the urge to tug and bite at it. “I’m not a virgin, idiot.”
He doesn’t bother trying to hide the surprise on his face, and you notice. “What? It’s that hard to believe someone would fuck me? Am I that ugly or something?”
The effects of the weed start kicking in, now you feel yourself getting emotional over nothing.
“I never even said anything.”
“You didn’t need to. I’m not stupid, Haru.”
He flexes his jaw as he glares at you, trying to shovel his anger down. The argument is pointless, so he stays silent, bringing the blunt back to his lips. He inhales it for longer this time, and it can’t possibly be healthy for his lungs, but he doesn’t care.
“What time is it?” you ask, and his hand squeezes your waist tighter, stopping you from squirming from his lap.
“Why do you need the time?”
“Because I gotta get going at seven.”
“...why ?”
“Because…” you chirp, shifting to face him with a huge smile on your face, “I’ve got a date.”
When you bite down on your lip, he can’t even be bothered to look down at it, or notice it. It’s silent in the car as you wait for Haru to be your best friend/wingman that hypes you, ask you for his name, height, age, job, personality, whatever. But he’s silent, face unreadable, and the tension in the car rises thick when he continues to stay silent; your excitement fades along with your smile.
He knows he’s been silent for too long, now everything is awkward, but he can’t find the right words to say. Congratulations? It’s just a date, what do you expect him to do? Find you wedding rings?
His brain isn’t co-operating either, not in the right state of mind to process his words like a filter, so he says nothing before he says something he’ll regret.
“...Anyway,” you have to choke your words out, refusing to show your slight embarrassment, “hurry up and get high, so I can leave and get laid.”
“I am high.”
“Then I can leave.”
“No, you can’t.” He glares back when you glare at him, but he can’t find it in himself to control himself any longer. Maybe it was a bad idea to get high in a confided space with you, on his lap, with your face so close to his.
“Why can’t I?”
“...’cause he’s a loser, and you don’t wanna get laid by a loser.”
You snort. “He’s the only loser available, so maybe I do want to.”
“What if…there’s another loser available?” He goes stiff and still when your eyes flick up to his face, looking concentrated at him eye to eye as if you were trying to decipher his words. “Me. I’m the loser.”
“You?” He simply nods and you do the opposite and shake your head. “You’re not a loser.”
“Yeah, I am.” You shift on his lap when he shrugs, leaning his head back against the headrest, and you watch as smoke leaves his lips as he exhales.
His senses are intensified with the drugs, your fingers tickling their way up his shoulders, along his neck, to behind his head, lacing them between his soft hair. Leaning down, you hold his face in your hands and kiss him.
The moment your lips touch his, he feels like the world paused, and he’s dying to find whoever has control over the remote of his life so they could press play and he could embrace you like he deserves. Or, maybe he’s dying, and whoever is up there allows him to imagine just one night with you before he fades into nothing.
It’s real, all real. The tender slide of your lips against his are real, the sensation of his teeth sinking into your soft plump lips, biting, and nibbling at it is real, the gentle moans he eagerly draws from your lips when his tongue swipes against yours, wet, messy and sloppy is real.
“Fuck—” you whisper along the swell of his lips, pulling away to examine his face.
He looks gone, shallow half-lidded eyes looking up at you with blown wide pupils, mouth half open as if he’s forgotten how to close it.
“Haru, you there?” Your knuckle traces along the side of his face, stopping under his chin, lifting it to look up at you.
“Yeah yeah, ‘m here.”
Your giggle echoes in his ears, and he’s never been harder in his life, cock pressing uncomfortably tight against his pants. “Good, because you look wasted right now.”
“Just, fuck— stop talkin’. C’mere.” He pulls you down for a kiss with a hand at the back of your head, sloppily working his mouth against yours. He tastes like weed, the smell strong but it doesn’t stop you from licking into his mouth, desperate to drive the strong taste away and replace it.
Big, strong hands wander the length of your back, slipping under your shirt, cold hands hugging you tight, tight to his body that you can’t help but arch into him.
A sound that comes from the inside of the house has you pulling away, turning to face the window, and he trails his lips down the length of your neck. His nose pokes into the flesh of your neck as he sucks deep, red hickeys onto the plane of your neck, breathing heavily as he savours the feeling of your soft feeling of your skin.
He could get used to this; the weed makes him feel like your skin is ten times softer, or maybe that’s how it generally feels and you’re just perfect, so soft everywhere.
“Tak—take this off.” The words are lost to your neck as he sucks along the column of your throat, rogue hands wandering along your chest, up your shirt, kneading your tits through your bra.
“Okay, okay, wait —” When you pull backwards, he follows, leaning up from the seat, lips attached to your neck by the hip. “Haru. If you want to see me naked, you’re gonna have to let me remove my clothes.”
“Just…wait a min’ longer…” He sucks harder, and you shudder as shivers race down your body at the feeling of his teeth nibbling at the sensitive part of your neck. When he’s satisfied, he pulls away, admiring his handiwork. “You look so sexy like this, fuck.” He’s tugging your shirt off, throwing it behind you, uncaring of where it lands.
Warm hands roam your stomach, your sides, sliding up further to wrap around your throat. “So beautiful ‘n sexy, just for me.”
“You already said sexy.” He hums absentmindedly, obviously not paying attention if the way he’s squeezing the fat of your breasts were any indication.
“You’re sexy times two.” He grins up at you before pulling your bra cup down, and you inhale sharply when it brushes down your nipple. “No, no actually. Times infinity.”
You flush hot at his words, especially when his lips brush against your ears, biting down against the shell. He’s sweating from the heat in the car plus the heat from both your panting bodies.
“Don’t you think we should—ah fuck—” He tugs you upwards on his lap, your clothed cunt grinding against his hard cock, hands curling into fists behind his neck.
“We should what?” His musical chuckle vibrates along your ear, sending cold shivers down your spine, forcing you to arch to chase the feeling away. You squeal when he bites down along your ear once more, smirkingpleasantly at the soft, squishy press of your tits against his chest.
“We should go to your room. I mean there’s not much room in here.” Your neck aches from the angle you’re sitting at, neck bent at an awkward angle to avoid hitting the roof of the car.
There’s not enough space in this crammed car to fit yourself comfortably. Haru, on the other hand, is more than comfortable, seated on the seats like a king that’s blessed the majestic view of your half naked body atop of his.
“I got an idea,” he says, not giving you a moment to wonder what he’s thinking before he’s lifting you from his lap, plopping you onto the seats. Your forearm darts quickly to cover your chest when he pops the car door open, lips pressed together tightly as he walks to the front seat, yanks the door open without a care and readjusts the seats back, pushing it till there’s enough room between the wheel. “This space big enough for ya?”
You tilt your head past the seat, surveying the space with a keen eye. There’s enough room for you to kneel down and take his cock in your mouth without a fuss or a struggle. A bed sounds nicer though, the thought of sinking into his soft mattress as he fucks you crosses your mind, but it’s overpowered when you remember his siblings are home and you’d rather die than let them hear you.
“Seems good,” you shrug, sliding quickly out the car; the cold air from the garage AC hits you smack in the chest, hardening your nipples momentarily.
“Ah, ah wait.” Haru pulls you back before you could climb on top of him. The cute way your tilt your head at him, confused, makes his heart do a triple beat for a moment. “I wanna try somethin’.”
“Okay…”
It’s stressful the way he’s manouevring you along the seat, pressing your back into the front seat as he shifts to kneel between your legs. “Hold your legs up for me.”
You swallow hard, unable to taste your saliva with how fast your nerves are racing. Doing as he said, you bring your hands under your thighs, holding them up as he tugs your pants down, struggling to get them past your bent knees, glaring at you when you choke on your laugh, muttering out a quick apology.
“Don’t apologise now. You’ll be beggin’ for it later, trust me.”
His confidence is over the roof right now, evident in his strong posture, shoulders back as he leans forward, swiping a finger along your folds with ease.
“You’re really wet.” Your slick catches on the tip of his finger, and you want to hide your face between your hands when his pink tongue darts out to lick at it.
“Could you maybe not do that? It’s awkward…”
He hums when he looks at you; now it’s his turn to tilt his head at you. “How else am I supposed to eat you out then?” His hands press themselves between yours under your thighs, and your back aches from almost sliding down the seat in this awkward position. “You want me to skip the prep? Fuck you into the seat right now?”
“I mean—” It sounds like a good idea, but then you remember the length and thickness of his cock through his pants and swallow excessively. “Prep please.”
He smiles at you, the car light reflecting off the side of his face as he dips his face closer, digging his fingers into the swell of your thighs, nose pressed against your folds and sniffs so hard it’s like a vacuum, your clit tingles with the need to have his tongue in you.
“This gonna sound so weird, but I really don’t give a fuck but…” he moans as he licks along your slit, a long, wet stripe from the bottom to the top, “you taste so good, fuck—”
“Haru stop…” He seals his lips around your clit, fingernails digging into your thighs as he sucks hard, numbing your clit with the continous flicks of his tongue moving at rapid speed. “Oh my go—”
Your hands fight the urge to fly to his hair, pull him closer to grind his nose against your stubborn clit, but you remember his instructions, to keep your hands on your thighs, keep you spread open for him.
He’s devouring your pussy like a starved individual, flicking his tongue rapidly, slurping the wetness that drips from your puffy folds. You try to close your legs, try to squirm away from the ticklish feeling of his wet tongue trying to squeeze its way through your cunt, but it’s intoxicating, and overwhelming, especially when his finger tickles against your hole.
It’s fascinating watching it go in and out, and Haru dreads pulling his mouth away from your cunt but he needs to watch your face as his finger slides knuckle deep inside you. His bloodshot eyes twinkle as he watches your slick coat the length of his finger, translucent liquid dripping down his knuckles to the seat.
“You always get this wet?”
“I don’t know…” It’s not often you finger yourself, so the experience is first hand. You’re also partially amazed that your body managed to produce this much slick from a single finger. “Wait, wait, right there. That feels so good—”
“Here?” His finger curls inside you, itching the side of that spongy spot.
“No, no—not there, wait—” Your hips shift to the side a little, then it’s like something switches inside you, hands shaking against your thighs as he spreads you out with a second finger, applying pressure to that spot that has your moans increasing in pitch.
His cock twitches with the need to replace his fingers, sink himself deep inside you, watch your eyes cross as you melt in pleasure. He leans forward, slurping, sucking along the sensitive hood of your clit.
Your body feels numb, voice coming out as breathy pants as you tilt your head back to hit the headrest, giving into the warm, fuzzy feeling deep inside your abdomdem as he fingers you to your climax.
He knows that you're close when your walls cling and squeeze his fingers tight, barely giving him enough room to move them. His own tongue slithers through your folds, lapping up the leftover slick. The taste of you is better than he’d expected, and he thinks he could live between your legs for the rest of his life.
There’s a swell of pride swirling through his chest when he feels you lose yourself on his fingers and tongue, your teeth pressing into your bottom lip painfully as you jolt and sit up from the effects of your orgasm. Your hands forget holding your thighs up, gripping onto his hair tied up loosely in a ponytail and tug him forward, craving the warmth of his mouth sealed around your clit as your world comes tumbling down.
It takes a couple moments for you to get yourself together, still holding painfully onto his hair before letting go. He presses ticklish kisses along your thighs, licking at the wetness spread along them.
“That was—” You swallow, trying to find the words since your brain isn’t co-operating. “That was so good.”
You look all cute when flustered, face heated and flushed, your pretty lips left open as you pant heavily, desperately trying to catch your breath.
“Think I found my new addiction.” He grins up at you, big hands squeezing the fat of your thighs as he kneels up between your legs, wrapping them around his waist and leans in for a kiss.
Your hands cup his cheeks, holding him close to you as he licks into your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself on his tongue, giving you a moment to gather your nerves because you’re going to need it.
“I’m ready,” you mumble into his mouth, feeling the shiver that races down his spine.
“Bet, okay. Hold on.” He draws back, big hands spreading your thighs apart.
You look at him through your lashes as he sheds his shirt, tossing it behind you. His body is lean, capacious, abs faint but visible and your mouth waters, hand flying out to run down his stomach. Your touch is so light, his muscles flinching away from the ticklish feeling. Everything you do to him makes him feel so good.
He grips both your hands, pinning them above the headrest. “Keep ‘em there,” he says, unbuckling his belt, sliding his pants down to his knees. He grabs a condom from his back pocket, ignoring your humourless stare.
“You planned this?” You gesture at the condoms with your head.
“Better be safe than sorry.” He bites the end of the wrapper, pulling the condom out, rolling it slowly down his shaft.
Your eyeroll is cut short when the tip of his cock angles itself at your entrance. He can see the way you’re dripping, the slick smeared along your thighs.
Warmth engulfs the head of his cock as he slowly pushes it in you, and he hisses, biting his lip to stop himself from thinking how good you feel, how tight you’re going to squeeze his cock, how he’s going to cum inside you—
You’re panting, the tip of his cock stretching you out, almost screaming when it pushes past, the thick head making you dizzy it carves a path inside you. “Ah, Haru that—” He pushes deeper, and his eyes roll back when you clench around him.
Haru swears, gripping onto the base of his cock, squeezing it to stop himself from cumming too quickly, pushing through the urge to shove the rest of his length inside you. He stills halfway, needing to take a moment to compose himself, his mind fuzzy and warm, and he feels lightheaded.
He has to close his eyes, knowing if he looks down, seeing his cock between your legs, halfway inside you, he’d cum in an instant.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to wait—I can take it,” you pant, hips desperately trying to rut forward. “Please…”
He takes a moment to swallow, groaning lowly, as he pushes the rest of his cock inside you, trying to ignore the tight suction of your walls. The moment he bottoms out, he’s falling forward, dipping his face between your neck and shoulder and moans, the sound desperate and needy, causing your pussy to clench and quiver around him.
You wrap your legs around his waist, arms wrapping around his head as you hold him closely, enjoying the feeling of his breath tickling your shoulders. “You okay?”
It’s funny how you’re asking him this instead of the other way round, and a part of you feels pride in the fact you could make someone this desperate and needy without effort.
“I’m good…it’s just…fuck , you’re so tight.” He forces himself to inhale deeply, eyes squeezing shut painfully to compose himself. He shivers at the feeling of your nails raking up and down his hair, scratching at his scalp addictvely. “You’re good though, right? It doesn’t hurt?”
You shake your head, smiling softly at him. “Nah. The seats a little uncomfortable but…that’s about it. You can move, Haru.”
“It’s uncomfy? Oh…” You almost want to cry when he pulls out, but he’s lifting you from the seat, switching your positions, slotting you back down on his lap.
“You want me to ride you?”
He nods, biting his lip when you grab onto his cock, seating yourself down on his cock.
“Oh my god—” You feel so full, his thick cock stretches your walls, whimpering beside his ear when he rolls his hips sensually, pressing his cock deeper inside you.
“ Holy shit , you’re so tight.” Your pussy drives him into a frenzy, eyes threatening to roll back at the way your cunt squeezes him so tight, clinging to every inch of him.
He swears, voice low, sounding wrecked as you begin riding him a little faster, slowly lifting your hips up and down. The obscene squelch of your pussy grasping pathetically around his thick shaft has him biting his lip so hard he might draw blood.
“ Haru.” You wail his name, collapsing onto his chest, shuddering when his hands, rough and warm, grab onto your hips to slow your pace down.
“Yeah?” His voice is quiet, like a whisper, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah? What’s wrong?”
“Lemme move—” You trail your lips down his neck in an attempt to soften him, waiting for him to let go of you so you can move faster. There’s a nudging spot inside you, an itch that needs to be scratched. Your attempt to move is shut down again, frustration building up and up the longer you feel his cock twitch inside you. “Haru please…”
“If I let go, you gotta promise to take it slow.”
“But I wanna make you feel good.” You whisper along his lips, tugging at it with your teeth. He groans into your mouth, and shifts for a moment, his cock follows suit, twitching desperately for some friction. “Wait, do that again.”
“This?” He rolls his hips upwards, rolls your hips backwards and forwards, and you drip a little wetter down his leg, wetting his thighs.
“Yes. Do it again.”
He starts a steady pace, steady enough for you to feel the way he’s deliberately aiming at that spot in you that makes you squirm around.
“I’m so close.” He says beside your ear, his voice lingering in your head, clouded by the feeling of his hands roaming your back, scratching at it with every bounce you give him.
“Me…me too.”
He’s tense, gritting his teeth when you clench around him. You shift backwards, unslinking your hands from around his neck to grab at his knees, using them as leverage to support yourself as you roll your hips in circles.
He can feel the energy buzzing between you both, can feel the tingling sensation on the edge of his fingertips, the drugs running through his veins has the regular feeling of sex intensifieid, and he swears he can feel every inch of you.
Everything is so hot right now, the temperature in the car, the feel of your hands braced against his knees, the way your nails dig into the bone, the way your tits bounce in his face as you fuck yourself on his cock.
You clench when you cum, and he leans forward suddenly, grabbing your hips to lift you up, slamming you back down with a loud moan, hips jerking as he cums inside you.
You’re shaking, trembling at the feeling of his cum spurting inside you, the wet sensation is ticklish, cold shivers running down your spine.
“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he mumbles again, holding you down to feel your greedy walls sucking him in further. “Holy fuck, I could stay here forever.”
“I need a shower.” You say once you come back to your senses, groaning softly when you lift yourself up and off his cock, the wet squelch following after echoes throughout the car.
“That’s so hot.” He mutters, eyes wide with fascincation as he reaches out to thumb at your clit, enjoying the way you shiver and let out a soft moan as he rubs it in circles. “Holy shit that’s so hot. You’re so hot.”
“I kno—” It’s distracting when you can feel his cum dripping out from you slowly making you lose your train of thought , the drip of it is anticipating until it forms a small pool between both of your bodies. “I know.”
“You hesitated.”
“I didn’t.”
He removes his thumb, wiping the wetness from it along his tongue, tasting you, and you feel your face flush at the action, burning hot when looks up at you, the corners of his mouth dragging up slowly. “You did.”
“Shut up.”
Sanzu’s reaching towards the backseat for his stash, and you laugh at how his arm barely reaches it, flailing it uselessly around the air.
“You’re not gonna reach it, Haru.”
“Watch me.”
He grunts and groans like he’s lifting heavy bricks, and you start to take pity on him. “Dude, just give up.”
“No.”
If there’s one thing about Sanzu it’s that he’s determined, but not in the way you think. It’s more the stubborn version, always trying to do the impossible, ignoring you when you tell him it’s not possible, then sulks when he fails.
He clicks his tongue, shifting you down on his lap so he has more room and this time successfully grabs at it. “Told you. Always hatin’ on me.”
You giggle, faint and shrill, leaning forward to rest your head against his shoulder, watching him dug through the contents of the bag, his slender, skilled fingers professionally rolling another blunt.
It’s silent in the car again, you two both bask in each other’s presence. Both of you refusing to discuss what happened earlier, not sure if those sudden feelings you felt were because of the weed or if there’s something else deep inside, a false truth you’ve refused to make terms with, or shoved them aside for another unknown reason unbeknownst to you.
Your head is racing with thoughts, pictures of Haru wondering where you suddenly felt these emotions towards him came from. The thought of sharing him with anyone else angers you, but it shouldn’t because you’re both friends. The thought of him laying in a car with another girl on top of him angers you, makes you feel bitter and resentment towards this imaginary woman your brain fabricated inside your head.
It’s like your body is working against you.
Stupid weed.
Haru’s gone for the second time today, and for the first time in what felt like ten minutes—in actuality it was only three—you look up at him. He looks like he’s falling asleep, those chubby cheeks of his so promising, so soft, you can’t help but shift upwards, pressing soft kisses against them.
It should be weird to him that he doesn’t question your sudden out of character movements, but then again you both did just have sex not longer than five minutes ago.
His phone rings at the backseat, pulling you away from his neck where you were sucking fresh purple hickeys onto and he groans when your ass brushes aginst his cock. It’s been slightly hard the entire time, still not over his recent orgasm, but not strong enough to maintain itself to stand tall.
“What’re you doin’?” You freeze as your hand hovers over his phone.
“Your phone’s been ringing non-stop. It’s irritating.” The caller ID is Ran, and part of you wants to answer it so you can know what he looks like. It’s been nudging at your brain the entire time, trying to figure out which one of his friends is who, trying to put the pieces of the faceless group of boys together to solve the puzzle.
“Just ignore it—okay then.” You answer the phone away, turning the camera away from your naked body onto Sanzu’s face. You squirm around, trying to find where Sanzu threw your bra and shirt as the two engage in small talk.
“What do you want?”
Ran snorts on the other end, his voice deep, familiar, and husky. “Don’t needa get all pissy, you big baby. Takeomi wants to know where you are.”
“What the fuck does that have to do wit’ me?”
“Call him, or somethin’. I don’t fuckin’ know?”
Haru sniffs, nose wrinkling when the smoke he blows out invades his nostrils. “Tell him I’m busy.”
“Being a fuckin’ junkie?” Ran snorts, petty and bitterly, voice now laced in sarcasm. “So productive.”
Haruchiyo rolls his eyes at the same time you put your shirt back on, reaching under your shirt to fix the straps of your bra. “I’m doing more than getting high, you slug. I’m with my friend.”
You had tuned out the conversation from the beginning, your main priority being your clothes, but at the mention of ‘friend’, he jostles his leg, catching your attention. “Say hello.”
“Uh…hello?”
“Oh? Who might you be?”
“I’m—” Haruchiyo ends the call before you could even get the first letter of your name out. “What the hell?”
He lazily shrugs, tossing his phone into the backseat without a care. It hits the edge of the seat, before hitting the floor with a mild smack. Two noble fingers grasp at your chin, redirecting your gaze from his probably broken phone to his face.
The kiss is passionate, and long, his wet slide of his tongue laving itself inside your mouth. Your face grows hot when his lips wrap around the length of your tongue, sucking the moisture from it, replacing it with his own. It’s messy but you don’t care, happily drinking the mixed saliva from his mouth.
His sharp teeth sink into your lips, stopping you from pulling away, kissing you with fervour as his heavy head spins, and bright flashes of colour appears behind his closed eyes.
“I’m so hungry,” he gasps out when he finally pulls away, wiping the saliva from his mouth with his forearm, giving you back the breath he stole from your lungs with that kiss.
“You want me to drive you to McDonalds?”
He grins up at you, that stupid adorable look on his face that has your heart warming in your chest. “Is this your way of asking me out on a date?”
“It’s my way of forcing some food down your throat before you die of starvation.”
“What if I was thirsty instead?”
“McDonalds sells drinks, dumbass.”
“ Or… ” He places his hands on your hips, pulling you forward on his lap. You yelp at the motion, hands flying to the headrest behind him to stabilise yourself.
What he’s insinuating is lost to you for a moment, only becoming obvious when his hand snakes down to your pussy, thumb nudging insistently at your clit. His eyes dip down to your chest, your nipples still hard and poking through the thin fabric of your shirt, then drags them back up to your face and smiles.
“You’re so horny.” Your eyeroll is fabricated and fake, part of you deep down wants it too.
“You like it though.” It’s true, and he knows it too. The defeated look on your face is all he needs to know when he moves to open the car door, nodding his head outside. “Let’s go to my room now.”
#—tr </3#sanzu x reader#sanzu haruchiyo x you#sanzu haruchiyo x reader#tokrev sanzu#tr x reader#tokrev#tokrev x reader#tokyo revengers smut#sanzu smut#sanzu haruchiyo smut#haruchiyo sanzu x reader#featuring ran#haitani ran x reader#ran haitani x reader#ran x reader
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Some days ago I made this post with some concept art, so here’s a little bit more info about my No Man’s Land! (Disclaimer about the details below the cut: I’m just an artist and in no way, shape or form a scientist, even less so an astrophysicist, so the chances of some of this info being wrong or dubious are very high lol)
Just as a little bit of context, Kepler-47 is an actual “solar system” with two host stars. We’ve been able to find three planets so far, and the outermost (47c) lies in the habitable zone. All three of them are gas giants (or rather “puffy giants” since they’re surprisingly not very dense and temperate).
I’m not gonna give too many details about the real 47c, I’ll leave that for the long post I’m working on (if I ever get to actually publish it, let’s be honest), but the only thing to keep in mind is that Nomans would be a moon orbiting this planet. Also, I decided that people would shorten “No Man’s Land” to “Nomans” overtime, which is the name I’m gonna be using. The question is: how do we call the people living there? Nomanians?
So here are the main points of my design!
-I’ve given 47c several other moons because I wanted it to match the canon as much as I could, and I think it might even help the stability of the orbits if they’re in a specific resonance? Idk, maybe an actual astrophysicist could give me some advice on this (please do)
-The interesting bit about trying to make it match the canon is that I had to make Nomans tidally locked to 47c just to have an excuse for why we never see the big planet on the sky. The idea would be that most of the Seeds ships crashed into the outer face of the moon, and since the other side, the one that’s always looking at 47c, has more extreme conditions precisely because of the influence of the host planet on it, not many people have ventured too much into these lands. At least until now…
-Speaking of the other moons, which one would be the best candidate for the Fifth Moon incident? (Spoiler alert for Maximum and ‘98: Knives forces Vash to use his Angel Arm and he ends up firing at the fifth moon, which leaves its surface marked with a big crater) We have two options: It could be one of the outer moons (the ones whose orbit is beyond that of Nomans) since those are the ones more likely to be present in the visible sky; or it could be Moon II, whose regolith would be launched into space from the blast and form the rings…
-The surface gravity is almost identical to ours here on Earth, although slightly lighter (9.66 m/s^2 compared to 9.8 m/s^2).
-Nomans is somewhat bigger than Mars but smaller than Earth.
-One day lasts for almost 27 hours, and one year would take almost 270 Nomanian days (I swear this was a coincidence). Also, a fun fact on which I’m basing the calendar system (still working on that): it takes 6.6 days for the two stars to orbit around each other. People probably noticed this and were like “Sure, that’s the seven days of the week if you ask me”, probably so that they didn’t have to figure out everything from scratch (I’d do the same). It would be fun to see different cities and places to develop their own weird and wonderful systems (not me spending several hours yesterday to understand all the Maya calendars and wondering what they would come up with in this alien planet moon…).
-And speaking about time, here’s a visual explanation on how the times of day work on the side facing 47c! I realized the other day that at noon the light would probably be tinted slightly red (or some other color, depending on the elements found on 47c’s atmosphere), just like it happens on our Moon when there’s a lunar eclipse. Please make as if you didn’t know this and let’s move on. Also, as a Spaniard I have the right to declare noon time in this part of the world the Sacred Siesta Period.
(Also, shout out to @norageonlypancakes because my main inspiration for these BGs is Chesley Bonestell, he was The Space Artist™️ of the 20th century and inspired so many people to become space nerds or even scientists!) (Also x2, thank you everyone for the lovely comments and tags on the previous post <3)
#trigun#vash the stampede#trigun stampede#trigun maximum#no man’s land#also reminder that this au is going to be very vashwood flavoured#and woowoo is going to be reincarnated because I need to#fix it#fix it au#nicholas d. wolfwood#vashwood#long post#astrophysics#concept art#exoplanets#Kepler-47#astronomy#circumbinary planets#planet design#neddea#my art#Trigun-47
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I wish I could’ve asked the writers of idw2 about the background story they had written for soundwave.
Because it seems like they had something pretty clear in mind that they wanted to delve into. And from the looks of things it could’ve been a rather interesting background story.
i love the how the artist was able to make him so expressive
I can only imagine that it would’ve given some much needed depth to Soundwave’s character. Also would’ve been nice to finally see him get a proper origin story which I don’t think he really got in idw1
(the fact he starts out with no memories of his origins and no resolution still bothers me)
But I admittedly have a lot more issues with idw2, (mostly the repetition of words and sentences) yet surprisingly from what I did read in regards to soundwave I didn't have any major issues with his portrayal. (y'know aside from his yellow visor and job position)
from what we did see of him he behaved coherently and according to his character. His little issues with starscream added some fun drama and made him a bit more relatable.
And then throughout the comics there are hints to soundwave having what seems to be a complicated past involving both soundblaster and sixshot? Which points towards it being a mercenary group of some kind.
And we never saw him in any of the flashbacks of the war against the Three fold spark, despite it being the perfect place for soundwave to become acquainted with megatron. but no, there's no explanation for how they met but there is a lot of megatron giving soundwave both orders and almost mentor like advice.
Its always a shame to see a continuity go dead when it had just started but I can’t say i’ll mourn anything else from it that isn’t soundwave. which says a lot.
RIP idw2 tf continuity, atleast you gave us a nice little story in the shattered glass comics you made before you lost the license.
Though now that the new license holder is image comics, I look forward to seeing what they’re gonna do with it. And if they’ll learn anything from the previous continuities.
#geek rantics#alright image comics#i have one request *points to soundwave* explain this#soundwave#idw2#transformers idw 2#idw1#shattered glass soundwave#SG soundwave#character study#starscream#megatron
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↬ MICHELANGELO WITH AN ARTSY BEST FRIEND.
rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles.
request: ❝ platonic gender neutral reader + mikey being artist besties?? they draw or paint or whatever together mayhaps??? tysm in advance if you end up doing this ^-^ ❞ — anonymous.
warnings: none. platonic relationships.
characters: michelangelo.
writers note: this actually sounds so cute! I love this boy, so I got you, hopefully this came out like you wanted. I’m sorry for getting to your request late.
✶ michelangelo is delighted, he’s happy to have someone who he can get artsy and messy with, especially in paint, he loves that.. he’s capable of having fun and help each other paint, not only that and if you’re comfortable with. you both can show and compliment each others project, and give an explanation of said project.
✶ mikey will never judge you, whatever it may look like he’ll either compliment you or give you advice to help you progress as you go, it never rude, he’s supportive and helpful.
✶ during painting sessions, it definitely gets messy — really messy, he’ll likely whip paint on you, it could either be your clothes, face.. he’s likely to accidentally to put some into your hair.. however the hell that happens, he just use that opportunity to make a mess and become a competitive.
✶ speaking of competitive, he’s very competitive (not as bad as leo). he loves the challenge and raph is the judge who has the better drawing or something, but it always leads to both of you winning.
✶ if you made him something, he definitely hangs it up in his room or put it somewhere in his room, doesn’t allow anyone to touch it, just look. like as if its an art museum. whatever it looks like, he’s treating it like you painted mona lisa.
✶ he will definitely be your model, he would love to be something for your inspiration, you’ll get him all giddy and shit. it could be a sketch or a painting, he doesn’t care, he’s just happy that you wanted him to your model, but I don’t think he could stand or sit still long enough.
✶ he looks like the type to finger paint, it’s simple, yet it’s fun when it’s with you.
✶ he’s definitely painted you before and gave it to you as a gift, he was so happy when you said you loved it and had it in your room.
✶ he loves to challenge you, he’ll find a character and have you draw it. it could be in your style or the cartoon style. he’ll do it too, just because it’s fun and he wanted to see who could do it better.
✶ michelangelo wants to see everything you drawn or painted. he even wants to see your old sketche books for when you were like ten. he will show you his too, I think he’ll get a bit embarrassed by it.. because you know, it’s ugly (as an artist would say.)
✶ everything aside, this kid loves everything you make, it could be painted or drawn and loves having fun painting with you. he has places other than the lair to paint or sketch. you both have a secret hideout to do all those things.
end - I feel like I’m missing something but I don’t know what, it’ll come to me.. boy I’m shleepy.
#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rise of the tmnt#rise tmnt#rottmnt#rottmnt headcanons#rottmnt x you#rottmnt x y/n#rottmnt x reader#rottmnt mikey#rottmnt michelangelo#rise michelangelo#rise mikey#rottmnt mikey x reader#rise mikey x reader#rottmnt michelangelo x reader#rise michelangelo x reader#michelangelo hamato#michelangelo hamato x reader
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hey, I recently had to interact with an evangelical family member on thanksgiving (as in, I calmly listened and explained "my views and values differ from yours, but I appreciate you sharing your world view with me" while I was aggressively proselytized at for well over an hour; even by evangelical standards, this family member is aggressive about pushing his beliefs onto others).
I was raised atheist and don't usually have an issue with this; I don't believe in hell or divine punishment, but things he said keep popping into my head (like being called "the definition of being lost" for saying im agnostic— which is a half truth but he wouldn't be receptive to a full explanation). I'm tacking this down to a combination of evangelical thought poison and my anxiety disorder related habit of ruminating (which thankfully I'm working with a therapist on now).
I know you're passionate about the subject of cult thought and the likes and just wanted to know if you had any advice or thoughts re: getting cult thinking that doesn't align with your views or values to kindly edit your headspace.
hope you're well 💚
Apologetics. It's something every Evangelical learns, and it's a form of mind-control. They engage nonbelievers in religious debate and use it to covertly indoctrinate them.
Evangelicals spend years learning how to counter every argument, direct conversations towards specific points, compromise our mental reasoning through various means, and inject their logic into the vulnerable mind, which then festers on its own.
Apologetics is a masterstroke of manipulation, and one of the very few things I consider evil.
My best friend is ex-Evangelical and well-versed in Apologetics. A while back, they gave me an example of how it works (with my consent of course).
Now, I'm extremely good at entertaining ideas without adopting them. It's a skill I deliberately and constantly wield, almost subconsciously at this point.
There's no way I could do it. The more you think it over, the deeper it digs into your brain. All an Evangelical has to do is feed you enough information and your own thoughts will do the work from there.
My friend wasn't even simulating an actual instance of proselytizing; they framed things within the context of, "This is what they'd say." And yet I could literally feel my mind tunnel at the logic, burrowing its way deeper every time I thought, "But what if...?"
I did throw it, though. The way I shook it off was Occam's Razor: "Simpler explanations are more likely to be correct."
Evangelical philosophy is too complex to be statistically probable compared to other frameworks. It even compensates for this by portraying itself as the only safe bet in a high-stakes game. But the reason we find it so compelling is because it makes us fear for our survival. It's the same fear we get when we hear rustling in the bushes when there's a predator around...only this time the tiger is something we can't know. Regardless, our lizard-brains will always take a false positive over a false negative in those situations, and will try to do so if it succumbs to the existential dread. This evil, perfect storm is what drives people to convert.
I've seen many forms of mental manipulation, but Apologetics is a weapon unlike any other.
So here's my advice to you and everyone else:
When it comes to the Evangelical debate game, the only winning move is not to play.
Do everything you can do avoid the topic of religion in conversation, and make a concentrated effort to give it as little breathing room as possible. Bring up a different topic. Say "no thanks" and move on. Ask questions about secular things. Ignore the religious content peppered within statements. Be cordial, but never ever let up on that boundary.
I don't know your relative, but I do know Evangelicals never respond well when denied a platform. They may try to persuade, provoke, trick, or guilt you into giving it to them, so be prepared to hold your ground if you have to interact with them. If all else fails, excuse yourself from the conversation.
Remember: It's not rude to hold a boundary. Don't let anyone convince you that it is.
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This is a sasunaru modern college au I’ve been working on for ages. But I’m currently stuck, so I'm gonna post an excerpt here for funsies. Enjoy!
“I am not jealous”, Sasuke snapped at Neji, who was lowering himself to the floor to get into position for his post-spar meditation.
“I didn’t say anything”, the Hyuga replied, crossing his legs and closing his eyes. You’d think the guy would prefer to do this particular task anywhere else but their university’s fitness centre, but apparently, he liked the challenge of having to block out environmental sounds. It does help that they picked the earliest time slot so there were only a handful of people in the gym either sparring, making use of the equipment, or in the boxing corner which is where Sakura would usually be in the afternoon, trying to drive the bags of their hooks after a stressful day of medical school.
Sasuke and Neji preferred to just spar on the mats that were usually occupied by the judo and aikido practitioners on weekend afternoons. Naruto would typically be joining them around this time. Taking Neji’s spot against Sasuke despite having already spent 30 minutes on the treadmill. But Naruto’s stamina had always been monstrous in its expanse.
Instead, for the 3rd day in a row, he was standing in the gymnastic area by the bars, watching in awe as Gaara Sabaku showed off another flip.
“Just call him over”, came the exasperated scolding from the Hyuga who still had his eyes closed.
Sasuke just let out a disgruntled ‘tch’.
“What is he doing here this early anyway?”, the Uchiha narrowed his eyes at the twirling redhead, “He always trains at noon with his brother. Is he even supposed to be here without his coach?”
Neji’s face scrunches up, and Sasuke can’t help but feel a little triumph at having gotten a reaction.
“He doesn’t need a spotter just to use the beams. He’s 21, not 11. Go call Naruto over because we have 40 minutes before Lee shows up”
It’s uncharacteristic of Sasuke to have a desire to pester someone till they indulged him, but he was particularly annoyed this week and was itching for a good fight, which Naruto usually delivered.
Sai called it sexual frustration and ‘advised’ him to get dicked down already.
If Sai wasn’t one of Naruto’s friends, Sasuke would have been more than happy to show him his gratitude for the ‘advice’.
To say that he was surprised to show up at Naruto’s apartment 5 months ago to see Sai, sitting cross-legged on the kitchen island grinning at him (If it could be called that) over a bowl of cereal, would have been an understatement. Sasuke had been very quick to ask his best friend for an explanation
“I thought you didn’t even like him?!” , he hissed.
“Initially!”, . Naruto sputtered half- heartedly.
“Then why has he set his easel with its half-finished art project on your balcony?”
“He said the fresh air helped his imagination”
“Naruto”
“Oh, the moving-in thing. Yeah, let me tell you about his shithead of a guardian Danzo….”
Sasuke has rarely ever actually met anyone with a childhood as abhorrent as Naruto’s but Sai gave him a run for his money.
“And that’s not even half the shit the bastard’s done. Sai’s trying to cut the dude out, but he froze all of the money in his account cause the control freak wouldn’t let him open one under his name even though Sai is already 20”
“Usuratonkachi, get to the point”
“Oh, right. He didn’t have any money, and he needed a place to stay….”
Sasuke massaged his eyebrows down to the bridge of his nose. “Are you going to pick up every stray you find, dobe?”
Their conversation is interrupted by a loud indignant yowl from Kurama who’d been lounging by the window listening to their argument. He gets up and gracefully weaves through the potted plants Naruto had arranged on the ledge, leaps onto the floor, and canters over to the blonde, meowing loudly like a whiny spoiled child.
It doesn’t help that Naruto immediately melts at the sight of him and picks the cat up to hold it lovingly to his chest. “He didn’t mean it, Kurama. You’re not a stray. You’re a powerful little beast aren’t you”
Seemingly appeased, the Maine Coon gives Sasuke one last scathing look before nuzzling further into Naruto’s arms, purring when Naruto gives him a distracted scratch under his jaw.
“I could help, and I did”, the blonde says in such a matter-of-fact manner that it made Sasuke feel ashamed that he ever asked.
He looks at the cat waving its tail as he nuzzled into Naruto and remembers the snarling dirty little creature it used to be 2 years ago.
He also thinks about the lonely little malnourished boy sitting alone in a crowded cafeteria with nothing to eat and he thinks about a refrigerator currently filled with home-cooked meals Naruto could now enjoy to his heart's content, knowing they were made by someone who cared about him.
He thinks about the bare, cold, tiny room of the second-floor apartment, that the blonde had lived in for the majority of his childhood, with its doors eternally locked by foster parents who couldn’t care less and he thinks about the pictures and paintings that currently hung all around the 21-year-old’s home with a front door that was always open to welcome anyone who crossed its path.
Sasuke is broken out of his memories by the sound of heavy sneakers squeaking from the friction against the gym floor.
“Hey! Sasuke! Sorry! I got distracted. Gaara was doing this cool move-“
“It's fine, dobe. Just get in position already.”
“Oh, Gaara said he wants to join us in the mornings from now on. Said the company was better. I think he just likes that there are fewer people”
“Wonderful”, Sasuke says through gritted teeth. He could practically feel Neji vibrating with barely held-back laughter behind him, “Just start already. We have 15 minutes till Lee gets here”
It's not that any of them disliked Lee. He was their friend, and he hung out with them often. But Lee was also the university’s star athlete, and being around while he was training was begging for a death wish via exhaustion through being roped into one of his intense workouts. The only person capable of managing Lee was coach Guy himself.
Naruto immediately sets himself into a solid stance, “HA! I’ll beat you in 10 minutes”
Sasuke couldn’t help the smile edging at the corner of his lips, “You can try idiot”
Reblog? Also tell me if you think I can post this as a oneshot
#sasunaru#sasuke uchiha#naruto uzumaki#neji hyuga#sai#sai naruto#Gaara sabaku#gaara of the sand#sabaku no gaara#mine#ficlet#Naruto#my writing
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NATLA - Episode 1: Aang (1/4)
[Masterlist of my NATLA thoughts]
An explanation of what I'm doing here and my history with ATLA.
Of course, full spoilers ahead.
Next>
A word on the expositional dialogue:
That's always going to happen when you're being introduced to a fantasy world - it happened a lot in the cartoon, too.
The viewer has no idea the political landscape, the rules of the world, magic system, governmental bodies, religion, how close or far the 'gods' are to mortals - and as shows usually don't have much world-building narration in them, dialogue is used to supplement that.
I think people forget that and just automatically assume expositional dialogue is 'bad' when it's really not, we've just had the advice 'show don't tell' twisted and bastardized so terribly that we now have a visceral reaction to any 'telling' through dialogue even if it's totally normal storytelling.
Lets also not forget that a whole expositional monologue is given every 20 minutes in the animated version, so let's not pretend that being explicit about the narrative is something that needs to be avoided. You listened to Katara talk about Aang needing to learn all the elements and defeat the Fire Nation 61 times. I think the live-action can say it at least 3.
The show begins by showing some of the magic (bending) and clarifies this for new viewers with the dialogue "An earthbender!" from one of the fire-wielding men. This bit of dialogue is clarifying as it puts limits on the magic and lets new viewers know that that dude probably can only use earth magic - so the viewer isn't sitting there thinking 'why doesn't that dude throw some fire, too instead of just rocks?' or 'Why isn't he teleporting away?'
Also, it lets us know that having an earthbender there wasn't expected - the guard's tone lets us know that it's an unwelcome presence there.
The opening scene shows us a great look at the difference in bending styles - earth is slower, but more directly powerful - fire is quicker, but less forceful. Get hit with flying rocks, you're down and unlikely to get up - get hit with a firebolt, you'll get knocked, but there's not much blunt force trauma in it (fire/force damage vs bludgeoning damage in dnd terms)
Sozin explaining his plan fills 2 roles: characterization in that he likes to taunt his victims and he's overly confident, very sure of his importance and 'rightness'; and it lets the audience know what the political landscape of the world is like at the moment and how underhanded the Fire Nation is willing to be to win.
The redirection of focus from the Air Nomads to the Earth Kingdom is mirrored in the finale where the siege of the north drew eyes (we will assume other nations noticed an armada of Fire Nation ships sailing onto Water Tribe territory) while Ozai's real goal was to overtake Omashu - where the Fire Nation was keeping the Avatar's eyes on the north as well so he didn't rush off to help the Earth Kingdom.
The Earth bender asking Sozin 'why are you doing this?' also displays how such an act of war is inconceivable at this point in history - he genuinely has no idea why one might want to start a world war.
If you know the cartoon, or just real life, you know the reasons people have, so this dialogue might seem like its pushing for exposition, but it, in and of itself, is showing worldbuilding in the fact that while we might think 'yeah, obviously the Fire Nation is the bad guy bent on world domination', the people of the world at the time were wholly unprepared for such a war to begin.
Starting with the fire nation plan/attack was a strong choice to set the stakes immediately
Kids don't really care too much about stakes - they care about jokes and fun characters. If you want to make a story that appeals across the spectrum immediately, stakes are good things to start out with.
When you're gearing toward much younger viewers and the show is episodic - just coming on the channel randomly - it keeps kid's attention better when you start out with strong characters that are easy to grasp (see the animated version), but when you're addressing even a slightly older audience and it's in a format where you have specifically set out to watch this particular story, you start with the world and stakes, usually doing that through some minor or side characters (see Harry Potter and The Lord of the Rings).
This also allows new watchers to have the shocking reveal of Aang having been in the iceberg for 100 years at the same time Aang is learning this. There's no clear time jump from the Fire Nation's attack and Katara waterbending - so the new viewers don't know that's happened and the extra stakes shock really lands - it's not an eminent attack by the firenation, the war has already been going on and the fire nation is winning.
The time jump is hinted at with the wrecked ship Katara practices in, Katara saying fire nation soldiers haven't been seen in years, and when Gran Gran says Aang is an airbender (while he's still asleep), Sokka claims they haven't been seen in years.
These are all hints that there's been a time jump, but how significant of a jump isn't revealed until later - it could have just been 20 years for all we know so far
For those who watched the animated show, all this set up might feel tedious, unnecessary, or like the show is hand-holding the audience, but that's because you already know the story. For those who have never seen the animated show, all this is necessary - as shown by all the new watchers who are praising the exposition as it's a huge world. By the end of episode 1 of the live action, those who watched the animated would have heard the exposition 3 times already - by the end of the season, they'd have heard it 20 times - so you got the luxury of a lot of exposition, let the newbies get some too.
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Happy weekend everyone :). We’ve reached the episode where Emmett and Lucy’s relationship comes to an abrupt end. Get to delve into why it ended and see Tim help her through it like he does. It’s a solid ep for them. Also more growth for our boy. Lets get going.
3x08 Bad Blood
We start with Lucy waking up to a cowardly breakup text from Emmett. Ugh. Not only that he’s dragging Tim into to it to grab his stuff from her. Extra helping of coward. I kinda wanna nut check him for this. No matter how Lucy treated the relationship this was unwarranted. I can’t stand people who aren’t forward with their feelings. Eject out of relationship through a text message instead of doing it face to face. Confrontation isn't fun but its better than doing this. Because that's all Emmett will be remembered for. Is having zero balls about their breakup. That's the legacy he's decided to leave.
It’s the first thing Lucy talks to Jackson about when she gets to work. She’s so mad and rightfully so IMO. Asking if he’s 14 years old? Why he couldn’t do it to her face? (man has no balls or integrity would be my guess) Jackson tells her sadly that’s most guys these days. She’s lucky she didn’t just get ghosted. So I guess he's one level above Uber coward then. Tim is within ear shot of all this. Asking Lucy if they can just get to work now?
Lucy ignores his plea to just go to work. Instead asking him if Emmett talked to him about this? Tim replies no why would he? That when they hang out its not a feelings party LOL Also If Emmett did Tim would’ve defended Lucy and told Emmett he was an idiot. I bet you he was far too scared to tell Tim about what he did. Especially after he ate him alive in 2x19. No way in hell he was coming to Tim about hurting her. Dude wouldn't have survived that convo.
Tim has the most Tim Bradford answer ever when he replies if she wants his advice? To Tim it’s so clear. He treated her badly to end the relationship. So naturally she just needs to walk it off. Cut that off emotionally and move on. Saying he clearly wasn’t the right guy for her. (He very much was not… *cough you are cough*) He’s always so brusk at first in his advice to her. Then once they’re alone in the shop away from Jackson he gets softer. I think part of that advice he gave here was cause they weren’t alone. How he is with her one on one is so different than when they have an audience.
We pan back to them finishing up a call. Lucy asking if Tim had ever been dumped out of the blue before? Then he makes a hilarious dark joke about Isabel. The change in this man regarding his ex-wife is unreal. The place he’s in now that he can use what happened to him in a sarcastic way is amazing. It has a dark edge to it like satire but progress none the less.
Clearly saying it to bring a little perspective to her about her situation. Lucy recognizes that but has to know the Why. I can’t blame her I’m the same way. It’s hard for me to let things go with no explanation. Especially when its affected me on a deep level. Lucy is practically begging Tim to ask Emmet WHY did he do this? This is something that is going to consume her day till she gets some answers.
Tim doesn’t have time to reply because he see’s the shop has been tagged. He goes white as a ghost. Lucy is trying not to laugh because she doesn’t understand what’s happening. Then Tim touches it and it’s fresh. He loses it and calls in the calvary. Lucy is looking around in a panic trying to asses the threat. Wondering why this feels like a DEFCON 1 situation right now.
We return to them at the station. Tim is explaining the situation to her. That 3Eyez was active from 2006-2010. Telling her they had victims all over the city. Whenever they got close to catching them it stopped. Tim assumed since it’s been so long they stopped. He also lets her know he checks the data base every 3 months. Just in case he shows up in another city.
Lucy says wow he must’ve been hardcore for him to obsess like this. Asks Tim what his biggest crime was? He tells her it’s him being a tagger. Costing the city hundred of thousands of dollars in repairs. Lucy is confused and says ok…in property damage though.... She is trying to connect why he’s so obsessed with them.
Then we find out his shop was tagged when he was a rookie. Not only that but he let it happen right under his nose. Lucy is getting a MAJOR kick out of this. Laughing and enjoying this piece of his history. Best part of her day so far. For a couple reasons. One he made a big ol' mistake as a rookie. You know she loves that. Delights her to no end. Especially with how he has berated her mistakes as his boot. Second she knows he must've had some unrelenting teasing attached to this moment. It happened right under his nose.
She is down right giddy as she is putting the pieces of the puzzle together. Asking him if he had a nickname? That after an incident like that no way he didn’t garner a nickname of some sort. Lucy is so desperate to get any intel on him pre-her. Especially in his own boot days. Tim can sense how damn eager she is about this. Tries to shut it down with a defensive ‘No…’ hahaha god I love them sfm. Lucy is enjoying teasing him about this far too much LOL
Lucy continues on saying this why he’s so intent on catching this guy. It’s personal. Tim tries to deflect as he does. Saying no. He’s a criminal and it’s their job to stop him. (Sure love sure....) Lucy tries to insert some logic into the situation by saying this seems pointless. The way he snatches back the photo it’s clear it’s not pointless to him…His wounded pride about an early mistake haunting him. Can't say I wouldn't be the same way. I take my failures so seriously even when they're not serious.
Jackson and Wade see 3Eyez mid tagging. They call it in and Tim hears it. Has them immediately attach to their call. Grey steps out of the shop and his back goes out. Jackson and Lucy go to help him. Tim stays in the shop and wants to go after the tagger. Leaving Lucy and Jackson behind to stay with Grey till ambulance arrives. Tim think he spots them in an ally and leaves his shop. It ends up being a dead end for him. He returns to which gets tagged again LOL Poor Tim can’t win for losing in this ep. He’s so mad.
The ambulance arrives for Grey. Lucy recognizes Dave from her time with Emmett. Asks if he works with him? He is instantly flirty with her and says Yes. He replies back she’s dating Emmet? Lucy says not anymore. His forwardness continues when he says how gorgeous she is. That he would be a fool to let her go. (I mean obviously... ) Lucy starts to see this as an opportunity to get back at Emmett. Not her most mature move here but she's going for it anyways.
Jackson can see this developing and isn’t on board. Gotta love him being frank with her about it afterwards. Lucy is just as forward and asks Dave out. Tells him Jackson will give him her number. Clearly only going out with this guy to get back at Emmett. Jackson immediately calls her on it. Lucy pulling a Tim defects what he’s saying. Before he can grill her further Tim pulls up in their tagged shop LOL He tells her not to say a word about it when he rolls up LMAO It’s too damn funny. He could not be more agitated about this.
Lucy is going on about her date with Dave. Asking Tim where they should go for dinner? Tim just makes a disapproving face. Lucy catches on real quick. Asking if he isn’t approving of her plan? Since he hasn't replied Lucy just goes OFF on a rant. Tim doesn’t even have to say anything. It’s almost like she unburdening her soul with the guilt she feels. Wanting him to say anything to justify or right her decision. Saying yeah maybe she is dating this guy to make Emmet jealous...
Tim says nothing and Lucy continues on saying Emmett deserves this. Radio silence... Then she point blank asks if he can say something to her please? She’s so desperate for his POV on this. Because when it comes to Lucy his emotional intelligence is off the charts. She needs his wisdom in this situation. Tim sighs and finally breaks. Says this is the first time In WEEKS she’s even mentioned Emmett. Lucy tries to deflect it by saying he doesn’t allow personal talk.
Tim doesn’t let her get away with that at all. Just like she calls him out he returns the favor in kind. Saying and yet we still have these conversations despite that. Basically saying if Emmett meant anything to her he would’ve been brought up to Tim. Even if he didn’t want to hear about it. That in all the conversations over the past few weeks she never once mentioned him. Lucy is still a little confused asks ‘What do you mean?’
It’s then Tim comes down with the truth hammer. It’s insane how well he can just zero in on her relationships. Like a mechanic looking at a car and spotting all the issues. This is something he does in the future with Chris in 5x08 as well. Helps her notice and face these issues. The issue in this instance being she was never invested in Emmett. That he treated the relationship the same way she did. With no care or effort. That it didn't matter. You watch the realization wash over her.
Like being smacked in the face with the truth. Melissa really crushes this portion. You can see her realizing what he's saying is true. That it's really sinking in and the guilt kicks in. Just like how only Lucy can talk to Tim like she does. It's the same for Tim with her. Only he can deliver the same telling her like it is that she does. This is what she wanted from this conversation though. Perspective, truth and the why behind it. Sometimes that hurts. This is something we learn with the relationships she has before Tim though. That's she never really all in with them.
She’s never really invested enough because they’re not what she already has with Tim. That deep inexplicable bond they share. It will forever take precedence over any of the other men she has in her life. They will ALWAYS pale in comparison to him. Now I don’t think she realizes she’s doing this at this point. But it’s exactly what she is doing. Especially knowing her next relationship and how that ends and why.
Leave it to Tim to deliver the why she has been searching for all day. The sad look of realization on her face gets to Tim though. You can see it above. He knows she's hurting now and distracted. So he does what he does best. Distracts her. Asks her what she thinks 3Eyez next plan is? Asking if they’re done for the day? Trying to get her brain moving. Get her out of her mental funk.
Even when Lucy explains what she thinks is their next plan she is still sad and distracted. So Tim offers up the info she so desperately wanted earlier. Offering a piece of his past to help heal her present. Something he’s done before and will only ever do for her. I love him not only telling her but having Isabel be involved in it. He has her laughing and smiling early into his story. Mission accomplished.
Using a good memory he has and sharing a part of his history to help her feel better. This is an underrated moment in the episode. I love it sfm. He needs to make sure she is ok. So he does this by offering up a piece of himself to her. That no personal life rule is a legit joke at this point haha
Tim has not shared a lot of happy moments if at all about Isabel. This was another massive step forward to the Tim we all know in s5. Willing to do anything for her especially if it makes her feel better. This tactic works like a charm. She is smiling and laughing at his story. Saying how sweet it was cause I mean it was. We forget there was a big chunk of time Tim was very happy with Isabel. Him sharing that vulnerability with her always floors me. Such a good scene. Look at how he is in that final gif. He's shared a past moment about Isabel and a happy one at that. He is not mad or grumpy he is happily reminiscing. Looking back and have it not hurt him but to just smile. This is HUGE for him.
They receive a falling incident call. Make their way towards it. Tim goes over trying to make sure this woman is ok. Lucy is trying to get his attention. Love her using his nickname to get his attention. ' Eagle eyes look up' Haha He finally looks where Lucy is staring and sees her tag. He then realizes it’s 3Eyez that’s in front of him.
This is their married scene of the episode. Lucy correcting him when he says how many times she’s tagged his shop. Can’t help herself and he looks up at her like really? You think now is this time for that? LMAO. Lucy knows when to shut it and walk away from being right. I love her body posture as she says this too. It’s too funny. Even has the most wifey look as she says it. Once again the ONLY person he allows to talk to him like this is her. It’s wonderful.
Tim joins her solo in her hospital room. Asks her why she started up again? She lets Tim know her husband left her....For his massage therapist. That she wasted the last 7 years of her life. You watch how her story impacts him. The empathy in his eyes when she’s telling him her story. Tim then asks 'Did she do this to get back at him?' She shakes her head tells him no. She just wanted to feel young again.
Then he does something truly lovely. He uncuffs her and gives her some lovely advice. Even makes her smile. Saying her husband is an idiot with a sweet smile. You can't tell me Lucy Chen hasn’t had an impact on this man. How is empathy has grown tenfold. Lets himself be kind and soft with others again.
This moment is proof of that. He spent the whole episode hunting her down. Wanting his justice for his past mistake. Then finding out she’s human and with a relatable past. He lets her go with just the misdemeanor and builds her up before he goes. Lucy would be so proud.
Speaking of Lucy she is filling out paperwork when she runs into Dave. He asks her if they’re still on for tonight? It’s then Lucy has to let him know her reasons behind it. Especially after her talk with Tim earlier. He seems ok with the reasoning. (Cause she’s beautiful that’s why.)
He tells her Emmett dumped her over text. He deserves this. Lucy can’t go forward with it. I’m proud of her for not being petty. That she wants to go out for the right reasons. Not because she’s hurt and angry. He tells he tells her he respects that. But in two weeks he’s gonna ask her again. We all know this legit goes nowhere LOL Never hear of Dave again but was a good moment of growth for Lucy.
~~~~~
Side notes non-Chenford.
Poor Jackson getting pulled in two different directions about his career. Both wanting to set up his entire life for him. Nice to watch him stand up for himself with them.
Oscar’s SL pretty hilarious. He’s always funny to watch come on. Do love Lopez wanting to murder him LOL She had good reason.
As always thank you to all who engage with these reviews. Your likes, comments and reblogs fuel my desire to write them. You’re all amazing. Shall see you all in 3x09 :)
#Caitlin Rewatches The Rookie#chenford#chenford hiatus#fall rewatch#waiting for s6#s3#3x08 Bad Blood#the rookie 3x08#otp: doing my job#otp: you know me so well. too well#otp: some things matter more#otp: you did good#tim x lucy#tim bradford#lucy chen#the rookie#lucy x tim#eric winter#melissa o'neil#tim bradford x lucy chen
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Alright, you definitely should have listened to the village elders this time. Wandering too deep into the forest was a bad idea. They could have been more specific about what “too deep” meant though.
All you wanted to do was see if there were any valuable herbs in the area. You had heard rumors that if you went slightly beyond the usual reach of the villagers, a little to the west, you would find ingredients for most potential of healing potions. You didn’t think heeding the advice would cost you much; it was supposed to be only a little further, right? But which way was west again…
Before you knew it, you had gotten lost. Of course, forests always looked somewhat the same, but after 20 years of living in the same village, you came to recognize the areas you had always played, worked, and relaxed in. A tree that bent a little to the left; that boulder that looked like a fist without a thumb; the lightning-struck tree trunk, too heavy to be moved, blocking what used to be a path. You knew when you were near your home by the atmosphere alone.
And now you recognized nothing you saw.
It wasn’t dark yet - wouldn’t be for a long time - but you were still getting the shivers of being outside at night. This part of the forest was creepy. You didn’t know how else to describe it - threatening? It felt like something was out to get you. Or for that matter, anyone foolish enough to disturb the peace of whatever dwelled inside.
You stopped. Turned to look back — had you seen wrong? You must have — and turned back ahead. There was... It was like there was a line drawn on the ground. A border.
You looked to your right, then left. No, it really was… as strange as it seemed, it was clearly a huge circle. You were standing just outside it.
And everything inside was dead.
The grass was sickly, pale yellow, almost white, like after a scorching hot summer with too little rain. Trees gray and bare, bark flaking, crispy leaves lying sadly on the ground. Thousands of insect carcasses everywhere, a couple of dead birds and — oh no — a lone rabbit. All completely lifeless. How could this be?
You took a step back. Was this maybe… The work of magic? A fiendish warlock wielding dark sorcery?
You didn’t know much about magic; there weren’t many capable of using it in your tiny village, and the mages you knew were neither malicious nor the tiniest bit adventurous with it. But it was the only explanation you could come up with. Nature couldn’t do this on its own.
You felt a rush of excitement at the thought. Magic had always fascinated you. With nobody around to teach the craft, you had abandoned the idea of pursuing it years ago, but… It was exhilarating seeing its impact. Foul as this magic was, it drew you in - and if nothing inside was alive, it couldn’t do you any harm either. You had come so far; why not investigate a little?
You had barely taken two steps on the lifeless grass when you heard a soft voice plead: “Don’t come closer.”
You froze. Had there been a person around? Was it a bandit? Or, wait, maybe they could help you find your way home-
“Please get away from me,” asked the stranger again, even more desperate this time. Their voice was getting raspier, breaking towards the end of the sentence. Whoever it was must have been either sick or grievously injured. Perhaps you would have to help them more than they could help you.
You squinted your eyes, and finally caught a glimpse of a figure behind two trees.
He looked around your age. But not in such good health, as you had suspected. He was holding onto the tree, hunching, and the distance between you wasn't enough to hide the tremble of his hands or the hollowness in his eyes.
"Please, " he repeated, each word weaker yet more fearful than the last. "I can only bring misery. You must leave while you still can!"
His fear was contagious. You couldn't fight the shiver running along your spine nor the cold sweat erching your brow. It was like even the Sun knew better than to approach this self-proclaimed harbinger.
But you had always been too curious for your own good, much to your mother's chagrin. Weren't you an apprentice in the art of medicine? Wasn't this stranger in clear need of help? You couldn't just leave him alone to rot in his miserable circle of decay.
You forced a smile - sort of - and took a step closer. The stranger grabbed his face, screamed, and collapsed on his knees. You saw white and felt a strong gust of wind knock you off your feet.
And then there was nothing.
#my stuff#creative writing#original fiction#well. kind of#you see i used to write and take requests for x reader fics back in the day#this is. a rejected zeref x reader.#life zeref from fairy tail.#i wroteca little and thought oh boy scoob there's like no way i can make this even remotely romantic#so i left it to gather dust for years#then a zine i was applying to asked for a sample that wasn't published anywhere yet (if memory serves..?#did i just interpret it that way somehow...)#and i decided to vacuum the shit out of this one. make it fantasy. commit to the unhappy ending#i think it came out nicely :>#((WAIT I SHOULD SPECIFY. I'M NOT TALKING ABOUT THE ZINE I JUST REBLOGGED ABOUT. THIS ONE WAS A YEAR OR TWO AGO))#me? not writing contemporary realism? it's more likely than you think#((it isn't. don't expect more))#it's secret santa season meaning I'm feverishly writing anything but my assignment#man i wrote SUCH a good Yosuke-centric fic in my head last night. such potent and evocative prose.#but alas it was already an hour past my bed time in a weekday so i couldn't write it down immediately#and it was lost to time....#i only remember the bare bones idea...#the tags are a part in theyr own again. good bye#second person narration
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Be My Favorite Ep 12
I had serious fears about the finale of BMF, I worried that the drama would do what has already happened with so many of the other series: that it is great, even sensational… and it is all ruined by the final episodes.
I liked ep 11 of BMF, as well as the previous 10, but there was something off about them, something that didn't fit the drama's vibe, which worried me that the series would waste its potential right at the end. Kawi being annoying in the previous episode worried me even more because Kawi, despite his "unusual" character, NEVER seemed annoying to me.
Well! I should have believed in this show because everything fell into place, including the annoying Kawi! 😁 (although how am I supposed to believe in BL dramas when so many of them don't know how to stick the landing???)
It turns out that Kawi being annoying, as if ...sort of hadn't completed his inner journey, hadn't used the full potential of time travel, still had subconscious doubts about himself, about Piseang, and their relationship. Perhaps this is the result of the fact that Kawi has made these journeys alone, "fixing things" only by himself, and Piseang just kind of reacted to them. After Piseang made his own journey into the past, he believed Kawi, saw what it's like to want to "fix things" and how to react to this urge (do it or let it go?), realizing that "fixing" can actually make things worse, only then both finally grown up and understood what it was all about. What struck me was how Kawi finally seemed genuinely… relaxed and carefree on their date, compared to the tension and downright avoidance or fear of "letting go" on their first version of their date.
To sum up BMF: in my opinion, this is one of the most interesting, most intriguing, most original BL series I've ever seen. The series made excellent use of Krist and Gawin's acting talents, allowing them to use their full potential and skills. I don't know if there was anyone who wasn't afraid of pairing these two 😃, especially since Gawin has a large fandom and Krist has, um, a "history", so to speak. Our fears turned out to be completely unnecessary, both gave it their all.
Krist created one of the most interesting characters ever, Gawin as Pisaeng is simply a godsend, and he did a great job as ML. Both of them handled perfectly both dramatic and comedic scenes.
The series for me was very original by BL standards, like
their inner journeys, their development and growth, which they usually did independently of each other (!!!!), their unique personalities and imperfections, especially Kawi's, so rarely seen in BL series. That they talked a lot, that Piseang didn't hesitate to call out Kawi, that he always informed him about how he felt, if Kawi had done something that hurt him. That they were always honest with each other, that they argued and fought, that they apologized and did not run away from responsibility for their actions.
You know what I was afraid of in the final ep? That Piseang would decide for himself, that he would leave Kawi so that he would never get infected from him. That although so far Piseang has never done a favorite BL trope, i.e. escape without a word of explanation, he will do it now due to "noble reasons". And Pisang yes! he thinks about it! but doesn't disappoint at the very end and like always, he talks about it with Kawi, he's honest with him, he lets Kawi react.
The series also created very good side characters, good and bad, with their own stories.
BMF also had a lot of good one-liners and life advices, but all done so… nice, without moralizing or lecturing. The final summary of the time travel theme, the punchline of the series sounds simple, but at the same time great 🥰
I have so many thoughts about the finale and the whole series, but I don't know how to put most of them in words, it's like.. I don't know how to describe what I feel... 😎
Ultimately, I have no objections, because the ones I had after episode 10 and 11 have been clarified. Be My Favorite is one of the most interesting and original BL series I've ever seen. I know it's not for everyone, because it's quite specific, because it's so different from traditional Thai BL and Kawi is... odd for the main character of the BL series 😉 but in my opinion BMF deserves the highest marks.
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btw it’s not taekookers who message you. it’s butthurt ex-jikookers who have decided whatever they had in their heads isn’t real and now they’re mad at jikook and they come to jikook blogs to be told they’re wrong because they still want jikook dating to be true so they are looking for you to tell them they’re wrong. that’s why they keep arguing. the only thing they want is attention. if you want them to get really mad don’t answer their asks.
I honestly didn't think of it this way. And I dont understand how one can even stop believing in Jikook in the first place. Not unless u become an anti or some shit. Like there is no reason to stop believing they're a couple.
The biggest reason we believe they're together is EXCLUSIVITY in behaviour (i.e certain things they do to/for each other and each other only) and CONSISTENCY!!!! They have always been consistent no matter what. All these years nothing has changed. Nothing.
JK still stares at Jimin like he hangs the fucking moon.
Jimin still insists on letting us know HE is the closest member to JK. No one else. Him
JK always carrying things for Jimin which BTW is such boyfriend behaviour. Hyung behaviour. Oppa JK 🤭 its the funniest shit. Look at their airport photos and see everyone has these huge ass luggage while Jimin has this tiny bag like bro, where's your shit???
Oh. Thats where
😂🤭
Don't even get me started on satellite and teleport Jikook. Don't get it twisted, they're both guilty of this. JK does it all the time and its obvious. But when JK doesn't go to Jimin, Jimin goes to him. Watch Jimin almost bulldoze Jhope in his rush to leave with JK. 😂
Consistent JK must be next to Jimin at all times. Mans won't even allow Mimi to sleep alone 👀
JK's body automatically facing Jimin no matter what. And u know its legit because even when Jimin is on the other side, JK faces that way (took a pic of my TV forgive me) he hee. But u can see this isn't even their normal line up and JK's body is turned towards where Jimin is.
He literally can't help it. Consistency people. Its been fucking years of the same behaviour just to highlight a few off the top of my head moments. Because we all know there is way way more. So I don't understand how once you believe in Jikook, u can just....stop. it's not possible. Not if you've been paying attention. Which leaves me with only one explanation, they were insecure Jikookers to begin with. See, this is why I can't stand them 😭😭
I'll take your advice anon. It ain't my job to make anyone believe in Jikook. You don't have to. Just enjoy BTS content and go to bed.
#bts ask#ask shaz#satellite jeon#teleport jeon#if jikook isn't real then neither am i#jikook is real#i love jikook#jimin and jungkook#park jimin#jeon jungkook#bts#jimin#jungkook#jikook analysis#bon voyage jikook
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Drippin'
MDNI! Ghost x Soap, romance, drama, smut, vaginal sex, trans male character, boy pussy, healthy relationship, creampie, mask kink, cunnilingus, etc.
Original idea by JAYK (@18ksae) on Twitter! Beautiful, beautiful brain of yours, I love you. Enjoy, all of you!
[“Uh … we probably need to talk to Price, huh?”
“Oh.” Ghost yawned, resting his eyes for a little bit. “He knows.”
“He—what? Wait. Does this mean—wait, does he know we are fucking right now?”]
Johnny “Soap” MacTavish didn’t remember what ignited the fire. As soon as he realized, it was already fucking burning, casted out his sanity and capability of thinking straight. Or maybe, he already knew the reason, but he simply turned away his face.
Because, for the love of any God that might have been existed—the feeling washed over him like a tsunami, drown him in this cliché, corny thing called love. He looks at Simon “Ghost” Riley and all he could think about is how the Lieutenant becomes the reason every time his heartbeats increasing so hard as if it’s ready to jump out of his ribs.
Ghost confronted him one day, asking about his obvious weird behaviours, “Johnny, you okay?”
Soap just smiled that day, nodding. The unspoken issues were a pandora box—better left untouched or just throw it away once and for all, let it sink somewhere in the middle of the ocean.
Because—loving your superior and makes him the object of your desire, whispering his name when the dark engulfs the world, and each day more often than not; your fingers wrapped around your cock, thinking about him … are not a wise choice at all.
Soap gave Ghost the reassurance he wanted, “‘m fine, L.t. Did my job well, didn’t I?”
“Well, you did,” Ghost responded. “But your eyes have been wondering like it doesn’t fuckin’ know where its own socket eyes.”
Soap laughed lightly. He loves the way Ghost voiced his concern through a pinch of a humour—just like always.
That’s because I didn’t know where to look, Soap thought to himself. All I want to do is lookin’ at you.
“I’m fine, really!” Soap gave the brown-eyed man a pat in the shoulder. “Don’t worry, L.t.”
The conversation ended just like that.
But, Soap knew, Ghost knew—rather sooner than later, they might need to address this.
Although, Soap doesn’t allow himself to be questioned—he does things perfectly, flawlessly, in every way, not leaving room for any defect. He does his job extremely well—a demolition expert, they say. Sweeping an area, reaches every corner, a lethal shot for every enemy.
And that’s where the problem started. The more precise he is with his work, the less reason for Ghost to talk to him. To hold him off a little bit longer when debrief. To give advices and suggestions and any other of that bullshits that he actually, admittedly (albeit hesitantly), likes to give.
So, on a random night, under a clear dark sky, filled with the scattered pieces of shiny stars—Ghost confronted the sky-coloured eyed man. He grabbed Soap’s wrist, dragging him across the hall—hell if people were staring. They knew better than fucking spreading rumors or trash talk about a man whose callsign is Ghost.
“Fuck, Ghost—what’s wrong with you?” Soap asked, raising his voice a little. The confusion, the uneasy, were loud and clear, eating away his collectedness in mere seconds.
Ghost slammed the door behind him, locked it. He took a deep breath, then let it go, before finally his gruff, low voice, dominated the quiet room, “Okay, fuckin’ spit it out, Soap.”
“Spit what out?!” Soap was desperately trying to calm himself and within a short moment, he delivered his answer with dripping exasperation, “Ghost, you draggin’ me here straight after the debrief. People see us, Price sees us. He’s gonna demand for a fuckin’ explanation and I don’t even owe him one.”
“Just—,” Ghost let out a ragged breath. “Johnny, I swear—I realize you’re avoiding me. I know you are. My only question is; why? At least give me some arguments, some pointers—so the next time you run away at the sight of me, I’d understand.”
Soap stammered. His fist was formed, he pressed his own forehead with it. He’s a fucking idiot, isn’t he?
“It’s not your fault. It’s—fuck, I have no intention of running away at the sight of you.”
It’s the other way around. It’s the fucking—opposite of it.
“Yeah, of course,” Ghost retorted. “Because you avertin’ your eyes every time you see me is a nice fuckin’ gesture, right?”
“Fuck, Simon,” Soap called. “I—I can’t, I don’t know how to explain it to you!”
“Literally, just say the words.”
“It’s not that easy!”
“I’m not asking to make it easier!” This time, the man with the skull mask snapped back. His voice cracked, a manifestation of how every little emotion enveloped his very being. All the anger, the silent affection, the worriedness—everything. “I’m asking to understand. I’m asking because I want to know, because it’s fuckin’ you. I don’t even understand why that thick head of yours is so hesitating.”
Soap didn’t realize his mouth was agape. His lips dry and his tongue was sour. However, the undeniable fast heartbeats were slowly crawling in.
“I like you, Simon.”
Ghost blinked. “I like you too?”
“Jesus fuckin’—I love you.” Soap’s footsteps were bringing him closer to Ghost. In every step, his resolution, his sense of responsibility, his calmness—were crumbling, left him with nothing but one absolute, pure feeling he has been experiencing. “I love you the way a man to his woman. I—fuck, I fell for you so hard my eyes follow you everywhere. Notice your every move, the way you absorbed in your work, using that authority, leadership quality of yours—I love it all. I fuckin’ fantasize about you, masturbate at the thought of you, my head is in a fuckin’ gutter and I’m not proud of it but I can’t help it because I love you! That’s the kind of like I am talking about.”
Ghost looked at him quietly, calmly, like a tranquil surface of a water in a glass. “Johnny.” The name ringing tenderly on the end of his tongue. “When I said I like you, that’s what I fuckin’ mean.”
This time, it’s Soap’s turn to blinked like a damn frog on top of a waterlilies.
Ghost sighed. He tilting his head a little. “Should’ve been talking about this long time ago.”
Soap, the lad’s poor brain—was still processing things. When he finally wrapped his head around it, fully acquiring the information and let it soaked in his mind, he let out a low, breathy, “Oh.”
“Mh-hmnn …,” Ghost hummed. He extended his hand, his thumb caressed Soap’s jaw, before lifting it slowly. Blue and brown orbs reflected each other. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about it. But your fuckin’ attitude pisses me off, so emotion got the best of me. ‘M sorry.”
“Fuck, no! I’m sorry. God, Jesus Christ—I’m a fuckin’ daft, aren’t I?”
“Well, not denying that.”
Soap chuckled. “Fuck off.”
Ghost smiled. No one would be able to see it behind the mask he was wearing—but he knew Soap could.
“What do we do now, Sergeant?”
“Oh, no, don’t fuckin’ call me that …,” Soap groaned.
“Okay, love.”
“Simon, you are fuckin’ insufferable!”
Another light-hearted laugh. Ghost waited for a few seconds. There was an ambivalence in his mind. A scale with two choices, indirectly mocking his decision-making ability. However, his heart was swelling—in a good way. His chest felt light and as if every dilemma had been extinguished, now he selfishly wanting more; craving for more.
Even though his logic knew better—his heart yearning for him.
“Johnny.” Ghost looked at the man in his eyes. “If you—if I’m still the object of your desires ….”
He purposely stopping his sentence in the air. Soap widened his eyes. If that wasn’t an invitation, if that wasn’t a genuine plead—then he doesn’t truly know what does a plead means.
“Fuck, yes, Simon,” Soap answered.
Ghost scoffed at the eagerness. He knew—both of them were hanging on a fucking spider thread; ready to fall anytime, to a deep, dark, gorge of impulses. Of arousal and passion to claim each other, mutual feeling of possessiveness.
“C’mere.” Ghost pulled away his mask a little—lifting it up to his nose, exposing his mouth.
He cupped the sergeant’s jaw, bringing it closer, pulling him into a kiss. He was tilting his head, searching for a better angle, making sure both lips fit perfectly into each other, melting together.
Soap groaned, struggling to be softer as he intended to do. He put his palm on Ghost’s nape, pressing it. His tongue licking every spot inside the Lieutenant’s mouth. The kiss was wet, a little bit rough—a clicking, wet sounds, echoing around the walls.
He thought to himself—how he just realized how starving he was for this man. How every inch of him longing to be with him, to touch him, to melt him under his touch.
“Simon, fuck,” Soap whimpered. He could feel the arousal threatening him, blood rushes to his cock, making his pants tighter in every second that passed. “I want to taste you. Let me taste you.”
“Mh-hmnn.” Ghost nodded. His whole body trembled at the thought of that. His lower stomach already full of tingling sensation, spreading out to the tips of his fingers. “Lie down on the bed.”
Soap did as he told. His instinct to comply was working faster than any other sense. He lied down on his back, as he watched Ghost taking off his remaining gear. The strap, the unnecessary pouch, the belt, until eventually he unzipped his pants, shoving them down to his ankles together with his boxer and all, left him bare.
Soap almost choked on air when his eyes drafting below, to the hips area, a little lower, seeing a trail of pubic hair was created from the navel until the top of Ghost’s cunt.
“Fucking—Simon, fuck, you fucker, bastard. You never told me about this.”
“Right, not really a lunch topic. Enthusiastic?”
“Yes, fuckin’—yes. Just—fuckin’ come here. Please.”
Ghost carved a smirk on his lips. Fully satisfied by the reactions of his sergeant—and part of him was so turned on. He got on the top of Soap, widening his thighs, rested his knees on each side of Soap’s shoulders.
Soap gulped, latched his palms on Ghost’s arses. His head spinning in a way it needs an immediate endorphin, oxytocin release—or whatever that chemistry shit.
“Fuck, okay—can I … can I touch it?”
“Whatever you want, Johnny.”
Fuck. Ghost knew to well of to stir him up, leave him a mess. Johnny groaned, using his thumbs to softly rub the vulva. Already wet—drenched in glistening, clear liquid. The clit was erect, sheepishly showing itself between the outer lips of the entrance.
“So fuckin’ soaked ….”
He pushed a finger up to his cunt, elicit a stifled moan from Ghost.
“Simon …,” Soap whined. He didn’t even bother to hide the excitement, the built-up pressure on his sex.
His fingers probing the inside of that clenching muscles, and in every stretching move he made, Ghost twitched. The Lieutenant’s breath getting more huskier, lower.
“Sit on me,” Soap said. He pulled out his fingers. Still, his eyes directed at the puffy sex, unable to look away. “I need you. Please.”
“Fuckin’—greedy man.” Ghost obeyed the request. Soap was asking nicely after all. He lowered his hips, pressing half of his height on that face. His core was heated up when he felt Soap’s breath caressed his sex. He silently watched how his own cunt met Soap’s lips. The way Soap’s drew out his tongue, slipped between the labia, taste the slope of his entrance.
And wave of pleasure hit Ghost—like a storm that is brewing so suddenly, like a typhoon whirling for a while and now ready to make a foray on everything it touches.
“Fuck!” Ghost arched his back, his inner wall was pulsating, hard, intense. Clenching on air as Soap lapping on his quim like a dog with his fresh meat, enthralled by the smell, gnawing on the soft, silky textures. Soap was grabbing Ghost’s thighs, deterred him from closing those.
“Ahh—Johnny!” Ghost groaned. He whined, he was fucking whimpering—and Johnny never heard that before. Every sound that filled his ear drums making his dick harder it was almost painful. The pants suffocated it and God—he could do this all night, assault on the needy, swollen clit, biting softly, sucking on his sex.
Ghost’s knees were too weak to hold his body. His core was throbbing when Soap flicked his nub with the tongue, enforcing something urgent, something burning inside him. The tongue swiped across his pussy, from the back near anal, up until the sensitive nub, as Ghost instinctively rolling his hips, created more frictions and stimulation.
“Fuck—you smell so fuckin’ good, Simon,” Soap growled out. He gave Ghost a little bite this and there, still eating him out like there was no tomorrow—nipped it with a gruff voice.
“You—nrghh—like my scent, Johnny?”
Johnny confirmed it through a hum. The vibrations on his throat travelled to the tip of his tongue, still swirling around.
And like a light bulb went off in his head, Ghost raised himself from his sitting. It caused Soap to knitted his eyebrows in agitation. Like a kid whose candy was being snatched suddenly, leaving him empty with just a little to none remaining sweetness in his sense of taste.
Ghost took off his mask fully, presented his face.
Soap blinked. He has seen Ghost’s face before, but, on God—he could never comprehend how a man could be so beautiful. Despite all the scars, or the crooked nose. His eyes were glued to Ghost’s brown orbs, covered in obvious affection.
“You like my smell?” He repeated.
Soap answered fast, “Yes.”
“Good.”
In one move, Ghost made Soap wear his mask, enveloped him with the piece of the black clothing.
Soap jerked. His olfactory was overflowed with a familiar, natural odour of Ghost. He took a deep breath, let out a shaky, wavering voice, “Fuck.”
“You like that?” Ghost wasn’t really waiting for an answer. Because then he shifted his position a little, now caressing the prominent outline on Soap’s pants, evoked a groaning from the Scot. His fingers caressed the bulge, before unzipped Soap’s pants, withdraw his erect cock.
“Simon!”
The owner of that name didn’t respond to the whiny beg. All he did was gripped slowly the thick, long shaft, put his thumb on the reddened, swollen tip. The carved veins on that dick were bulging, and the head already leaking with milky-like substance. He gave Soap an excruciating slow stroke from the hilt to the top.
Soap groaned. His legs jerked once more; his stomach was tightened painfully.
“Do you think you can cum like this, Johnny? Eating me out with that mask on your fuckin’ face?”
Soap whined. “Fuck,” he replied, low. “Yes. Come here.”
Ghost went back to his initial position. The difference is, this time, when he dropped his hips, he could feel the combination of rough skull texture and soft balaclava on his weeping cunt. Starting slow once more, he rolled his hips, grinding himself there.
Soap thought giving the man cunnilingus was already a paradise of itself. However, this … his entire smelling capacity filled with Ghost’s, along with every each of fluttering stroke on top of his face—it felt more than any nirvana, or euphoria he has tasted before.
This is pure bliss. He could feel his cock shivering, ready to be ambushed by his own orgasm.
Ghost starting to feel the rushing flare on his lower stomach. He grumbled, swallowing down a spit. His all senses were tightened and his thighs are quivering. The heat creeping deeper, louder, faster, it made him couldn’t contain his wails.
He knew that Soap felt the same as well. By the way his dick is keep trembling, so needy—waiting to be squeezed, but Ghost bet one touch and it’ll explode in pleasure, spurting away his thick cum.
“Fuck, Simon—I need to … argh, ‘m close, ‘m close.”
“Fuckin’ cum for me,” Simon barked. “I don’t even need to touch you, Johnny. You come off just from my fuckin’ smell and sniffin’ on my cunt?”
“Yes—yes, yes, please, fuckfuckfuck!”
Simon pressing his weight more, suffocated the man under him a little. He knew Soap likes it a little bit hurt—a challenge to push his own self, to break over the limit. To be made a moaning, crazy mess.
“You fuckin’ whore ….” Simon arching his back. His quim was pulsating so hard, need a release of his own.
He maintained his rhythm, bucking his hips unrelenting, even if there is a thin cloth—a restriction between his sopping pussy and Soap’s lips.
His fingers were sneakily drawing a pressured circle on his own clit. He was close as well. “Cum, make a fuckin’ mess.”
Soap cursed. God’s names were chanted from his filthy, almost drooling lips. He felt so good, fuck—he’s so high, he needed to get this. He needed to, more, more, a little bit more, send him to the edge, and—
“Ah—ah! Fuck!” He spasming uncontrollably when both of them reached his climax. He squirted a milky, high-concentrated liquid, and the beads dripping on his own stomach. On the contrary, Ghost releasing a waterier substance, soaking Soap’s face with it.
The concoction of smells—sex, his, Ghost’s—filled his nostrils.
“Good man.” Simon freed him from the balaclava. When that mask finally hiding nothing from his visual, Ghost scoffed softly.
Soap was still trying to calm down his ragged breath. He was drooling—alright, looked so pussy drunk. Deep shade of red covered his whole face, ear to ear, even to his nape.
Ghost standing up a little, let Soap sitting up, cupped his face, bringing their lips together for a slow, soft, kiss. Mouths clashing each other gently, noses pressing against cheeks.
“I wanna—,” Soap took a sharp breath. Pulled himself from the kiss, as his lungs were screaming for air. “Fuck, I wanna get inside you. Wanna fill you up, Simon. I wanna—”
“Yes, Christ.” Simon gave him a kiss on his temple. “I never intended to say no.” His kisses were soft, pressing on Soap’s skin, sweet and light. He kissed him on his nape, tracing his jugular, to his jaw, to his upper lip, to his nose, and the fluttering closed eyes.
Soap sighed, relaxing his body. Taking a short break from the previous powerful activity. And perhaps—Ghost was right; of course, he always is. Because Soap loved him too much, his heart warmed instantly like it was flowers in the middle of spring under the glaring sun.
And when Ghost teasing him with a soft flick on the tip of his cock, Soap whined. It hardened up already. The blonde-haired man couldn’t hold his curved smile. His fingers reached the base of Soap’s length, fondling the balls like a fucking water balloon they were.
“Mhh—fuck, Si ….”
“You want fuck me?”
“Yes. God—nrgh, yes.”
“Okay.” Ghost retracted his hand. He lied on his back, spread away his thighs, wide—letting Soap having a privilege to see all of him. He deliberately uplifted his hips, using his fingers to pried open his drizzling pussy. “Come in, then.”
You’ll be the death of me. Soap’s inner voice was yelping. However—he thought, maybe that’s not a bad way to die. Strangled in a heavenly sensation, between the grip of someone you love, let his existence creeping further deep down to your soul.
“Go on,” Ghost cooed. “Suddenly gettin’ cold feet?”
Soap holding his own erect, caressing the girth. He growled, aligning himself with the slicked hole in front of him. He gave it quick taps before he thrusting into him—fast, deep, sinking fully, and both men grunting loudly.
Soap could feel the warmth that blanketed his cock, so velvety, squeezing so strongly, yet delicately.
This was not his first-time having sex. The first time it felt out of this world—though. Soap panted, set his fingers on each side of Ghost’s hips; searching for something to hold on.
“Fuck, fuck—Simon, you feel so good … so fuckin’ beautiful.”
Ghost groaned. The size—the fucking size of it was tearing him up, splitting him, striking so deep that it was probably nudging his cervix. He let himself to adjust for the enormous dick. It hurts—in a good way, in a way that he wouldn’t have it beside this one.
“You alright?” Soap asked. A hint of worriedness seeping through his soothing tone. His cock was twitching—itching to move, to scrape the spongy walls that were surrounding him. But he wouldn’t move an inch if there wasn’t a clear affirmation.
“‘M fine,” Ghost bite back. His patience was eroding—if there was any in the first place. “Move, Johnny.”
“Okay, fuck.” Soap starting off slow, gliding in and out deep. The tip of his cock reached and slamming into the right spot every time, it made Ghost wail in a messy tempo.
“Ah, ah—fuckin’—mh!” Took a sharp, short breath, holding it for a moment, before let it go together with the moan. Ghost’s growls came from the chest and every cut-off whines encouraged Soap to go faster. “Johnny, fuck—more.”
“More?” Soap thrusting harshly, slapping on Ghost’s hips. Balls swung and hit his crack. Every grinding evoked a wet, dirty, lewd voices that reverberating across the room. “Fuckin’—you are clenching so much, Si. Takin’ me so fuckin well … fuck, my handsome, prettiest L.t.”
“Fuckin’ hell—God, shut up.” He didn’t hate it. Ghost simply wasn’t accustomed to these kinds of appreciation, in the bedroom nevertheless. He didn’t know what to do, because when those mellifluous praises showered him, he could feel himself tighten, squirming, clenching on the inside. He could feel himself leaking more than he has ever before.
Soap’s thrusts are rocked a little bit more roughly now. His voice was cracking, gruff and covered in lust. “‘M not—‘m not gonna last, Si. Nrghh, fuck—are you close?”
“Yes.” The overstimulated cunt clearly started taking an effect on him. He knew the up-coming climax will rip him more merciless than it did before—but he would be fucking love that. “Yes, fuck, Johnny!”
“Okay, cum for me, yeah? Cum with me—let me fill you up.” Soap chasing their highs ruthlessly, rubbing Ghost’s sensitive, perked nub. He pinched the poor bundle of nerves, making Ghost convulsed by the additional stimulant. His knees are trembling, the muscles all tensed up.
“Fuck—you fucker, Johnny! FUCK!”
Johnny laughed. His laughs were rich and shattered up in the air. Oh—how ecstatic his feeling was, how blessed he was. He was fucking into him harshly, but oh how every lunge filled with beautiful sentiment. “A fuckin’—good man, Si. Fuck, fuck, I love you, I love you so much.”
“I love—ngh!” A broken sob, a whiny groan. More of those guttural whimpers when Soap massaging his clit.
Ghost’s toes were curled up, back arched. Something accumulating once again inside his stomach, unfurled the hidden thrill, the peak of humans’ primate needs.
Soap’s movement were starting to stutter. He looked down and he could see how clearly Ghost was swallowing him whole. How that reddened cunt formed an oval-like outline between his shaft, enfolded his flesh—a very attractive and pornographic view.
With one last thrust, their orgasms were crashing hard.
Ghost felt the nerve on his neck was tensed up, in tandem with whiteness that splattering on his field of view.
Soap was cumming inside him, smearing Ghost’s inner walls with his cum. His mouth was wide open, taking as much air as he needs, lost in his own high. Ghost’s cunt was also working effectively, efficiently, milking out every drop of his sperm.
Soap pulled out, observing his handiwork. He smiled seeing the gaping hole, streaming with his cum, dripping to the butthole. The sky-coloured eyed man hummed, then using his thumb to pushed back the semen.
Ghost flinched softly. He lost his energy to fight back or protest—not that he would.
“You happy, Johnny?”
Johnny grinning widely. As if he hadn't been just ramming into Ghost brutally, abusing his puffy genitals.
“Yes, yes I am. C’mon, Si—let’s clean up.”
“Mh-hmnn.”
Soap took a deep breath, and gave Ghost a quick peck on his lips. “Uh … we probably need to talk to Price, huh?”
“Oh.” Ghost yawned, resting his eyes for a little bit. “He knows.”
“He—what?”
“I talked to him about … my feeling before. He said he doesn’t mind as long as it doesn’t affect our jobs.”
“Oh.” Soap’s jaw fell. “Wait. Does this mean—wait, does he know we are fucking right now?”
Ghost lifted up his eyelids. A small smile formed on his lips—a transparent showing-case of his emotion. “I wonder ….”
“Fuck, Simon?”
Ghost got up from the bed, walking toward the bathroom. He snorted once again when Johnny called for him in a sheer panic and embarrassment.
“Steamin’ Jesus—Simon!!”
#ghost mw2#ghost cod#call of duty ghost#john soap mactavish#soapghost#soap cod#ghost x soap#soap mw2#cod#mwii#codmw2#soap mactavish#soap call of duty#call of duty#cod mwii#cod mw2#mw2#call of duty modern warfare#simon riley#simon ghost riley#fanfiction#smut#story#trans man#mask#mask kink#ghost call of duty
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I always love your analysis and I was kinda curious on your thoughts on a certain topic! We know when talking about black whip going out of control, Izuku trails off and doesn’t talk about what activated it. Do you think he’s *consciously* intentionally pushing down his feelings and beating around the bush, or moreso is literally oblivious to what the true cause is? I know us bkdks tend to assume he’s being dodgy but i recently saw someone point out how he seems to actually *forget* his trauma and now I’m wondering if he really is more clueless than we think (we as an audience get to see the pattern, but every other time he’s lost control because of katsuki OTHER than black whip has been a traumatic event)
Ooooo I love this question thank you for asking.
Since the day I saw the apology chapter, I always thought Izuku forgetting what Katsuki said to him in his sacrifice must be because of the trauma. However the blackwhip thing was a whole other scenario and I find myself asking, was that really traumatic in the same way? He lost control, he experienced a powerful flood of emotions, and then he had to bottle them up for safety’s sake. That certainly does sound a lot like the pattern of trauma. The only thing is, he doesn’t show any signs of forgetting the event, especially considering he keeps having flashbacks to Banjo’s words. So... idk. Your idea might actually be better summed up by the narration over Toga’s confession about him being oblivious to romantic feelings unless they’re spelled out. Perhaps that could extend to his own feelings as well.
This is somewhat of a tangent to your question, but I have been wondering what Izuku’s mastery of blackwhip implies about the state of his heart. That he has accepted his emotions? Constrained them? Is he even using its full potential? The symbolism remains unclear to me and it bugs me a lot. We know he absorbed Endeavor’s advice about parallel processes and that’s it.
Banjo clearly explained the task ahead of Izuku when he said "it’s okay to get mad. Rage can be the source.” Yet in all the training that follows, we never get to see Izuku take this into consideration at all. He focuses on restraining blackwhip completely and then slowly drawing it out. What I can guess from this is that he ignored the part of Banjo’s advice about anger and instead focused solely on control. Izuku doesn’t like his anger, and perhaps doesn’t want to accept it as a part of himself. For someone who sees themselves as deeply altruistic, anger is like a curse, a liability, a failure. I can guess this because it’s very reminiscent of him inadvertently mimicking even the parts of Katsuki he hates when he feels a drive to win. He claimed he couldn’t tell Katsuki about that either. Why?
The simplest explanation is that his anger triggers most strongly in tandem with his love for Katsuki, since blackwhip activated in response to Katsuki being insulted over a sensitive subject, and because Izuku’s image of victory is in Katsuki, explosive anger included.
But your question asks whether or not Izuku understands this and consciously chooses to avoid it, or if he’s oblivious. Honestly… I hope this doesn’t sound like a cop out, but I think it’s neither. Or, both? In a way? I think he is displaying avoidant behavior, but I want to present a more nuanced picture of what that could be like for him, internally. And I mention the whole anger thing because it’s a more obvious source of shame for him that’s in direct association with Katsuki, rather than say internationalized homophobia, which we haven’t necessarily seen evidence of. It could be that he simply doesn’t know how to express himself about this issue. When he trails off, feigns ignorance, etc, maybe he does so in response to a serious mental block that won’t allow him to tell the truth.
Anon, have you ever held onto a secret so monumental, so personal and so strong, that it physically felt too big to fit out of your mouth? Imagine spending so long pushing something down, you don’t know how to feel it anymore. Imagine wanting to pour your heart out to someone, but not being able to find the words because you can’t even bear to think about it long enough to do any real introspection. And then your habit of lying to compensate becomes so ingrained that it’s like a totally different person is speaking on your behalf, automatically.
I can very easily see how this could happen to Izuku as he has loved Katsuki his whole life, through all the pain and distance and misunderstandings. How else is a person supposed to cope with all that? This all could be the after-effects of a subtler, more constant trauma. Now Katsuki is finally truly open to him (post-apology), and he just doesn’t have the capacity to accept it, as much as he may want to. However that doesn’t mean it’s impossible to overcome. All it takes is the right push.
#I hope I explained that well it’s kinda abstract#bnha manga#bkdk#bakudeku#dkbk#dekubaku#midoriya izuku#bakugou kastuki#bnha meta#lin speaks#asks
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SBI Whumptober Prompt 1
bruises//scars//”that’s going to leave a mark”...Bonus 25) Field Medicine and 10) Guilt. But the AU is called Fault so there will ALWAYS be guilt.
Disclaimer: this blurb is set in the SCP SBI AU I have called Fault, specifically within Part 2. Explanation of AU; tldr.
The Blade had always said scars were badges of honor. The mark of survival, of victory. And that was fine and all, but a boarish brute like him didn’t even have the option of slinking into human society, could never feel the scathing eyes of strangers raking through every wound. That pounding instinct that Wilbur was a poor mimic and at any moment the human crowd would pounce upon the intruder in their midst.
Philza never said anything about scars, but then again he never had any injuries. Not permanent ones, anyway. He didn’t have to deal with the tightness where skin stretched, the way it ached in the cold. Presumably if asked, Philza would give some grating advice about taking care of himself and knowing when to ask for help. Nothing to be ashamed of, mate, just proof you survived! As if they shouldn’t have had to just barely survive in the first place.
And Wilbur…well. He just called them one more thing to deal with. His skin was a patchwork of such things dealt with. His was an existence pockmarked by eruptions of violence, the evidence carved well into his skin. The humans had left their fair share of agony across Wilbur, the Foundation tenacious in its hunt. Beyond that, the territory the void had marked upon the vessel that composed his body. The gouges slashed into his back, the bite marks mangling his shoulder, the indecipherable mess of damage trailing up to where the abyss clawed itself out of his skull. For all that he only had half a face, the void sure did its best to ruin what little ‘human’ visage he had left. Pieces of himself destroyed by the abyss, either stolen or given. Wilbur wasn’t unfamiliar with selling his body, each chunk a small sacrifice for whatever bargain he needed to make so that the whole of him would survive. Or, what was left of it.
He’d earned every scar for his weakness, either the price for failing to dodge an attack or the cost of amassing ephemeral power. And Wilbur was used to that. Sacrifice was life, or his at the very least. It wasn’t an existence he wished on anyone, let alone someone he cared about.
And for all that he was a World Eater, what was a lot harder to choke down was the damage littering Tommy. Sure, after a year in the Foundation there were bound to be lasting reminders of that hellish place, but something in Wilbur’s head refused to let go of that idealized version of Tommy. The kid was supposed to be the normal one, with a loving family and a place among the humans. Bright-eyed and excited and blissfully unaware of how cruel the world could be. And surely that child had shattered long ago, but Wilbur needed him to be real, if only for that hope he’d long since abandoned. That little fantasy where someone like him could be free and happy and safe.
The recent Foundation ambush proved that was never going to happen. No matter how hard they fought to escape, the humans were unrelenting in their pursuit. Sure the anomalies fended them off this time, but what about the time after that? Or after that? Each time battered a little more, broken a little further.
Wilbur slipped on sturdy gloves and peeled Tommy out of his jacket, cautious of being contaminated by the boy’s anomalous Red. The liquid curled around him anxiously, fear lingering from the attack. One drop and Wilbur would be reduced to the murderous monster humanity thought he was.
But Tommy needed help and Wilbur was the only one with half decent knowledge on how to patch up a humanoid. Not that Philza wasn’t incredibly learned, but there was always the off chance the immortal would suggest leeches. So Wilbur helped Tommy squirm out of his contaminated shirt, pausing as he got a good look at the ugly mixture of mottled bruises and mutilated scars on the boy’s back.
We ruined this kid, he thought quietly.
Most of the scars were silvery slices of surgical precision from the Foundation doctors trying to find out what made the monsters tick. And, sure, Wilbur had those too. But there were a handful of other ones, imprecise, ugly maroons, skin scrunched and coarse. Signs of abuse and battles. Wilbur had those too, far more. Sometimes he thought his skin was mere echoes of damage. He’d gathered them over a lifetime, though. Tommy wasn’t close to catching up, but he’d made great strides in a single year, and it would only grow worse.
Wilbur did his best to ignore the scars, working on tending to the recent bruises. He’d never had time to explore it before, and he didn’t want to be invasive. He’d known they’d be there, knew he needed to focus on the present. The small things were easy to overlook, the too-straight cut lines and the biopsies and the general abuse that had gone too far. The friction burns around his wrists that mimicked the chaffing around Wilbur’s throat. Their mirrored set of y-incisions. Little details from where doctors tried to unravel them to find out what made the anomalies tick.
Recent fingerprints bruised into Tommy’s skin from where they’d tried to grab his little brother and take him. So many things had been stolen from Wilbur, sleep and time and peace. But he refused to ever lose Tommy again.
He drew as close as he dared to a particularly large contusion clipping the edge of Tommy’s ribs, trying to discern if there could be fractures. His breathing was pained, but that really didn’t narrow anything down. Cautiously, Wilbur prodded the area. There wasn’t a crunching sound at least. Tommy’s breath hitched as the cold compress pressed against the contusions, the Red dancing along his arms rising with the pain.
Still, for all the ache each prod must bring to his battered body, Tommy pressed into each touch. For all the times Tommy reached for him only to flinch away at the last second, Wilbur cursed the universe. How could it possibly be fair the only times he ever held his brother was when he was bruised and bleeding? He knew it wasn’t worth the risk but still the injustice coiled in his gut. Wilbur bandaged the last of the scrapes, and before he could stop himself he ran his fingers through Tommy’s hair. He couldn’t feel it through the thick gloves, but Tommy melted all the same, sinking into the touch.
And with it sunk the Red as he began to feel safe…revealing a dark blotch of crimson no longer hidden by the anomalous power.
Wilbur winced as he discovered the fresh wound. It was small but deep, burrowed into Tommy’s upper arm. Jagged, from where the barb was ripped out mid fight. Recognizing it at once, Wilbur searched the boy for a twin wound. Luckily, it seemed the second taser barb missed. Good, Tommy didn’t need to know what that kind of voltage tasted like.
There wasn’t much Wilbur could do beyond disinfection and a bandage. Really, he’d doomed Tommy to the life of getting hunted down like an animal, and that was the best he could do? Fail to protect him and just watch as another scar got added to his growing collection?
“That’s going to leave a mark,” Wilbur apologized, as if that could ever make up for the irrevocable mark Wilbur left on Tommy’s life.
#oh this is going to be fun!#I basically went down the checklist playing Fault bingo#I liked stitching together scenes and condensing them into something#That a new reader might (maybe) be able to parse#That sweet sweet Wilbur angst#Fault and MFR are so dialogue dense atm I just want to avoid it altogether rip#Conversation fatigue got me so bad#sbi whumptober#tommyinnit#wilbur soot#wilbur mcyt#sbi scp au#fault au#scp tommyinnit#scp wilbur#dirty crimeboys#dirty crime boys#crimeboys#tw bruises#tw injury#technically there's some human experimentation if you squint but I have a WHOLE thing for that planned#sbi au#sleepy bois inc#sbi fanfic#crimeboys fanfic#crimeboys angst#sbi fic#your honor theyre brudders#scp au#man im so excited for shara's prompts y'all have no idea
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—𝘝𝘈𝘓𝘐𝘈𝘕𝘊𝘌
oda nobunaga x fem oc (Asura)
rating: G
tags: Strong Female Character; Light Angst; Feelings Realization; Love Confessions; First Kiss; War Allies to Lovers
wordcount: 1,974
written for Ikemen Sengoku Gift Exchange hosted by @ikemenlibrary and @saeyoungs-sunflower
a/n: My giftee was the wonderful @randonauticrap! Madame L, I was so pleasantly surprised to see that you're my giftee!! Your OC Asura is a great character and I absolutely LOVED writing her in this story! I hope you enjoy! <3
By the time war council is over, Azuchi is wrapped into shades of early night.
Nobunaga takes step after step in the direction of his private chambers, unhurried, devoid of any evident disturbance in his mood whatsoever. A walk of a warlord exiting war council, nothing more and nothing less - steps falling with a weight equal to the one of his word.
The reason must be laying somewhere in that same fearsome demeanor of his as to why the scene is such a tense one, servants' breaths all held in at the sight.
Typically, noone dares to dart after Nobunaga, for whatever reason they might have - more so, to shout at his back.
"I demand an explanation!"
The man doesn't as much as stir at those words - probably having seen it coming already. The only gesture that breaks his steady walk towards the entrance of his chambers is the raising of a hand signaling stop - not to the woman behind him, but rather, to the guard that was about to interfere and hold her back. He wordlessly lets them all know that the woman is allowed to cross the threshold and follow him inside.
And in the next second, they're alone on the other side of the sliding doors.
The candles dye the room in warmness, but Nobunaga finds it early to use artificial lighting as the sky outside is far from pitch black. He blows out the majority of them, continuing to ignore Asura's demands of holding a conversation.
Her temper is fierce as ever, and Nobunaga expects her to go to great lengths to receive her answers. He has always admired the fire inside her - so much, that he almost wants to play with it.
Unable to keep her anger at bay, Asura grabs him by the sleeve - untrusting the power of that move to make him turn around and face her - but he does so, on his own at that.
Nobunaga looks into her eyes with stern glare. Her eyes are stabbing his alike daggers, eyebrows are knit in a frown. She is still holding his sleeve.
"Tell me why! Where did I go wrong? I understand nothing of this. You praise me, you demand that everyone knows the achievements of my men, you call my swordsmanship unmatched - and in the end, what? You throw me away just like that? When we're just a step away from defeating-"
"Asura."
Nobunaga's carnelian eyes catch the sparse candlelight and reflect the flame as his pupils twitch to animate it. It's a hard to figure out gaze, yet Asura stays unwavering on her two feet in front of him.
He lifts his hand slowly, letting her follow its path as he brings it close to her face - then missing it, barely grazing her cheek as he touches her hair instead. They've been at battle for too long, he got used to seeing her long red hair neatly braided and tucked away. He's almost sick of it.
Bringing out the braid to rest over her shoulder and in front of his eyes, Nobunaga carefully monitors her reaction under the mask of utter calmness. He brings his other hand and slowly works the braid undone.
"You should let your hair down every once in awhile, Asura. It's been days."
As if she can afford to think of something like that, he is well-aware, alike to what her gaze is reading. Using his peripheral vision, Nobunaga can see her hands balled into fists, even if they're not twitching with anger anymore. He is far from the thought that he should fear getting a fist in his gut for what he is doing. After all, it's hardly the first time he's touching her hair.
The off-topic advice he threw at her only makes the bitterness in her mouth spike, urging her to spit another repeated question at him, in a quieter voice this time, shorter.
"Why?"
Nobunaga knows she is right to be confused with his decision. His gaze is falling way too close to her face not to take in her expression, drenched in emotion with nothing left hidden underneath. He smirks, much preferring her sarcastic grin to this. When she would bite back at his remarks, Nobunaga entertains the thought that he stares into a mirror. Yet this is where they prove to be their separate person, two stone-set viewpoints that never cross.
She believes to be lacking somewhere. Well, it's not like he didn't expect the thought to cross her mind, of course she would be quick to see the fault in herself prior to anything else.
Nobunaga sighs, suddenly unable to keep with the distracting task of unbraid her hair in the meanwhile. Being direct has always been his way, he is not going to cheat on it now.
"Asura, calm down. It's not because you're not handling orders well. That's the last reason I'd remove you from the frontlines."
Such riddle of an answer only makes her angrier. She grits her teeth, her fisted hand moving before she can think, and she punches Nobunaga's shoulder. Lightly.
He is not impressed, the impact sending him half a step back at most.
"Then why?!"
He lets her punch him again. The strength of her hands weakens with each blow, still delivered with unmistaken fierceness, yet the same hands that are meant to protect this man from all harm. She swore on it. Thus, they naturally cannot harm him.
On the next one, Nobunaga enclosures his arms around her in a hug.
She is taken aback by such deed. The question marks in her head only multiple since the second she set a foot inside this room, but now the confusion is drowning her rational mind whole.
"Asura."
This time, she lets him speak undisrupted, no matter how long it would take. The warmth that spreads from his body is so rare. It must be contagious, too, because her cheeks are burning in an instant.
"It's not because you're lacking skill." he repeats, feeling the need to continue before she can throw another tantrum, so he swallows thickly in a hurry, "It's because I can't afford to lose you."
For a second, the world comes to a complete stop - there is no anger-driven rush of blood, there is no risen temperature across her face to be felt - only white noise that looks for the echo of Nobunaga's words, for confirmation. He picks another set of words to make his mind known better.
"I can't let you be killed. You're too precious to me, Asura. Do you understand?"
She is unable to understand. Precious, as what? As a devoted warrior? What more important wars there might be that he wants her in one piece for?
And how is she to remain by his side if not following him in battle?
Asura's blood runs hot again, the brief calmness disappearing in the favor of a greater storm. This time it's Nobunaga's laugher that drives her mad.
"Judging from your reaction, I'll need to be even more direct with you. It's strange, considering how well you seem to comprehend my orders normally. Maybe I should just give you one, if you're so used to that."
Putting some distance between the two of them, Nobunaga looks right at Asura again. As much as he is serious about his next words, he can't stop the smirk from spreading on his face, nodding his head.
"Be by my side, Asura. As my woman."
The stillness of the world returns to weight down on her at once - it's a lump in her thought that doesn't allow even for the smallest noises of confusion to escape - yet it doesn't hurt. It rather gives way for a whole new set of emotions to wash over her at once, butterflies in her belly being set aflutter for reasons that are beyond her.
"Are you saying that-"
"That I love you? That I want to make you mine? It took you awhile to figure out, Asura."
Oh, she will remember that face - the face of Oda Nobunaga saying that to her, and not just because of how shocking his words are. It’s also for the fact that such rare expression rarely occupies his features, the well-known confidence paired with those iron firm words, yet, the faint traces of pink on his cheeks revealing his embarrassment.
"What are you looking so relieved for, Asura? Could it be that you love me back?"
It would appear that even in the face of an unfamiliar emotion, Nobunaga knows how to be cocky. Yet there is a unsureness in his tone, as if he is placing a risky bet on his guess being true.
But is it really true? The fast fashion in which everything progressed is making Asura's head spin, having just received Oda Nobunaga's love confession. In his typical, demanding way. She is not sure if her face depicts her whirlwind of emotions correctly, but she feels like smiling right now. Of course his confession would be like that, it's so much like him.
"I love you too, Nobunaga."
Ah, she might try to have at least a quarter of his confidence, but in the end, saying those words deal significant damage to her composure. For one, she's never felt her cheeks that hot before.
Harboring such intense and foreign feelings inside her has always driven her to be insecure. Needless to say, expressing them is not her forte. Her love for Nobunaga has been for the longest time unrealized, then later on deeply suppressed. Absurdish, if she had to put a label on it. Unrequited, in case it ever sees the light of day.
Yet he confessed first, always a step ahead of her. She still struggles to accept that her ears didn't lie to her, but there is no other explanation for the gaze he grants her with, now too. Aside from being visibly conflicted by his own embarrassment, Nobunaga strangely appears to be amused, too.
"Of course you strike right back, Fireball. And to think you were so fast to accept that you're lacking in battle in any way…"
He shortens the distance between them, grasping her chin. It all indicates his intentions so clearly - she can escape so easily if so she wishes, he makes sure of that. But she remains on her place - a mess, but one that looks forward to what is coming next.
Nobunaga claims her lips in a kiss. His arm supports her waist, encircling it, just in case her legs start to feel weak. Aside from facing the intense emotions, she must be tired, too.
It could be that he turned out to be right that brought the two of them to the floor. Lips never withdrawing from lips, their first kiss gives way to their second one, their third, and the ones that come after it - starting abruptly, ending for the sake of taking in a breather, and repeating the cycle. Asura gets the hang of it fairly fast - seeing that, unlike words, the usage of her tongue could prove to express how she really feels. There is still so much embarrassment at the back of her head, yet her heart leaps so warmly at this newfound assurance. Nobunaga loves her. She loves Nobunaga. There is no other word for it, not the ones she tried to explain it to herself with - none of the strictly formal loyalty and devotion one might feel for their lord. It's as simple as it comes, love.
By the time their tireless lips withdraw to give their beating hearts a moment of rest, the moon outside had risen on the now pitch-black sky. Its light easily suppressing the sparse one of the candles, it wraps their backs protectively in its silver brilliancy - as if sealing their promise to stay safe for each other.
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#Ikemen Sengoku#IkeSen#Ikemen Sengoku Nobunaga#Ikesen Nobunaga#Ikesen OC#Ikemen Sengoku OC#Ikemen Sengoku fanfic#Ikesen fanfiction#ikesen fanfic#ikemen sengoku gift exchange#ikesen gift exchange
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Two Sides of the Same Coin
Note: I apologise for bad writing.
Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
Chapter 3: The Thing is Going Horribly Wonderful
“You keep meddling into bizarre and dangerous situation. Did you enjoy it?”
I look at him confused as he takes one step back away from me. What did he mean by that? My head is still processing while the silence between us is filling the air. “What?” is the only word that can finally escape from my mouth.
This deafening silence make me uneasy as same as how the man in front of me staring at me. Half of his face is covered by the black mask make me much harder to read his expression; it’s just his pair of sharp blue eyes staring at me, observing me.
I’m watching him from head to toe; a mask covering half of his face, black trench raincoat with the hood cover his figure, all of his attire is black as if he wants to camouflage as a shadow.
“What were a woman like you thinking to pass by a dark and creepy alley like this?” he clicks his tongue as he put both of his hands inside his pocket, I don’t even need to get told twice because I know his eyes shows that he is irritated—perhaps because of my stupidity. “Now that you know this alley is dangerous, get out from here.” It’s not even an advice but merely an order that let out from his mouth, the tone of his as cold as the rain that falling onto my skin. As he fixes his hood to cover his face even more, the man then is turning his back proceed to leave. But as soon as he takes some steps, my hand is grabbing his wrist immediately.
“Jake,” I call in hesitant. “Are you Jake?” my voice is quiet, it’s more like a whisper.
He remains silence while taking some steps toward me, without even realise I pull away my hand from his wrist as I take few steps back until I can feel the wall touch against my back. His presence is intimidating by only with those piercing gaze of him that revealing.
“I mean you are dressing like him, at least in my imagination. So, I assume you are —”
“Now that you know, leave.”
His icy cold tone makes me flinch. The way he looks at straight into my eyes makes me wonder what happened in these past 3 years; if I could talk to him for a while, if I could ask him to explain everything…
“No, I want to talk with you. Jake, you owe me an explanation!” I raise my voice, almost shout. I didn’t even realise it since my emotion just escalate really quickly after hearing his answer, after finally see him in person.
“I’m not sure,” he turns his head and look around us. It seems like he is checking if there is someone else near us. He then put his index finger in front of his lips which covered by black mask, giving a sign for me to be quiet. “There is nothing for us to discuss now.”
Just before I open my mouth to confront him, he takes his flip phone out from his pocket. I’m both stunned and amused since it’s rare to see someone using that old retro phone in the war between Android and iPhone. It seems like someone important is calling him since he immediately pick up the phone call.
As he is talking to whoever someone in the other side of the call, my brows furrow as I bite my lower lip nervously; one of the bad habits I try to get rid of. I know that Jake is always on run but to look at him who is staying alert and observant makes me uneasy if I bother him in the middle of something. It seems like he’s in hurry and in something very important since his eyes keep watching and observing every corner in this alley like the wolf which protects its family. But my ego is much bigger; I need to hold him a little bit longer whatever it may cost, I want him to answer all of my questions.
“Yeah, I know.” The voice is much deeper than before, you can hear the slightest annoyance behind his voice. His eyes now are looking at me, and then moving to my lips. While he is talking to whoever someone over there, he brushes his thumb to my lower lip and pull it gently so I didn’t bite it.
I want to explode.
“I need more time,” he states while still staring at my lips then his eyes are moving to look at me in the eyes. “I have priority, I will reach you soon.” He ends the call and put his flip phone back inside his pocket and his fingers are neither on my face nor my lips, but my heart is still there… beating much harder.
“Flip phone?” I ask, half amused and half want to pretend like I’m okay with his act a moment ago.
“Much safer,” he shrugs. I’m not sure if he is smiling but his eyes tell me that he is. Then there is a short pause before he harshly sighs and continues to speak, “now… what should I do with you?”
“It seems like we are having something to discuss right now,” I smile with full of hope.
“No.”
And now that hope is gone.
“Come on, I will help you to get taxi.” He takes off his coat then makes me wear it, leaving him only wearing black turtleneck. He puts the hood to cover my head before turning his back and walk ahead of me. I can see his hair which is as black as the raven. So it’s true that his hair is black like what he said three years ago.
“Why?” I ask without moving from my place. He already took few steps ahead of me before stop walking and then turning to face me. His brows furrow, he is looking at me as if my question is the stupidest question in the world.
“Pardon? Did you forget that you almost got caught by them?” one of his brows is raised, he sounds annoyed.
“But what is the woman like me thinking to get a taxi in the middle of rain with this very late hour?” I quote his saying a moment ago as I make pouty face. “If you are that worried about me, why don’t you give me a ride?” I look at him with my puppy eyes, putting my innocent face.
He scoffs while running his fingers through his hair; I want to do the same thing, “touché.”
I can clearly hear how he harshly sigh, sounds like I already managed to make him frustration in our very first meeting. You can call it as a lifetime achievement. He then massages his nape while looking at me, “follow me.”
As soon as he is walking ahead of me, I’m following him from behind while cannot stop smiling. My heart is beating so fast out of excitement. Finally I meet Jake after these heart-breaking 3 years journey, finally I can hear his natural voice, and finally I can see his figure in front of my eyes.
We are passing some alleys and narrow paths, just before I want to ask where are we going then I find a vintage motorcycle in front of me. I don’t really understand types of either a motorcycle or even car, but his motorcycle looks so classic and luxury. He then takes his helmet and makes me wear it, “you need it more than me.”
Thank God my face is covered with the helmet already because I can feel the heat around my face and my neck, I’m certain that I’m blushing really hard right now. Just when I’m already sitting behind him, in the confliction between hold him or not, I put my hands choose to hold the part of motorcycle as my prop to support.
“Put your arms around my waist,” he pull my arms gently and put it around his waist. I blush much harder. “It’s much safer,” he adds as his fingers brush my arm. I shiver, this is so thrilling.
We are then going through between the alleys and the rain which looks like won’t calm down. The freezing cold breeze feels like slashing me despite the fact that I’m wearing his coat, I feel bad for stealing it from him in our very first meeting; making me tighten my arms around Jake even more. At least I can warm him for a while. I’m not sure with him but I feel much warmer and nervous than before, my heart looks like won’t be relaxed for the next moment.
My eyes then take a glance to the road in front of us; this is not the way to my flat. I’m perplexed. “Where are we going?” there is confusion and worry colour my voice.
I know that I should at least test this man and ask him few questions first to make sure if this person is really Jake that I knew or another psycho for tonight, but where did all of my sense go a few minutes ago? He is man with black hair and black attire who helped and protected me from some bad strangers, so what? Can I just follow him around like this? Well, what should I do though… now here I am already sitting behind him, even hugging him from back (Jesus Christ!), cutting through the traffic and my sanity that almost run out.
“My place,” he replied shortly then the motorcycle is accelerating much faster.
I’m going to be a dead meat, literally.
#duskwood#duskwood everbyte#duskwood game#everbyte game#everbyte studios#duskwood fandom#duskwood jake#duskwood mc#duskwood family#duskwood fanfiction
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